E.P. Sanders is the rarest of Biblical critics I have encountered, and this is perhaps his most poignant, imaginative, yet erudite account of the world's best known Christian, St. Paul. Paul and Palestinian Judaism is the first of what would later become "A New Perspective" on the question of Paul and the nature of his relationship with his opponents, those early Christians who perhaps were more Jewish and less Christian.
I have spent my adult lifetime being mystified by Paul, and I highly welcome Sander's scholarship on this subject, which does not begin with Paul, but on Judaism in an exhaustive survey of nearly all the relevant documents and facts we now posses. The question begins with how does one get in and stay in the Jewish Covenant? Though Jewish thought in the first century proves to be highly diverse, Sanders introduces the concept of "Covenantal Nomism." All Jews were part of the covenant and believed themselves accessible to God, his forgiveness, atonement and salvation. From this formulation, Sanders concludes that Paul did not start from the weakness of Judaism to formulate his doctrine, but rather the person of Christ. Paul's conviction of Jesus led him to the conclusion that salvation could only come through him. It is difficult to argue with Sanders, and perhaps only a true Bible Scholar can formulate the kinds of arguments necessary to combat this highly exhaustive study. The Book's value to me was its survey of Judaism, and the respect Sanders--a Christian--gives it becomes a formidable argument to the common Calvinistic or Lutheran theological assumptions of Jewish legalism as the understood practice for Hebrew salvation. "Legalism" is hardly descriptive of the complexity of first century Jewish ideology, and Christians (and secularists) have generally been slow to realize the sophistication of Jewish theology in comparison to its heretical offspring.
Christianity would not have been understood as the only answer for God's atonement and forgiveness by any observant Covenantal Jew, unless they somehow were presented with Christ. Christians may agree with this, but Sanders introduces us to the depths of Judaism, long argued by Jewish and agnostic scholars as a highly motivated, diverse, sophisticated, and theologically formidable religion. My observation (going further than Sanders) is that Christianity is a Jewish Heresy that replaces the covenant with the person of Christ, succeeding via a dramatic and highly successful creative misreading of the Hebrew Bible. Paul's line of reasoning, his ingenious (and not so ingenious) revisions of the Hebrew Bible, and his audaciousness become more explainable when one considers Paul as less Jewish and more Christian. Sanders is a welcome addition to any Library as well as to anyone who would know more about this extremely touchy subject.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Sailors To The End
In July of 1967, The mighty aircraft carrier U.S.S Forestal saw only four days of combat duty in the waters of Vietnam. In the middle of Day four, on July 29 a rocket was accidentally launched from a parked plane. The rocket slammed into (Senator) John McCain's plane and then exploded on the flight deck. The ensuing fire caused nine 500-1000 pound bombs, sitting on the flight deck in parked planes to explode at full force, doing some 73 million dollars worth of damage to the ship and aircraft, and killing 139 men. Most of them died in the initial explosion. More would suffer horrible deaths and severe burns in a raging fire.
Gregory A. Freeman writes a vivid description of the horrors and heroism of the 5000 men of the Forestal who defeated the fire, and saved the ship. Though Freeman's story telling is good, I am most moved by the accounts of the disaster by my father, Cecil Clancy, who served aboard the Forestal as a communications man (My vision of him was always Lt. Uhura from Star Trek--not in the least bit accurate) . He confirms most of Freeman's report, adding his own vexed recollections of horror and irony.
In many ways the hellish tragedy on board the Forestal (Later Navy men called it "Forest Fire") was a result of a bureaucratic Navy and U.S. Government unable to decide how best to conduct its actions in Vietnam. The large bombs that went off on the flight deck were old World War two bombs, a condition endemic of the ammunition shortage that plagued war efforts. Older bombs become quite unstable, and the "cook times" are quite dangerous even in normal operations, much less a Jet fuel fire.
The heroism of the men who survived the fire is a testament to the U.S. Navy, and the kind of greatness we too easily take for granted. My father rarely talks about his Forestal experiences, but I notice that he becomes quiet, even pensive every July. Fifteen years ago, I watched him leave the room one day when I was watching the movie Backdraft. What is remarkable about my father to me is that, unlike so many war veterans I have come to know, he never openly broods on the past. Still there is a vague disquiet, and it is all the more understandable to me now that I have read Freeman. Like many of the other 5000 men on board the Forestal, my father is a hero. But even heroes have to live with the traumas of war. The same quality that made them brave must be re-employed to keep them from being consumed by tragedy in the past. Freeman reminds me of the strength of my father, now and before I was born.
I recommend this book.
Gregory A. Freeman writes a vivid description of the horrors and heroism of the 5000 men of the Forestal who defeated the fire, and saved the ship. Though Freeman's story telling is good, I am most moved by the accounts of the disaster by my father, Cecil Clancy, who served aboard the Forestal as a communications man (My vision of him was always Lt. Uhura from Star Trek--not in the least bit accurate) . He confirms most of Freeman's report, adding his own vexed recollections of horror and irony.
