The End of Biblical Studies

Its a bad sign when its been over six months since a post. I would promise more in the future, but I'm afraid that's not likely. But I am working through a couple of books over the holidays and hope to blog about them. The first is Hector Avalos, "The End of Biblical Studies."(

Avalos, Hector. The End of Biblical Studies. Prometheus Books, 2007.)

Avalos work speaks truth to power in his revelation that in Biblical Studies the emperor has no clothes. First, he argues that people are not as hung up on the Bible as we think they are. While the majority of American's pledge allegiance to its importance, they not actually reading it. Somewhere between 1/5th and 1/3rd of Christians say the "never" read the Bible (19) and given a Biblical Literacy test the majority of Christians cannot identify the basic chronology and events of the Bible. What then are those of us who study and teach Biblical Studies doing? Avalos diagnosis is stark,

Biblical scholars, for example, are almost solely devoted to maintaining the cultural significance of the Bible not because any knowledge it provides is relevant to our world but because of the self-serving drive to protect the power position of the biblical studies profession. (23)

Biblical Studies is an iatrogenic disease, a self-perpetuating malady that professes to speak to world but in the end is speaking only to itself, because the world does not care. But beyond that, it is engaged in a pattern of obfuscation and intentional deception to hide the fact that the Bible has no real relevance or reliability.

Avalos claim is breathtaking and his subsequent survey of a series of topics is likewise breakneck in the pace of his attack. He is quick and unfaltering. He engages topics like a knight in battle, slashing his enemies (mortally?) and then moving on. If there is any criticism to be made of the book it is that its swath it too wide, that each of the nine chapters devastating a different aspect of Biblical studies could well have been a carefully argued book in itself. And yet more data clearly would not have changed the argument. Like the initial analogy of the emperor without clothes, further recitation of the fabrics, colors and styles that the emperor was not wearing would not have changed the basic realization of the nakedness that was apparent. Yet it is precisely the brevity in which Avalos confronts the many topics that creates the symphonic aspects that make his point. Many of his points are made in Book length treatises by others. But by weaving them together in a single argument one can see how vulnerable is the house of cards.

Avalos starts with the basics: rock, paper, scissors -- Archeology, Text Criticism and The Historical Jesus. Starting with Text Criticism he shows how the notion of the Bible is problematic in two ways. First, the manuscript tradition is such a mess that the text which lies on nightstands and in pews is a scholarly "best guess" lacking any of the kind of surety Christians take for granted. Second the process of translation is just as problematic as modern interpreters fill the multiple gaps of the text with theology. Archeology is no clearer. I once heard Jonathan Reed say that he went into archeology because texts could lie but rocks could not. Yet while rocks may not lie, Avalos argues that archaeologists with theological agendas have acted as lying ventriloquists for their rocks. Ultimately siding with the archaeological movement called "minimalism", Avalos puts the conclusion rather starkly,

David's existence is still more akin to that of [King] Arthur, and the Tel Dan Inscriptions tells us no more about David than the Modena Inscription tells us about Arthur. There is no independent evidence for a kingdom headed by Solomon, so that is where we have to leave the claim--inconclusive.... We can now affirm...that there is not much history to be found in the era of the kings....(163)

Archeology then can give no certainty to the most important stories of the Bible. From Abraham to Moses to David to Solomon archeology has found a empty hole. Thirdly, Avalos takes a skeptical view of the quest for the Historical Jesus. Ironically, the quest for the Historical Jesus is usually attacked from the right as being too skeptical. Here, Avalos turns the tables and argues it has not been skeptical enough. Pointing at the Jesus Seminar, Avalos notes that the methods that the Seminar used to identify authentic sayings of Jesus which amounted to handful of sayings printed in red. Yet even these few sayings, when the reasoning is critically examined are the result of a tautology that presumes to know things that are not in evidence. We cannot know what the early church actually thought (that is one of the things we allegedly find out in this process) so we cannot decide what the early church could or could not conceive of Jesus doing or saying, thus the category of dissimilarity fails as a helpful method. Even the more popular method of multiple attestation can only allows us to show the existence and persistence of a particular tradition about Jesus but tells us nothing about Jesus himself. Finally, our data is skewed as we privilege canonical texts (since they are in the most abundance) yet when we see the testimony of the non-canonical texts we realize that Jesus is merely a cypher in which communities could freely project all kinds of theological and ethical ideals. "What these 'Christianities' have in common is their claimed connection with a 'Christ,' who is portrayed in astoundingly variegated fashion."(211) Like Albert Schweitzer before him, Avalos pronounces this latest quest for the Historical Jesus as "failed," and proclaims "Jesus cannot be found and any notion of following actual words or deeds of Jesus is vacuous."(212)

