Abstract
This volume represents the eleventh and final volume to come from the European Seminar in Historical Methodology (ESHM). The ESHM met over a seventeen-year period: 1996–2012.
Following a brief introduction by the editor (pp. xv–xvi), the volume includes two major parts and a conclusion, followed by an index of ancient sources (pp. 232–36) and an index of authors (pp. 237–40).
“Part I: Statements on and Evaluations of the Seminar” includes six essays: “Why Start with the Text? The Fall of Samaria Revisited” (Bob Becking), “Clio Today and Ancient Israelite History: Some Thoughts and Observations at the Closing Session of the European Seminar for Historical Methodology” (Ehud Ben Zvi), “‘Just the Facts, Ma’am!’: Reflections on the ESHM” (Philip R. Davies), “Vingt ans Après: A Personal Retrospective” (Ernst Axe Knauf), “The Future of Israel’s History” (Niels Peter Lemche), and “The Problem of Israel in the History of the South Levant” (Thomas L. Thompson).
Many readers of this journal will already have a fairly good idea about the viewpoints of the contributors in this part, since they are so widely published (and much discussed). But it is instructive to have them summarize their historiographical approaches and reflect on how participating in the ESHM has influenced them and helped them sharpen their approaches to history, Israel, and the Bible. The contributions by Becking and Ben Zvi I found to be especially informative and helpful for the “big picture” on historical method they provide.
“Part II: Tidying Up…: Publication of Papers from Sessions not Published” includes six essays: “The Exilic Period as an Urgent Case for a Historical Reconstruction without the Biblical Text: The Neo-Babylonian Royal Inscriptions as a ‘Primary Source’” (Rainer Albertz), “Cultural Memory in Practice: Ezra and Nehemiah” (Philip R. Davies), “The Oral, the Written, the Forgotten, the Remembered: Studies in Historiography and Their Implications for Ancient Israel” (Lester Grabbe), “The Relation between Samaria and Jerusalem in the Early Maccabean Period Revisited: A Case Study about the Reception of Phinehas” (Tobias Funke), “From Philadelphus to Hyrcanus: An Alternative Approach to the Formation and Canonization of the ‘Deuteronomistic Historiography’” (Philippe Guillaume), and “Joshua Maccabaeus: Another Reading of 1 Maccabees 5” (Ernst Axel Knauf).
This part is more of a diverse selection since it includes papers from 1997 on the Exile (Albertz), from 2008 on the oral, the written, and cultural memory (Davies and Grabbe), and 2011 on the Maccabees (Funke, Guillaume, and Knauf). Albertz’s essay appeared in German in an earlier collection of the seminar’s papers; here it is both translated and updated. One of the most interesting discussions in Albertz’s essay concerns analyzing the theological and ideological perspectives of the Babylonian inscriptions and annals and how this can inform our historical perspective: we should not dismiss these sources because of their ideology any more than dismissing Deutero-Isaiah for its ideology.
“Part III: Conclusion” includes only one essay: “Seventeen Years of the European Seminar in Historical Methodology: A Personal View of the Results” (Lester L. Grabbe). This essay traces the origins, development, and publishing of the ESHM, emphasizing that the participants were not of one accord in terms of methodology or conclusions. The essay concludes with an outline of Grabbe’s own historical method relative to ancient Israel.
This volume will have less appeal for purchase by individual scholars and students than it will for libraries. But because of several key essays (especially those of Albertz and Grabbe), it certainly is worth the time to read.
John Van Seters, distinguished professor emeritus at the University of North Carolina, is a well recognized scholar in topics relating to the Hebrew Bible and the ancient Near East. He has published a great deal on Pentateuch studies and redaction history in the Hebrew Bible, the subjects of the present volume. The Pentateuch: A Social-Science Commentary, 2nd edition, functions in a way as a summary of his position and a review of relevant literature from the greater field.
In this second edition, Van Seters continues to argue we “retain the notion of authors [ …but] reject completely the very existence of editors in antiquity, for which there is no clearly documented evidence” (p. vii). He describes this volume as a “guidebook” for students that might grant them the tools necessary if they are to determine “the most reasonable or rational explanation for the nature of the text as we have it” (p. viii). Furthermore, Van Seters does not argue the “final word” on documentary hypothesis but offers an open invitation to students whereby they can meaningfully engage with the present issues within the field.
Chapters 2 to 4 define “some basic features of the Pentateuch as a whole” (p. 5) and review the signifi-cant movements within Pentateuch research. Considering the volume is intended as a “guidebook,” he does not exhaustively review Pentateuch research, as such things already exist, to which he directs the reader via bibliographic references, but summarizes the general ebb-and-flow of the field. Unique to this edition is that in chapter 4 (pp. 61-72), Van Seters critically reviews the emerging positions on documentary hypothesis since his first edition (1999).
