In his article, “The Oppression,” Nahum M. Sarna argues that the Jewish Exodus from Egypt took place about 1,300 years B.C., and that it was more socio-politically motivated than the Bible tells us. He uses the Books of Genesis and Exodus and corroborates the events of both using known history and archaeological evidence. According to his timeline, the Hyksos, a “conglomeration of ethnic groups” (70) that included the Israelites, “seized power and ruled Egypt for about a century and a half” (69). When the Egyptians finally regained control, they were wary of all foreigners.
Serna describes how, to keep foreigners from seizing control of Egypt again, and to protect a key military point, the Egyptians systematically enslaved the male Jews. As I read “The Oppression,” I thought that if Sarna’s version of events was true, the Egyptians would have good political reasons to fear a Jewish uprising: it had happened before so it could happen again. This virtually establishes a prophecy in their mind, and they become paranoid that the Israelites will usurp their authority. Sarna states: “If the anxieties of the authorities were understandable in the circumstances, the reaction to the potential menace posed by the presence of a large, foreign population in a strategic area can only be described as iniquitous. The Pharaoh took draconian measures to limit the growth of the Israelites, and to this end he cunningly devised that adult males be pressed into slavery” (71). Arguably, this is a strategy frequently employed throughout history by those people in power who are afraid they’ll lose their power to a foreign body.
But Sarna also makes an intriguing observation: “There is no evidence that the Israelite women were enslaved” (74). Similarly, the Book of Exodus states: “Pharaoh then commanded all his subjects, ‘Throw into the river every boy that is born to the Hebrews, but you may let all the girls live’” (Exodus 1:22, New American Bible). I can’t help but wonder how if he is correct, if the Bible is correct, then why would the Pharaoh persecute just the men and not the women? Why would the Pharaoh have mercy on the girls, but not the boys? In the antebellum American South, for example, plantation owners indiscriminately put men and women, boys and girls to work. Additionally, they separated families to ensure obedience, which is quite different than allowing Jewish women and children to cohabitate with their Egyptian masters.
I believe it goes back to the fact that the Jews have always been a patriarchal society, and in patriarchal societies, it is the men who fight in war. The men are the threat to the established order. The Egyptians knew the women would not be the ones going to war against them if the Israelites decided to rise up, and so they did not perceive them as a viable threat to their power over the region.
But if I am correct in my assumption, it is both interesting and ironic how the Egyptians underestimate the Israelite women; according to Sarna, the first recorded act in history of “civil disobedience in defense of a moral cause” occurs when the midwives refuse to slay the firstborn sons of the Jews. According to the Bible, this act is what saves Moses, the great prophet of the people of Israel, their Lawgiver, and the man who ultimately winds up usurping the Pharaoh’s power of the Jews. For the Egyptians, then, this act of subdued female rebellion indeed engineers the loss of control they feared to begin with. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy, just not in the way the Egyptians expected.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Castaway
The article I chose for this week is titled “Remapping Jonah’s Voyage: Melville’s Moby Dick and Kitto’s Cyclopedia of Biblical Literature” by Ilana Pardes. In it, Pardes argues that in Moby Dick, Melville “establishes a dialogue with biblical scholarship [that] sheds light both on his special fascination with contemporary exegetical discourses and on his ongoing attempt to redefine the Bible’s cultural role in antebellum America” (136). Therefore, Pardes says, all the characters in Moby Dick are Jonah in one way or another, but especially Pip, the little slave boy, who becomes a prophet through his anger after seeking “deliverance in vain” (151).
To provide some background information, the Book of Jonah is a didactic story that concerns a disobedient prophet who attempts to run away from his divine duties, is cast overboard by his shipmates, is swallowed by a fish only to be vomited up three days later, and sent on his way to Nineveh, a city on the brink of destruction at the hands of God. To his surprise, Nineveh listens to his prophecy of doom and repents immediately. Seeing their repentance, God spares them. This infuriates Jonah, who believes anyone as wicked as these people should be destroyed.
