2011 on My Blog and Other Blogs

Some bloggers I know have been listing their top posts for 2011, or their favorite posts from other blogs. I’ll be doing something like that in this post.

My Blog

On my blog, my focus this year was largely on my reading for my comprehensive examinations in rabbinics and Hebrew Bible. I like a lot of the posts that I wrote for that, especially the ones about John Van Seters’ work. Van Seters, in my opinion, is not always the easiest author to read, but there was a sense of satisfaction that came to me when I took a look at some of his arguments and broke them down so I could understand them, and my process for doing that was blogging. I am also glad that I got to write some posts that can be a source of information for anyone interested. For instance, I had long heard that the camel was not a domestic animal in the time of Abraham and that Genesis is thus inaccurate on this issue, and I also knew about scholars who disagreed with that claim. But I did not know what the evidence was, pro or con. As a result, I did some research and I wrote a post about it: The Domestic Camel.

Also in 2011, I have done a weekly blog post on the Book of Psalms. Before I got into this project, I was afraid that blogging through the Psalms would be rather boring, since many of the Psalms say the same sorts of things. Well, so far, I have blogged about Psalms 1-57, and I’m not bored yet! Each Psalm, in my opinion, has its own eccentricities. There are hard verses, and interpreters have different views about what those verses mean. The whole experience of researching the Psalms and their interpreters has been satisfying, and it’s gotten better with time.

Other posts have been a pleasure for me to write. I have enjoyed reading about Second Temple and rabbinic views about the Torah, and whether or not Gentiles had to observe it. I was glad to finally read Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Du Bois for Black History Month, since I heard about them on one of my favorite miniseries, Roots: The Next Generation, but I did not know precisely where they differed. Women’s History Month was also good, for I learned about feminist and womanist Christology, as well as feminist constructions of history. In the process, I have taken a look at my own theology and approach to the Scriptures—-Do I pick and choose what I will believe in the Bible, and, if so, what is my criteria?

Starting in 2011, I began to attend a Presbyterian Church (USA), which is walking distance from where I live. I have appreciated the hospitality of the people there. I think that blogging through my church’s Bible study on Tim Keller’s The Prodigal God helped me to get more out of it. My favorite post from that experience was The Am Ha-Aretz, Sinners, and the Prodigal Son.

My blog has gained new readers and commenters this year, and I have appreciated their insights, as well as the insights of long-time readers. I’d like to highlight one interaction that I had that taught me a valuable lesson. In my post, Childs on the Covenant Code and Exodus 24, I said that Exodus 21:21 says that if a master beats his slave and the slave gets up after a day or two, then the master will not be punished. I had long assumed that the law was saying that the master would not be punished if the slave survived the beating, but he would be punished if the slave died. Paul D., however, brought to my attention translations that said that the law is saying something different: that the master is not punished if the slave lives for a few days and then dies. I checked out the Hebrew, translations, the Septuagint, and Jewish and Christian commentaries and learned that there was a strong tradition that interprets the verse as Paul does, but there were a few that read it my way. I guess my lesson there was that what I assume the text means is not necessarily what the text means, or the only way that the text can be interpreted.

I did not blog as much about entertainment as I have in previous years, but there were a few posts that were meaningful to me: my post on my favorite 15 Smallville episodes (which I posted on the day of the final episode), and my post on the Temple Grandin movie. I also enjoyed writing about Terra Nova (see here).

Other Blogs

I read a lot of blog posts, but I did not always pay attention to who was writing them. One controversy this year was over Rob Bell’s Love Wins, which has been accused of promoting universalism (the view that all will be saved in the end). I really appreciated one post that I read (whose author I forget) that argued that there are different ways to interpret the Bible on this issue, which contradicts the claim of my conservative Christian friends that Rob Bell and his supporters were neglecting the plain words of Jesus and were preferring their own wishes instead. I think that there are different ways to interpret passages in the Bible. Universalists choose to take Paul’s statements about Christ saving all or reconciling all literally, and they harmonize what the Bible says about eternal punishment with that concept—-by noting that eternal punishment can be a temporary period of correction, since eternity in the Bible is not always forever and a Greek word for punishment can mean correction. Other Christians, by contrast, believe that eternal punishment is literally eternal punishment, and so they harmonize the passages about God saving or reconciling all with that particular concept—-by saying that God is offering to reconcile all but that people still need to believe, that all does not necessarily mean every single person but rather people from every group, or that salvation does not always mean eternal salvation. In my opinion, none of these groups is being unfaithful to the Bible. They’re just prioritizing different things, and harmonizing other elements of Scripture with what they choose to prioritize.

I’ve learned of new blogs this year, which I really enjoy: JohnShore.com, Fallen From Grace, Think and Wonder. Wonder and Think…, Respectful Atheist, and The Screaming Kettle. Some of these are from atheists, and some are from unconventional Christians. I have appreciated their honesty and also their tactfulness, which sometimes coexists with their edginess.

I’d now like to highlight some of my favorite posts or series for this year:

Rachel Held Evans had some excellent posts in her “Ask A…” series. Ask a Gay Christian, by Justin Lee, was my favorite, for Justin struck me as a person who recognized and respected that people (including himself) are in different places on their spiritual journeys, and so he did not look down on gay Christians who chose celibacy. Justin Taylor’s post, Ask a Calvinist, was also good. I did not expect to like it because I hate Calvinism and find a lot of Calvinists to be self-righteous and annoying. But Taylor was quite judicious and tactful in his presentation.

From Rachel’s blog (see here), I learned about David Nilsen’s blog, and I really appreciated his series on teaching children about the Bible and his family’s reasons for leaving one church to search for another.

Finally, I have enjoyed some of Rodney Thomas’ posts. His critique of William P. Young’s The Shack was excellent. I liked it because I consider The Shack to be an overrated book, and it was interesting to see how the book actually reinforces stereotypes. Rodney’s thanksgiving post was also good because it sought to transcend the usual patriotic and politically-correct narratives about that holiday.

I’ve enjoyed 2011, and I wish you all a Happy New Year!

Crunch Time!

I'll be leaving for New York City today, since I'll be taking my Hebrew Bible comprehensive examination tomorrow. I'm hoping that my books and notes will fit into my backpack!

