Posts
For my blog post today about Psalm 119: Resh, I will focus on Psalm 119:160. In the King James Version, this verse says:
"Thy word is true from the beginning: and every one of thy righteous judgments endureth for ever."
What
does the verse mean when it says that God's word is true from the
beginning? The Hebrew word that the KJV is translating as "beginning"
is rosh, which literally means "head." Translated literally,
the verse reads: "The head of your word [is] truth; forever [is] every
statute of your righteousness."
Here are four ideas that I encountered in my study:
1.
The first idea is that the "beginning" in Psalm 119:160 is a
synecdoche: the part stands for the whole. When Psalm 119:160 says that
the beginning of God's word is the truth, it means that the entirety
of God's word is true----the beginning, the end, and everything in the
middle. I read this idea in E.W. Bullinger's Companion Bible, but there
are actually more people who hold to it. The New International Version
translates rosh as "All", and the NRSV translates it as "sum". Keil-Delitzsch and W.O.E. Oesterley also interpret the verse in this manner.
Psalm 139:17 has been cited by some who argue that rosh can mean "sum". Psalm 139:17 states in the KJV (and I have emboldened where the word rosh is translated): "How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!" But there are other interpretations of what rosh
means in Psalm 139:17. Brenton's translation of the Septuagint has:
"But thy friends, O God, have been greatly honoured by me; their rule
has been greatly strengthened" (emphasis mine). Edward Cook's
translation of the Targum for Psalm 139:17 states: "And how precious to
me are those who love you, the righteous, O God; and how mighty have their scholars become!" (emphasis mine). I can understand where the LXX and the Targum are coming from: rosh
literally means "head", and the LXX is interpreting "head" as rulership
in Psalm 139:17, whereas the Targum sees the "head" as scholars, who
have a headship and prominence within Jewish communities.
2. The second idea is that rosh
in Psalm 119:160 means beginning, which is different from saying that
it represents the sum or the entirety of God's word. The Jewish
commentator Rashi brings all of God's word into his discussion of Psalm
119:160, yet he still treats the beginning of the word as the beginning
of the word, and that's it. Rashi draws from Psalm 119:160 the lesson
that the end of God's word proves to the Gentiles that the beginning of
God's word is true, as well. When the nations heard the first three
commandments of the decalogue, Rashi narrates----the commandments about
Israel worshiping the LORD only, not making or bowing down to graven
images, and respecting God's name----the nations concluded that the God
of Israel was only interested in his own glory. But when the nations
heard the second table of the decalogue, the parts about not hurting
one's neighbor, they concluded that the God of Israel was not just
concerned about his own glory, but cared about people as well. When
they concluded that the end of God's word (the second table) in the
decalogue was true, they came to believe that the beginning of God's
word (the first table) in the decalogue was true as well: that the God
of Israel deserved the worship and respect that the first table
commanded of Israel.
3. Augustine treats "beginning" in Psalm
119:160 as the origin of God's word. According to Augustine, the point
of Psalm 119:160 is that God's words proceed from truth.
4. While Oesterley agrees that rosh
in Psalm 119:160 means sum, he offers another alternative: "that the
chief, or most important, part of the word of God is its truth."
Oesterley cites Psalm 137:6 in arguing that rosh can mean "chief" or
"most important."
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
Leaders 4
In my post today about Richard Nixon's Leaders , I will
discuss things that Richard Nixon says about Chiang Kaishek. Chiang was
the leader of mainland China before it became a Communist country under
Mao Tse-Tung. Chiang would then go on to lead the country of Formosa,
or Taiwan.
What I often heard in junior high school and high school history classes was that Chiang Kaishek was a crook. We were told that Chiang took the aid that the U.S. gave him to fight the Communists and lined his own pockets and the pockets of his generals. My junior high school social studies teacher said that, when the Japanese were coming after China, Chiang did not lift a finger to fight them, whereas Mao did. This teacher also said that the popular designation of Taiwan as "Free China" was not entirely accurate, for there are many rights that people do not have in Taiwan. In the right-wing literature that I read, I encountered at least two perspectives. The first essentially acknowledged that Chiang was far from perfect, but it said that he was better than the bloodthirsty Communists (for both the Chinese and also for the rest of the world), and so the U.S. should have supported him more. The second portrayed Chiang as a great guy. Robert Welch of the John Birch Society, in his book Again, May God Forgive Us!, depicted Chiang as a devout Christian.
In my reading of Leaders, I didn't see anything about Chiang Kaishek's alleged corruption, but Nixon did have his share of criticisms of Chiang, or he mentioned criticisms that other people had. First, Nixon says on page 245 that Chiang was very "by the book" and rigid, and that this hindered him from coming up with innovative strategies. Nixon states that "history is made by those whose innovations exploited the opportunities of the moment", and that "It was Chiang's misfortune that Mao was among the latter." Nixon strikes me as someone who likes boldness in a leader. I wonder if he was a fan of Captain James T. Kirk!
Second, Nixon on pages 115-116 speculates that Chiang might have hindered the Communists from taking over mainland China had he pursued a policy of land reform. Chiang did precisely that as leader of Taiwan, as he "paid the landlords for their land and distributed it to their peasantry", and the "former landlords invested much of their money in industry while the government encouraged foreign investment" (pages 244-245). According to Nixon, that led to an economic boom in Taiwan. Had Chiang done that sort of thing as leader of mainland China, Nixon speculates, "Mao might not have been able to exploit the rural discontent that contributed to the success of the Chinese Communist revolution" (page 116).
And third, Nixon on pages 125-126 refers to the thoughts of Japanese Prime Minister Shigeru Yoshida about Chiang. Yoshida had his doubts that Chiang could still play a role in mainland China, for "Yoshida argued that although Chiang was himself a Confucian scholar, he had irreparably alienated the intellectuals, and...this was politically fatal." While this was a negative on Chiang's part, it interested me to learn that he was a Confucian scholar. He wasn't some unsophisticated despot.
I'd like to turn now to three issues that pertain to Chiang Kaishek: his revolutionary beliefs, his authoritarianism, and his Christian devotion.
Let's start with his revolutionary beliefs. Nixon says on page 241 that "Chiang revolted against the domestic corruption and international weakness of the Manchu dynasty..." Chiang was also against widespread opium addiction and foot-binding. In the 1920's, Chiang was with "Sun-Yatsen's revolutionary Kuomintang party", and he even fought alongside Communists. This was the case in World War II, as both factions united against the Japanese. But Chiang turned on the Communists in 1927, as he feared their increasing strength. Another consideration that Nixon raises is that Chiang and Mao had two approaches: that "Mao sought to erase the past while Chiang sought to build upon it" (page 241). According to Nixon on page 242, the Communists hated Chiang, yet they still "respected and even admired him"; Chiang, however, did not respect the Communists.
On Chiang's authoritarianism, Nixon says on page 244 that Chiang "was not a democrat, even though he did introduce constitutional government." Chiang thought that the Chinese had too much freedom and needed discipline. Nixon may have agreed with my junior high school teacher that Taiwan was not exactly "Free China." At the same time, I question whether Nixon would have seen that as necessarily a bad thing, for Nixon in more than one place says that democracy is not the best system for everyone. Nixon does laud Taiwan's free-market policies, though.
On Chiang's Christian devotion, Nixon tells the story of how this came to be on page 243. Chiang wanted to marry a woman named Mei-ling, whose father manufactured and distributed Bibles. But Mei-ling's family was hesitant to let this marriage happen, since Chiang was not a Christian. Chiang offered to become a Christian, but he also decided to do a serious study of the Bible, for he did not take his religion lightly. During Chiang's marriage to Mei-ling, the two of them would "often pray together for an hour in the morning."