In this story, Jonah stands for a narrow and vindictive reality in which the Jews, as God’s chosen people, are intolerant of other nations and limit the mercy of God to their own. It is abhorrent to his way of thinking that Nineveh should escape his wrath. In this way, Pip parallels Jonah because he too, jaded by the actions of wicked men (slave owners), wants justice for himself and his people but gets none. But whereas Jonah fails to understand that the prophecy he delivers is a parable of mercy, showing that God’s threatened punishments are but the expression of a merciful will which instructs all men to seek forgiveness, Pip’s prophecy is negative and pessimistic. In Moby Dick, according to Pardes, “the God with whom they quarrel is anything but benevolent and merciful” (150). Pip, like Jonah, is cast to the sea by his shipmates because he is not as valuable to them as a whale, for in antebellum America, whale products were more valuable than slaves. When he is rescued several hours later, there is a marked change. Pardes states: “For Melville, a black Jonah is the ultimate victim of God’s harsh hand, much as he is the ultimate scapegoat for his shipmates. He is a Jonah whose sufferings are so acute that he never recovers after being cast into the surging sea” (151). Later, she says, “Pips affinity with the biblical prophet is evident not only in his being cast away, but also in the prophetic powers he acquires after witnessing and speaking God’s indifferent foot in the deep” (151). As the quest for the White Whale continues, he has visions of the ship being lost to the depths, which from this perspective ultimately signifies that the “deification of whites in America at the expense of the blacks will lead the ship of state to the brink” (151).
Like Jonah, Pip rages about the injustice of it all. How can he be a prophet for a God who almost arbitrarily saves some people and condemns others? Furthermore, how can he be a servant to a God who would allow such an atrocity as slavery occur, who would allow the wicked to prosper and the messengers of God look like disposable commodities? “Living with such paradoxes makes the life of the prophet one of unending torment,” Pardes argues (152). Pip, like Jonah, feels used in God’s game, and is so plunged into despair that colors the rest of their narratives. If disobedience has no meaning, then obedience must also have no meaning.
To provide some background information, the Book of Jonah is a didactic story that concerns a disobedient prophet who attempts to run away from his divine duties, is cast overboard by his shipmates, is swallowed by a fish only to be vomited up three days later, and sent on his way to Nineveh, a city on the brink of destruction at the hands of God. To his surprise, Nineveh listens to his prophecy of doom and repents immediately. Seeing their repentance, God spares them. This infuriates Jonah, who believes anyone as wicked as these people should be destroyed.
In this story, Jonah stands for a narrow and vindictive reality in which the Jews, as God’s chosen people, are intolerant of other nations and limit the mercy of God to their own. It is abhorrent to his way of thinking that Nineveh should escape his wrath. In this way, Pip parallels Jonah because he too, jaded by the actions of wicked men (slave owners), wants justice for himself and his people but gets none. But whereas Jonah fails to understand that the prophecy he delivers is a parable of mercy, showing that God’s threatened punishments are but the expression of a merciful will which instructs all men to seek forgiveness, Pip’s prophecy is negative and pessimistic. In Moby Dick, according to Pardes, “the God with whom they quarrel is anything but benevolent and merciful” (150). Pip, like Jonah, is cast to the sea by his shipmates because he is not as valuable to them as a whale, for in antebellum America, whale products were more valuable than slaves. When he is rescued several hours later, there is a marked change. Pardes states: “For Melville, a black Jonah is the ultimate victim of God’s harsh hand, much as he is the ultimate scapegoat for his shipmates. He is a Jonah whose sufferings are so acute that he never recovers after being cast into the surging sea” (151). Later, she says, “Pips affinity with the biblical prophet is evident not only in his being cast away, but also in the prophetic powers he acquires after witnessing and speaking God’s indifferent foot in the deep” (151). As the quest for the White Whale continues, he has visions of the ship being lost to the depths, which from this perspective ultimately signifies that the “deification of whites in America at the expense of the blacks will lead the ship of state to the brink” (151).
Like Jonah, Pip rages about the injustice of it all. How can he be a prophet for a God who almost arbitrarily saves some people and condemns others? Furthermore, how can he be a servant to a God who would allow such an atrocity as slavery occur, who would allow the wicked to prosper and the messengers of God look like disposable commodities? “Living with such paradoxes makes the life of the prophet one of unending torment,” Pardes argues (152). Pip, like Jonah, feels used in God’s game, and is so plunged into despair that colors the rest of their narratives. If disobedience has no meaning, then obedience must also have no meaning.