The combination of these three things strikes at the heart of Biblical Studies. Were he to rest his case here, Avalos contribution would have been secure. Yet he goes on to make several more interesting arguments. He unmasks literary studies of the Bible for their attempts to avoid the hard historical questions and sneak theology in through the guise of "beauty" or "story." He attacks Biblical Theology as a form of "Bibolatry" which attempts to reconceptualize the Bible in some way that imports relevance to it so that it still has meaning today. The price of this he claims is too high, it requires a selective exclusion of texts replete with violence and intolerance. Even American Liberation theologians ignore the anti-liberationist themes in the Bible in a quest to authorize their image of "liberation," yet Avalos remarks,

And just as liberation theologians are prepared to repudiate Nazi literature completely for its genocidal and imperialist thoughts, liberation theologians should be willing to repudiate completely a prophetic literature that endorses genocide and Yahwistic imperialism.(280)

Reconceptualization of the Biblical narrative and texts ultimately, as I have argued elsewhere, espouses a set of non-biblical perspectives and tries to force the Bible to fit this new mold. But as Christopher Hitchens penetratingly ask, what other domain of knowledge do we work so hard to transport from the Bronze Age so completely? Why should we travail so mightly to import this one?

Finally, Avalos attacks the institutions of Biblical Studies, the professional meetings, the publishers and the journals which are all bent on self-perpetuation through the fostering of the illusion that the Bible still has relevance in our time and otherwise seeks to secret itself away. In the end we must admit the Biblical Studies is not relevant for today. It fails its audience by not telling the truth and allowing them to selectively choose what they want to find relevant to today.

Avalos here speaks the truth. The attempt to make the text meaningful today requires an intellectual labor that presumes the answer before the question is asked. The Fundamentalists are in no better position, however, the selectivity is different in content but the same in method. What would we say to the proposition that we assemble a collection of middle-eastern Bedouin sheepherders and illiterate day laborers and tell them you shall determine the moral system for the rest of the world -- go to it! Would we expect a new vista of openness, tolerance and multiculturalism to arise? Would we take their pronouncements and carefully parse them looking for themes of liberation and salvation? Avalos asks us this very question and it seems one worth pondering.

Audio Documentary

A student at Appalachian State University, Courtney Huffman, interviewed me for an audio documentary she did called "The End of Days: Religion, Science and Faith Considered." She's given me permission to post it. You can listen to it here. I thought that she did a nice job of fairly presenting my point of view. When I wrote to ask her if I could post it, since it seemed appropriate for this blog, I said I would have liked to have a chance to respond to her last interviewee who was a "prophecy teacher" and represented the traditional evangelical view of the end times. She said she expected to come back to it and would give me another shot. Here's what I would say to the points the "prophecy teacher" raised (and they are fairly traditional so if your familar with this tradition none of them will surprise you):

1. A cashless society and microchipping -- This one has been around a long time and dispensationalists need a cashless society for the whole "mark of the beast" thing to work. As technology has advanced the notion of "the mark" has been updated to match. In the 70's it was going to be a barcode. Now its microchips. The problem of course its that our economic system is not conducive to the sort of unified financial system that would be necessary. To have the sort of world where all economic transactions were conducted through a single venue (i.e. a chip) would require the sort of economic collaboration and consolidation that seems less likely in a capitalist world. The dispensationalist world view is in a sense mired in a cold war, command economy, vision of the economy rather than thousand flowers of capitalism. Bear in mind, the clock is still ticking. The generally accepted understanding of the 1948 problem is that essentially we now have until the last baby boomer dies (rather than a fixed date like 1988). That still only gives use 40-50 more years at best to unify all these diverse economies and currencies and markets into a single one. Does that seem likely? Particularly given the money that is made through currency exchange and foreign market investment which depends in part on diversity of currency?
   