Yesterday, I took a particular approach to studying: I researched questions that came to my mind. Who wrote the Covenant Code, according to scholars? (Answer: the Elohist, yet others date it to eighth century Judah.) Why did Gerhard Von Rad believe that the Sinai covenant was a theme commemorated on Sukkoth? (Answer: I don't know, but he maintains that it was celebrated at Shechem, since the covenant ceremony in Joshua 24 at Shechem looks like the covenant made at Sinai.) Did E. Knauf really think that Hebrew was an artificial language invented in the post-exilic period? (Answer: Lemche says that, according to Knauf, Hebrew was no longer a living language in the post-exilic period, and so the Hebrew of the Hebrew Bible was constructed to serve as a literary language.) What, according to Brian Peckham, was Isaiah's problem with J's notion of covenant? (Answer: Isaiah disliked J's notion that worship was all that mattered, and Isaiah also rebuked Hezekiah for trusting in Egypt rather than God, prompting the Deuteronomist to defend Hezekiah as a man of faith---after, in his eyes, God's approval of Hezekiah was made manifest by the defeat of Sennacherib.) And what was that pre-exilic artifact in which the God YHWH was invisible? (Answer: A tenth century terra cota from Taanach, a Northern Israelite city.)

Whether or not these answers are totally adequate, I do not know, but at least they're in my mind so that I can use them on the exam, if necessary. Google books was really helpful yesterday, as was the Anchor Bible Dictionary.

In terms of how I will study today, first of all, I printed out all of my blog-posts that I wrote to prepare for this exam, and so I will consult some of them, whenever I feel a need to solidify my knowledge on a particular book. I also have the notes that I took on the books that I read. Second, I'm taking the book, Sources of the Pentateuch, which contains how Martin Noth divided up the Pentateuch into J, E, P, and later redactors. I want to get an idea of what in the Pentateuch belonged to whom, according to a prominent version of the Documentary Hypothesis. Even though the standard Documentary Hypothesis is not the only game in town, it's still helpful for me to know it when I'm taking an exam in Hebrew Bible. And, third, I'm taking a few books on the Psalms, so that I can read about certain Psalms that may be on the test.

This is a nerve-wracking experience. Sometimes, I feel confident. Other times, I feel like I know nothing! But I hope to walk into that exam knowing enough to pass!

After I take my Hebrew Bible exam, I'll be studying for my exam in rabbinics, and so I may blog about that topic as I study. That test will be a week and a half after my Hebrew Bible one! Even after I finish the rabbinics exam, however, I will still read books on the Hebrew Bible and rabbinics and blog about them---until I learned whether I passed or not! And, even then, I may still blog about those kinds of books, for I'm hoping to start writing book reviews for publication, so that I can get some publication experience on my CV.

I won't be publishing comments until tomorrow evening, which is when I'll be back from New York City. Talk with you later!

Insomnia, The Christian and the Pharisee

I'm having a hard time sleeping right now, and I have four hours before I have to get up. Part of the problem is that I'm thinking of some of the errors I made on my comps, and I'm afraid of the possibility of having to take them over again. The secretary told me that, if I have to take parts over again, then the best time is January, which is before the second semester. Otherwise, I'll have to pay $1500 (or something like that) for candidacy in the second semester. Plus, I wonder how I'd take the comps in the second semester, when I won't even be living in Cincinnati then. I can't afford to stay in a hotel (or even on campus) for three weeks in a row---ordinarily, we have to have a week between each comp.

I say this because my Mom said "Whew" when she read my blog about my last comp, but now's not the time to say "Whew." I have no idea where I stand right now on them. And who knows when I will know? I hope I don't come across as snippy here. I just don't feel all that secure right now.

Plus, I'm just not sleepy. I slept well last night because I wanted a brief escape from having to worry about my comps. Now that they're over, I can't sleep. So worry is keeping me awake, and yet, paradoxically, so is a lack of worry---if that makes any sense.

I'm trying to read a book for fun right now, in the aftermath of my comps---The Christian and the Pharisee, by Dr. R.T. Kendall and Rabbi David Rosen. It's basically a series of letters between Kendall, a Christian, and Rosen, an Orthodox Jew. I'm having a hard time with the book. For one, Kendall makes no apologies about wanting Rosen to become a Christian, which turns me off, for I wonder why Kendall thinks that his worldview is the only way to see the world. There are different ways to interpret the Hebrew Bible, and that's one reason that there are different religions---Judaism, Christianity, Christianity's sects, etc. Kendall also expresses bafflement when Rosen says that Jews don't think accepting the Messiah is all that important. Um, hello, Christianity is different from Judaism, Dr. Kendall: what Christianity stresses as important ("believing" in the Messiah) is not necessarily what Judaism chooses to stress!

But I'm having a hard time following Rosen, at times. In the letter of his that I read today, he said that Jews enter the World to Come---the good afterlife---through obedience to the Torah. But I wish he elaborated more on the rabbinic belief that the intermediate Jews (those who aren't righteous or wicked) will go through a period of cleansing in Gehenna, a view I find rather cozy. Maybe he'll get into that. So far, all he said was that Jews have different ideas on hell and purgatory. So this is a case of me wanting him to say something a certain way, and he chooses to say something else. You'd think that this would make him interesting---he's baffling my expectations. But that's where the paradox is: I'm having a hard time getting intellectual stimulation out of this book.

Something I like about the book, though: both sides aren't extreme Zionists who believe in "Israel, right or wrong." They're for peace, and they criticize Christian Zionism.

I see snow outside. It would be nice if I could get a day off from work tomorrow, so that I can sleep and take it easy. But my school only closes when it's REALLY bad outside. That's how it was when I was a kid: all the other schools were closing when there was a blizzard outside, but not the school system that I attended.

I'm sorry if I offended anyone in this post. Have a good evening, or day, if many of you read this during the day-time.

Last Comp

I took my final comp today. I expected it to be the hardest, but, actually, it wasn't that bad. The professor could have chosen much harder Greek passages for me to translate on the test, from the large corpus that I had to prepare. But I could actually make something out of the passages he gave to me.

Which Is Worse?

I hate the day before a comp. There's so much anxiety---burn-out mixed with panic attack. Actually taking the comp is not as bad. At that time, I either know the material or I don't, and I no longer have to do anything to prepare for the test, so all I can do is take it and try my best. I realized a few days ago that I dread the day before the comp more than the comp itself. I'm not sure if I'll have to take any of these tests over again, or any specific parts over. But I will be glad to have some sort of respite after my final comp tomorrow.

Comp Number 2

I took my second comp today, the one in Hebrew Bible. (That means my school was open on this snowy day.) I'm not sure what to say about it. A lot of what I studied was not on it. There were some things that I wish I had studied more---which I'll have an opportunity to do if I have to take a part of the test over again, or just for fun. (Blogging through Van Seters and other scholarly books actually can be fun.) But I tried to present what I did know, but I won't be surprised if my professor will be scratching his head as he reads my essay, wondering what point I was trying to make. The translation part wasn't that bad. I had to translate Psalm 50, which is one of the more provocative Psalms---the one where God says he doesn't eat animal sacrifices. I got to bring in some of my scholarly reading on Psalms from my weekly quiet time, which was good.