The Balance
In Jacques Ellful’s article, “How the Science Versus Religion Debate Has Missed the Point of Genesis 1 and 2,” he argues that the Book of Genesis must not be read literally but as a metaphor for man’s relationship with God, and that relationship sets the stage for the rest of the Bible. As I read it, as well as the Flood Narrative, I thought of the balancing nature of water. Ellful argues that to the ancient Jews, water “is the power of annihilation, of nothingness, which seeks to reconquer the creation and which causes everything to lose its created form…It must not be concluded that water designates evil. It is a kind of negative power that tends to reduce the creation to nothing” (433). This is a peculiar attitude. True, given enough time, oceans will grind rocky cliffs to sand, or “dissolve” them as Ellful notes (433). But it also gives life as well. People can only live three days without it. Plants can’t grow and produce fruit and vegetables to eat without it. So in essence, water is not solely a force that destroys creation, but rather, it is a force that balances creation.
Through this lens, I read the Flood Narrative. In the Bible, we are told the world is full of wickedness and that God wants to destroy it. The apocryphal Book of Enoch elaborates on what is meant by wickedness; angels have defiled themselves and humans by impregnating women, and those women give birth to a race of “giants” who become cannibals. But in addition, those same angels have taught man how to make and use weapons to kill each other, and they have taught women how to dress immodestly and to use and wear makeup. They even taught humans magic spells. The earth, therefore, is in need of a good bath. God tells Noah:
“Seven days from now I will bring rain down on the earth for forty days and forty nights, and so I will wipe out from the surface of the earth every moving creature that I have made” (Genesis 7:4, New American Bible, St. Joseph Edition).
The “floodgates of the sky” were opened as promised, and the entire world, save Noah and his family, were purged from it. This seems like a cruel overreaction from a vengeful God, but when the waters recede, the world is clean once more and is reborn into more holy ways. This reminds me of the rite of baptism, particularly of older baptism candidates; when water is poured over their heads, they are symbolically washing the sins of the past from their soul and freeing themselves from evil. Essentially, the Flood Narrative could be interpreted as the baptism of the earth. By destroying the earth, then, water paradoxically creates a new one.
Elsewhere in the Bible, water is a positive force. Joseph is thrown into a water cistern and spared his death at his brothers’ hands. In Exodus, Moses leads the Israelites through the Red Sea, and in so doing them leads them out of slavery. In the New Testament, Jesus is baptized, but he also washes his apostles’ feet. This act represents the purification of evil, but it also represents humility. Water is even described extensively in Revelations; first, the curses God levels at the waters of the earth (like Wormwood poisoning them and the oceans turning to blood) are catastrophic to humanity. But after the world is destroyed, John sees a holy river:
“Then the angel showed me the river of life-giving water, sparkling like crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of its street. On either side of the river grew the tree of life that produces fruit twelve times a year, once each month; the leaves of the trees serve as medicine for the nations” (Revelations 22:1, New American Bible, St. Joseph Edition).
In the Bible, water represents physical and spiritual rebirth, the Word of God, purification, and spirituality. It is not solely a destroyer of worlds. It cleanses the earth when it needs to, but it also gives life to the earth and the inhabitants of it. In doing so, it provides balance.
Through this lens, I read the Flood Narrative. In the Bible, we are told the world is full of wickedness and that God wants to destroy it. The apocryphal Book of Enoch elaborates on what is meant by wickedness; angels have defiled themselves and humans by impregnating women, and those women give birth to a race of “giants” who become cannibals. But in addition, those same angels have taught man how to make and use weapons to kill each other, and they have taught women how to dress immodestly and to use and wear makeup. They even taught humans magic spells. The earth, therefore, is in need of a good bath. God tells Noah:
“Seven days from now I will bring rain down on the earth for forty days and forty nights, and so I will wipe out from the surface of the earth every moving creature that I have made” (Genesis 7:4, New American Bible, St. Joseph Edition).