I wonder how Chiang could have been the crook that my teachers and history books say he was, when he appeared to have so much substance. He opposed injustice in China. He cared about his country. He was a scholar. On many mornings, he and his wife would pray to God. Was he a mixture of good and bad? Did selfishness get in the way of his ideals?
What I often heard in junior high school and high school history classes was that Chiang Kaishek was a crook. We were told that Chiang took the aid that the U.S. gave him to fight the Communists and lined his own pockets and the pockets of his generals. My junior high school social studies teacher said that, when the Japanese were coming after China, Chiang did not lift a finger to fight them, whereas Mao did. This teacher also said that the popular designation of Taiwan as "Free China" was not entirely accurate, for there are many rights that people do not have in Taiwan. In the right-wing literature that I read, I encountered at least two perspectives. The first essentially acknowledged that Chiang was far from perfect, but it said that he was better than the bloodthirsty Communists (for both the Chinese and also for the rest of the world), and so the U.S. should have supported him more. The second portrayed Chiang as a great guy. Robert Welch of the John Birch Society, in his book Again, May God Forgive Us!, depicted Chiang as a devout Christian.
In my reading of Leaders, I didn't see anything about Chiang Kaishek's alleged corruption, but Nixon did have his share of criticisms of Chiang, or he mentioned criticisms that other people had. First, Nixon says on page 245 that Chiang was very "by the book" and rigid, and that this hindered him from coming up with innovative strategies. Nixon states that "history is made by those whose innovations exploited the opportunities of the moment", and that "It was Chiang's misfortune that Mao was among the latter." Nixon strikes me as someone who likes boldness in a leader. I wonder if he was a fan of Captain James T. Kirk!
Second, Nixon on pages 115-116 speculates that Chiang might have hindered the Communists from taking over mainland China had he pursued a policy of land reform. Chiang did precisely that as leader of Taiwan, as he "paid the landlords for their land and distributed it to their peasantry", and the "former landlords invested much of their money in industry while the government encouraged foreign investment" (pages 244-245). According to Nixon, that led to an economic boom in Taiwan. Had Chiang done that sort of thing as leader of mainland China, Nixon speculates, "Mao might not have been able to exploit the rural discontent that contributed to the success of the Chinese Communist revolution" (page 116).
And third, Nixon on pages 125-126 refers to the thoughts of Japanese Prime Minister Shigeru Yoshida about Chiang. Yoshida had his doubts that Chiang could still play a role in mainland China, for "Yoshida argued that although Chiang was himself a Confucian scholar, he had irreparably alienated the intellectuals, and...this was politically fatal." While this was a negative on Chiang's part, it interested me to learn that he was a Confucian scholar. He wasn't some unsophisticated despot.
I'd like to turn now to three issues that pertain to Chiang Kaishek: his revolutionary beliefs, his authoritarianism, and his Christian devotion.
Let's start with his revolutionary beliefs. Nixon says on page 241 that "Chiang revolted against the domestic corruption and international weakness of the Manchu dynasty..." Chiang was also against widespread opium addiction and foot-binding. In the 1920's, Chiang was with "Sun-Yatsen's revolutionary Kuomintang party", and he even fought alongside Communists. This was the case in World War II, as both factions united against the Japanese. But Chiang turned on the Communists in 1927, as he feared their increasing strength. Another consideration that Nixon raises is that Chiang and Mao had two approaches: that "Mao sought to erase the past while Chiang sought to build upon it" (page 241). According to Nixon on page 242, the Communists hated Chiang, yet they still "respected and even admired him"; Chiang, however, did not respect the Communists.
On Chiang's authoritarianism, Nixon says on page 244 that Chiang "was not a democrat, even though he did introduce constitutional government." Chiang thought that the Chinese had too much freedom and needed discipline. Nixon may have agreed with my junior high school teacher that Taiwan was not exactly "Free China." At the same time, I question whether Nixon would have seen that as necessarily a bad thing, for Nixon in more than one place says that democracy is not the best system for everyone. Nixon does laud Taiwan's free-market policies, though.
On Chiang's Christian devotion, Nixon tells the story of how this came to be on page 243. Chiang wanted to marry a woman named Mei-ling, whose father manufactured and distributed Bibles. But Mei-ling's family was hesitant to let this marriage happen, since Chiang was not a Christian. Chiang offered to become a Christian, but he also decided to do a serious study of the Bible, for he did not take his religion lightly. During Chiang's marriage to Mei-ling, the two of them would "often pray together for an hour in the morning."
I wonder how Chiang could have been the crook that my teachers and history books say he was, when he appeared to have so much substance. He opposed injustice in China. He cared about his country. He was a scholar. On many mornings, he and his wife would pray to God. Was he a mixture of good and bad? Did selfishness get in the way of his ideals?
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Leaders 3
A theme that came up more than once in my latest reading of Richard Nixon's Leaders was alcohol. Here are some stories that Nixon tells:
----Page 143: "[German leader Konrad Adenauer] had other weapons besides the cold steel of logic, however. When a cabinet meeting grew difficult, he would sometimes suspend debate for a while and pass around a bottle of wine. After a few glassfuls and some friendly small talk, he would resume the meeting. The opposition would then be substantially less resolute."
----Page 155: "[Soviet leader Nikita] Khrushchev was then relatively new to power and unfamiliar with the leaders he would be confronting in the free world. He was clearly intent upon testing Adenauer's mettle. During one banquet he proposed a seemingly endless series of toasts to see whether the seventy-nine-year-old Adenauer, so intractable at the negotiating table, could be worn down by liquor. Though he preferred wine to vodka, Adenauer had a stomach as well as a will of iron. After fifteen toasts he was still both upright and alert----alert enough, in fact, to notice that Khrushchev had been drinking water. The next morning Adenauer confronted Khrushchev with the tongue-in-cheek suggestion that any man who would do such a thing could not be trusted. Surprised to find that he had been caught in the act, Khrushchev could only laugh."
Page 188: "The table was laden with every manner of Russian delicacy and soft and hard drinks. Despite his well-deserved reputation for drinking heavily, Khrushchev only sampled the array of vodka and wine. He appreciated good food and drink. But just as his famed temper was always his servant and not his master, his drinking on this occasion was strictly for pleasure and was never permitted to interfere with business. He was cold sober throughout our long afternoon of talks."
Alcohol can indeed be conducive to camaraderie and socializing in a relaxed manner. I one time heard a person with Asperger's Syndrome talk about how he did not really fit in with his Irish extended family----until they started to get drunk together. Then, they could have fun and bond with each other.
But alcohol can also hinder some people from doing the business that they need to do. Khrushchev did not want to get drunk when negotiating because he wanted for his mind to be alert and sharp during that time. And, speaking of the negative effects that drinking lots of alcohol can bring, that one person with Asperger's whom I discussed in my above paragraph eventually decided to quit drinking, for he thought that he was degenerating into a sour alcoholic.
I used to drink for a variety of reasons. I drank socially because I hoped that it would loosen me up in social settings. Social settings make me nervous. I tend to clam up within them, which is not particularly attractive to people and which can even draw mockery. Drinking helped me to loosen up, to relax, and to talk more. Did that make me more attractive to people? To some people it did, and to some people it didn't. One person told me I was fun when I was drinking, which was probably true because I loosened up when I was drunk, whereas when I was not drinking I was more stiff, reserved, formal, and guarded. But not everyone likes to be around someone who's drunk and who's saying a lot of silly things with bombast. Come to think of it, I myself don't, particularly.