The translation took some time, and the writing of the essays was like composing a five-hour blog post. At least it was with the way I was writing them! I was happy to be out of there! Whereas, last week, the eight hours went by fast, this week, they went by slowly, and I felt as if I had to spend all the time I could to do the question justice, or to hit points where I was inadequate, or just to arrive at something cogent to SAY!

I think my essay would have been better had I memorized the entire Hebrew Bible, or if reading Hebrew was as easy for me as reading English. But I made due with what knowledge I had while taking the test.

What I learned today is that taking this particular comp is not impossible. Challenging, but not impossible. I'll know that if I have to take it over again, or at least parts of it.

My next comp is the Greco-Roman one, and it worries me.

But I'll keep you all posted!

The Day Before...

I'm studying for my Hebrew Bible comp right now, which I will take tomorrow. I wonder, later on today, if I'll get the same sort of mixture between burn-out and panic attack that I got last week, while studying for my rabbinics comp. Last week, I was studying the rabbinic texts to prepare myself to translate and to explain them. I'm not doing that so much this week, for my Hebrew Bible professor told me that, in terms of what I'll have to translate on the test, anything in the Hebrew Bible except the Book of Job (which is difficult) is fair game. I can't read the entire Hebrew Bible by tomorrow, so I'll probably hit a few prominent poetic passages: Exodus 15, and the Song of Deborah.

In terms of translation, I'm relying on the fact that I have read a lot of biblical texts in Hebrew for my weekly quiet time, and for my study. I've done the Pentateuch. I've done Joshua-II Kings. I've done Ecclesiastes and (I think) the Song of Solomon. I did Isaiah. I'm a little weak, however, on other prophets and the Book of Proverbs. For many chapters of Proverbs, it's not easy to translate a passage by looking at context, for the chapters contain sentences that follow each other and really don't have much to do with each other. My professor once said that, in Proverbs, it's hard to determine what one sentence means in relation to another, whereas, in Job, it's hard to determine what one word means in relation to another. I guess that's why I won't be tested on Job!

Today's burn-out may come as I try to iron out all the different beliefs on the composition and sources of the Pentateuch, which can become a headache. I decided to take my comp with this professor because I wanted to learn the scholarly spectrum when it comes to the Hebrew Bible. I find different approaches to be interesting. Today, my study of them may lead to burn-out and panic attack! Or I may find what I discovered last week while I was working through the Mishnah tractate on vows (Nedarim): I'm actually interested in what I'm reading, but I'm stressed at having to know it for a test the next day!

In any case, I'll be studying and incorporating prayer into my day. I probably won't be able to publish comments until tomorrow evening, when I'll be done with my Hebrew Bible comp---so don't think I'm snubbing you if your comment doesn't appear for a while.

I'll probably let you all know tomorrow how my comp went! God bless.

Faith Amidst Insecurity

One reason religion exists is that there is so much insecurity in the world. A line that I used to hear is that, as long as there will be math tests, then there will be school prayer. In my case, having to take comps increases my prayer life. There's a lot of worry as I prepare for them, but even the activity of taking them is like going through a mine-field. Things can be going smoothly, and then, BAM, out of the blue, while taking the comp, I run into a particular subject-area in which I'm not confident.

I seriously wondered if God would bless me on these test, when I've been questioning Christianity a lot over the past few years. But that's just been me being honest. I've also wondered if God would answer my prayer to pass the tests---primarily so my loved ones and I won't have to pay the huge fee next semester that registering for comps entails. I wonder this after reading Ecclesiastes, which seems to say that God just lets things go: God doesn't always intervene to set things right in the lives of people. I don't even need to read Ecclesiastes to feel this way, for I can observe it when I look at the world!

But I can pray. And I try to find comfort in the idea that God loves me, regardless of how I do on my comps.

Not that I've heard any news about the first one. These are just my reflections.

Comp Number 1

Last night, I was studying for my first comp, the one in rabbinics. I felt as if I was having a panic attack mixed with burn-out! But prayer got me through. I started reading some of the midrashim as if they were bedtime stories, getting me to a state of sleepiness. And that helped.

This morning, I thought that my comp would start at 8 a.m., but it actually started at 9. That gave me an extra hour to study. And that was an hour of quality study.

I'm not sure how I did on this comp. I was expecting this to be the easiest one, but, believe me, it was no joke! I took the full eight hours on it. I think that the first four hours were spent on translating. I could make sense of the passages. Some questions I answered well, some, I hope I answered them well! I wonder what the next two comps will be like.

Believe it or not, those eight hours actually flew. I wondered before I took the test how I could take a test for eight straight hours. I was told that, when I'm taking it, I'll feel that I don't have enough time. That's the way it was for me today. I wasn't dithering or day-dreaming or taking breaks through any of it (except for that one restroom break): I was working.

I doubt that I'll have to take the whole thing over, but I wouldn't be surprised if I'd have to take a few sections over. I'll have to see!

Now, on to study for my next comp!

Providence? Self-Esteem?

1. I'm studying for my rabbinics comp, which I'll be taking tomorrow, and, lo and behold, James McGrath has a link by Simon Holloway on "The Development of the Halakha." Coincidence, or divine providence?

2. I'm listening to Joel Osteen right now, and he's talking about how we should carry ourselves with confidence. I do this better now than I did in the past. My voice doesn't tremble as much when I'm in people's presence, and I look people in the eye more often. But I still tend to mumble, rather than speaking to others in a clear, audible voice. People still say "What?" after I speak. Also, there are some groups in which I am comfortable, and some groups in which I'm not, and I tend not to manifest confidence in the latter situations. My twelve-step group helps me to have more confidence than I used to have. Because I go to a meeting most mornings, I feel a little more confidence around people in the afternoon. It's like I've been gently eased into the day through my meeting. And the meetings are positive. I generally leave them with hope rather than despair.

Joel is speaking against the attitude of apologizing for one's existence. I often have this sort of attitude. But I don't know how I can believe that I'm fun to be around, when there have been people who have disliked me. I don't know how I can believe that I'm competent in job situations, when there are job situations in which I wasn't competent. Something I really like about my library job is that I do most things right, however. But the battle to have self-esteem is still a challenge.

Robert Wilson on Scribes and Prophetic Writings

I’m reading Randall Heskett and Brian Irwin’s The Bible as a Human Witness to Divine Revelation off-and-on, and I thoroughly enjoyed Robert Wilson’s article in it, “Scribal Culture and the Book of Isaiah.” It tied together a lot of loose ends.

