Jesus Camp
Mike Papantonio
Creepy but not terrifying
While much of "Jesus Camp" is set in a North Dakota camp for evangelical kids, the film also depicts the family background of those who would send their kids to such a place. Much of the film focuses on Levi and Racael, two home-schooled kids who have imbibed deeply of their parents' piety and politics. While these kids are hardly robotic or brainwashed, their unkidlike commitment to their religious principles is sometimes scary to watch. Not surprisingly, these kids are insulated from the real world. Rachael prays over her bowling ball before rolling it, then wanders the alley distributing religious tracts to other bowlers. The mulleted Levi and his family recite their pledge to the "Christian flag" and to the Bible before their lessons begin.
The camp itself is run by Backy Fischer, at the ironically-named Devil's Lake, North Dakota. Camp is a combination religious revival and political indoctrination. The kids tearfully (and seemingly quite spontaneously) confess their shortcomings, their already-unbearable load of youthful guilt prompting them to uncontrolled weeping. They sing enthusiastic songs about Jesus, support Geroge W. Bush and pray to end abortion. Back home, they visit pre-scandal Ted Haggard's church in Colorado Springs. Levi, especially, clearly hero-worships Haggard, and can be seen pacing the sanctuary, imagining himself as a world-class evangelist. The film follows the kids to a small Washington DC anti-abortion rally where they stand in protest before the Supreme Court building with "Life" stickers closing their mouths. Afterwards, they encounter the real world -- which is neither as fascinated by them or as impious as they believe.
I had expected to be appalled by the behavior of the parents, but wound up terrified by and concerned for the kids, who are being raised to be narrow-minded, ignorant and self-righteous. Racheal's insistence that God does not listen to the prayers of those whose worship style is sedate has the makings, under the right circumstances, of religious persecution. The film is bracketed by scenes of the bleak midwestern lanscape punctuated by radio snippets about the Supreme Court confirmation of Judge Samuel Alito, a darling of the religious right. Air America's Mike Papantonio appears occasionally while taping his radio show and serves as a counterpoint from the left. His comments are heartfelt, but ineffective, a sad commentary on the left's until-now inability to counter the simplistic notions, unwillingness to engage science and narrow view of the true believers.
"Jesus Camp" is fascinating and frightening, a glimpse inside the world of the kind of Americans who reflexively support anything marketed as Christian, including the war in Iraq and the far-right agenda of the Bush II administration. I don't believe that we should fear people like those shown in the film, as they must someday engage the real world and perhaps moderate their more extreme views. But the film does a wonderful job at acquainting us with people whose world view and aspirations are at odds with science, reason and the notions of a secular form of representative government.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Book Review: The Rabbi's Cat
The Rabbi's Cat
by Joann Sfar
The Cat's Meow
Bad pun, I know, but perfectly apt for this wonderful book. "The Rabbi's Cat" is a graphic novel set in Algeria in the mid 1930s. A poor rabbi lives with his lovely daughter Zlabya and their precocious gray cat. In over 850 marvelously-varied panels, author Joann Sfar tells the story of the trio as they deal with the cosmic questions of life, love, God's existence and fickle human nature. The story shuttles between sun-baked traditional North Africa and rain-drenched, cosmopolitan Paris. Sfar's palette ranges from the reds, oranges and yellows of the rabbi's home country to the muted blues, greens and whites of the Moroccan night and of the Parisian day.
The book's characters are wonderful and complex. The old rabbi is kind, God-fearing and gentle, but fears being replaced by a more urban man who speaks French. His beautiful, young daughter, content to remain in her father's house, playing the piano and reading, also longs for love. The cat -- a cunning and shameless atheistic and opportunist -- gains speech, insists on being Bar Mitzvah and demands to learn the Kabala. He contends pointedly, if ignorantly, with the learned over theological questions -- all the while angling for a night on the prowl. There's also old and sinewy Malka of the Lions, striding manfully from the desert, toting an ancient rifle and accompanied by his faithful leonine companion. The book follows the characters through normal life events -- shopping, praying for the dead, washing dishes -- but touches on themes of death, hypocrisy, apostasy and man's relationship with a rather enigmatic and silent God. Using this humble cast, and in a medium not fully taken seriously by all, Sfar plumbs depths not normally plumbed by many serious works. Sfar's art is deceptively spare, but is always evocative and never dull. His message is one of optimism, delivered with humor and humanity.