But I drank even more in solitude. The reason was that it made me feel better. I have Asperger's Syndrome, and what that means is that I don't do too well socially. I have a history of not fitting in and of being rejected by people, and I become resentful when I think back about that. I also have fear about the future: how will I make a living in the future if I have a hard time getting people to like me? Drinking was a way for me to self-medicate. And it got to the point where no amount was enough. I would go through a six-pack on certain nights and still want more. I could identify with something that Leo McGarry said on an episode of The West Wing: he kept on drinking because he wanted that feeling to go on! But waking up with a hangover was no fun. I think of what Scotty said on that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation: never get drunk unless you're willing to pay for it the next morning!
I decided to stop drinking, and I have been sober for what I consider to be a respectable number of years----though, regardless of how many years that one is sober, it's always one-day-at-a-time. What do I do now that I don't drink? How do I do socially? How do I cope with my resentments about the past and my fears about the future? How do I self-medicate?
Socially-speaking, I'm not as nervous now as I used to be when talking with people. But I still can be rather stiff, formal, and reserved. I doubt that I would be the life of the party were I to go to a party. By and large, my policy about a lot of social gatherings that I have to attend is "suit up and show up." I show up, do my duty, and I leave. Sometimes, I can end up having enjoyable, interesting conversations with people. Sometimes, I just want to rush to the door! I'm just speaking for myself, and there are plenty of people within recovery groups who would tell you that they became more fun----more happy, joyous, and free----when they quit drinking and did the spiritual work on themselves that would help them to stay sober. That's fine (even though I get rather sick of people bragging about how happy and spiritual they are), but it's just not me. Come to think of it, though, I do have a little more serenity now that I don't drink. I'm not the life of the party, but I do have a quiet, flat sort of peace. One thing I will add: I'm not sure if my social mettle has been truly tested over the past couple of years. My Mom and her husband accept me, even though I am quiet. I go to church, and there are plenty of people at the pot-lucks who themselves are quiet, so I don't feel out-of-place being quiet. That doesn't mean that I feel compelled to throw myself into hyper-social situations, though.
How do I cope with my resentments about the past and my fears about the future? This is still a struggle for me, to tell you the truth. Many within recovery groups find that working with a mentor or a sponsor is helpful. It can be. I don't do that as much nowadays, since I'm not really in recovery groups, due to my struggle to fit in at them. But I did find one time that talking with my pastor really helped me. I was nervous about a social event that was coming up, which I had to attend, and my pastor gave me encouragement. It's good when you can find someone who's rooting for you and can give you guidance to hang on to within a tough setting. Another way that I cope is through prayer and Bible reading, and, the more I feel resentful on a given day, the more I pray and read the Bible. That doesn't necessarily solve my problems, to tell you the truth, but it does help me to alleviate feelings of resentment or fear that I may have.
----Page 143: "[German leader Konrad Adenauer] had other weapons besides the cold steel of logic, however. When a cabinet meeting grew difficult, he would sometimes suspend debate for a while and pass around a bottle of wine. After a few glassfuls and some friendly small talk, he would resume the meeting. The opposition would then be substantially less resolute."
----Page 155: "[Soviet leader Nikita] Khrushchev was then relatively new to power and unfamiliar with the leaders he would be confronting in the free world. He was clearly intent upon testing Adenauer's mettle. During one banquet he proposed a seemingly endless series of toasts to see whether the seventy-nine-year-old Adenauer, so intractable at the negotiating table, could be worn down by liquor. Though he preferred wine to vodka, Adenauer had a stomach as well as a will of iron. After fifteen toasts he was still both upright and alert----alert enough, in fact, to notice that Khrushchev had been drinking water. The next morning Adenauer confronted Khrushchev with the tongue-in-cheek suggestion that any man who would do such a thing could not be trusted. Surprised to find that he had been caught in the act, Khrushchev could only laugh."
Page 188: "The table was laden with every manner of Russian delicacy and soft and hard drinks. Despite his well-deserved reputation for drinking heavily, Khrushchev only sampled the array of vodka and wine. He appreciated good food and drink. But just as his famed temper was always his servant and not his master, his drinking on this occasion was strictly for pleasure and was never permitted to interfere with business. He was cold sober throughout our long afternoon of talks."
Alcohol can indeed be conducive to camaraderie and socializing in a relaxed manner. I one time heard a person with Asperger's Syndrome talk about how he did not really fit in with his Irish extended family----until they started to get drunk together. Then, they could have fun and bond with each other.
But alcohol can also hinder some people from doing the business that they need to do. Khrushchev did not want to get drunk when negotiating because he wanted for his mind to be alert and sharp during that time. And, speaking of the negative effects that drinking lots of alcohol can bring, that one person with Asperger's whom I discussed in my above paragraph eventually decided to quit drinking, for he thought that he was degenerating into a sour alcoholic.
I used to drink for a variety of reasons. I drank socially because I hoped that it would loosen me up in social settings. Social settings make me nervous. I tend to clam up within them, which is not particularly attractive to people and which can even draw mockery. Drinking helped me to loosen up, to relax, and to talk more. Did that make me more attractive to people? To some people it did, and to some people it didn't. One person told me I was fun when I was drinking, which was probably true because I loosened up when I was drunk, whereas when I was not drinking I was more stiff, reserved, formal, and guarded. But not everyone likes to be around someone who's drunk and who's saying a lot of silly things with bombast. Come to think of it, I myself don't, particularly.
But I drank even more in solitude. The reason was that it made me feel better. I have Asperger's Syndrome, and what that means is that I don't do too well socially. I have a history of not fitting in and of being rejected by people, and I become resentful when I think back about that. I also have fear about the future: how will I make a living in the future if I have a hard time getting people to like me? Drinking was a way for me to self-medicate. And it got to the point where no amount was enough. I would go through a six-pack on certain nights and still want more. I could identify with something that Leo McGarry said on an episode of The West Wing: he kept on drinking because he wanted that feeling to go on! But waking up with a hangover was no fun. I think of what Scotty said on that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation: never get drunk unless you're willing to pay for it the next morning!
I decided to stop drinking, and I have been sober for what I consider to be a respectable number of years----though, regardless of how many years that one is sober, it's always one-day-at-a-time. What do I do now that I don't drink? How do I do socially? How do I cope with my resentments about the past and my fears about the future? How do I self-medicate?
Socially-speaking, I'm not as nervous now as I used to be when talking with people. But I still can be rather stiff, formal, and reserved. I doubt that I would be the life of the party were I to go to a party. By and large, my policy about a lot of social gatherings that I have to attend is "suit up and show up." I show up, do my duty, and I leave. Sometimes, I can end up having enjoyable, interesting conversations with people. Sometimes, I just want to rush to the door! I'm just speaking for myself, and there are plenty of people within recovery groups who would tell you that they became more fun----more happy, joyous, and free----when they quit drinking and did the spiritual work on themselves that would help them to stay sober. That's fine (even though I get rather sick of people bragging about how happy and spiritual they are), but it's just not me. Come to think of it, though, I do have a little more serenity now that I don't drink. I'm not the life of the party, but I do have a quiet, flat sort of peace. One thing I will add: I'm not sure if my social mettle has been truly tested over the past couple of years. My Mom and her husband accept me, even though I am quiet. I go to church, and there are plenty of people at the pot-lucks who themselves are quiet, so I don't feel out-of-place being quiet. That doesn't mean that I feel compelled to throw myself into hyper-social situations, though.
