Reposted from
The
Bible and Interpretation
with permission
Can
Biblical Scholars persuade
others that they conduct a
legitimate academic
discipline? Until they do,
can they convince anyone
that they have something
to offer to the
intellectual life of the
modern world? Indeed, I
think many of us have to
convince ourselves first!
Just
before I began writing this
essay, I happened to be reading
two quite different books. One
of these was Carl Sagan’s Broca’s
Brain (New York: Random
House, 1979), a series of
essays in defense of the
excitement of science and the
need to make it better
understood by the public:
The
most efficient agents to
communicate science to the
public are television, motion
pictures and newspapers where
the science offerings are
often dreary, inaccurate,
ponderous, grossly caricatured
or (as with much
Saturday-morning commercial
television programming for
children), hostile to science.
(45-6)
The
other book on my reading table
was The Pentateuch: An
Introduction to the First Five
Books of the Bible by Joseph
Blenkinsopp (New York:
Doubleday, 1992). The following
words struck me:
Old
Testament scholarship is,
after all, one facet of
the intellectual history
of the modern world and as
such is influenced by the
presuppositions, often
tacit, of the age in which
it is carried on. (p. 6)
It
is "the facet of the
intellectual history," yes,
indeed, but also one facet of
the intellectual (as well as
religious) life of every
age, at least within Western
culture. Some very great minds
and influential writers have
grappled with the Bible:
Augustine of Hippo, Maimonides,
Thomas Aquinas, Baruch Spinoza,
Isaac Newton, John Milton,
Thomas Paine, Max Weber, Sigmund
Freud, to exemplify the great
variety. In our own day,
Biblical scholars study and
teach in many universities
around the world as part of the
community of knowledge that
these institutions comprise.
They are professional colleagues
of linguists, philosophers,
physicists, anthropologists,
political scientists, and
engineers.
But
what does biblical scholarship
contribute to the intellectual
life of these universities, let
alone our general public
discourse, our civilization? My
colleagues and I at the
Department of Biblical Studies
in the University of Sheffield
were once visited by a senior
academic administrator as part
of his duties in keeping abreast
of research activity. How, he
asked, did we (could
we) conduct research on the
Bible? Surely it had been
written long ago and was
presumably complete. After two
thousand years of scrutiny, was
there much left to say? This was
the challenge from a fellow
academic, an intellectual
(albeit churchgoing). The idea
of the Bible as an object of
academic research (rather than
presumably an elevated form of
Sunday-school teaching) was not
something he could easily
comprehend. His ignorance was
not facetious, but (more
frighteningly) genuine.
Could
this question have been asked of
a department of physics or
French? I doubt it: every
educated non-academic is aware,
however vaguely, of what in a
general way is being studied and
taught in these fields or can
make a respectable guess. There
are articles in newspapers and
magazines and documentary
programs on television that
reflect the work of scholars in
most areas. But what have we
about modern research into the
Bible? Carl Sagan complains that
science is badly communicated; I
think he is very lucky to be a
scientist he might have been a
biblical scholar. Then he
would have something to complain
about!
The
problem, perhaps, is that the
Bible is a book of
"scripture." Not many
Christians or Jews, for whom it
is (in a variety of definitions)
divinely inspired, are
interested in the Bible intellectually¾
or even know how such an
interest might be pursued. The
one exception to this rule is
provided by coverage of biblical
archaeology and biblical history
(which are virtually
co-extensive in the public
mind). But biblical scholarship
is not centrally concerned about
new evidence for "Noah’s
Flood" or the site of Sodom
or Gomorrah, or the
"Christmas star."
Another aspect of popular
interest in the Bible is of
"hidden mysteries";
but, again, hardly any biblical
scholar is at all concerned with
hidden "Bible codes."
All these historical and
literary fantasies are
peripheral to, or even
obstructive to, what most
biblical scholars think of as
their task. But such issues do
absorb virtually all the
attention of the public media.
It is disappointing that such
"poor science" is
foisted on the public when
similar kinds of programs or
articles dealing with medicine
or astronomy or even history
would be pilloried and attract
vehement protest from the
relevant professionals (think of
astrology or alchemy). The Bible
is not a book of ancient secrets
nor is its testimony to history
the central question of biblical
research, though the latter is
certainly widely debated and
recognized as a complicated and
quite technical issue.