One thing that I have to know for my Hebrew Bible comp is Philip Davies’ view on Israel’s scribal culture. Wilson summarizes that. According to Wilson, Davies believes that not many people in ancient Israel could read, but that there were small scribal elites that were associated with the political and the religious establishments. Wilson states on page 99, as he describes Davies’ position:

“This relatively small arena for scribal activity in turn delayed the production of written biblical texts until the Persian period or later. Even then, writing was a monopoly of scribal elites, who created texts to support their own interests as well as the interests of the government and the religious establishment.”

In the case of prophetic literature, Davies believes that letters containing divine oracles were preserved in the royal archives, but that “these oracle collections would not have resembled the Bible’s prophetic books as they now exist.” In Israel’s post-exilic period, the Israelites became interested in composing a national history, and Davies believes that was the time when “the oracle collections [were] supplied with historical and cultural contexts of the sort now found in Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” Moreover, for Davies, “some of the oracles from the collections found their way into the historical narratives themselves, creating the prophetic stories now found in Samuel and Kings.”

This echoes some things that the professor giving my comp has said: that prophetic literature is not really historical, but was a literary exercise, and that the alleged historical contexts of the prophetic writings were attached to the text at a post-exilic date. At least that sounds like what Davies is saying. When Davies says that the oracle collections were “supplied with historical and cultural contexts” (to use Wilson’s summary of Davies), does that mean the historical and cultural contexts were artificially attached to anonymous oracles, whose historical setting the scribes did not know? Or does it mean that the scribes knew these oracles’ historical setting, and simply made that clear in their formulation of prophetic literature?

In addition to Wilson’s summary of Davies, I appreciated his discussion of how biblical texts could have been composed in exile. I asked in a class if a certain text was exilic, and the professor asked me how people could compose texts in exile, without a sponsor. I had just assumed that the Jews could compose texts in exile, and that biblical scholars had some way to account for that. After all, didn’t many of them date P to the exile? I was sure they wouldn’t do that if writing in the exile was impossible.

But Wilson discusses how it could have been possible, even when Israel lacked a political establishment and a temple. He states that there were scribes whom people approached whenever they needed something written, whether that be “certifying economic transactions, writing wills and marriage documents, and generally doing any writing that private citizens wanted done.” And so you had Jews in exile who could write, and who did so as part of their business. Some of them could have come together to produce a document such as, say, Second Isaiah. And we see in Scripture that small religious groups—circles around a prophet—wrote and preserved the prophet’s words. This was the case for First Isaiah (Isaiah 8:16; 30:8), and also Jeremiah.

Messiness and Chaos; Judah Halevi

1. In my assigned reading of L.D. Reynolds and N.G. Wilson's Scribes and Scholars today, I read the authors' discussion of textual criticism. They referred to the stemmatic method, which aims to arrive at the "correct" reading of a text, the text as it was originally written down. The stemmatic method compares texts in order to determine which is correct (e.g., what's the majority reading?). The assumption is that there's an original text, which later scribes copied and mis-copied. The stemmatic method's model is rather vertical, in that it usually assumes that a scribe is copying one text.

But things aren't quite so simple, the authors contend, for there's horizontal work going on. Scribes in ancient and medieval times did not always copy one text, for they compared different copies, and they put what they considered "good readings" and "interesting variants" into their manuscripts. You know the eclectic texts that some scholars love to criticize---the modern editions of an ancient text that draw from this manuscript and that manuscript, as the compiler sees fit? Well, there are some old manuscripts that do this, as well! Textual copying and transmission could be quite messy. How can we even arrive at an original text, with that kind of messiness in the equation?

Of course, I may be leaving some with the impression that we can't know anything and that all is chaos. I doubt it's that bleak. Ancient texts agree, and there are many cases when their disagreements are minor, concentrated in such areas as grammar and spelling. But then there are times when texts disagree on what they are saying. Reynolds and Wilson refer to manuscripts of Herodotus that edit out the dirty stuff! Can we say these are wrong because they're minority manuscripts, or stray manuscripts? But even a conservative friend of mine said that the number of copies of a particular manuscript doesn't mean it's accurate, for a group can make a bunch of copies of a bad manuscript.

I'm back to chaos again! I can't write myself out of it. Fortunately, there are plenty of scholars who don't think everything is bleak (right?).

2. In Bringing the Hidden to Light, I read Raymond Scheindlin's essay, "The Song of the Silent Dove: The Pilgrimage of Judah Halevi." Judah Halevi was a Jewish thinker who lived in the eleventh-twelfth centuries. Two things stood out to me. First, Halevi regretted not learning more when he was younger, for, when he was older, he was busy being a doctor. Second, Halevi wrote beautiful poetry, but he didn't believe that it adequately communicated what he wanted to say. In his mind, he was clumsy with words.

I identify with some of this (well, not the beautiful poet part).

Scribes and Scholars 1; How Many Plagues?

1. At the Hebrew Union College library today, I read the first 86 pages of L.D. Reynolds’ Scribes and Scholars.

Reynolds talks about the Alexandrian method of text criticism, which marked with an obelos the parts of a text that it deemed spurious. Why would a critic deem part of the text to be spurious? Parts of the text that displayed undignified language or conduct were considered spurious, for example, the goddess Aphrodite in the Illiad (3:423-6) carrying a seat for the human Helen. Then there were parts of the text that didn’t flow well with the rest of the story, and they were marked as spurious. The latter criterion overlaps with the text criticism of today.

I encountered interesting people in today’s reading. There was Crates of Mallon, from the second century B.C.E., who broke his leg in a sewer and used his time of forced convalescence to give lectures on poetry. There was Probus, a first century C.E. character, who was disappointed because he didn’t get a military promotion, and so he turned his attention to the old authors he studied in school, who by that point were “out of fashion in Rome”. He became a prominent text critic. When God closes a door, he opens a window! Or, as Tom Hanks says in Castaway, you don’t know what the shore will bring!

Reynolds talked about the ambivalence of Christians towards the classics. Some Christians said that only learned Christians should study the classics, meaning that the Christian masses should avoid them. And yet, Jerome and Augustine said that Christians should freely use the insights of the classics, as long as they utilize them within a Christian framework. Origen said that he was open to the study of the classics, as long as they didn’t deny the existence of a god or divine providence.