2. One world religion -- Islam or the URI? This one also makes me laugh. There are basically two visions here for the future of religion. One is that a single religion conquerors all the others. The other is that everyone chooses to give up their religion for some sort of new vast worldwide religion. Ok now let's think both of these through. First, the idea that some religion will conquer the world. Do we really think that the United States, Latin American and Africa -- all extremely Christian places -- are really going to say, "we see the error of our ways we all want to be Muslims"? Even if you rapture out the fundamentalists, there is no way the Catholics, the Orthodox (Greek, Coptic, Ethopic, Armenian, etc.), the Protestants (who aren't raptured) are going to surrender to Muslims. Episcopalians don't want to be something else, thank you, they are happy being Episcopalians even if they aren't going to make the rapture. But then you have the other approach, where everyone abandons their current religion for some new master religion. Now the argument works the other way. Do we really think that those Islamic countries are just going go from "There is no god but Allah and Mohammad is his Prophet," "neo-wicca is really cool!" Clearly not. Perhaps I lack imagination, but I can envision no way where the 2 billion Christians, the 1.5 billion Muslims or billion Hindu's who have all been at war with each other off and on for hundreds of years are going to wave the white flag and defect to one or the other's religion. There are fundamentalists in all those religions, and even if the Christian brand gets sucked up in the rapture the others will still be here and they are not keen on converting to something else. That is not going to happen. And to promote the URI (United Religion Initiative) as the vehicle for some new one world religion is a perversion of what the URI stands for. The URI is an ecumenical movement that tries to get religions to work together for common goals like peace, feeding the poor and taking care of the needy. It has no independent religious ideology. The notion that it does is simply to project fundamentalist paranoia on to it. Though I'm sure the World Council of Churches and the National Council of Churches appreciate the break because they are usually the target of choice.
3. One World Government -- I think the Bush Administration tried this one already and we see how well it has worked. Look at the effectiveness of the U.N. in a place like Rwanda or Darfur and then tell me how likely a one world government is. And the EU? As a new one world government? Please, the EU can barely keep its own act together, much less be the launching pad to take over the rest of the world. Part of the problem is that the world is so much bigger than when Revelation was written. The Roman Empire was huge for its time, and yet it was barely a patch on the British Empire's behind. The Roman Empire was 2.2 million square miles, the British Empire was almost 7 times larger at 14.2 million square miles. And the British Empire, as huge as it was, only ruled a quarter of the world. Can we really imagine China with 1.6 Billion people suddenly bowing down to the EU? Can we imagine India with its Billion people doing the same? How about the US, can we really imagine giving our freedom over to a coalition that has as one of its principal leaders the French? And does anyone really want to run the whole world? Who wants to try to control the warring factions in Africa, Asia, South America? Who really thinks that the ethnic strife from the Former Soviet Union to the Sands of the Middle East to the Jungles of Indonesia can really be solved by one charismatic figure in 3 1/2 years?
   

I contend that the more we understand how really large and really complicated the world is, the modern adaptation of the story of Revelation, which was written without a recognition of five of the seven continents of the world is really fantasy. Never is there discussion about how Chinese national interest is going to figure in to this, or Japanese, or Indian, or Venezuelan or even Canadian. Its all about a war over Israel, a country from a global economic perspective that has little import. I would contend that the war that will bring civilization to something approximating Armageddon is as likely to happen in Taiwan as it is in the Valley of Meggido. It is only when the world is telescoped back to a focus on two continents again, as though the world was still the same as the first century, that all these elaborate fantasies can be spun. When we look at the world we have and not the one they had we can see that none of these ideas are in the least bit plausible. We do not live in the world of the book of Revelation. It was an attempt to give hope to its audience and it spoke of and to the world it knew. But it is not our world, and it is not elastic enough to cover our world.