If this book were a film, I would rate it PG-13 for a small amount of nudity and vulgarity, and for the adult themes it explores.
by Joann Sfar
The Cat's Meow
Bad pun, I know, but perfectly apt for this wonderful book. "The Rabbi's Cat" is a graphic novel set in Algeria in the mid 1930s. A poor rabbi lives with his lovely daughter Zlabya and their precocious gray cat. In over 850 marvelously-varied panels, author Joann Sfar tells the story of the trio as they deal with the cosmic questions of life, love, God's existence and fickle human nature. The story shuttles between sun-baked traditional North Africa and rain-drenched, cosmopolitan Paris. Sfar's palette ranges from the reds, oranges and yellows of the rabbi's home country to the muted blues, greens and whites of the Moroccan night and of the Parisian day.
The book's characters are wonderful and complex. The old rabbi is kind, God-fearing and gentle, but fears being replaced by a more urban man who speaks French. His beautiful, young daughter, content to remain in her father's house, playing the piano and reading, also longs for love. The cat -- a cunning and shameless atheistic and opportunist -- gains speech, insists on being Bar Mitzvah and demands to learn the Kabala. He contends pointedly, if ignorantly, with the learned over theological questions -- all the while angling for a night on the prowl. There's also old and sinewy Malka of the Lions, striding manfully from the desert, toting an ancient rifle and accompanied by his faithful leonine companion. The book follows the characters through normal life events -- shopping, praying for the dead, washing dishes -- but touches on themes of death, hypocrisy, apostasy and man's relationship with a rather enigmatic and silent God. Using this humble cast, and in a medium not fully taken seriously by all, Sfar plumbs depths not normally plumbed by many serious works. Sfar's art is deceptively spare, but is always evocative and never dull. His message is one of optimism, delivered with humor and humanity.
If this book were a film, I would rate it PG-13 for a small amount of nudity and vulgarity, and for the adult themes it explores.
Book Review: Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery
Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery
by Eric Metaxas
Though the name "William Wilberforce" is hardly at the tips of our collective tongues anymore, author Eric Metaxas thinks it should be. In "Amazing Grace," Metaxas relates the story of Wilberforce -- a slight, stooped and sickly man -- whose physical frailty disguised a great strength of character and soul. Wilberforce, as a member of the British Parliament, was (at least according to Metaxas's telling) the driving force behind both the end of the slave trade in the British colonies in 1807 as well as the abolition of British slavery itself in 1833.
The book covers all of Wilberforce's life, from the controversies between Anglicanism and Methodism of his boyhood, through his indolent college days, to his conversion in 1785 at age 24, to his parliamentary career and his death in 1833. Metaxas tells a rousing story of a young man in search for meaning and relevance, in an age of barbarity toward animals, criminals and "lower" races that is shocking to the modern ear. Metaxas sets the stage by discussing animal cruelty -- bull, horse and bear-beating -- that were popular pastimes of the era. His catalog of the evil done to black slaves is chronicled by those who had first-hand familiarity with the infamous Middle Passage or the treatment of slaves on the sugar plantations of the West Indies. Wilberforce's voice is heard through excerpts from his personal diaries, bringing this now-obscure person to life.