Under Julian, an anti-Christian emperor in the fourth century C.E., Christians were banned from teaching the classics. (There may be more nuance to that, but so I have heard.) A Christian named Apollinarius then devised a Christian curriculum, which used Homeric-style poetry to narrate the history of the Jews, and transformed the Gospels and the Epistles into Socratic-like dialogues. But Apollinarius’ curriculum did not last, for, before you knew it, a Christian emperor took Julian’s place, and Christians could teach the classics again.

Reynolds doesn’t buy into the notion that Christians burned pagan texts. He believes there’s no evidence for that, and he points out that even some of Julian’s writings were still around when Christians held power. The texts may have vanished on account of their not being used.

2. In Bringing the Hidden to Light, I read Marc Brettler’s “The Poet as Historian: The Plague Tradition in Psalm 105.” Brettler’s argument (if I’m reading him correctly) is that Psalm 105 draws from the priestly and the Yahwistic narratives about the plagues. But Psalm 105 holds that there were seven plagues, not ten. Brettler speculates that the Passover Haggadah emphasize that there were ten plagues to counter another popular tradition: that there were seven.

Scholarly Debates on Leviticus Rabbah

Yesterday, I started Burton Visotzky's Golden Bells and Pomegranates. I'm writing this post at school right now, since I'll probably be too tired to write it once I get home. It concerns scholarly debates concerning Leviticus Rabbah, which Visotzky dates to fifth century Palestine.

The first debate concerns what Leviticus Rabbah is. Is it an edited literary document, or a homily? One of my rabbinics professors calls it a "literary homily". I guess that's the best of both worlds. Essentially, Visotzsky argues that it's a mish-mash of different (often contradictory) rabbinic traditions---a compendium, if you will. I enjoyed Visotzky's discussion of the sacrificial system in Leviticus Rabbah, which includes traditions saying that the sacrifices will one day be re-instituted, that the temple system as we know it will be abolished, that the priests are authoritative, that they are screw-ups, etc. That's diversity!

I wonder if Leviticus Rabbah tries to make a point from the diverse traditions that it uses. One professor disliked my calling the one who put Leviticus Rabbah together a "compiler", for he viewed him as an artist shaping his traditions to communicate a message, not merely compiling them.

The second debate concerns what drew from what. Visotzky holds that Leviticus Rabbah drew from Genesis Rabbah, the Jerusalem Talmud, and Pesikta de-Rab Kahana. Because LR and PdRK share certain traditions, there is a view that one drew from the other, or that both drew from a common tradition. The debate is what drew from what.

Scholars also discuss the use of Aramaic in Leviticus Rabbah. Jews spoke Aramaic at this time, and yet rabbinic documents use plenty of Hebrew. Was Aramaic used to produce intimacy between the teller of the folk tale in LR and the hearer, who was more comfortable with Aramaic? That is one proposal.

There's also the issue of Hellenistic influence on Leviticus Rabbah. Visotzky, for example, attributes LR's division between the body and the soul to Hellenistic influence.

That's that for now! Tonight, I'll be watching Father Murphy while I read more of Visotzky.

Messy Law Code, or Teaching Manual, or Whatever

H.L. Strack and Gunter Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash: Second Edition, trans. and ed. Markus Bockmuehl (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996) 138.

Given today's knowledge, it is no longer possible unequivocally to determine whether M [(the Mishnah)] was originally conceived as a collection, a teaching manual or a law code. Indeed this alternative probably arises only for modern readers; what is more, it fails to account sufficiently for the utopianism of M, its idealized order of the perfect harmony of heaven and earth, and the underlying philosophy. In principle, the ancient tradition is of course regarded as law which must be transmitted in teaching--and thus the three concepts almost coincide. And a certain development cannot be excluded. The summary of the halakhah in Rabbi [Judah ha-Nasi]'s school, with its endeavor to include a great variety of rabbinical opinions, will at the same time have been a political move intended to unite Judaism under the direction of the patriarchate: although primarily the basis of teaching in schools, it was also the foundation for the judgments in Rabbi's court. Rabbi's exceptional authority then led to the work being regarded as a code of binding law for all of rabbinic Judaism, like the Bible the cornerstone and basis of new developments by interpretation (cf. Epstein, ITM: the attitude to M changes from about the third Amoraic generation; where necessary, it now came to be interpreted very unnaturally or subjected to textual correction, but it was no longer contradicted with baraitot).

This paragraph is a good summary of Strack and Stemberger's discussion of the Mishnah. What was the Mishnah originally: a law code, a teaching manual, or a collection? Some say it's too messy to be a law code, too vague to be a teaching manual, and too incomplete to be a collection. Yet, it is trying to tell Jews what to do, and it presents the views of various teachers.

I've been reading the Mishnah for my daily quiet time, and I've wondered how the Mishnah could be a law code if it doesn't resolve every single dispute it records. Strack and Stemberger suggest that "the redactor would transmit a decision undecided, and insert his own opinion elsewhere" (137). So I guess arriving at halakhic decisions can sometimes be a game of "Where's Waldo?" But there's a degree of logic to that. The Mishnah is about what Jews are supposed to do, but there's also a rabbinic emphasis on "study, study, study." If everything were laid out neatly, would there be a need to study as much?

There's a parallel with how many Christians treat the Bible. I don't see the Bible as similar to OSHA regulations. Rather, reading the Bible is encountering a variety of voices from different times and places. If I want to learn about, say, compassion, I don't turn to a single part of the book, a compassion section, but I look at a variety of places where the topic comes up. And there are different shades in the Bible's presentation of compassion. The Bible isn't exactly the neatest book, yet it is a teaching manual and tells people what to do. It requires study, study, study. It's not about following a bunch of empty rules, but Bible study is seeking the mind of God, getting to know him and following the order he prescribes. So I'm not surprised that the Mishnah is the same way.

So Much for "Traditional" Authorship!

H.L. Strack and Gunter Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash: Second Edition, trans. and ed. Markus Bockmuehl (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996) 63.

'The Men of the Great Synagogue'...in Abot 1.1-2 connect the time of the prophets with the Pharisaic movement, whose first named representative is Simeon the Just. These men, therefore, bridge a period of about two centuries. Later rabbinic literature attributes to them the writing of Ezekiel, the twelve minor prophets, Daniel and Esther (BB 15a)...

M. Aboth 1:1 states that God gave the Torah to Moses, who gave it to Joshua, who gave it to the elders, who gave it to the prophets, who gave it to the men of the Great Synagogue. According to Herbert Danby, the "men of the Great Synagogue" refers to "A body of 120 elders, including many prophets, who came up from exile with Ezra" (quoting Tif. Yis.). Strack and Stemberger state that they are "a fiction derived from the great national assembly of Neh 8-10..."