Use of Social Theory In New Testament Studies

James G. Crossley's new book "Why Christianity Happened" (cite below) (also check out his blog at http://earliestchristianhistory.blogspot.com/) has a fascinating chapter that begins his book called, "Toward a Secular Approach to Christian Origins." The chapter interestingly enough engages in a history of the use of sociological methods in New Testament Studies. It argues that there is a historical gap in New Testament Studies from the work of the Chicago School in the 1920's and the beginning of a renaissance of the methodological use of sociology in the 1970's (most specifically, I would think, in the work John Gager though Crossely mentions John Elliot). Still he asks an important question, why the gap? The answer interestingly enough is Marxism. Crossley argues that thanks to some degree to the work of the Annales school (a french school of history that is probably more indebted to Durkheim than to Marx). The Annales school focused on structural institutions as a way of reading history over a long period [the long duree]) but thus had a social/economic focus to there work. Great leaders would come and go, but social structures outlasted them all. Crossley seems to think the Annales school thus broke the chains previously holding historical study and allowed historians to start thinking in terms of long lasting institution.

At the same time, in the 1960's Marxist historians were reaching the height of the influence in England with the full flowering of the Communist Party Historian's Group. Marxism thus dominated the historical landscape. Yet New Testament Scholars would have none of it and were naturally suspicious that an atheist approach could illuminate the New Testament. Thus Crossley uncovers a Marxophobia which persists in the 1970's (undoubtedly fueled by the cold war). Citing Gerd Theissen's defense that he is not a Marxist even if some of his conclusion have some Marxist tendencies, Crossley states, "the fact that Theissen even has to defend Marxist influence and stress that it does not equate to being a Marxist speaks volumes about the interests and fears of NT scholarship."(13) Of course Stalin figures into this fear as well as the fact that Germany, split into west and east, was simultaneous the central theater of cold war drama as well as the dominant locus of New Testament Studies through the sixties.

Crossley argues that the redemption of sociological methods for New Testament Studies comes with the translation of the work of Max Weber into English in the 60's and 70's. Now we have a sociologist who is not Marxist and whose notion of Charisma seems to dovetail nicely with pre-existing assumptions of New Testament scholars. In a sense Weber saves sociology for Christianity.

Crossley's argument is certainly interesting and I think he is certainly right that a Marxophobia did engulf New Testament Studies. Certainly this was true for different reasons in different places. Crossley notes the anti-intellectual impulse of Nazism as a factor in Germany, but one could equally point to the McCarthy period in the United States which undoubtedly influenced the academy here. But there is one factor, and perhaps this is somewhat distinctly American, that Crossley does not address and that is the rise of Parsonian Functionalism.

When Talcott Parson wrote is highly influential three-volume tome The Structure of Social Action it is interesting that he include Weber and Durkheim but not Marx. While there may be theoretically sound reasons for this, the exclusion of Marx had the ancillary effect of making Parsonian functionalism "safe" for New Testament use. Interestingly enough, while Crossley notes that Theissen clearly employs Weber's notion of Charisma, what he does not notice is that Theissen's spin on Charisma is actually Parsonian in nature, and Thiessen's final argument that the Christianity controls "aggression" is based on an article Parson's published on the same topic, though mutated by Theissen's Christian values.

Crossley, James G. 2006. Why Christianity Happened: A Sociohistorical Account of Christian Origins. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press.

The problem of Genre

I have written at length about the problem of Genre in the study of apocalyptic texts. Gregory L. Linton now adds more fuel to the fire in his article, "Reading the Apocalypse as Apocalypse: The Limits of Genre" (cite below) Linton begins by unmasking the quest for genre which has without doubt dominated work in the twentieth century on apocalyptic. The SBL working group on Apocalyptic texts was determined to start with genre and definition. As I have pointed out, the results of that was to exclude those texts with the most relevance to the Christian church, in effect insulating New Testament studies and Christianity in general from the fearful images of apocalyptic.

Linton goes on to make a similar argument. His article establishes quite clearly that the nature of genre definition in general is a peculiarly limiting interpretive move.