I truly enjoyed the book, though with a few reservations. Metaxas's Wilberforce is a man whose worldview would be recognizable to moderns. As a man born of a racist and vicious era, he used his religious views in ways that ran counter to his society. He took seriously the scriptural dictum that humanity is created in God's image, resulting in the inevitable conclusion that people of color deserved the same treatment as whites. A sickly man, he showed great compassion for the poor and the weak, even extending this soft heartedness to animals. Among many other works, Wilberforce was a founding member of the then-named Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
The reservations. Metaxas's style is usually staid, punctuated with the occassional tic -- he suddenly gets overly-cute or uses faux-Elizabethan anachronistic turns of phrase. He also tends to give Wilberforce solitary credit for opposing slavery, when this work started long before he appeared on the scene and ended after he left it. Metaxas's evidently sympathetic view of Wilberforce's spiritual life was another problem. In many passages, Metaxas presumes a conservative Christian worldview, lauding Wilberforce for making decisions that are in line with God's will, as though this was self-evident to the reader. Metaxas clearly roots for young Wilberforce to find God, and he speaks from with seeming familiarity with a convert's stages of maturation through during his conversion experience. There's nothing wrong with religious experience, but I found this overt tilt surprising and a bit troubling in a biography. Appallingly, Metaxas describes Anglicanism as a religion practiced in name only by bishops and clergy who no longer believed in its tenets. Metaxas even notes which bishops of the period are "orthodox," as though the reader understands and agrees to his meaning of the word. Metaxas may also be guilty of painting Wilberforce in too-bright colors. His subject's distrust of Roman Catholicism is minimized and his opposition to the right of labor to organize is left unmentioned. Wilberforce is sometimes portrayed as the most eloquent of speakers and other times as having a rather rambling and disconnected style. These inconsistencies and biases diminished the book's impact.
Nevertheless, I do recommend "Amazing Grace". In an age in which the wounds of racism and cruelty are still borne by too many, it is encouraging to read of a man who, though borne to wealth and privilege, put his faith into practice in a way that benefited so many and is still admirable today. "Amazing Grace" makes the strong case that William Wilberforce ought to merit at least a mention when the roll of the history's great humanitarians is read.
by Eric Metaxas
Though the name "William Wilberforce" is hardly at the tips of our collective tongues anymore, author Eric Metaxas thinks it should be. In "Amazing Grace," Metaxas relates the story of Wilberforce -- a slight, stooped and sickly man -- whose physical frailty disguised a great strength of character and soul. Wilberforce, as a member of the British Parliament, was (at least according to Metaxas's telling) the driving force behind both the end of the slave trade in the British colonies in 1807 as well as the abolition of British slavery itself in 1833.
The book covers all of Wilberforce's life, from the controversies between Anglicanism and Methodism of his boyhood, through his indolent college days, to his conversion in 1785 at age 24, to his parliamentary career and his death in 1833. Metaxas tells a rousing story of a young man in search for meaning and relevance, in an age of barbarity toward animals, criminals and "lower" races that is shocking to the modern ear. Metaxas sets the stage by discussing animal cruelty -- bull, horse and bear-beating -- that were popular pastimes of the era. His catalog of the evil done to black slaves is chronicled by those who had first-hand familiarity with the infamous Middle Passage or the treatment of slaves on the sugar plantations of the West Indies. Wilberforce's voice is heard through excerpts from his personal diaries, bringing this now-obscure person to life.
I truly enjoyed the book, though with a few reservations. Metaxas's Wilberforce is a man whose worldview would be recognizable to moderns. As a man born of a racist and vicious era, he used his religious views in ways that ran counter to his society. He took seriously the scriptural dictum that humanity is created in God's image, resulting in the inevitable conclusion that people of color deserved the same treatment as whites. A sickly man, he showed great compassion for the poor and the weak, even extending this soft heartedness to animals. Among many other works, Wilberforce was a founding member of the then-named Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
The reservations. Metaxas's style is usually staid, punctuated with the occassional tic -- he suddenly gets overly-cute or uses faux-Elizabethan anachronistic turns of phrase. He also tends to give Wilberforce solitary credit for opposing slavery, when this work started long before he appeared on the scene and ended after he left it. Metaxas's evidently sympathetic view of Wilberforce's spiritual life was another problem. In many passages, Metaxas presumes a conservative Christian worldview, lauding Wilberforce for making decisions that are in line with God's will, as though this was self-evident to the reader. Metaxas clearly roots for young Wilberforce to find God, and he speaks from with seeming familiarity with a convert's stages of maturation through during his conversion experience. There's nothing wrong with religious experience, but I found this overt tilt surprising and a bit troubling in a biography. Appallingly, Metaxas describes Anglicanism as a religion practiced in name only by bishops and clergy who no longer believed in its tenets. Metaxas even notes which bishops of the period are "orthodox," as though the reader understands and agrees to his meaning of the word. Metaxas may also be guilty of painting Wilberforce in too-bright colors. His subject's distrust of Roman Catholicism is minimized and his opposition to the right of labor to organize is left unmentioned. Wilberforce is sometimes portrayed as the most eloquent of speakers and other times as having a rather rambling and disconnected style. These inconsistencies and biases diminished the book's impact.