Since the men of the Great Synagogue date back to Ezra, they go back to the fifth century B.C.E., perhaps earlier. But the first member the Mishnah mentions is Simeon the Just, who (according to Danby) could be Simeon the son of Onias in the third century B.C.E. (Josephus' Antiquities 12.2.5), or Simeon II, the high priest around 200 B.C.E. (Sirach 50).

B.T. Baba Bathra 14b-15a is interesting. Here is the English translation on my Judaic Classics Library:

Who wrote the Scriptures? — Moses wrote his own book and the portion of Balaam and Job. Joshua wrote the book which bears his name and [the last] eight verses of the Pentateuch. Samuel wrote the book which bears his name and the Book of Judges and Ruth. David wrote the Book of Psalms, including in it the work of the elders, namely, Adam, Melchizedek, Abraham, Moses, Heman, Yeduthun, Asaph, and the three sons of Korah. Jeremiah wrote the book which bears his name, the Book of Kings, and Lamentations. Hezekiah and his colleagues wrote (Mnemonic YMSHK) Isaiah, Proverbs, the Song of Songs and Ecclesiastes. The Men of the Great Assembly wrote (Mnemonic KNDG) Ezekiel, the Twelve Minor Prophets, Daniel and the Scroll of Esther. Ezra wrote the book that bears his name and the genealogies of the Book of Chronicles up to his own time. This confirms the opinion of Rab, since Rab Judah has said in the name of Rab: Ezra did not leave Babylon to go up to Eretz Yisrael until he had written his own genealogy. Who then finished it [the Book of Chronicles]? — Nehemiah the son of Hachaliah.

I wonder what this means. When I was ending my M.Div. at Harvard, I was visiting graduate schools to check out their Ph.D. programs. I met with the professor at one of them, and he asked me about my extracurricular activities. I mentioned some Christian groups, and he asked me if I read the Bible "critically." He inquired if I'd have a problem with disputing the "traditional authorship" of the biblical books.

But what is the "traditional authorship"? We see in the Babylonian Talmud rabbis who say that Hezekiah wrote Isaiah and the books usually attributed to Solomon. The "men of the Great Synagogue" are said to have written Ezekiel and the twelve prophets.

One professor I know treats much of the Hebrew Bible as post-exilic, and he once said that Micah was a rip-off of Isaiah and other prophets. And, indeed, there are parts of Micah that resemble Isaiah (cp. Micah 4 with Isaiah 2). But I wonder how my professor or the Talmudist of B.B. 14b-15a would handle the reference to Micah in Jeremiah 26:18, which refers to Micah 3:12. I don't know how biblical scholarship today handles the prophets, but how could the Talmudist believe that Micah was written in the post-exilic period, when Jeremiah presents a pre-exilic person referring to his prophecy?

The notes in my Judaic Classics Library say that "wrote" in the Talmudic passage can mean "edit" or "publish." The notes refer to Rashi, who says that Isaiah was executed by Manasseh before he could put his prophecies on paper. In addition, for Rashi, Ezekiel and Daniel couldn't write down their prophecies because they lived outside the land of Israel, and the minor prophets couldn't publish their work because it was so small.

I'm not sure how the rabbis believed this took place. Was it through oral tradition, or divine inspiration bringing to the scribes the words of the prophets? I remember reading a book called Revelation Restored, by David Weiss Halivni, which discussed how Ezra (in Jewish tradition) "restored" the Torah, which had been lost, or corrupted, or something to that effect. I forget how he says Ezra did this, according to Jewish tradition.

One thing that the Talmudic passage sensitizes me to is something a professor of mine has pointed out: that those who wrote in antiquity needed some sort of sponsor for their message to get out. In the Talmud passage, authorities such as Hezekiah and the men of the Great Synagogue were responsible for the publication of certain biblical books. Some scholars today take this model in a Marxist direction, as they seek ways that the biblical writings upheld a class system or prevalent power structure. I once read an article that said that the prophetic writings that appear anti-establishment are actually for the monarchy, since they want the king to exert power over the local authorities. So much for states' rights!

Sponsorship may have been important, but it's possible for some people to work outside the box. Jeremiah was able to get his anti-establishment message written down, even though his scroll got burned. But he was a priest, and he was able to find a scribe. So I guess authorities could oppose each other.

Moreover, at some point, an authority needed to publish and promote a biblical book for it to survive. After the exile, this happened with Ezra, who could make the Torah the official law of Yehud. Yet, there were criticisms of Ezra, as Isaiah 56 promoted greater inclusion of Gentiles and people with genital defects (or, in Isaiah 56, eunuchs). Was this another case of authorities disagreeing with one another and sponsoring works that were in conflict?

Philo and Homer

Robert Lamberton, Homer the Theologian: Neoplatonist Allegorical Reading and the Growth of the Epic Tradition (Berkley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1986) 50-53.

Lamberton says that Greek philosophers sought to allegorize Homer to make his seemingly irreverent statements about the gods sound more pious. What's interesting is that Lamberton states that Philo of Alexandria did this as well. Philo was a first century Jew of Alexandria, Egypt, and he interpreted the Torah in light of Greek philosophy.

I cannot find many of Lamberton's references in my copy of C.D. Yonge's Complete Works of Philo. That may be because Lamberton often uses an Armenian translation of a Greek text that has disappeared (49). In the version of On Providence that Lamberton quotes, Philo denies that Homer and Hesiod blaspheme the gods, asserting instead that the gods are symbolic for forces of nature (De Prov. 2.40-41). Philo views the Cyclopes as mythological (De Prov. 2.66), which may be an attempt on his part to de-mythologize Homer. He also seeks moral lessons from Homer--about avoiding greed and the Skylla, who represents "undying evil" (De. vit. cont. 17; Quod det. pot. insid. sol. 178). And Philo applies Homer to his own Jewish theology, as Lamberton notes:

Similarly, when Homer says "let there be one king" (...Il. 2.204), what he says is more appropriate to describing the relationship of God to the world (De conf. ling. 170); and when Homer says (of the Sun) that he sees and hears all (Il. 3.277, etc.), Philo, without comment on its original application, takes up the phrase and applies it to God (De Jos. 265).

I've said before that Homer was like a Bible for the Greeks. I can understand that being the case for "pagans." But why is a Jew like Philo treating Homer like his writings are some sort of Bible, as he looks for Homer's deeper meaning and lessons?