By constructing a generic category, interpreters place boundaries around a group of works to set them off from others. By including an individual work within one of these categories, they place boundaries around it to set it off from some works and alongside others.(16)

In creating a genre and then defining a text as having a position within that genre, the critic makes an interpretive move that is often hidden from view. The inclusion of a text within a genre presages particular forms of interpretation and then excludes others.

But Linton is not content to merely to challenge the notion of genre because certainly to some extent the kind of categorical definition that genre provides is part of the academic endeavor. Rather his position is more about a forcing a particular genre on a text that seems inhospitable to such singular definition. To that end he wants to label Revelation as a "hybrid text."(31) The problem for scholars is that such a definition inevitable subverts the whole point of genre identification. Instead of limiting interpretive possibilities, the designation of "hybrid" or "mixed" creates an expansive array of possible interpretations. I would argue it loses its insulating function and now the text mixes with, and interprets as it is interpreted by, other texts that are not so carefully segregated outside the canon.

Linton goes on to argue that the identification of Revelation as an apocalypse is not original even though the text begins with the term "The Revelation (apocalypse) of Jesus Christ"(Rev 1:1) . Yet as Linton points out,

"Apocalypse" is an example of a genre that did not exist until it was constructed and defined in critical discourse. Since the genre of apocalypse was not yet formulated, the writers of apocalypses themselves did not realize they were writing apocalypses. Apparently, many, if not all, of them thought they were writing prophecies. Certainly, John himself thought he was writing prophecy, since he says so six times (1:3, 19:10, 22:7, 10, 18, 19).(33)

The quote emphasizes two important things. First, the notion that apocalypse was not a category that ancients used in composing their texts. Second, that even Revelation itself makes a claim to being a "prophecy" rather than an "apocalypse." Linton then suggests that the straitjacket of genre identification be thrown off and instead the text be taken on its own merit which will frustrate critics but provide "pleasure to the reader."(41)

I would make a couple of comments here. First, while I generally agree with Linton's overall argument that genre functions as a limiting and interpretive notion, I am not sure I would dispense with genre altogether as Linton seems to do. I think that genre may have a useful function as all academic categories do. The Weberian notion of the ideal type is precisely the kind of interpretive tool that functions to highlight certain features of a text. The point however of the ideal type is that it is not in any sense real -- it is by design an admitted scholarly construction, nor is unitary, there may always be variety of ideal types against which to compare a phenomenon against. Thus genre as a form of ideal type is certainly important and the creation of "apocalypse" as a genre is certainly permissible and helpful in looking at a text. Likewise, as Linton points out the genre of "prophecy" also might help, as would a variety of others like "myth" or "martyrdom narratives" to name a couple.

Where the problem with genre arises, as with any ideal type, is when it functions not as interpretive tool, one among many, but becomes the controlling feature of understanding the text. Linton rightly points out that Leonard Thomson's rejection of Walter Schmitals analysis based on an '"odd twist' in generic classification"(34) is certainly an example of this problem.
More importantly, from my perspective, is to ask the question of what the result is of such exclusionary use of genre. I would argue that such use often has a subtly apologetic result if not purpose and it is that result that needs to be interrogated.

Linton, Gregory L. 2006. Reading the Apocalypse as Apocalypse: The Limits of Genre. In The Reality of Apocalypse: Rhetoric and Politics in the Book of Revelation, Ed. David Barr, Vol. 39 of Symposium Series, 9-41, Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature.

Unspeakable Authority

Jean-Pierre Ruiz has an interesting article in a book I'm current reading (cite at the bottom) called "Hearing and Seeing But Not Saying: A Rhetoric of Authority in Revelation 10:4 and 2 Corinthians 12:4."

Summary:
Ruiz does a comparison of Rev 10:4 where John hears the message of the seven thunders but then is told not write them down, and 2 Cor 12:4 where Paul discussion his own vision where he is taken to paradise and see things and hears words that "which a man is not permitted to speak." Ruiz argues that both of these function to create authority for the writers. Both Paul and John of Patmos are engaged in threats to their authority. Paul is threatened by the "Super Apostles" who apparently argue that Paul is insufficiently spiritual. John is being threatened by competing prophets who it calls "Jezebel" and "Balam". While their exact message is unclear, it appears that these prophets argue for an accommodation with Rome, a perspective that John rejects and denounces.