The “floodgates of the sky” were opened as promised, and the entire world, save Noah and his family, were purged from it. This seems like a cruel overreaction from a vengeful God, but when the waters recede, the world is clean once more and is reborn into more holy ways. This reminds me of the rite of baptism, particularly of older baptism candidates; when water is poured over their heads, they are symbolically washing the sins of the past from their soul and freeing themselves from evil. Essentially, the Flood Narrative could be interpreted as the baptism of the earth. By destroying the earth, then, water paradoxically creates a new one.
Elsewhere in the Bible, water is a positive force. Joseph is thrown into a water cistern and spared his death at his brothers’ hands. In Exodus, Moses leads the Israelites through the Red Sea, and in so doing them leads them out of slavery. In the New Testament, Jesus is baptized, but he also washes his apostles’ feet. This act represents the purification of evil, but it also represents humility. Water is even described extensively in Revelations; first, the curses God levels at the waters of the earth (like Wormwood poisoning them and the oceans turning to blood) are catastrophic to humanity. But after the world is destroyed, John sees a holy river:
“Then the angel showed me the river of life-giving water, sparkling like crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of its street. On either side of the river grew the tree of life that produces fruit twelve times a year, once each month; the leaves of the trees serve as medicine for the nations” (Revelations 22:1, New American Bible, St. Joseph Edition).
In the Bible, water represents physical and spiritual rebirth, the Word of God, purification, and spirituality. It is not solely a destroyer of worlds. It cleanses the earth when it needs to, but it also gives life to the earth and the inhabitants of it. In doing so, it provides balance.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Religious Debate Via Marquee Sign
My friend Erin came across this totally awesome debate between the Catholics and Presbyterians, via, you guessed it, marquee:
Game, set, match, you silly Presbyterians! Throughout this whole thing, you did realize the Catholics were making fun of you, right? Probably not...
This is a funny little "debate," but honestly, Protestants of all kinds aren't just content with being miserable themselves, are they? They have to spread the misery to everyone else. Their fascist little Puritan beliefs constantly shine through and constantly piss me off.
I believe animals do have souls. Have you ever looked into their eyes? Have you ever have a pet so devoted to you that when you're sad, they know it and cuddle up to you? Have you ever seen your dog take cover in the bathtub on the 4th of July because he/she is so scared of the fireworks? Those are genuine emotions, and I believe emotions come from the soul, not from the brain.
And apart from that, I have loved all my pets like members of my family. So I don't want to go to a Heaven where they're not there to greet me.
Monday, September 5, 2011
9/11
So the tenth anniversary of 9/11 is around the corner, and of course all the science and history channels on TV started airing documentaries about that day. Tonight, Gabby watched one with my dad, and now she's upset about it and wanting answers.
We haven't talked about it until now because quite frankly, I didn't know what to say. As I tried to explain it to her, I found myself stifling my own tears because it still hurt like it did the day it happened.
This is a curious thing to me. Why hasn't the pain subsided with time?
I don't really have any answers or insights this time, I'm afraid.
I remember that morning. Michael was a few days shy of his first birthday. He was playing with his blocks on the floor while I dozed on the couch. Larry called me from work, and I was annoyed because he was in near hysterics, saying we were under attack. I actually got mad at him and yelled at him for it, thinking, like most Americans pre-9/11, that no one would be crazy enough to attack us on our own turf. Finally, he convinced me to turn on the TV, and what I saw will forever be seared into my memory.
I'm not talking about the towers collapsing, but about the people at the top of the towers beforehand who were trapped by the fires. They were leaping from the top stories. I remember thinking then, as I do now, how terrible their desperation must've been that they'd throw themselves from the 102nd story because they believed their chances of surviving were better.
I also remember the feeling that day, like I couldn't breathe. I was sure that somehow, our whole country was psychically connected, and I was feeling everything my fellow countrymen and women were feeling as if it were my own.
I stood in front of the TV for a few seconds, watching the terror unfold, and then my legs started to feel like jello and I collapsed.
Today, trying to explain that all to her, I felt the pain bubble right back to the surface.
We haven't talked about it until now because quite frankly, I didn't know what to say. As I tried to explain it to her, I found myself stifling my own tears because it still hurt like it did the day it happened.