Chapter 5 on Deuteronomy marks the beginning of Van Seters’s review of documentary hypothesis in practice. He states, while “[i]t may seem strange to begin a literary analysis of the Pentateuch with the last book and the end of the story …Deuteronomy is the key to understanding both the Pentateuch (Torah) and the historical books that follow …as well as the relationship between them” (p. 78). I am at this point inclined to agree with the volume’s structuring of content if it is to be an “introduction.”
Chapter 6 addresses literature on the Yahwist (J/non-P) source. He reviews arguments for the representation of the patriarchs in J (non-P) and the story of Moses in Exodus through Numbers. I find that Van Seters’s position concerning J’s social context becomes most apparent when he argues that “J is a contemporary of Second Isaiah …[and] the future return from exile as a second exodus” (p. 131). With Second Isaiah (Isa 40–55) as J’s exilic social context, Van Seters explains that this understanding opens “up the horizon of Israelite theology and ideology to a more universal perspective” (p. 133), something that is apparent in the prophecy of Second Isaiah. I find chapter 6 (possibly along with chapters 2–4) the most valuable section of the volume and worth introducing into a classroom setting.
Chapter 7 engages the “well established” and “widely recognized” Priestly (P) source (p. 140). As in chapters 5 and 6, the author begins with a brief explanation of the source’s style, form, and structure. He then lays out his understanding “within the supplementary model in which P is viewed as a compositional stratum that extends and supplements J” (i.e., “P’s work is added to D and DtrH”) (p. 142). Of this chapter, Van Seters’s engagement with the social setting of P was well summarized, specifically pp. 156–58, where he challenges the reconstructions of Rainer Albretz and Erhard Blum.
Chapter 8 reviews the important work of German scholars (Albrecht Alt, Alfred Jepsen, etc.) for classifying “the various types of laws and their origin and social setting” (p. 166) within the Pentateuch (e.g., Apodictic Laws, Humanitarian Laws, Cultic Laws). Van Seters gives most attention to the D Code (DC) (Deut 12-26), the Covenant Code (CC) (Exod 20:22-22:33), the Holiness Code (HC) (Lev 17-26), and the Priestly Code (PC) (Exod 12:1-28; 28; Lev 16; 23; etc.). He also gives brief emphasis to the Decalogue in Exod 20:1–17 (P) and Deut 5:6-21 (D), noting its absence in J which includes the primary elements of these laws within its CC.
Considering Van Seter’s 2nd edition remains introductory and should not be understood as a “research” volume, a detailed critique would be ill-suited. Instead, I note only that the potential reader or university lecturer be aware that The Pentateuch, 2nd edition, is steeped in Van Seter’s position(s), which is no surprise, and that he does not in any great detail engage criticisms against documentary hypothesis from outside the field but addresses solely the past and present scholarly contentions there within.
As a recommendation, I suggest that Van Seters’s volume is of value to students and those seeking an overview of Pentateuch studies and documentary hypothesis. The Pentateuch, 2nd edition, is a quick read, provides an adequate review of relevant literature, defines the necessary terminology, and summarizes Van Seters’s influential position. Moreover, the reader does not require the command of additional modern research languages (i.e. German or French), as the author translates all foreign titles and texts for convenience’s sake. What Van Seters’s The Pentateuch, 2nd edition sets out to do, it efficiently does.
Feminist Theory and the Bible: Interrogating the Sources is a collection of six essays that explore feminist theory as a framework for doing biblical study. In the introduction, Esther Fuchs explains relevant terminologies, background information, and challenges that have impacted the development of feminist theory. She highlights characteristics and aims of feminist theory and contextualizes it vis-à-vis biblical studies and feminist studies.
In her introductory remarks on the field of biblical studies, Fuchs critiques studying the Bible solely in its ancient Near Eastern context. She also critiques ways in which Christian theology has been overly influential in some studies of the Hebrew Bible. Fuchs argues that the field is “poised on the brink of a new self-examination” that might address these issues and develop new approaches of inquiry. Fuchs notes that feminist biblical critics often ask new questions and propose different trajectories, contributions that might help a field she considers to be in crisis. Fuchs states that she is not proposing solutions, answers, or prescriptions to the problems; rather, her work offers investigations, examinations, and critical assessments. While the introduction sets the tone and methodology for the essays that follow, readers might be left wanting more concrete suggestions to rectify some of the important criticisms that Fuchs makes.
In “Feminist Approaches to the Hebrew Bible,” Fuchs highlights three general categories of feminist biblical approaches: gynocritical, pluralist, and feminist (called critical elsewhere in the book). Gynocritical approaches focus on topics such as reconstruction of women’s historical experiences and impacts, women’s rituals and practices, and depictions of women as deities, leaders, and prophets. Pluralist approaches consider the Hebrew Bible as male-centered but with content that represents ancient women’s lives in diverse ways. These interpreters would consider the Bible to be a layered composition with male and female perspectives and voices. Feminist approaches recognize the Hebrew Bible as male-centered and patriarchal, not only a product of men but a work that endorses ideologies of male dominance. These interpreters would focus less on women’s agency and more on women as products of male imagination. Fuchs’ descriptions are helpful for understanding some of the nuances and underlying premises of feminist biblical approaches. The chapter provides good examples and engagement with scholars in each category.