Nevertheless, I do recommend "Amazing Grace". In an age in which the wounds of racism and cruelty are still borne by too many, it is encouraging to read of a man who, though borne to wealth and privilege, put his faith into practice in a way that benefited so many and is still admirable today. "Amazing Grace" makes the strong case that William Wilberforce ought to merit at least a mention when the roll of the history's great humanitarians is read.
Book Review: Truth and Fiction in The Da Vinci Code
Truth and Fiction in The Da Vinci Code: A Historian Reveals What We Really Know about Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and Constantine
by Bart D. Ehrman
Affable, well-informed and devastating
Almost as amazing as the explosive phenomenon that was "The Da Vinci Code," is the explosion of books attacking its premises and conclusions. Bart Ehrman's book, "Truth and Fiction in The Da Vinci Code" is an able addition to the list.
Ehrman is a historian, a Protestant, with a mainstream viewpoint. His book examines 6 "codes" that appear in TDVC. These touch on the persons of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, the process of defining the canon or list of accepted books, the role of women in the early church and other topics germane to the discussion. Ehrman's examination and conclusions are logical, based on the evidence and (I thought) quite convincing. For instance, he discusses the supposed "fact" that since all rabbis had to be married, then Jesus (often called "Rabbi" by his disciples) must have been married as well. Ehrman demolishes this notion with easily-accessible facts. The apostle Paul himself was unmarried, as evidenced by his own letters. And the 1st-century Jewish historian Josephus speaks glowingly of the Essenes, noting that they do not marry. The term "rabbi" means "teacher," and can be applied to those who have undergone and official process as well as those (like Jesus) for whom the term is used as an honorific. And, unconvincingly to skeptics, the Gospels do not mention a married Jesus. Having made the case, Ehrman states that he has broken the code (that a married Jesus was probable) and moves on.
By far, Ehrman spends the most time with the so-called gnostic gospels, upon which the hopes of so many who attack the Church are based. These works of the early centuries of the current era were known mostly through the attacks upon them made by early Church Fathers like Irenaeus. Since the 1940s, with the discover of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Nag Hammadi library, historians have had a field day studying the primary texts of the first, second and third centuries. Ehrman examines the texts themselves as well as the cosmology and theology they espouse. This section is long, confusing and hard to follow, not least because the texts themselves are contradictory and plain weird. Ehrman pays special attention to details that moderns have given special importance. There is, for instance the section in the Gospel of Phillip in which Jesus is said to have kissed Mary Magdalene often on the mouth. Ehrman shows how this text is a reconstruction, with key words missing, and that it is embedded in sections that have purely spiritual and symbolic significance. Those who see it as an example of a flesh-and-blood relationship often neglect these key aspects of the work. Not to mention that the text post-dates the canonical gospels by many decades.
"Truth and Fiction" is a careful and dispassionate critique of the fuzzy thinking of TDVC partisans. It is also an good-natured attack on best-selling authors like Elaine Pagels ("The Gnostic Gospels") who have gained prominence by championing the vision of the gnostics. But the book's ultimate attack is on the "code behind the codes" -- the attempt to make the doctrine of the gnostics equivalent to the orthodox view taught in the gospels. Ehrman's great contribution is in making clear that two gospels -- one that preaches a suffering, crucified and risen Lord, and another that preaches a Lord who did not suffer and die -- can not merely be considered alternatives of one another. They preach different realities and have different consequences for believers. One is a gospel for all, the other a gospel for the elite. One opposes the world, the other revels in it. One was passed down by those close the Jesus, the other was invented decades or centuries after his life.
Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code" was more than a work of fiction. It was an attack on the truth and on the hard-won and hard-kept beliefs of Christians over the last 2000 years. Ehrman's book is an educated, entertaining and accessible rebuttal that is well worth the read.
by Bart D. Ehrman
Affable, well-informed and devastating
Almost as amazing as the explosive phenomenon that was "The Da Vinci Code," is the explosion of books attacking its premises and conclusions. Bart Ehrman's book, "Truth and Fiction in The Da Vinci Code" is an able addition to the list.