In many ways the hellish tragedy on board the Forestal (Later Navy men called it "Forest Fire") was a result of a bureaucratic Navy and U.S. Government unable to decide how best to conduct its actions in Vietnam. The large bombs that went off on the flight deck were old World War two bombs, a condition endemic of the ammunition shortage that plagued war efforts. Older bombs become quite unstable, and the "cook times" are quite dangerous even in normal operations, much less a Jet fuel fire.
The heroism of the men who survived the fire is a testament to the U.S. Navy, and the kind of greatness we too easily take for granted. My father rarely talks about his Forestal experiences, but I notice that he becomes quiet, even pensive every July. Fifteen years ago, I watched him leave the room one day when I was watching the movie Backdraft. What is remarkable about my father to me is that, unlike so many war veterans I have come to know, he never openly broods on the past. Still there is a vague disquiet, and it is all the more understandable to me now that I have read Freeman. Like many of the other 5000 men on board the Forestal, my father is a hero. But even heroes have to live with the traumas of war. The same quality that made them brave must be re-employed to keep them from being consumed by tragedy in the past. Freeman reminds me of the strength of my father, now and before I was born.
I recommend this book.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
God: A Biography
Jack Miles is not only a wonderful writer of Biblical commentary, but an amazing reader of the Bible. Miles gives us the splendor of the "Stained Glass Window" of the Bible in its portrayal of the world's most awe inspiring literary character.
Following the Hebrew Bible in the order of the books--and not the revised Christian Old Testament ordering, Miles illuminates a God who starts out all powerful, but not all knowing, over time he becomes something of a mystery, perhaps even to himself. Each change signals a compelling historical reality of the Jewish victory and later misery and the drama of how God must react in order to stay relevant to his people. As the prophets and later writers begin bursting at the seams as Israel declines, Miles illuminates how God is also bursting. Though the text of the Hebrew Bible gives us a God who cannot be shaken, and is supreme, Miles presents the changes he must undergo in order to give us that sense of divine control. Each trial for Israel reveals something very new in God's character, revising the meaning of his prior actions, allowing him a new kind of future.
Mile's perspective perhaps is reminiscent of Leo Strauss' tough little book: Persecution and the Art of Writing. Strauss illuminates how great books often conceal as much as they reveal of their fundamental purpose. I'm also reminded of Northrop Frye's The Great Code, which celebrates the Bible's typology. Frye's conception of typology is what I would normally call "revision". However, Miles perhaps was a close reader of both Frye and Strauss, demonstrating the literary unity of a strong misreading.
Over-time, when Israel begins to be occupied by foreign captors, the God of Israel must somehow keep his covenant with his people. To do so, God becomes more mysterious, more powerful, yet more distant. Mile's observes that God no longer speaks after the nearly scandalous book of Job, he becomes more distant, and reclusive, culminating in the "ancient of days" in Daniel, and the repetitive round of I and II Chronicles.
Most humans consider God at some point in their life, which is why I heartily recommend this book. Miles confronts us with the God of the Old Testament, ignoring the New, giving us a refreshing look at God, his development, and his profound yet anguished relationship with his people.
After reading Miles, I contemplate the Jewish scribes who took God's punishment upon themselves, as captors invaded their lands. God somehow remains whole, unscathed, while the Jew offers himself, sinful, fallen, depraved. The World History of Jewish persecution aches with the pathos of the Jewish scribes who courageously took God's absence, and failure to act upon themselves. I don't see modern Christians doing anything quite like this, and I begin to wonder if the world will ever again see such religious courage?
The troubling question I had after reading Miles was what must God do to match such incredible love? The result perhaps is God's own persecution and Resurrection, in the New Testament. Could God's suffering for his people be a kind of parody of their suffering for him in the Old? It seems likely to me.
Miles finds completion in the Hebrew Bible, concluding that it needs no further revelation, although the modern reader familiar with the New Testament or the Hebrew Talmuds is left with a nagging doubt.
Miles raises serious questions for the New Testament, and all later theology in general, so I was quite happy to find a second book by him: Christ: Crisis in the Life of God, which I will try to review later.
For anyone interested in the literary aspects of the Bible, these are tremendous books to start with.
Following the Hebrew Bible in the order of the books--and not the revised Christian Old Testament ordering, Miles illuminates a God who starts out all powerful, but not all knowing, over time he becomes something of a mystery, perhaps even to himself. Each change signals a compelling historical reality of the Jewish victory and later misery and the drama of how God must react in order to stay relevant to his people. As the prophets and later writers begin bursting at the seams as Israel declines, Miles illuminates how God is also bursting. Though the text of the Hebrew Bible gives us a God who cannot be shaken, and is supreme, Miles presents the changes he must undergo in order to give us that sense of divine control. Each trial for Israel reveals something very new in God's character, revising the meaning of his prior actions, allowing him a new kind of future.
Mile's perspective perhaps is reminiscent of Leo Strauss' tough little book: Persecution and the Art of Writing. Strauss illuminates how great books often conceal as much as they reveal of their fundamental purpose. I'm also reminded of Northrop Frye's The Great Code, which celebrates the Bible's typology. Frye's conception of typology is what I would normally call "revision". However, Miles perhaps was a close reader of both Frye and Strauss, demonstrating the literary unity of a strong misreading.