How do I cope with my resentments about the past and my fears about the future? This is still a struggle for me, to tell you the truth. Many within recovery groups find that working with a mentor or a sponsor is helpful. It can be. I don't do that as much nowadays, since I'm not really in recovery groups, due to my struggle to fit in at them. But I did find one time that talking with my pastor really helped me. I was nervous about a social event that was coming up, which I had to attend, and my pastor gave me encouragement. It's good when you can find someone who's rooting for you and can give you guidance to hang on to within a tough setting. Another way that I cope is through prayer and Bible reading, and, the more I feel resentful on a given day, the more I pray and read the Bible. That doesn't necessarily solve my problems, to tell you the truth, but it does help me to alleviate feelings of resentment or fear that I may have.
Reinventing Jesus and Bart Ehrman
I recently finished Bart Ehrman's Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew.
Not long ago, I read the book Reinventing Jesus: How Contemporary Skeptics Miss the Real Jesus and Mislead Popular Culture. This book is by J. Ed Komoszewski, M. James Sawyer, and Daniel B. Wallace, and it is essentially a conservative Christian attempt to refute skeptical claims about Jesus. There are skeptics who say that we cannot trust the Gospels because they were written decades after Jesus lived, because we don't have the original texts for them but rather manuscripts that may have been subject to scribal alteration, and because the books that we now have in the New Testament were chosen for canonization while other books were suppressed for not conforming to "orthodox" positions.
The book Reinventing Jesus had a variety of responses to these arguments. To the charge that we can't trust the Gospels because they were written decades after the time of Jesus, the book replied that the Gospels are accurate depictions of what Jesus did and taught, for eyewitnesses to Jesus lived for decades and spread their message to many people, and that served as a check against inaccuracies creeping in. The book also went into various scholarly criteria for determining what Jesus truly said and did, arguing that these criteria cannot categorically dismiss the historicity of some of Jesus' words and actions, but they can affirm and support the historicity of certain things that are narrated within the Gospels (see here for my post about John Meier's discussion of these criteria). Moreover, on page 48, the book appeals to Paul's words in Galatians 2, where Paul says that he preached the same Gospel as the other apostles, who were eyewitnesses to Jesus.
On the charge that we can't trust the Gospels because we don't have the original manuscripts, Reinventing Jesus went into the criteria of text criticism, which can help us to evaluate different readings and arrive at what the original text said. The book also contended that the texts that we have are largely uniform, and that most of their differences among one another do not affect doctrine but largely pertain to spelling, or like factors. On the charge that the Gospels were chosen while other books were suppressed, the book argues that many of the books in the New Testament deserve to be there. These books are earlier than the books that were rejected. Many of the New Testament books were accepted even by heretics, such as Marcion, who included the letters of Paul and part of the Gospel of Luke in his own canon, while excluding books that would later be rejected by orthodox Christianity. Moreover, the book takes on the argument that the church fathers simply attached a designation of apostolic authorship to the books that they liked. The book contends that the church fathers made serious attempts to determine whether books were authentic or not, as they looked at the books' writing-style and considered eyewitness testimony about the books. Moreover, Reinventing Jesus asks: if the church fathers could simply attach any prominent name to a book that they wanted to uphold, why did they say that Mark's Gospel was written by Mark rather than Peter (whose testimony the Gospel of Mark supposedly contains), when Peter was more prominent than Mark?
I decided to read some of Bart Ehrman's work to get another perspective on these debates. I recently read his Orthodox Corruption of Scripture, which would become the basis for his popular bestseller, Misquoting Jesus. And I read Lost Christianities. I have another book that he wrote, Forged, but I'll save that book for another time.
What surprised me about Ehrman was that he essentially agreed with a lot of the data that is in Reinventing Jesus (not that Ehrman interacts with that work, but what I'm saying is that Ehrman overlaps with Reinventing Jesus on what the data are). Ehrman agrees that the Gospels and the letters of Paul are from the first century, whereas many other Christian works are later than that. While Ehrman makes a big deal in Lost Christianity about us not having the original manuscripts, he later provides an excellent explanation of the criteria of textual criticism and how they enable scholars to decide between manuscripts and readings, and he himself employs that criteria in The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture as he makes arguments about which reading was earlier, and which reflected later alteration.
But there are differences between Reinventing Jesus and the Ehrman books that I read. First of all, my impression was that Reinventing Jesus presented the preservation of the authentic words and deeds of Jesus (and the proper interpretation of those words and deeds) as air-tight: eyewitnesses to Jesus were around for decades, and they spread the true message to enough people such that there was a check on inaccuracies creeping in. But, as Ehrman argues, even the New Testament itself acknowledges that there were other versions of Christianity out there, which were attaining a lot of influence and gaining a significant number of followers. Not very air-tight, is it? Second, Ehrman makes a convincing case that there were Christian scribes who altered the text out of theological considerations: they wanted to make clear that Jesus was God, or was a man who suffered, or was distinct from God the Father, against Christians who were arguing the opposite. Third, Ehrman contends that forgery went on in early Christianity, even among those who criticized forgery. Ehrman refers to the Apostolic Constitutions, which purport to be from the apostles, even as they condemn forgery. This argument seems to me to differ from what Reinventing Jesus says, for Reinventing Jesus appears to argue that forgery was anathema to the early Christians (at least the orthodox ones), and thus they would not resort to it. Fourth, while Ehrman acknowledges that so-called "orthodox" Christians had criteria in determining which books were authentic (i.e., whether they were early or not), he notes that one of these criteria for authenticity was whether the book was orthodox. That particular criterion strikes me as rather circular! Fifth, on the issue of canon, Ehrman discusses the diversity of canon among different Christian communities: that some communities accepted and used books that others did not, including books that are not in many Christians' New Testaments today. And, sixth, Ehrman says that the earliest Christians were probably like the Ebionites, who were Jewish-Christians, and that they very likely were adoptionists, who believed that Jesus was anointed the Son of God at some point rather than always being the Son of God. In The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture, Ehrman refers to verses that appear to coincide with adoptionism; Reinventing Jesus, by contrast, refers to New Testament books (i.e., John) that present Jesus as divine and as pre-existent, while not addressing the sorts of passages that Ehrman cites.
I think that both Reinventing Jesus and also Ehrman raise valid points and make important arguments. If I have a question for Ehrman, it is this: What would Ehrman do with Paul's statement in Galatians 2 that he (Paul) agreed with the apostles (who had been eyewitnesses to Jesus) about what the Gospel was? Does that not show that there was some unity within the first century church, and that apostles were going out of their way to preserve the truth? Unfortunately, at least in the books that I read, Ehrman does not address this. Ehrman says that Acts presents the church as more unified than Galatians does, since Paul and Peter agree in Acts and give the same sorts of speeches, whereas Paul challenges Peter in Galatians. But Ehrman does not address Paul's statement in Galatians 2 that he was preaching the same Gospel that the apostles supported.
Would Ehrman say that Paul in Galatians 2 was lying? I have my doubts. In Lost Christianities, Ehrman does not believe what Epiphanius says about the alleged sexual practices of certain Christian sects, but Ehrman does not believe that Epiphanius was consciously lying. Rather, Ehrman contends that Epiphanius was talking about things that he himself did not see firsthand, and that what Epiphanius says about these groups is not necessarily accurate. Because Ehrman gives Epiphanius the benefit of the doubt by not regarding him as a liar, my hunch is that Ehrman wouldn't call Paul a liar when Paul says that he and the apostles agreed on what the Gospel was. But how would Ehrman explain Paul's statement?