The two cases are different as well. Paul reports a vision of Paradise and the Third Heaven in general terms, while John's vision is given in detail. Paul merely states that revelation of his vision is simply forbidden, while John gives his readers a scenario in which he endeavors to write down what is said and then is told to "seal up" those things and not to write them down. In both cases then the prophet (Paul/John) becomes the container of revelation. They have heard and seen that which cannot be communicated by divine order and thus have a special authority as a result. Ruiz sees that enhanced by the scroll that John eats. Ruiz states it clearly,
"The difference between the absolute nondiscolusre of the seven thunders' utterance and the message of the open scroll is that this embodied text remains accessible in the person of the prophet and in his proclamation. However even that authority is decentered by the distance between the prophet on Patmos and the churches of Asia, a distance that is bridged only by the text of the Apocalypse."(109)

I would focus on a couple of things. First, John is told to "seal up" the things that he is told. That language is reminiscent of Daniel 8 when Daniel is told to "seal up" his vision, "for it concerns the distant future." Note the important thing is that while Daniel is told to "seal up" his vision, he in fact writes it down. Contrast this with John who is told to "seal up" the words of the seven thunders and does not write them down. The difference is of course with the ex eventu nature of Daniel's prophecy. Written long after the Babylonian Exile, the book of Daniel is actually written about contemporary events, the authority comes from invoking Daniel as the messenger of the vision. In the Apocalypse of John on the other hand, the authority is instilled in the messenger precisely by secret knowledge. Secret knowledge does nothing for the author of Daniel as his narrator is long since dead, but because John of Patmos still lives his secret knowlege gives him authority precisely because he alone holds it. The allusion to Daniel functions to equate Daniel with the apocalypse' author.

We might also contrast the "seal up" command in chapter 10 with the command "Do not seal up the words of prophecy in the book because the time is near"(22:10). The sealing of the words, as in Daniel, is dependent upon the proximity of prediction to fulfillment. For the book of Revelation, the words must not be sealed up since their fulfillment in imminent. On the other hand Daniel's prediction is to be fulfilled in the distant future and thus the words are to be sealed up. Which makes Rev 10 command different than 22 and the Danielic allusion it appears to reference. Here the focus is on the prophet. He alone has the words, he alone eats the scroll, and he alone is given the command "you must prophecy" in v. 11.

Ruiz argues that "Neither text allows attention to remain focused on the author-prophet or author-apostle for very long. In both instances authority is redirected from the narrator to the narration."(111) Yet here it seems that Ruiz has stretched the comparison between Corinthians and Revelation too far, because it is precisely the focus on the prophet in v.11 that makes Ruiz larger point that the nature of the secret knowledge imparted to John is to function to bolster his status with the community. The move to secret knowledge works precisely because that knowledge is contained within in one living source and no other.

Ruiz, Jean-Pierre. 2006. Hearing and Seeing but Not Saying: A Rhetoric of Authruority in Revelation 10:4 and 2 Corinthians 12:4. In The Reality of Apocalypse: Rhetoric and Politics in the Book of Revelation, Ed. David Barr, Symposium Series, 91-112, Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature.

First Post-about me

I've started this blog as a place to post research and thoughts about my current project on a sociology of apocalypticism. I am an assistant professor at Appalachian State University in the Philosophy and Religion Department. My area is Religion and Social Theory, though I also teach and have an interest in the New Testament. My project here is an attempt to understand how apocalypticism (the religious belief that the world will end shortly) works sociologically, how if functions for groups that espouse it. Much of what you will read here will be summaries and commentary on articles and books about that subject. I warn you in advance none of it will be along the lines of "Who is the Anti-Christ?" or "How close is the rapture." The individuals who ask those questions are the subject of my inquiry, but their questions are not my questions. I want to look at this phenomena through the lens of social theory and history and understand the movement, but I am not a member of that movement.

If this sounds like an interesting pursuit, I invite you to come along. It should be the ride of all time :)