This is a curious thing to me. Why hasn't the pain subsided with time?
I don't really have any answers or insights this time, I'm afraid.
I remember that morning. Michael was a few days shy of his first birthday. He was playing with his blocks on the floor while I dozed on the couch. Larry called me from work, and I was annoyed because he was in near hysterics, saying we were under attack. I actually got mad at him and yelled at him for it, thinking, like most Americans pre-9/11, that no one would be crazy enough to attack us on our own turf. Finally, he convinced me to turn on the TV, and what I saw will forever be seared into my memory.
I'm not talking about the towers collapsing, but about the people at the top of the towers beforehand who were trapped by the fires. They were leaping from the top stories. I remember thinking then, as I do now, how terrible their desperation must've been that they'd throw themselves from the 102nd story because they believed their chances of surviving were better.
I also remember the feeling that day, like I couldn't breathe. I was sure that somehow, our whole country was psychically connected, and I was feeling everything my fellow countrymen and women were feeling as if it were my own.
I stood in front of the TV for a few seconds, watching the terror unfold, and then my legs started to feel like jello and I collapsed.
Today, trying to explain that all to her, I felt the pain bubble right back to the surface.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
An Angel on my Shoulder
Have you ever just had one of those days when you're inexplicably sure that you've got an angel following you around?
No? Okay, maybe that's just me.
I'm not paranoid, and I'm not crazy, just every now and then, my gut instinct tells me someone's watching over me. Not in an evil, ominous, take-an-axe-to-your-family way. Just observing.
My most recent episode started yesterday. I was just driving along and I could almost hear an angelic little ping when he popped in. And the moment it happened, I instantly knew who it was. Don't ask me to prove it because I don't know how. My gut just said, "Ping! Michael's here." Must be a slow day in the angel world because I am immensely boring.
Also, don't ask me why he's hanging around me. I don't have the foggiest. But I am certain he is here, even now as I write this, laughing at me because I'm perplexed by his presence here. Maybe he's pleased I can tell he's here. Who knows?
Okay, so in actuality I have a few theories about why Michael's here right now. I went to the doctor on Thursday because I've been feeling really crappy lately (I won't go into specifics), and he wound up diagnosing me with MRSA, a nasty staph infection that is very antibiotic resistant. I worked in a hospital once, this strain of staph kills people, no joke. On top of that, because it is so antibiotic resistant, there's only one antibiotic that is highly effective against it: sulfa. Great. But I'm deathly allergic to sulfa. The second go-to drug is about $1000 for a month's supply, the minimum length of time I have to be on it. Yeah, that's not happening. So my doc wound up putting me on his third choice, but basically, this drug is a cross-your-fingers-and-hope-to-God-it-works antibiotic. Furthermore, this is a super-infectious bacteria, as contagious as pink eye. So on top of worrying about whether or not I'm going to live through this, I'm also worried I'm going to inadvertently infect and kill one of my friends or loved ones.
Needless to say, it's been a stressful weekend spent in isolation with Chlorox wipes.
The other reason, I think, is because in my Bible as Lit class, we started off the semester reading about Adam and Eve. This made me think about the Book of Adam and Eve in which he has a starring role. Thinking about that led me to think about how I've devoted the last fifteen plus years of my life studying angels, demons, and their role in religion, but even still, I don't feel like my classmates take my knowledge seriously. Sometimes I forget that I'm at the fringe of things that are acceptable fields of study.
I think he's here because of a particular trickster who manifested himself in my life. And, just like the tricksters of folklore, mine managed to screw with my perceptions of the world. And then the coward ran off left me trying to put the pieces together. Again.
But lastly, I think Michael might be here because I was supposed to go to Mexico to see him this fall, but wound up not having the means. Again. I wound up spending the cash I had paying for everyone else's needs. Part of me is so mad at myself for doing that. I'm not sorry I bought my kids schoolclothes and their stuff. But I'm ticked off that I didn't have the guts to tell everyone else no, to put myself first. I'm always being accused of being selfish, so why the hell didn't I have the guts to be this time? I've needed this spiritual journey for a long time, and I've known I've needed it. But I didn't realize until a week ago just how much. I'm so depressed that I'm in this position.