Ehrman is a historian, a Protestant, with a mainstream viewpoint. His book examines 6 "codes" that appear in TDVC. These touch on the persons of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, the process of defining the canon or list of accepted books, the role of women in the early church and other topics germane to the discussion. Ehrman's examination and conclusions are logical, based on the evidence and (I thought) quite convincing. For instance, he discusses the supposed "fact" that since all rabbis had to be married, then Jesus (often called "Rabbi" by his disciples) must have been married as well. Ehrman demolishes this notion with easily-accessible facts. The apostle Paul himself was unmarried, as evidenced by his own letters. And the 1st-century Jewish historian Josephus speaks glowingly of the Essenes, noting that they do not marry. The term "rabbi" means "teacher," and can be applied to those who have undergone and official process as well as those (like Jesus) for whom the term is used as an honorific. And, unconvincingly to skeptics, the Gospels do not mention a married Jesus. Having made the case, Ehrman states that he has broken the code (that a married Jesus was probable) and moves on.
By far, Ehrman spends the most time with the so-called gnostic gospels, upon which the hopes of so many who attack the Church are based. These works of the early centuries of the current era were known mostly through the attacks upon them made by early Church Fathers like Irenaeus. Since the 1940s, with the discover of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Nag Hammadi library, historians have had a field day studying the primary texts of the first, second and third centuries. Ehrman examines the texts themselves as well as the cosmology and theology they espouse. This section is long, confusing and hard to follow, not least because the texts themselves are contradictory and plain weird. Ehrman pays special attention to details that moderns have given special importance. There is, for instance the section in the Gospel of Phillip in which Jesus is said to have kissed Mary Magdalene often on the mouth. Ehrman shows how this text is a reconstruction, with key words missing, and that it is embedded in sections that have purely spiritual and symbolic significance. Those who see it as an example of a flesh-and-blood relationship often neglect these key aspects of the work. Not to mention that the text post-dates the canonical gospels by many decades.
"Truth and Fiction" is a careful and dispassionate critique of the fuzzy thinking of TDVC partisans. It is also an good-natured attack on best-selling authors like Elaine Pagels ("The Gnostic Gospels") who have gained prominence by championing the vision of the gnostics. But the book's ultimate attack is on the "code behind the codes" -- the attempt to make the doctrine of the gnostics equivalent to the orthodox view taught in the gospels. Ehrman's great contribution is in making clear that two gospels -- one that preaches a suffering, crucified and risen Lord, and another that preaches a Lord who did not suffer and die -- can not merely be considered alternatives of one another. They preach different realities and have different consequences for believers. One is a gospel for all, the other a gospel for the elite. One opposes the world, the other revels in it. One was passed down by those close the Jesus, the other was invented decades or centuries after his life.
Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code" was more than a work of fiction. It was an attack on the truth and on the hard-won and hard-kept beliefs of Christians over the last 2000 years. Ehrman's book is an educated, entertaining and accessible rebuttal that is well worth the read.
Book Review: Misquoting Jesus
Misquoting Jesus: The Story Behind Who Changed the Bible and Why (Plus)
by Bart D. Ehrman
Clear and respectful exposition of a hot topic
In spite of the provocative title, "Misquoting Jesus" is very respectful of Scriptures - so much so that it willing to tell the truth about them. Bart Ehrman does his typically great job of explaining a difficult topic -- in this case, the history, operation and findings of biblical textual criticism -- to a lay audience. Ehrman's journey as a textual critic has been a long and difficult one, and it seems to have knocked him off-balance, at least for a time. Starting as a fundamentalists of the fundamentalists (to paraphrase Paul) he decided to study scripture. His first epiphany was when he asked himself, if the Bible is God's word, then why do I have to learn Greek and Hebrew to understand it? This question led to others, culminating in a nuanced and complex understanding of the Bible and its history -- as told by the ways scribes have changed the Bible itself.