Not long ago, I read the book Reinventing Jesus: How Contemporary Skeptics Miss the Real Jesus and Mislead Popular Culture. This book is by J. Ed Komoszewski, M. James Sawyer, and Daniel B. Wallace, and it is essentially a conservative Christian attempt to refute skeptical claims about Jesus. There are skeptics who say that we cannot trust the Gospels because they were written decades after Jesus lived, because we don't have the original texts for them but rather manuscripts that may have been subject to scribal alteration, and because the books that we now have in the New Testament were chosen for canonization while other books were suppressed for not conforming to "orthodox" positions.
The book Reinventing Jesus had a variety of responses to these arguments. To the charge that we can't trust the Gospels because they were written decades after the time of Jesus, the book replied that the Gospels are accurate depictions of what Jesus did and taught, for eyewitnesses to Jesus lived for decades and spread their message to many people, and that served as a check against inaccuracies creeping in. The book also went into various scholarly criteria for determining what Jesus truly said and did, arguing that these criteria cannot categorically dismiss the historicity of some of Jesus' words and actions, but they can affirm and support the historicity of certain things that are narrated within the Gospels (see here for my post about John Meier's discussion of these criteria). Moreover, on page 48, the book appeals to Paul's words in Galatians 2, where Paul says that he preached the same Gospel as the other apostles, who were eyewitnesses to Jesus.
On the charge that we can't trust the Gospels because we don't have the original manuscripts, Reinventing Jesus went into the criteria of text criticism, which can help us to evaluate different readings and arrive at what the original text said. The book also contended that the texts that we have are largely uniform, and that most of their differences among one another do not affect doctrine but largely pertain to spelling, or like factors. On the charge that the Gospels were chosen while other books were suppressed, the book argues that many of the books in the New Testament deserve to be there. These books are earlier than the books that were rejected. Many of the New Testament books were accepted even by heretics, such as Marcion, who included the letters of Paul and part of the Gospel of Luke in his own canon, while excluding books that would later be rejected by orthodox Christianity. Moreover, the book takes on the argument that the church fathers simply attached a designation of apostolic authorship to the books that they liked. The book contends that the church fathers made serious attempts to determine whether books were authentic or not, as they looked at the books' writing-style and considered eyewitness testimony about the books. Moreover, Reinventing Jesus asks: if the church fathers could simply attach any prominent name to a book that they wanted to uphold, why did they say that Mark's Gospel was written by Mark rather than Peter (whose testimony the Gospel of Mark supposedly contains), when Peter was more prominent than Mark?
I decided to read some of Bart Ehrman's work to get another perspective on these debates. I recently read his Orthodox Corruption of Scripture, which would become the basis for his popular bestseller, Misquoting Jesus. And I read Lost Christianities. I have another book that he wrote, Forged, but I'll save that book for another time.
What surprised me about Ehrman was that he essentially agreed with a lot of the data that is in Reinventing Jesus (not that Ehrman interacts with that work, but what I'm saying is that Ehrman overlaps with Reinventing Jesus on what the data are). Ehrman agrees that the Gospels and the letters of Paul are from the first century, whereas many other Christian works are later than that. While Ehrman makes a big deal in Lost Christianity about us not having the original manuscripts, he later provides an excellent explanation of the criteria of textual criticism and how they enable scholars to decide between manuscripts and readings, and he himself employs that criteria in The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture as he makes arguments about which reading was earlier, and which reflected later alteration.
But there are differences between Reinventing Jesus and the Ehrman books that I read. First of all, my impression was that Reinventing Jesus presented the preservation of the authentic words and deeds of Jesus (and the proper interpretation of those words and deeds) as air-tight: eyewitnesses to Jesus were around for decades, and they spread the true message to enough people such that there was a check on inaccuracies creeping in. But, as Ehrman argues, even the New Testament itself acknowledges that there were other versions of Christianity out there, which were attaining a lot of influence and gaining a significant number of followers. Not very air-tight, is it? Second, Ehrman makes a convincing case that there were Christian scribes who altered the text out of theological considerations: they wanted to make clear that Jesus was God, or was a man who suffered, or was distinct from God the Father, against Christians who were arguing the opposite. Third, Ehrman contends that forgery went on in early Christianity, even among those who criticized forgery. Ehrman refers to the Apostolic Constitutions, which purport to be from the apostles, even as they condemn forgery. This argument seems to me to differ from what Reinventing Jesus says, for Reinventing Jesus appears to argue that forgery was anathema to the early Christians (at least the orthodox ones), and thus they would not resort to it. Fourth, while Ehrman acknowledges that so-called "orthodox" Christians had criteria in determining which books were authentic (i.e., whether they were early or not), he notes that one of these criteria for authenticity was whether the book was orthodox. That particular criterion strikes me as rather circular! Fifth, on the issue of canon, Ehrman discusses the diversity of canon among different Christian communities: that some communities accepted and used books that others did not, including books that are not in many Christians' New Testaments today. And, sixth, Ehrman says that the earliest Christians were probably like the Ebionites, who were Jewish-Christians, and that they very likely were adoptionists, who believed that Jesus was anointed the Son of God at some point rather than always being the Son of God. In The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture, Ehrman refers to verses that appear to coincide with adoptionism; Reinventing Jesus, by contrast, refers to New Testament books (i.e., John) that present Jesus as divine and as pre-existent, while not addressing the sorts of passages that Ehrman cites.
I think that both Reinventing Jesus and also Ehrman raise valid points and make important arguments. If I have a question for Ehrman, it is this: What would Ehrman do with Paul's statement in Galatians 2 that he (Paul) agreed with the apostles (who had been eyewitnesses to Jesus) about what the Gospel was? Does that not show that there was some unity within the first century church, and that apostles were going out of their way to preserve the truth? Unfortunately, at least in the books that I read, Ehrman does not address this. Ehrman says that Acts presents the church as more unified than Galatians does, since Paul and Peter agree in Acts and give the same sorts of speeches, whereas Paul challenges Peter in Galatians. But Ehrman does not address Paul's statement in Galatians 2 that he was preaching the same Gospel that the apostles supported.
Would Ehrman say that Paul in Galatians 2 was lying? I have my doubts. In Lost Christianities, Ehrman does not believe what Epiphanius says about the alleged sexual practices of certain Christian sects, but Ehrman does not believe that Epiphanius was consciously lying. Rather, Ehrman contends that Epiphanius was talking about things that he himself did not see firsthand, and that what Epiphanius says about these groups is not necessarily accurate. Because Ehrman gives Epiphanius the benefit of the doubt by not regarding him as a liar, my hunch is that Ehrman wouldn't call Paul a liar when Paul says that he and the apostles agreed on what the Gospel was. But how would Ehrman explain Paul's statement?
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Leaders 2
I covered a lot of ground in my latest reading of Richard Nixon's Leaders.
I finished Nixon's chapter about French leader Charles de Gaulle, and I
read a significant portion of his chapter about General Douglas
MacArthur and Japanese Prime Minister Shigeru Yoshida, who worked
together to rebuild Japan after World War II. I won't be mentioning
every single passage in my latest reading that I found noteworthy, since
there were so many. As I've said before on this blog, I do love
reading Nixon, particularly on account of his conversational
writing-style. But I will offer some samples.
1. On page 43, Nixon says about Charles de Gaulle:
"The de Gaulle I met in 1960 was very different from the arrogant, abusive character portrayed by reporters and foreign service personnel. I found him to be a very kind man with a somewhat shy quality that is hard to describe. He was not warm, but neither was he harsh. I would say he was almost gentle. But, as with most leaders, gentleness of manner was one thing; policy was another thing.