There
is, then, a large gap between
what biblical scholars do and
what the majority of the public
think they do (or should do).
And this gap is curious because
many Christian (and Jewish)
leaders receive academic
training and acquire formal
qualifications involving
academic study of the Bible
whether in university theology
departments or denominational
seminaries (which are usually
affiliated to, or even part of,
a university). Many Christian
churches thus seem to believe
that a scholarly education in
the Bible is a good preparation
for the ministry or priesthood.
In theory, that attitude should
ensure a widespread awareness of
what biblical scholarship is
about, at least among
worshippers.
What
should these leaders learn about
the Bible? What they will read
in most modern textbooks written
by biblical scholars is that the
stories of Abraham and Moses are
largely or entirely legend, not
history; that the books of the
prophets contain a great deal
not written by those prophets;
that David did not write all of
the Psalms (if any); that
ancient Israelites probably once
worshipped a goddess alongside
their god; that Jesus was
probably born in Nazareth, not
Bethlehem; and that the stories
of his birth and resurrection
appearances display awkward
contradictions and may well not
be based on eyewitness accounts.
These views are largely
undisputed among biblical
scholars and have the weight of
a great deal of research behind
them.
But
most of these views and
arguments get no farther than
the edge of the campus; they are
found in books written for
scholars or students. John
Robinson’s Honest to God
(London: SCM Press, 1963) was a
famous exception and was
regarded as a cause célèbre
when it appeared. When, a
few decades later, a former
Bishop of Durham, David Jenkins,
referred to the resurrection
issue as "juggling with
bones" and dismissed the
idea of a literal understanding
of the stories of Jesus’
post-mortem appearances, he
immediately came under attack
not only from churchgoers and
from the media but also from his
fellow-clergy, many of whom had
presumably been taught as
students precisely what Jenkins
was saying! It is hard to know
how many might have privately
agreed with him, but it seems
that they felt his public
remarks could cause them acute
embarrassment if they were
themselves challenged by one of
their own congregation.
I
cannot imagine a scientist or
engineer, a professor of
English, or a medical researcher
facing the same predicament as
the two bishops. My university
colleagues in other disciplines
are listened to as experts:
what they say is taken to be a
reliable opinion on the subject
(whether that perception is true
or not). I cannot think of any
other university subject whose
graduates disguise from
the public what they have
learned! Little wonder that the
churchgoing public has no real
idea of what biblical scholars
do. Most nonbelievers are of
course happy to delegate serious
interest in the Bible to
churchgoers (most of whom
actually read very little of
it). They themselves may think
of it as a great literary work
with an immense impact on the
culture of the Western world,
but do they conceive what a
biblical scholar might
do?
So
biblical scholarship has
problems both within the
academic and outside world. In
both camps, biblical scholarship
is seen as a theological
pursuit, and its struggle to
establish itself as an
autonomous discipline is of
recent origin, and still
ongoing. While I am fortunate
enough to have worked in a
Department of Biblical Studies,
such departments are rare. In
most universities, Biblical
Studies is simply a
sub-discipline of Theology and
belongs to a separate Faculty of
Theology. In Germany, this will
be either Protestant or Catholic
(several universities have
both). In universities
elsewhere, there are theological
colleges, or seminaries, or
Divinity Schools. Biblical
Studies thus enjoys a varied
degree of integration into
academic life. Like Law Schools
and Medical Schools, many of the
academic institutions where the
Bible is studied are devoted to
professional training. But
should the Bible be dealt with
in such a context and not within
the mainstream of the
intellectual life of a
university? Some of my
colleagues in the United States
are situated in departments of
Religion or Religion and
Philosophy or Historical Studies
or Classics, or Humanities. And
indeed, a rounded biblical
scholar should have interests in
linguistics, literature,
archaeology, history, theology,
anthropology, sociology and much
else. Biblical studies is a
typical, but demanding,
humanities discipline,
distinguished only by its object
of analysis, not by anything
else. It is not, for example, a
religious pursuit, though it may
be at times in pursuit of
religion. While many of its
practitioners may still be
practicing Christians or Jews,
there are strong secular
impulses and an increasing
tendency to critique the Bible
from a range of modern
ideological viewpoints:
feminism, post-colonialism,
deconstruction, social
psychology, gay rights,
discourse analysis, New
Historicism. Biblical studies
has already emerged from the
womb of Theology, though the
umbilical cord has not yet been
completely severed. The
discipline has its own learned
societies the Society of
Biblical Literature, the
European Association of Biblical
Studies, the Catholic Biblical
Association of America. There
are also numerous societies
devoted to Old or New
Testaments, the two main
specialties to which the
discipline is divided.