Ehrman discusses the history of the Bible's transmission through the centuries-- via scribes whose literacy was sometimes comprised only by their ability to copy the shape of letters from an old copy to a new, without understanding their meaning. This was eye-opening for me, but Ehrman supports his contentions with evidence that is sometimes funny and always persuasive. Ehrman helps us to understand the world from the scribe's point of view, as they miss and repeat words, misunderstand abbreviations and (as they listen to dictation) write down homonyms that sound the same but mean vastly different things.
Ehrman gives us a glimpse at the history of biblical textual criticism. We learn how we got the Vulgate, St. Jerome's 4th-century translation of scriptures into Latin, and about 16th-century scholar Erasmus's rush to be the first to print a Greek New Testament. Erasmus's slapdash work then became a basis for the King James Bible, a translation still considered sacrosanct and untouchable by many. Through Ehrman, we learn of the great men whose work lay the foundations for modern biblical scholarship. We also learn of the tens of thousands of variant readings of Scripture that exist. It is this variation that causes consternation for those who believe the Bible to be unblemished and inerrant, and prompts delight for scholars who use the variants to piece together the original words, and to determine the theological biases of the scribes who introduced the variants into the text.
Ehrman is not on a mission to destroy the sacredness, the authority of the Church or to downplay the teaching of Jesus. He seemed constantly poised to deliver a death blow to the basic authenticity of the Bible. But mostly, he delivered examples that show the conservatism of even the most interventionist of scribes. Most of the variants, Ehrman admits, are insignificant -- misspellings and such. Interestingly, the truly significant variants are mostly tentative add-ons to the text, where a scribe changed one unpalatable word, but left the rest of the text alone. Textual critics identify these "patches," note their mismatch with the surrounding text, and propose solutions that bring us closer to the originals. Ehrman shows how variants can tell us much about the struggle for ideas that was the history of the Church. Ehrman identifies texts that were used against heretics like Marcion, against Jews, against gnostics and against women. Difficult texts, says Ehrman -- those that contradict what we would like the Scriptures to say, may well be the most accurate. For instance, in Mark 1:40-45, Jesus encounters a leper hoping to be cleansed. Most translation say that Jesus, filled with compassion, touched and healed the man. But some variants say that Jesus grew *angry* before healing him. Which is correct, and why? Ehrman argues that the variant in which Jesus becomes angry fits better into Mark's overall presentation of Jesus, and may therefore be original.
Ehrman's greatest sin is the way he vastly overstates his case. Perhaps this is due to his extremely conservative starting point (one shared by his more vituperative critics and reviewers) which cannot tolerate even the suggestion of the hand of Man in the Bible. Perhaps Ehrman's seeming overreaction (and the consequent lack to deliver) is akin to the doctor who warns that a procedure will hurt, bringing relief to the patient when he delivers only a minor sting. More darkly, perhaps Ehrman really believes that his work brings the Bible into such disrepute that he has lost faith in its divine authorship. But one need not believe that God inspired the Scriptures by literally dictating his words to scribes. One need not believe, along with the simpleminded, that Jesus had scribblers in his entourage. There are solutions to the divine authorship of the Bible that don't require the unsupported belief in its inerrancy posited by the fundamentalists nor the utter rejection of atheists. Some sort of imperfect, mysterious divine-human cooperation is an alternative, supported by mainstream scholars, which Ehrman's work certainly supports.
"Misquoting Jesus" is a terrific primer to the obscure field of textual criticism, especially as applied to the Bible. Though it provides many examples to illustrate Ehrman's points, it is not an exhaustive study of the discipline, but ably and gently leads Bible lovers to a new level of understanding of their holy book. There is no question that Ehrman simplifies his presentation. For instance, he gives us little insight into which textual criticisms are generally accepted and which are hotly debated. Some might see this book as a way for Ehrman to rush his own opinions into print. But Erhman backs up each of his contentions with logic and plausible theories. At the very least, the reader gains enough knowledge to follow the argument.
Ehrman's book helps us to be more careful about selecting biblical translations, and helps us appreciate the work of the legion of scholars who try to parse out the real meaning in its many verses. It lets us see through the gauze of false piety to understand and appreciate the differing worldviews and intentions of the Bible's writers and scribes, letting them speak for themselves. Above all, "Misquoting Jesus" helps us to see that the Bible cannot be read apart from the personalities and world-views of those who wrote it, those who copied it, those who translated it or those who read it. As such, it is a living document.