"Most leaders I have known had a gentle side to their natures, but it would be a mistake to call them gentle people. Those who are in fact gentle are seldom good at wielding power. A leader has to be brutally tough at times in order to do his job. If he frets too much about the toughness of his task, if he lets himself be deterred to much by sentimentality, he will not do what he has to do right, or even do it at all."
In Nixon's depiction, de Gaulle was a formal and reserved man, on the one hand, and Nixon says that Winston Churchill complained that de Gaulle was too stubborn and intransigent! But, on the other hand, according to Nixon, de Gaulle was also genuinely kind and considerate. De Gaulle at dinners would invite other people into a conversation rather than monopolizing people's attention, and he complimented Pat on the flower arrangement. De Gaulle could step out of his formality and reserve when he was entertaining his daughter, who had a mental disability. And, in the political arena, de Gaulle could use flattery whenever it would suit him politically!
I didn't know a whole lot about de Gaulle before reading Nixon's discussion about him, but I have in the past appreciated some of the things that Nixon said about de Gaulle. I remember watching David Frost's interviews of Nixon on C-SPAN, and the topic was Nixon's reserve. Nixon noted that Charles de Gaulle was a good leader, and yet de Gaulle was not exactly a back-slapping politician. This resonated with me, as someone who has been judged as cold, stiff, and reserved, for it told me that one could be reserved and still accomplish things. But Nixon's stories in Leaders about de Gaulle's kindness especially appealed to me, for they told me that one could be quiet and reserved and yet kind. I know people who are rather quiet, but they are pleasant people to be around because they listen and they express concern and understanding. That's the sort of quiet person I should aim to be.
Incidentally, the motif of formal and reserved, yet kind, people comes up elsewhere in Nixon's works. Nixon in volume 1 of his memoirs, for example, depicts conservative Republican (and Presidential candidate) Robert Taft as such a person: one who was formal and reserved, yet was also loving to his wife, who was in a wheelchair; Nixon says that Taft took his wife to many of his political events. Why does this theme come up more than once in Nixon's work? Perhaps it's because it reflects how Nixon saw himself, or what Nixon himself wanted to be.
2. On page 88, Nixon says the following about General Douglas MacArthur:
"MacArthur always felt compelled to be different from those around him, and this led to certain glaring but harmless eccentricities. In the military, uniform dress is intended in part to reinforce the command hierarchy. But MacArthur wanted to stand out, not fit in. To another officer who asked about his unusual garb, he said, 'It's the orders you disobey that make you famous.'"
In my opinion, this coincides with something that Nixon said earlier in the book when discussing Churchill: that leaders of the past were far more colorful, whereas many leaders of today, in the age of television, are more boring and homogeneous. Nixon notes that he knew a lot of interesting personalities when he was in Congress in the 1940's.
I wondered to myself if there were any colorful personalities in government today. There are----I think of the Tea Party politicians, who are not exactly mainstream. But they strike me as rather paranoid and extreme, so I don't think that they are eccentric in a good way. But I do admire certain politicians who take bold, outside-of-the-mainstream stands: I think of the Socialist Senator Bernie Sanders, or Senator Rand Paul from Kentucky. There are times when I would like to hear something other than the usual banal political script.
Nixon portrays MacArthur as, well, different. He says that MacArthur probably enjoyed the company of people in Asia more than that of Americans. This stood out to me because it was consistent with how Nixon depicts MacArthur's governance of Japan after World War II: that MacArthur governed with sensitivity towards the Japanese, and also with social justice, as MacArthur brought about land reform that ensured a broader distribution of the land. But it also stood out to me because I myself have enjoyed the company of many Asians: foreign-exchange students from Asian countries, or English-as-a-Second language students I have tutored. I found them to be nicer than a lot of Americans! That's just my impression, and I realize that I should not stereotype.
I should note that Nixon's portrayal of leaders in this book is not always positive. While Nixon says a lot of positive things about MacArthur, he also expresses disapproval. For example, when Dwight Eisenhower as President had a heart attack, MacArthur said that he was in Vice-President Nixon's corner and wanted Eisenhower to get out of the way (which, in my opinion, may have meant resigning, not dying). Nixon said that he found MacArthur's comments to be "highly inappropriate under the circumstances" (page 92). But MacArthur's comments probably reflected the long-standing tension that he (MacArthur) had with Eisenhower, which Nixon talks about.
3. On page 114, Nixon tells the following anecdote about MacArthur and Japanese Prime Minister Yoshida:
"Another time Yoshida brought MacArthur an ingenious toy horse that he had brought for [MacArthur's son] Arthur during one of his anonymous walks through the streets of Tokyo. When Yoshida visited MacArthur's office again a few days later, he saw the toy still sitting on the general's desk, next to a stand containing his famous corncob pipes. Yoshida asked MacArthur why he had not yet given it to his son. The Supreme Commander answered somewhat sheepishly that he had been having too much fun playing with it himself. Later he reluctantly passed the toy on to Arthur."
I loved this humorous anecdote, especially since my impression of MacArthur in reading Nixon's book is that MacArthur was rather formal and took himself very seriously. Even MacArthur liked to play, once in a while! I enjoy Nixon's book because of these sorts of anecdotes that reveal the human side of leaders. And yet, Nixon also gets into policy. Nixon praised Yoshida's stance against rigid anti-monopoly laws, for example, which was consistent with Nixon's own criticism of anti-trust laws in volume 2 of his memoirs: Nixon thought that large companies could produce more. Something else that I found interesting was Nixon's statement that MacArthur advised President Lyndon Johnson not to send more troops to Vietnam. I was surprised by this, for MacArthur was a hawk when it came to the Korean War and his beliefs about the need to combat Communism in Asia. There may be more nuance to that, however, since one could be a hawk, while also being against sending more American troops. One could support reliance on air power rather than ground-forces, or one could believe in using more Asian troops to fight Communism in Asia rather than American troops (I think of Vietnamization, and also MacArthur's support for using some of Chiang Kaishek's men during the Korean War).
1. On page 43, Nixon says about Charles de Gaulle:
"The de Gaulle I met in 1960 was very different from the arrogant, abusive character portrayed by reporters and foreign service personnel. I found him to be a very kind man with a somewhat shy quality that is hard to describe. He was not warm, but neither was he harsh. I would say he was almost gentle. But, as with most leaders, gentleness of manner was one thing; policy was another thing.
"Most leaders I have known had a gentle side to their natures, but it would be a mistake to call them gentle people. Those who are in fact gentle are seldom good at wielding power. A leader has to be brutally tough at times in order to do his job. If he frets too much about the toughness of his task, if he lets himself be deterred to much by sentimentality, he will not do what he has to do right, or even do it at all."
In Nixon's depiction, de Gaulle was a formal and reserved man, on the one hand, and Nixon says that Winston Churchill complained that de Gaulle was too stubborn and intransigent! But, on the other hand, according to Nixon, de Gaulle was also genuinely kind and considerate. De Gaulle at dinners would invite other people into a conversation rather than monopolizing people's attention, and he complimented Pat on the flower arrangement. De Gaulle could step out of his formality and reserve when he was entertaining his daughter, who had a mental disability. And, in the political arena, de Gaulle could use flattery whenever it would suit him politically!
I didn't know a whole lot about de Gaulle before reading Nixon's discussion about him, but I have in the past appreciated some of the things that Nixon said about de Gaulle. I remember watching David Frost's interviews of Nixon on C-SPAN, and the topic was Nixon's reserve. Nixon noted that Charles de Gaulle was a good leader, and yet de Gaulle was not exactly a back-slapping politician. This resonated with me, as someone who has been judged as cold, stiff, and reserved, for it told me that one could be reserved and still accomplish things. But Nixon's stories in Leaders about de Gaulle's kindness especially appealed to me, for they told me that one could be quiet and reserved and yet kind. I know people who are rather quiet, but they are pleasant people to be around because they listen and they express concern and understanding. That's the sort of quiet person I should aim to be.