I'm not sure how Philo regarded Homer. Was he like Paul, who could quote a Stoic poet to support monotheism and find common ground with his Greek audience (Acts 17), without believing that the poet was divinely-inspired? Was he like the Christian thinker Clement of Alexandria, who held that pagan philosophers were in touch with the divine logos (Quasten, Patrology, Volume II 21-22), explaining how non-Jews could arrive at nuggets of truth before Christ's coming? Did Philo believe that God could have inspired Homer in some way, shape, or form?

Did Philo believe that Homer was actually a monotheist? His belief that Homer's gods are symbolic for forces of nature leans in that direction. But, when Philo applies Homer's statement about the sun to God, does Philo think that Homer worships the sun but that what Homer says about the sun can be applied to the one true God? Or is his view that Homer's "sun" is symbolic for the one true God?

Is the Bible Esoteric?

Robert Lamberton, Homer the Theologian: Neoplatonist Allegorical Reading and the Growth of the Epic Tradition (Berkley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1986) viii-ix.

I finished Copleston a few days ago, so now I'm proceeding to another philosophy book, one on the ancient allegorizers of Homer. Homer was like the Bible in antiquity, but he was problematic because he portrayed the gods in a less-than-flattering matter. As a result, interpreters sought a deeper meaning in the Homeric texts, one that was more respectful of the gods.

Lamberton says that "We know relatively little of methods of interpreting literary texts in antiquity." He then quotes G.M.A. Grube, who "expresses the traditional view of the matter:"

Much is absent from ancient criticism which we should expect to find there. The ancients seem to have felt that great writers were quite capable of expressing their meaning clearly to their audiences, directly, without intermediaries. There is very little in the ancient critics of the ancient period about purpose or meaning, about imagery, symbolism, levels of meaning--these and other aspects of poetry which are not easily subjected to intellectual analysis are nearly completely ignored.

Lamberton disagrees, for he believes that Plato, the sophists, and a Macedonian papyrus demonstrate that allegorical interpretation of Homer existed "as early as the middle of the fourth century [B.C.E.]."

My purpose in this post is not to evaluate the truth of Grube's statement, however. Rather, I find his statement interesting in that it presents a particular approach to texts: that one can read and understand them without intermediaries, teachers who can tell you "what the text really means" through literary (or other kinds of) analysis.
This somewhat relates to the whole discussion in the biblio-blogosphere about "Who is qualified to interpret the Bible?" Jim West answered "biblical scholars only," whereas others contended that religious communities and non-scholars should also have their say.

On my Christian dating site, there are people who think that they don't need to know Hebrew and Greek to understand the Bible. After all, God's word is for everyone, not just scholars of ancient languages, right? And then there are some who claim that the only teacher they need is the Holy Spirit. For them, anyone can understand God's word, without formal or informal training (in languages, history, scholarship, etc.).

I know two families who have had a running debate on this issue. One of them does not attend church. They've had their fill of Armstrongism, and they don't feel they need some self-righteous minister to teach them what the Bible means. They like I John 2:27: "As for you, the anointing that you received from him abides in you, and so you do not need anyone to teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about all things, and is true and is not a lie, and just as it has taught you, abide in him" (NRSV).

The second family disagrees, for they believe that God gave us people to guide us on what the Bible means. They like Acts 8:30-31, where the Ethiopian eunuch says he needs some man to help him comprehend Isaiah.

I think that, on some level, a person can understand the text without knowledge of history, archaeology, and the biblical languages. They can learn how to love God and their neighbor, plus they can follow the flow of the stories. Some may argue, "Yeah, but maybe the common person will interpret certain passages literally when they're a figure of speech, like 'If your right hand offends you, cut it off,' or 'Whoever ploughs and turns back isn't fit for the kingdom of God.'" The Catholic church used this argument against translating the Bible into the popular vernaculars.

But I don't think this is an important concern, since people can filter the Bible through their own common sense. They use figurative language themselves, so why wouldn't they be able to identify the Bible's figurative language?

I suppose there are religious crazies out there who abuse the Bible, though they're not fresh in my mind right now. And I've seen people come up with off-the-wall interpretations, which are refuted by a look at the Hebrew or the Greek.

There are some passages that I'd like to know the historical context for. For example, Jesus' ban on lust. Did Jesus' seriously mean that we shouldn't have sexual desire? Some argue that Jesus didn't mean that, and they appeal to ancient sources to support their point. But my problem is this: Did we have to wait for those ancient sources to be discovered for us to understand what Jesus meant? What about those who read the Bible before those sources were discovered? Were they barred from God's communication?

I guess my question is this: Is the Bible esoteric or exoteric (or whatever the opposite of "esoteric" is)?

Theodoret the Nestorian vs. Cyril the Monophysite

Johannes Quasten, Patrology, vol. III: The Golden Age of Patristic Literature (Westminster: Christian Classics, 1990) 546.

At the request of John of Antioch Theodoret wrote at the beginning of 431 a sharp Refutation of the Twelve Anathemas of Cyril of Alexandria against Nestorius, from November 430. Therein he explains the Antiochene point of view, defends the orthodoxy of Nestorius and accuses Cyril of Monophysitism.

In the fifth century, there was a lot of debate about the incarnation of Christ. Most Christians today believe that Jesus was both divine and human, God and man. The problem is that the divine nature and the human nature are mutually contradictory. God is eternal, omnipresent, omniscient, and does not change. Humans, by contrast, eventually die, can only be in one place at a time, don’t know everything, and do change (since they mature). How could Jesus on earth be God and human at the same time, when the divine and human natures contradict one another?

Christians offered different solutions. Monophysitism was a point of view that had two schools. One school was Apollinarianism, which held that Jesus’ body was human but his mind was divine. According to this idea, Jesus did not have a human soul like everyone else, for his divine-mind (or logos) was his soul. The other Monophysite school was Eutychianism, which maintained that God the Word became a mixture of human and divine at his incarnation, meaning he was a “superman” who was unlike other human beings (at least that’s my impression of this viewpoint).

Nestorians believed that Jesus had two separate and distinct natures (divine and human) in the same person. A friend of mine at Harvard once compared the Nestorian Jesus to a bag with two different kinds of fruit, an apple and an orange.

After reading Theodoret’s response to Cyril, I understand the Nestorian point of view a lot better (albeit not perfectly). Cyril’s point seems to be that Jesus was God on earth, a fusion of human and divine. Cyril disagrees with the idea that the Holy Spirit from the Father empowered Jesus to perform his miracles, for he thinks that Jesus could do them through his own Spirit. After all, why would God on earth need someone else to empower him, when he could do them all by himself?