So yeah, you might think I'm crazy for believing I have a literal angel on my shoulder, but I'm certain he's there. Hanging out. Probably laughing and pointing.
No? Okay, maybe that's just me.
I'm not paranoid, and I'm not crazy, just every now and then, my gut instinct tells me someone's watching over me. Not in an evil, ominous, take-an-axe-to-your-family way. Just observing.
My most recent episode started yesterday. I was just driving along and I could almost hear an angelic little ping when he popped in. And the moment it happened, I instantly knew who it was. Don't ask me to prove it because I don't know how. My gut just said, "Ping! Michael's here." Must be a slow day in the angel world because I am immensely boring.
Also, don't ask me why he's hanging around me. I don't have the foggiest. But I am certain he is here, even now as I write this, laughing at me because I'm perplexed by his presence here. Maybe he's pleased I can tell he's here. Who knows?
Okay, so in actuality I have a few theories about why Michael's here right now. I went to the doctor on Thursday because I've been feeling really crappy lately (I won't go into specifics), and he wound up diagnosing me with MRSA, a nasty staph infection that is very antibiotic resistant. I worked in a hospital once, this strain of staph kills people, no joke. On top of that, because it is so antibiotic resistant, there's only one antibiotic that is highly effective against it: sulfa. Great. But I'm deathly allergic to sulfa. The second go-to drug is about $1000 for a month's supply, the minimum length of time I have to be on it. Yeah, that's not happening. So my doc wound up putting me on his third choice, but basically, this drug is a cross-your-fingers-and-hope-to-God-it-works antibiotic. Furthermore, this is a super-infectious bacteria, as contagious as pink eye. So on top of worrying about whether or not I'm going to live through this, I'm also worried I'm going to inadvertently infect and kill one of my friends or loved ones.
Needless to say, it's been a stressful weekend spent in isolation with Chlorox wipes.
The other reason, I think, is because in my Bible as Lit class, we started off the semester reading about Adam and Eve. This made me think about the Book of Adam and Eve in which he has a starring role. Thinking about that led me to think about how I've devoted the last fifteen plus years of my life studying angels, demons, and their role in religion, but even still, I don't feel like my classmates take my knowledge seriously. Sometimes I forget that I'm at the fringe of things that are acceptable fields of study.
I think he's here because of a particular trickster who manifested himself in my life. And, just like the tricksters of folklore, mine managed to screw with my perceptions of the world. And then the coward ran off left me trying to put the pieces together. Again.
But lastly, I think Michael might be here because I was supposed to go to Mexico to see him this fall, but wound up not having the means. Again. I wound up spending the cash I had paying for everyone else's needs. Part of me is so mad at myself for doing that. I'm not sorry I bought my kids schoolclothes and their stuff. But I'm ticked off that I didn't have the guts to tell everyone else no, to put myself first. I'm always being accused of being selfish, so why the hell didn't I have the guts to be this time? I've needed this spiritual journey for a long time, and I've known I've needed it. But I didn't realize until a week ago just how much. I'm so depressed that I'm in this position.
So yeah, you might think I'm crazy for believing I have a literal angel on my shoulder, but I'm certain he's there. Hanging out. Probably laughing and pointing.
Friday, September 2, 2011
The Bible as Literature
As I read C.S. Lewis’ article, “The Literary Impact of the Authorised Version,” I frequently thought about my husband’s family. For them, the King James version of the Bible is the end-all of sacred texts pertaining to Christianity; it is the gospel truth of the Lord in the most literal sense, and it is not to be questioned. But the fact is, as Lewis pointed out, the Bible as a work of literature and as a sacred text has a much more complex and politically motivated history than my in-laws seem to realize.
I always argue with my impressionable nieces and nephews about how problematic the Bible is; the ancient Jews kept an oral history for thousands of years before they finally began writing stuff down. I don’t think I need to point out that this is like playing the most epic game of “Telephone” in history. Further compound this communication problem with all the translations the Bible has gone through since the beginning, and consider that each language has its own colloquialisms that won’t be translated perfectly into a different tongue. That’s like playing the aforementioned game of “Telephone” with no two people speaking the same language. Then there are the politics of an Empire; to keep Rome from falling into civil war, Constantine the Great forced the warring Christian tribes to come to an agreement about all Christian dogma. So the Council of Nicaea grudgingly compromised about what books would be included in the Bible, and what books would get the axe. Fast forward nearly 1,300 years to King James’ Hampton Court Conference, who, in trying to solve translation problems with the Bible, further butchered this already broken thing by throwing out even more books to perpetuate an agenda.