Incidentally, the motif of formal and reserved, yet kind, people comes up elsewhere in Nixon's works. Nixon in volume 1 of his memoirs, for example, depicts conservative Republican (and Presidential candidate) Robert Taft as such a person: one who was formal and reserved, yet was also loving to his wife, who was in a wheelchair; Nixon says that Taft took his wife to many of his political events. Why does this theme come up more than once in Nixon's work? Perhaps it's because it reflects how Nixon saw himself, or what Nixon himself wanted to be.
2. On page 88, Nixon says the following about General Douglas MacArthur:
"MacArthur always felt compelled to be different from those around him, and this led to certain glaring but harmless eccentricities. In the military, uniform dress is intended in part to reinforce the command hierarchy. But MacArthur wanted to stand out, not fit in. To another officer who asked about his unusual garb, he said, 'It's the orders you disobey that make you famous.'"
In my opinion, this coincides with something that Nixon said earlier in the book when discussing Churchill: that leaders of the past were far more colorful, whereas many leaders of today, in the age of television, are more boring and homogeneous. Nixon notes that he knew a lot of interesting personalities when he was in Congress in the 1940's.
I wondered to myself if there were any colorful personalities in government today. There are----I think of the Tea Party politicians, who are not exactly mainstream. But they strike me as rather paranoid and extreme, so I don't think that they are eccentric in a good way. But I do admire certain politicians who take bold, outside-of-the-mainstream stands: I think of the Socialist Senator Bernie Sanders, or Senator Rand Paul from Kentucky. There are times when I would like to hear something other than the usual banal political script.
Nixon portrays MacArthur as, well, different. He says that MacArthur probably enjoyed the company of people in Asia more than that of Americans. This stood out to me because it was consistent with how Nixon depicts MacArthur's governance of Japan after World War II: that MacArthur governed with sensitivity towards the Japanese, and also with social justice, as MacArthur brought about land reform that ensured a broader distribution of the land. But it also stood out to me because I myself have enjoyed the company of many Asians: foreign-exchange students from Asian countries, or English-as-a-Second language students I have tutored. I found them to be nicer than a lot of Americans! That's just my impression, and I realize that I should not stereotype.
I should note that Nixon's portrayal of leaders in this book is not always positive. While Nixon says a lot of positive things about MacArthur, he also expresses disapproval. For example, when Dwight Eisenhower as President had a heart attack, MacArthur said that he was in Vice-President Nixon's corner and wanted Eisenhower to get out of the way (which, in my opinion, may have meant resigning, not dying). Nixon said that he found MacArthur's comments to be "highly inappropriate under the circumstances" (page 92). But MacArthur's comments probably reflected the long-standing tension that he (MacArthur) had with Eisenhower, which Nixon talks about.
3. On page 114, Nixon tells the following anecdote about MacArthur and Japanese Prime Minister Yoshida:
"Another time Yoshida brought MacArthur an ingenious toy horse that he had brought for [MacArthur's son] Arthur during one of his anonymous walks through the streets of Tokyo. When Yoshida visited MacArthur's office again a few days later, he saw the toy still sitting on the general's desk, next to a stand containing his famous corncob pipes. Yoshida asked MacArthur why he had not yet given it to his son. The Supreme Commander answered somewhat sheepishly that he had been having too much fun playing with it himself. Later he reluctantly passed the toy on to Arthur."
I loved this humorous anecdote, especially since my impression of MacArthur in reading Nixon's book is that MacArthur was rather formal and took himself very seriously. Even MacArthur liked to play, once in a while! I enjoy Nixon's book because of these sorts of anecdotes that reveal the human side of leaders. And yet, Nixon also gets into policy. Nixon praised Yoshida's stance against rigid anti-monopoly laws, for example, which was consistent with Nixon's own criticism of anti-trust laws in volume 2 of his memoirs: Nixon thought that large companies could produce more. Something else that I found interesting was Nixon's statement that MacArthur advised President Lyndon Johnson not to send more troops to Vietnam. I was surprised by this, for MacArthur was a hawk when it came to the Korean War and his beliefs about the need to combat Communism in Asia. There may be more nuance to that, however, since one could be a hawk, while also being against sending more American troops. One could support reliance on air power rather than ground-forces, or one could believe in using more Asian troops to fight Communism in Asia rather than American troops (I think of Vietnamization, and also MacArthur's support for using some of Chiang Kaishek's men during the Korean War).
Gnostic Soteriology, Take 2
I'm reading Bart Ehrman's Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scriptures and the Faiths We Never Knew. I found something that Ehrman said on pages 125-126 to be intriguing:
"Some Christian Gnostics maintained that there were three kinds of humans. Some are creations of the Demiurge, pure and simple. Like other animals, they have no spirit within; like them, when they die, their entire existence is annihilated. Other people have a soul within, but not a spark of the divine spirit. Such people have an opportunity for an afterlife, if they have faith and do good deeds. These in fact are regular Christians, those who believe in Christ but do not have the full understanding of the secret knowledge that leads to ultimate salvation. The third group of people have this knowledge. They are the Gnostics, those 'in the know,' who have within them a spark of the divine, who have learned who they really are, how they got here, and how they can return. These people will have a fantastic afterlife, in that they will return to the Divine realm from which they came and live eternally in the presence of God as part of the Pleroma."
My understanding of Gnosticism is that it believed that there were human beings who had a divine spark within them and were in captivity within their fleshly bodies, not to mention the material world, which was created by a (not particularly good) sub-deity. Gnosticism's aim was to enlighten people about this. My understanding had lacunae, however. Specifically, I wondered if people's divine sparks would go to heaven after death if those people had been unaware of the inferiority of the material world and the divine spark within them. In short, was going to heaven after death automatic, according to Gnosticism, or did one have to achieve enlightenment before one could go to heaven?
In my rambling post here, I talked about Birger Pearson's discussion of the Gnostic Apocryphon of John, which (according to Pearson) posited three types of people. The first type were the perfect, the ones who had the Spirit of life. They were saved. The second type were those who were ignorant about to whom they belonged, and they would be given another chance to acquire enlightenment in another incarnation. The third type had knowledge but turned away from it, and they would undergo eternal punishment. In this scenario, one needed to be enlightened in order to be saved.
Ehrman, however, paints a different picture, which also contains three types of people. The first type, which encompasses a large number, are those who lack the divine spirit within them. They were created by the sub-deity who made the material world, and their outcome is simply annihilation. The second type lack a divine spark, yet they have a soul. Still, they can be saved by believing in Jesus and doing good deeds. The third type are those who have the divine spark and who know about it, and they will be saved.
Perhaps there were different Gnostics who believed in different things. Or maybe these two pictures can be harmonized, on some level. One could say (perhaps) that the Apocryphon of John is providing more nuance about the third category that Ehrman discusses: those who have the divine spark within them. Within that third category would be those who know who they are, those who never find out within this lifetime and thus need another chance to find out, and those who had knowledge but turned away from it.
"Some Christian Gnostics maintained that there were three kinds of humans. Some are creations of the Demiurge, pure and simple. Like other animals, they have no spirit within; like them, when they die, their entire existence is annihilated. Other people have a soul within, but not a spark of the divine spirit. Such people have an opportunity for an afterlife, if they have faith and do good deeds. These in fact are regular Christians, those who believe in Christ but do not have the full understanding of the secret knowledge that leads to ultimate salvation. The third group of people have this knowledge. They are the Gnostics, those 'in the know,' who have within them a spark of the divine, who have learned who they really are, how they got here, and how they can return. These people will have a fantastic afterlife, in that they will return to the Divine realm from which they came and live eternally in the presence of God as part of the Pleroma."