Theodoret responded that Jesus technically was not God on earth. He pointed out what I mentioned above: God is eternal, omnipresent, omniscient, and does not change. Jesus, by contrast, died, could only be in one place at a time, said he didn’t know when the Son of Man would return (Mark 13:32), and changed when he grew from a baby into an adult. At one point, Jesus even prayed that God would remove from him the cup of his crucifixion, indicating he had some disagreement with God the Father. How could Jesus do this, if he was God and agreed with his Father all the time? Against Cyril, Theodoret also quotes Bible passages claiming that the Holy Spirit empowered Jesus to do his work.

For Theodoret, it was not the case that God the Word was transformed into a God-man, as Cyril argues. Rather, God the Word took on a human body: God fashioned a baby’s body, and God the Word entered into it. For Theodoret, Jesus’ body was like a temple or a garment that clothed God the Word. And does not Jesus in John 2:19-21 call his body a temple?, Theodoret asks.

Theodoret also notes that the Bible distinguishes between the body and the soul. Paul, for example, contrasts his bodily tabernacle with his inward man (II Corinthians 4:16). That means that one person can have two distinct aspects of him, a soul and a body. So why can’t we assume that Jesus had two distinct natures at the same time, a divine one and a human one? For Theodoret, as the soul is clothed with the body, so was God the word clothed with human nature.

But Theodoret is not an Apollinarian, one who believes that Jesus’ mind or soul was divine whereas his body was human. Theodoret actually accuses Cyril of holding this position. Rather, Theodoret maintains that Jesus had a human soul. After all, if Jesus did not know the time of the Son of Man’s return (meaning he lacked omniscience), then his soul had to be the part that lacked that knowledge, since the soul is the part that knows or doesn’t know.

Here we run into problems. Did the divine part of Jesus know when the Son of Man would return, whereas the human part did not? Did Jesus have a split personality? Theodoret’s answer is that the divine nature of Jesus permitted Jesus’ human nature to have limitations.

But, as I said a while back in my post, The Incarnation: Orthodoxy is Confusion!: “Does this make any sense at all? It makes Jesus look like a split personality. Jesus is Jesus, right? He’s one being, not two in one.” Did Jesus know the time of the Son of Man’s return, or didn’t he? Can you really have both at the same time?

Monophysitism (both schools) and Nestorianism both came to be considered heresies in the Catholic Church, which attempted to iron out the incarnation issue at the Council of Chalcedon in the fifth century. And the Chalcedonian Creed says that Jesus had two natures, divine and human, which were united yet distinct (see here). So I guess Chalcedon tried to have it both ways!

But I found Quasten’s quote interesting because both sides accuse one another of heresy. Cyril thought the Nestorian position was heretical, and Theodoret responded that Cyril was a heretical Monophysite.

Stoics on the Unity of Virtue

Frederick Copleston, A History of Philosophy, Volume I: Greece and Rome (Westminster: Newman, 1959) 398.

Copleston summarizes the Stoic view of virtue:

If all the virtues are so bound up with one another that he who possesses the one must possess the others, it is an easy step to supposing that there are no degrees in virtue. Either a man is virtuous, i.e., completely virtuous, or he is not virtuous at all. And this would seem to have been the position of the early Stoics. Thus, according to Chrysippus, a man who has almost completed the path of moral progress is not yet virtuous, has not yet that virtue which is true happiness. A consequence of this doctrine is that very few attain to virtue and then only later in life...But while this strict moral idealism is characteristic of the earlier Stoicism, later Stoics emphasised much more the conception of progress, devoting their attention to encouraging man to begin and continue in the path of virtue. Admitting that no individual actually corresponds to the ideal of the wise man, they divided mankind into fools and those who are progressing towards virtue or wisdom.

The Stoics believed that one had to have all of the virtues in order to be virtuous, since the virtues are interconnected with one another. James may have gotten this idea from the Stoics when he said in James 2:10-11 (NRSV) that breaking one of God's commandments is the same as violating all of them: For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it. For the one who said, "You shall not commit adultery," also said, "You shall not murder." Now if you do not commit adultery but if you murder, you have become a transgressor of the law.

Like the early Stoics, James also seems to have had a perfectionist streak, one that denied that a virtuous person could be a mixture of virtue and vice. He states in James 3:8-11: [N]o one can tame the tongue--a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and brackish water? Can a fig tree, my brothers and sisters, yield olives, or a grapevine figs? No more can salt water yield fresh. James would probably agree with the Stoics who held (in Copleston's words) that "Either a man is virtuous, i.e., completely virtuous, or he is not virtuous at all."

And the Apostle Paul may have had a similar sort of idea. A while back, Nick Norelli had a post about the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5. Nick stated the following: Since ‘fruit’...in [Galatians] 5:22 is singular then does that mean that we must exhibit all or nothing in terms of love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and temperance? If so then do you know anyone who bears this fruit? I can think of very few people…

There is a part of me that can sympathize with the Stoic point of view. If a person truly loves his neighbor as himself, then he won't kill, rape, or steal. If he does one of those things and not another, then he is not a truly loving person.

At the same time, I can envision a person having some of the spiritual attributes of Galatians 5 and not others. One may not be all that joyous, gentle, or temperate, but he can still care for people. He may just have a hard time showing it.

Still, wouldn't it be nice if all of the spiritual attributes were combined and intertwined under one worldview? That's what Christianity professes to offer: We're joyful because God loves us. We're also patient because we know that God desires our good and will bless us in his due time, and we're temperate because we're not looking to the things of this world to satisfy us, since our satisfaction and security are in God. And because we know a loving God, we feel energized to pass that love on to others. ("That's how it is with God's love, once you experience it...You WANT to PASS it ON.") For me, sometimes this works, and sometimes it doesn't. Getting past the first step of believing in a loving God whom I can't even see is rather difficult, to be honest.

I can't say that I'm virtuous. I'm not as bad as people think I am, since there are times when I reach out to others. But there are plenty of times when I blow a fuse with God or the people I love. Do those bad times cancel out my virtuous deeds? I'm not the most patient person in the world, plus I don't love everybody, so am I technically not virtuous?

My hunch is that everybody is a mixture of good and evil. I've said that over and over on my blog, whether the subject is the rabbinic view of the last judgment, my rants against evangelicalism, Alcoholics Anonymous, or the characters on Desperate Housewives. A person can do some really bad things, but she can also do some really good things. Is she virtuous? It's tough to tell! If she truly loves virtue, then why isn't virtue ruling all of her acts? Yet, we are weak human beings, and forcing our moral principles to override our emotions, our desires, and our insecurities can be quite difficult.

I guess that's why I prefer the later Stoics to their perfectionist predecessors: no one is perfect in terms of virtue, but hopefully we're progressing, or at last we're willing to progress.

UPDATE: See More on Virtue.