Over-time, when Israel begins to be occupied by foreign captors, the God of Israel must somehow keep his covenant with his people. To do so, God becomes more mysterious, more powerful, yet more distant. Mile's observes that God no longer speaks after the nearly scandalous book of Job, he becomes more distant, and reclusive, culminating in the "ancient of days" in Daniel, and the repetitive round of I and II Chronicles.
Most humans consider God at some point in their life, which is why I heartily recommend this book. Miles confronts us with the God of the Old Testament, ignoring the New, giving us a refreshing look at God, his development, and his profound yet anguished relationship with his people.
After reading Miles, I contemplate the Jewish scribes who took God's punishment upon themselves, as captors invaded their lands. God somehow remains whole, unscathed, while the Jew offers himself, sinful, fallen, depraved. The World History of Jewish persecution aches with the pathos of the Jewish scribes who courageously took God's absence, and failure to act upon themselves. I don't see modern Christians doing anything quite like this, and I begin to wonder if the world will ever again see such religious courage?
The troubling question I had after reading Miles was what must God do to match such incredible love? The result perhaps is God's own persecution and Resurrection, in the New Testament. Could God's suffering for his people be a kind of parody of their suffering for him in the Old? It seems likely to me.
Miles finds completion in the Hebrew Bible, concluding that it needs no further revelation, although the modern reader familiar with the New Testament or the Hebrew Talmuds is left with a nagging doubt.
Miles raises serious questions for the New Testament, and all later theology in general, so I was quite happy to find a second book by him: Christ: Crisis in the Life of God, which I will try to review later.
For anyone interested in the literary aspects of the Bible, these are tremendous books to start with.
The Postmodern Condition: A report on Knowledge
Author Jean-Francois Lyotard gives us a fascinating glimpse into the postmodern condition which simplifying to the "extreme is a incredulity toward meta narrative." Though his target is communism--marxism in fact, any particular "narrative" ideology or viewpoint may get its back up when confronted with the claims of Lyotard's discussion here. Christianity, Freudism, Judaism, New Age Ophisms, are certainly "narrative" worldviews, for instance which may ironically find a common enemy in postmodern philosophy.
But it occurs to me that their fear is un-founded. Postmodernism at its core remains for me a rhetorical tool, that does not describe reality, since postmodernism is itself narrative in its description, but it can help illuminate other directions and currents. Language Games--Lyotard's trope relying upon Wittgenstein's Tractatus remind us of the limitations of language in dealing with, and describing the human condition. Lyotard is convincing, and difficult to refute, but in the end his words are relying upon narrative tradition, a weakness he continually addresses in the book--perhaps not to even his total satisfaction.
All words are narratives, relying on tradition. Are we too complicated then for the words we chain ourselves to? My suspicion is that we are, though words are also powerful tools which can accurately convey what we want from one another. They cannot always describe our purpose and true meaning, which to me rests in the fields of the arts, poetry, music, and perhaps religion. It occurs to me that Lyotard exposes unwittingly that Philosophy has reduced itself to the reductionism of postmodernism and must come full circle again to refocus its energies on the other humanities in order to speak to us.
All religions are narratives, and are imperfect in describing our human experience, yet it would be naive to suggest that people don't find meaning in them anyways. Lyotard is a thoughtful atheist, and I am moved by his philosophy, though I feel that a proper aesthetic can reduce postmodernism to a mere rhetoric, and not an over-arching ideology--which it seeks to continually disrupt.
But it occurs to me that their fear is un-founded. Postmodernism at its core remains for me a rhetorical tool, that does not describe reality, since postmodernism is itself narrative in its description, but it can help illuminate other directions and currents. Language Games--Lyotard's trope relying upon Wittgenstein's Tractatus remind us of the limitations of language in dealing with, and describing the human condition. Lyotard is convincing, and difficult to refute, but in the end his words are relying upon narrative tradition, a weakness he continually addresses in the book--perhaps not to even his total satisfaction.
All words are narratives, relying on tradition. Are we too complicated then for the words we chain ourselves to? My suspicion is that we are, though words are also powerful tools which can accurately convey what we want from one another. They cannot always describe our purpose and true meaning, which to me rests in the fields of the arts, poetry, music, and perhaps religion. It occurs to me that Lyotard exposes unwittingly that Philosophy has reduced itself to the reductionism of postmodernism and must come full circle again to refocus its energies on the other humanities in order to speak to us.
All religions are narratives, and are imperfect in describing our human experience, yet it would be naive to suggest that people don't find meaning in them anyways. Lyotard is a thoughtful atheist, and I am moved by his philosophy, though I feel that a proper aesthetic can reduce postmodernism to a mere rhetoric, and not an over-arching ideology--which it seeks to continually disrupt.
Welcome
Welcome to my Book Report Blog.
I try to read 1-2 books per week. You can also check out my website at www.ericclancy.com
I try to read 1-2 books per week. You can also check out my website at www.ericclancy.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)