My understanding of Gnosticism is that it believed that there were human beings who had a divine spark within them and were in captivity within their fleshly bodies, not to mention the material world, which was created by a (not particularly good) sub-deity. Gnosticism's aim was to enlighten people about this. My understanding had lacunae, however. Specifically, I wondered if people's divine sparks would go to heaven after death if those people had been unaware of the inferiority of the material world and the divine spark within them. In short, was going to heaven after death automatic, according to Gnosticism, or did one have to achieve enlightenment before one could go to heaven?
In my rambling post here, I talked about Birger Pearson's discussion of the Gnostic Apocryphon of John, which (according to Pearson) posited three types of people. The first type were the perfect, the ones who had the Spirit of life. They were saved. The second type were those who were ignorant about to whom they belonged, and they would be given another chance to acquire enlightenment in another incarnation. The third type had knowledge but turned away from it, and they would undergo eternal punishment. In this scenario, one needed to be enlightened in order to be saved.
Ehrman, however, paints a different picture, which also contains three types of people. The first type, which encompasses a large number, are those who lack the divine spirit within them. They were created by the sub-deity who made the material world, and their outcome is simply annihilation. The second type lack a divine spark, yet they have a soul. Still, they can be saved by believing in Jesus and doing good deeds. The third type are those who have the divine spark and who know about it, and they will be saved.
Perhaps there were different Gnostics who believed in different things. Or maybe these two pictures can be harmonized, on some level. One could say (perhaps) that the Apocryphon of John is providing more nuance about the third category that Ehrman discusses: those who have the divine spark within them. Within that third category would be those who know who they are, those who never find out within this lifetime and thus need another chance to find out, and those who had knowledge but turned away from it.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Leaders 1
I started Richard Nixon's 1982 book Leaders, which profiles
various world leaders, many of whom Nixon knew. In this post, I'll use
as my starting-point something that Nixon says on pages 25-26. Nixon is
talking about Winston Churchill, and how Churchill in 1922 was really
depressed because he could not serve in the House of Commons at that
time, due to an "emergency appendectomy [that] prevented him from
campaigning for reelection."
"Talleyrand once said, 'In war one dies only once, in politics one dies only to rise again.' Churchill's career certainly bears out the truth of this observation. But an adage is precious little comfort for a man who has just lost an election. Having lost a couple of them, I know how it feels. Friends tell you, 'Won't it be great to have no responsibility and to be able to travel, go fishing, and play golf anytime you want?' My answer is 'Yes----for about one week.' Then you have a totally empty feeling that only one who has been through it can understand.
"The immediate aftermath is not so bad because you are still numbed by the exhaustion of the campaign, and you are still operating with a high level of adrenaline. Weeks or months later the realization hits you that you have lost and that there is nothing you can take back or do differently to change the outcome. Unless you are wealthy, there is also the necessity of beginning another career in order to pay the bills that keep coming in every week regardless of how you feel."
Politics was in Churchill's and Nixon's blood, so of course they would come back to it! Would I have? I don't know. I can easily picture myself relaxing and chillin', and thinking to myself, "Man, I hope this lasts forever!" I'd be happy to be out of the public eye, away from people's nitpicking and attacks, away from having to socialize with all those people. But would that relaxation get boring after a while? Would there be something within me that would drive me back into the arena? And then there's another factor that Nixon mentions: how real life comes crashing through! The bills keep coming, even to those who are burnt out. Unless one is wealthy, one has to make money!
I think of Garner Ted Armstrong. He was the head of one of the churches that I attended when I was growing up. He served in his father's church as a preacher and as one of the personalities on the church's radio and TV show, The World Tomorrow. But he was excommunicated from his father's church, and he was confronted with the question of what he would do then. He says that he was offered jobs as a TV news anchor, since he had experience and some success on a TV show. But he concluded that those jobs were not for him. He would have to tell people the news, without bringing the Bible into his discussion. Instead of taking a news anchor job, he would go on to start his own religious organization, and he would have his own radio and TV programs, where he could discuss the news in light of his own understanding of the Bible.
In my case, there have been times when I have had to turn off my computer during the day due to thunderstorms, and I've enjoyed the time away. I could read. I didn't have to worry about what people were saying (or, actually, not saying) about me on the Internet. I even thought for a second that I could walk away from my blogs, and perhaps never come back! But could I truly? I don't think so. Granted, there may be seasons in which I'd rather not participate too heavily in the world of blogging and social media. But there is something within me that makes me want to write, to reflect on a movie, a TV show, a book, an idea, life, scholarship on religious studies, or a political personality by sharing my thoughts via writing. I doubt that I could walk away from that. I think it's in my blood, like politics was for Nixon and Churchill, and like religion was for Garner Ted Armstrong.
"Talleyrand once said, 'In war one dies only once, in politics one dies only to rise again.' Churchill's career certainly bears out the truth of this observation. But an adage is precious little comfort for a man who has just lost an election. Having lost a couple of them, I know how it feels. Friends tell you, 'Won't it be great to have no responsibility and to be able to travel, go fishing, and play golf anytime you want?' My answer is 'Yes----for about one week.' Then you have a totally empty feeling that only one who has been through it can understand.
"The immediate aftermath is not so bad because you are still numbed by the exhaustion of the campaign, and you are still operating with a high level of adrenaline. Weeks or months later the realization hits you that you have lost and that there is nothing you can take back or do differently to change the outcome. Unless you are wealthy, there is also the necessity of beginning another career in order to pay the bills that keep coming in every week regardless of how you feel."
Politics was in Churchill's and Nixon's blood, so of course they would come back to it! Would I have? I don't know. I can easily picture myself relaxing and chillin', and thinking to myself, "Man, I hope this lasts forever!" I'd be happy to be out of the public eye, away from people's nitpicking and attacks, away from having to socialize with all those people. But would that relaxation get boring after a while? Would there be something within me that would drive me back into the arena? And then there's another factor that Nixon mentions: how real life comes crashing through! The bills keep coming, even to those who are burnt out. Unless one is wealthy, one has to make money!
I think of Garner Ted Armstrong. He was the head of one of the churches that I attended when I was growing up. He served in his father's church as a preacher and as one of the personalities on the church's radio and TV show, The World Tomorrow. But he was excommunicated from his father's church, and he was confronted with the question of what he would do then. He says that he was offered jobs as a TV news anchor, since he had experience and some success on a TV show. But he concluded that those jobs were not for him. He would have to tell people the news, without bringing the Bible into his discussion. Instead of taking a news anchor job, he would go on to start his own religious organization, and he would have his own radio and TV programs, where he could discuss the news in light of his own understanding of the Bible.
In my case, there have been times when I have had to turn off my computer during the day due to thunderstorms, and I've enjoyed the time away. I could read. I didn't have to worry about what people were saying (or, actually, not saying) about me on the Internet. I even thought for a second that I could walk away from my blogs, and perhaps never come back! But could I truly? I don't think so. Granted, there may be seasons in which I'd rather not participate too heavily in the world of blogging and social media. But there is something within me that makes me want to write, to reflect on a movie, a TV show, a book, an idea, life, scholarship on religious studies, or a political personality by sharing my thoughts via writing. I doubt that I could walk away from that. I think it's in my blood, like politics was for Nixon and Churchill, and like religion was for Garner Ted Armstrong.
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