Which when you think of it, may have been its Inspirer's idea all along.
by Bart D. Ehrman
Clear and respectful exposition of a hot topic
In spite of the provocative title, "Misquoting Jesus" is very respectful of Scriptures - so much so that it willing to tell the truth about them. Bart Ehrman does his typically great job of explaining a difficult topic -- in this case, the history, operation and findings of biblical textual criticism -- to a lay audience. Ehrman's journey as a textual critic has been a long and difficult one, and it seems to have knocked him off-balance, at least for a time. Starting as a fundamentalists of the fundamentalists (to paraphrase Paul) he decided to study scripture. His first epiphany was when he asked himself, if the Bible is God's word, then why do I have to learn Greek and Hebrew to understand it? This question led to others, culminating in a nuanced and complex understanding of the Bible and its history -- as told by the ways scribes have changed the Bible itself.
Ehrman discusses the history of the Bible's transmission through the centuries-- via scribes whose literacy was sometimes comprised only by their ability to copy the shape of letters from an old copy to a new, without understanding their meaning. This was eye-opening for me, but Ehrman supports his contentions with evidence that is sometimes funny and always persuasive. Ehrman helps us to understand the world from the scribe's point of view, as they miss and repeat words, misunderstand abbreviations and (as they listen to dictation) write down homonyms that sound the same but mean vastly different things.
Ehrman gives us a glimpse at the history of biblical textual criticism. We learn how we got the Vulgate, St. Jerome's 4th-century translation of scriptures into Latin, and about 16th-century scholar Erasmus's rush to be the first to print a Greek New Testament. Erasmus's slapdash work then became a basis for the King James Bible, a translation still considered sacrosanct and untouchable by many. Through Ehrman, we learn of the great men whose work lay the foundations for modern biblical scholarship. We also learn of the tens of thousands of variant readings of Scripture that exist. It is this variation that causes consternation for those who believe the Bible to be unblemished and inerrant, and prompts delight for scholars who use the variants to piece together the original words, and to determine the theological biases of the scribes who introduced the variants into the text.
Ehrman is not on a mission to destroy the sacredness, the authority of the Church or to downplay the teaching of Jesus. He seemed constantly poised to deliver a death blow to the basic authenticity of the Bible. But mostly, he delivered examples that show the conservatism of even the most interventionist of scribes. Most of the variants, Ehrman admits, are insignificant -- misspellings and such. Interestingly, the truly significant variants are mostly tentative add-ons to the text, where a scribe changed one unpalatable word, but left the rest of the text alone. Textual critics identify these "patches," note their mismatch with the surrounding text, and propose solutions that bring us closer to the originals. Ehrman shows how variants can tell us much about the struggle for ideas that was the history of the Church. Ehrman identifies texts that were used against heretics like Marcion, against Jews, against gnostics and against women. Difficult texts, says Ehrman -- those that contradict what we would like the Scriptures to say, may well be the most accurate. For instance, in Mark 1:40-45, Jesus encounters a leper hoping to be cleansed. Most translation say that Jesus, filled with compassion, touched and healed the man. But some variants say that Jesus grew *angry* before healing him. Which is correct, and why? Ehrman argues that the variant in which Jesus becomes angry fits better into Mark's overall presentation of Jesus, and may therefore be original.
Ehrman's greatest sin is the way he vastly overstates his case. Perhaps this is due to his extremely conservative starting point (one shared by his more vituperative critics and reviewers) which cannot tolerate even the suggestion of the hand of Man in the Bible. Perhaps Ehrman's seeming overreaction (and the consequent lack to deliver) is akin to the doctor who warns that a procedure will hurt, bringing relief to the patient when he delivers only a minor sting. More darkly, perhaps Ehrman really believes that his work brings the Bible into such disrepute that he has lost faith in its divine authorship. But one need not believe that God inspired the Scriptures by literally dictating his words to scribes. One need not believe, along with the simpleminded, that Jesus had scribblers in his entourage. There are solutions to the divine authorship of the Bible that don't require the unsupported belief in its inerrancy posited by the fundamentalists nor the utter rejection of atheists. Some sort of imperfect, mysterious divine-human cooperation is an alternative, supported by mainstream scholars, which Ehrman's work certainly supports.