There
remains, however, a great deal
of public education to be
undertaken. I am sorry to say
that when I find myself in
situations that suggest a long
and enforced conversation with a
stranger, I answer the dreaded
question "What do you
do?" in a rather cowardly
way. I usually reply either that
I study the Dead Sea Scrolls
(which is true), or that I am a
publisher (which is partly
true), or that I am a scholar of
religion (which is true, but
also misleading). Of course, I
should be more courageous, own
up, and confess to being a
professional biblical scholar.
But do I want to suffer the
indignity ("Oh, you teach
Bible!") of having to
explain": first, I don’t
have any religious beliefs
related to the Bible; second, my
discipline is not part of
Theology, and I am not a
"theologian,"; and
third, biblical scholarship is
a real academic activity, like
history, sociology or
psychology?
Can
biblical scholars persuade
others that they conduct a
legitimate academic discipline?
Until they do, can they convince
anyone that they have something
to offer to the intellectual
life of the modern world?
Indeed, I think many of us have
to convince ourselves first!
Much of the secular work in our
discipline has been conducted in
the context of protest against,
or opposition to, the
long-dominant theological
agendas of the subject. This
gives such work not only a
certain vigor but also obscures
the vision that we are living
increasingly in a secular world
and that we have a public to
address that does not regard the
Bible as particularly
interesting or important. But
like virtually all European
academics (and many elsewhere) I
am paid out of public funds, and
I have a duty to share with the
public who pay me what it is I
that I do and let them know (if
I can) why they should continue
to pay me. (Biblical scholars
who are paid by their churches
are a separate issue, and one I
have tackled elsewhere in Whose
Bible Is It Anyway? (Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press, 1995).
I
am trying now to write a book
that explains to the public what
the Bible (in what follows, that
means "Hebrew Bible"
or "Old Testament") is
and why it is interesting and
relevant to them, not as a set
of instructions from a deity,
nor as an antique curiosity, nor
as a cultural icon. Curiously
enough, few accounts of the
Bible actually engage in its
intellectual and existential
agendas but sell it short (in my
mind) as either theology or
literature. But nearly all
ancient texts are theological
(the gods are part of the world
that humans inhabit) and of
course by definition all are
"literature." What are
the biblical theories about
human nature, history, ethics,
society, justice? You can hardly
open a page of a Bible without
being confronted with
philosophical questions of
almost every kind. Of course, it
takes both interest and
education to identify and engage
with the problem of how
individuals and societies suffer
for each other’s misdemeanors,
how a single god can be unjust
(unless "justice" is
higher than the god), whether
one can learn "rules for
life" by experience,
whether a perfect society is
possible, whether death
relegates humans to the level of
all other living things, and
more and more. My personal
opinion is that the Bible is the
outcome of an intellectual
project, a creative and
ambitious project, which
ultimately bore fruit in the
creation of two religions and,
indirectly, others, and has
proved more universal than
perhaps its participants ever
expected. Paradoxically,
however, its influence has been
due to its strong misreadings¾
typographical, literalistic,
mystical, cryptic which have
isolated it from philosophical
texts, so that while we treat,
say, Plato (another monotheistic
mythmaker) as one whose thought
is worth grappling with, we too
often allow the Bible to seen in
terms of "true" or
"false," or as the
property of a religious group.
Secularizing biblical studies
means also secularizing the
Bible for a secular world, just
as it was once sanctified for a
religious world. That does not
mean rejecting any religious
value it has nor denying
biblical scholarship to
religious believers (it is a
common and insidious belief that
secularism is anti-religious
when the opposite is true: it is
tolerant of nearly all religion,
so long as religion, of any
kind, is permanently deprived of
its ancient power of tyranny
over individuals and societies).
In
short, I would like to see
biblical scholars reclaiming the
Bible as their own, seeing in
its authors an intellectual
elite, aware of and engaged in
the major cultural issues of
their day, and presenting its
ideas in a way that will capture
the imagination of anyone
interested in the eternal (and
unanswered) questions of
humanity. I suppose I had better
start with some truthful answers
on my next air trip.