The point of me bringing this up is that C.S. Lewis spoke with disdain for people who read the Bible as a piece of literature and nothing more, arguing that “those who read the Bible as literature do not read the Bible” (23). But knowing just a tiny fraction of its history is enough cause for skepticism. The King James Bible is a work of fiction, not because of its content, but because it is incomplete and has been garbled with time. It must be taken with a grain of salt until we, as scholars, can look at it in its proper context and its totality. Of course, until archaeologists can find all the missing books lost and historians can filter out all the garbled messages that have accumulated through time, this will prove difficult. Still, I appreciated Lewis’ sentiment that the Bible is a spiritual guide, so if you’re reading it for purely secular reasons, you’re missing the point.
But since we’re talking about the literary merit of the Bible, I’d like to say that I don’t think the King James version is nearly as interesting as the Catholic version. This belief stems from my experience as a creative writer. The Apocrypha, those books that King James tossed out, better expanded on events mentioned only in passing, such as the fall of man. In the KJV of Genesis, Adam and Eve’s story only warrants a blip in one chapter of the book. That’s not a story with literary merit, that’s a news report, and not even a headline. You halfway expect some bored reporter at the scene talking about how Adam and Eve were evicted from their apartment but went quietly. Yawn. In the Catholic Bible, on the other hand, that entire story takes its own book to tell, and it involves more shenanigans with the Devil, the archangel Michael playing doctor to Eve when she was giving birth, not to mention murder, betrayal, incest, etc. That’s the ancient equivalent of a blockbuster movie! Now, whether you believe the story is up to you, and King James probably did not. But you can’t deny that it sounds a heck of a lot more fun to read than a couple of lines that vaguely talk about humanity’s fall from grace over a piece of fruit. The Catholic version of this story and many others gives the reader the style, tone, dialogue, character development, plot development, poetics, and aesthetics that he/she needs. The point is that if we’re looking at the stories of the Bible for their literariness alone, I think it’s fair to demand that we look at them in totality. Reading only two chapters in Genesis to learn about the fall of mankind is like reading the line, “To be, or not to be,” from Hamlet and trying to glean the entire theme of revenge from it.
But, I grudgingly acknowledge that the KJV, even with all its faults, inspired and influenced (I’m still not clear on Lewis’ distinctions) a gamut of religious fiction that was interesting, works like Paradise Lost. The quality I admire the most in it is how Lucifer’s fall from grace mirrors mankind’s fall from grace in Genesis. And so the phrase, “paradise lost” doesn’t just refer to Adam and Eve’s expulsion from Eden, it refers to Lucifer’s expulsion from Heaven as well. Lucifer mirrors humanity as well, especially in pride and determination. There’s this passage:
His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd
In dubious Battel on the Plains of Heav'n,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? [ 105 ]
All is not lost; the unconquerable Will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
I think this sums up the struggle between Lucifer and humanity. Though they are constantly injuring each other in an eternal battle, the two are more alike than they realize. Pride forced them to fall, but it also forced them to stand. What choice was there? For Lucifer, lay on the banks of a hellish lake for all eternity? For mankind, wallow and die outside the gates of Eden? The way I see it, they only had one option…“awake, arise, or be forever fallen” (Milton 330).
Works Cited:
Lewis, C.S. “The Literary Impact of the Authorised Version.” University of London, London, England. 20 March 1950. The Ethel M. Wood Lecture.
Milton, John. “Paradise Lost.” The Paradise Lost Study Guide. New Arts Library. 1999. Web. 30 August 2011.