"Misquoting Jesus" is a terrific primer to the obscure field of textual criticism, especially as applied to the Bible. Though it provides many examples to illustrate Ehrman's points, it is not an exhaustive study of the discipline, but ably and gently leads Bible lovers to a new level of understanding of their holy book. There is no question that Ehrman simplifies his presentation. For instance, he gives us little insight into which textual criticisms are generally accepted and which are hotly debated. Some might see this book as a way for Ehrman to rush his own opinions into print. But Erhman backs up each of his contentions with logic and plausible theories. At the very least, the reader gains enough knowledge to follow the argument.
Ehrman's book helps us to be more careful about selecting biblical translations, and helps us appreciate the work of the legion of scholars who try to parse out the real meaning in its many verses. It lets us see through the gauze of false piety to understand and appreciate the differing worldviews and intentions of the Bible's writers and scribes, letting them speak for themselves. Above all, "Misquoting Jesus" helps us to see that the Bible cannot be read apart from the personalities and world-views of those who wrote it, those who copied it, those who translated it or those who read it. As such, it is a living document.
Which when you think of it, may have been its Inspirer's idea all along.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Why I love Christopher Hithens in spite of myself
Christopher Hitchens is rude, boorish, obnoxious and just plain hard to like. I loathe his hawkish stance on Iraq. I despise his bullying, and I abhor the pseudo-intellectualism that he brings to many of his subjects. I have reviewed his book "god is not great" elsewhere, and found it to be shoddy and vituperative. I am taken aback by his trashing of Mother Teresa and irritated by his crowing over her purported loss of faith as revealed in her diaries.
So why do I root for him against his adversaries?
I was watching YouTube the other night and entered "Hitchens" into the search engine. For the next half hour I watched him take on -- and either take apart or intimidate -- one TV blowhard after another. He eviscerated Sean Hannity and showed him up to be an ignorant non-entity. He drew only worshipful praise from Lou Dobbs. He won favor from fellow-atheist Bill Maher.
In each of these interviews, what impressed me most about Hitchens was his unflappability. Even when he is not sure what he is talking about (watch him gesture toward his head when he talks about a human's too-large adrenal glands) he exudes this calm sureness that I can only admire. As shallow and ignorant as he is, he vastly outstrips the omniscient pinheads who populate our TV screens.
So I appreciated C.H., if only for the luscious opportunity to see someone at least equal in intellectual depth to our famed talking heads, but invulnerable to their tactics. And also speaking from the depths of his personal belief -- however wrongheaded -- and not from a list of popular talking points. Someday, Chris H will meet his match. It may be on this side of the eternal divide or the other. But until then, I will enjoy his heartfelt, if arrant, diatribes, and continue to rejoice that for a few minutes, on 21st century market-driven, populace-pandering TV, our on-screen personalities have played host to someone they cannot spin and cannot handle.
So why do I root for him against his adversaries?
I was watching YouTube the other night and entered "Hitchens" into the search engine. For the next half hour I watched him take on -- and either take apart or intimidate -- one TV blowhard after another. He eviscerated Sean Hannity and showed him up to be an ignorant non-entity. He drew only worshipful praise from Lou Dobbs. He won favor from fellow-atheist Bill Maher.
In each of these interviews, what impressed me most about Hitchens was his unflappability. Even when he is not sure what he is talking about (watch him gesture toward his head when he talks about a human's too-large adrenal glands) he exudes this calm sureness that I can only admire. As shallow and ignorant as he is, he vastly outstrips the omniscient pinheads who populate our TV screens.
So I appreciated C.H., if only for the luscious opportunity to see someone at least equal in intellectual depth to our famed talking heads, but invulnerable to their tactics. And also speaking from the depths of his personal belief -- however wrongheaded -- and not from a list of popular talking points. Someday, Chris H will meet his match. It may be on this side of the eternal divide or the other. But until then, I will enjoy his heartfelt, if arrant, diatribes, and continue to rejoice that for a few minutes, on 21st century market-driven, populace-pandering TV, our on-screen personalities have played host to someone they cannot spin and cannot handle.
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