I always argue with my impressionable nieces and nephews about how problematic the Bible is; the ancient Jews kept an oral history for thousands of years before they finally began writing stuff down. I don’t think I need to point out that this is like playing the most epic game of “Telephone” in history. Further compound this communication problem with all the translations the Bible has gone through since the beginning, and consider that each language has its own colloquialisms that won’t be translated perfectly into a different tongue. That’s like playing the aforementioned game of “Telephone” with no two people speaking the same language. Then there are the politics of an Empire; to keep Rome from falling into civil war, Constantine the Great forced the warring Christian tribes to come to an agreement about all Christian dogma. So the Council of Nicaea grudgingly compromised about what books would be included in the Bible, and what books would get the axe. Fast forward nearly 1,300 years to King James’ Hampton Court Conference, who, in trying to solve translation problems with the Bible, further butchered this already broken thing by throwing out even more books to perpetuate an agenda.
The point of me bringing this up is that C.S. Lewis spoke with disdain for people who read the Bible as a piece of literature and nothing more, arguing that “those who read the Bible as literature do not read the Bible” (23). But knowing just a tiny fraction of its history is enough cause for skepticism. The King James Bible is a work of fiction, not because of its content, but because it is incomplete and has been garbled with time. It must be taken with a grain of salt until we, as scholars, can look at it in its proper context and its totality. Of course, until archaeologists can find all the missing books lost and historians can filter out all the garbled messages that have accumulated through time, this will prove difficult. Still, I appreciated Lewis’ sentiment that the Bible is a spiritual guide, so if you’re reading it for purely secular reasons, you’re missing the point.
But since we’re talking about the literary merit of the Bible, I’d like to say that I don’t think the King James version is nearly as interesting as the Catholic version. This belief stems from my experience as a creative writer. The Apocrypha, those books that King James tossed out, better expanded on events mentioned only in passing, such as the fall of man. In the KJV of Genesis, Adam and Eve’s story only warrants a blip in one chapter of the book. That’s not a story with literary merit, that’s a news report, and not even a headline. You halfway expect some bored reporter at the scene talking about how Adam and Eve were evicted from their apartment but went quietly. Yawn. In the Catholic Bible, on the other hand, that entire story takes its own book to tell, and it involves more shenanigans with the Devil, the archangel Michael playing doctor to Eve when she was giving birth, not to mention murder, betrayal, incest, etc. That’s the ancient equivalent of a blockbuster movie! Now, whether you believe the story is up to you, and King James probably did not. But you can’t deny that it sounds a heck of a lot more fun to read than a couple of lines that vaguely talk about humanity’s fall from grace over a piece of fruit. The Catholic version of this story and many others gives the reader the style, tone, dialogue, character development, plot development, poetics, and aesthetics that he/she needs. The point is that if we’re looking at the stories of the Bible for their literariness alone, I think it’s fair to demand that we look at them in totality. Reading only two chapters in Genesis to learn about the fall of mankind is like reading the line, “To be, or not to be,” from Hamlet and trying to glean the entire theme of revenge from it.
But, I grudgingly acknowledge that the KJV, even with all its faults, inspired and influenced (I’m still not clear on Lewis’ distinctions) a gamut of religious fiction that was interesting, works like Paradise Lost. The quality I admire the most in it is how Lucifer’s fall from grace mirrors mankind’s fall from grace in Genesis. And so the phrase, “paradise lost” doesn’t just refer to Adam and Eve’s expulsion from Eden, it refers to Lucifer’s expulsion from Heaven as well. Lucifer mirrors humanity as well, especially in pride and determination. There’s this passage:
His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd
In dubious Battel on the Plains of Heav'n,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? [ 105 ]
All is not lost; the unconquerable Will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
I think this sums up the struggle between Lucifer and humanity. Though they are constantly injuring each other in an eternal battle, the two are more alike than they realize. Pride forced them to fall, but it also forced them to stand. What choice was there? For Lucifer, lay on the banks of a hellish lake for all eternity? For mankind, wallow and die outside the gates of Eden? The way I see it, they only had one option…“awake, arise, or be forever fallen” (Milton 330).
Works Cited:
Lewis, C.S. “The Literary Impact of the Authorised Version.” University of London, London, England. 20 March 1950. The Ethel M. Wood Lecture.
Milton, John. “Paradise Lost.” The Paradise Lost Study Guide. New Arts Library. 1999. Web. 30 August 2011.
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