In “Biblical Feminisms: Knowledge, Theory, and Politics in the Study of Women in the Hebrew Bible,” Fuchs briefly discusses Mieke Bal and Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, noting ways that their scholarship might provide a general framework for feminist biblical studies. Much of the essay, however, interrogates Phyllis Trible’s scholarship, terms such as feminism and feminisms, and postcolonial and cultural studies within and apart from feminist biblical study. At times, Fuchs is very critical of theological and multicultural perspectives. More detailed discussion of possible benefits of these perspectives would be helpful to the reader.
“The Neoliberal Turn in Feminist Biblical Studies” explores themes such as herstories, women’s voices in ancient texts, and typologies in feminist inquiries. Fuchs discusses the interconnections between texts and ideologies and provides techniques she uses to read female characters broadly and intertextually.
In “Jephthah’s Daughter: A Feminist Postcolonial Approach,” Fuchs discusses Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Phyllis Trible, Mieke Bal, Cheryl Exum, and their treatments on Judges 11. Engaging with aspects of their scholarship, Fuchs offers a postcolonial feminist reading, arguing that the themes of war, conquest, teaching and performance are significant for understanding gender and national identity in Judges 11.
Fuchs builds on the discussions of gender, national identity, and pedagogy in the final two essays. In “Women as Prophets/Women in Prophets: Gender, Nation and Discourse,” Fuchs unpacks the intertextuality of women, gendered speech, erasure and derogation of women prophets, and the significance of women’s bodies in the prophets. Fuchs provides a provocative analysis of the marital metaphor and its function within a national narrative. “Intermarriage, Gender, and Nation in the Hebrew Bible” continues the study of interconnections between gender and nation. Fuchs highlights feminist perspectives on foreign women, emphasizing their representations as desired and forbidden. Fuchs argues that analyses of foreign women are strengthened by considering their national identities, distance, and perceived freedom to move between national boundaries. Fuchs considers tensions in how some women (Potiphar’s wife, Delilah, Jezebel) are sexualized and considered threats while others (Hagar, Zipporah, Ruth) participate in accepted intermarriage. The essay examines other notable woman in stories about sexuality and nation, such as Dinah, Rahab, Jael, and Esther.
The essays in Feminist Theory and the Bible: Interrogating the Sources offer approaches, criticisms, examples, and future trajectories for biblical scholarship. The critical assessments are valuable to the field of biblical studies generally and feminist biblical studies specifically. This work is a challenging, technical analysis that would be useful for scholars and advanced students. Given the six-essay structure, a conclusion or afterword would have been helpful to synthesize some of the key themes that emerged in the essays.
Andzej Toczyski’s insightful study of Joshua 2 began life as his doctoral work at Heythrop College, University of London under the supervision of Ann Jeffers and Sean Ryan. It examines the inner and extra-textual dimensions of the Rahab story to illuminate how the interpretation of the story is formed within three poles: the intra-textual structure, the reader’s “mental library,” and the empathic engagement of the critical reader.
Toczyski considers that the prime medium for communication between writer and reader is the intra-textual features and shapes of the text. The empathic reader will read beyond mere characterization and will be influenced by the ebbs and flows, the pauses and recapitulations which the author employs to redirect the reader’s attention or foreground certain elements. Toczyski uses the textual linguistics developed by Alviero Niccacci to analyze the structure of the Hebrew narrative of Joshua 2 in order to reveal these structural features. In brief, Niccacci considers that the backbone of Hebrew narrative is comprised of the wayyiqtol verb forms, while nominal (verbless or xqatal) clauses provide subsidiary information. Such analysis allows three linguistic elements to be identified: the linguistic attitude, which distinguishes the narrated world from the narrator’s comment upon it; the linguistic perspective, which comprises the temporal arrangement of the narrated events (using flashback or prolepsis, for example); and the linguistic prominence, which uses verbal forms to highlight certain features.
Using this technique, Toczyski then offers a syntactical analysis of the Rahab story, which highlights a number of interesting features. One of the elements that particularly comes to the fore in his analysis is the multiple chronological shifts that take place: Joshua 2 interrupts the chronology of Joshua 1 and 3; the prolepsis of the spies sleeping in 2:1 but still awake in v 8; and the flashback in v 6; the way that Rahab appears to let the spies down from her window and then have a conversation with them at the bottom of the wall (vv 15–21). Such a narrative handling of time piques the interest of the critical reader, Toczyski argues, and is an important mode of communication.
The notional “critical reader” of whom Toczyski speaks is a twenty-first century biblical scholar with professional competence and narrative empathy. He or she has access to a large “mental library” of ancient and modern interpretations of the text, which can function as a hermeneutical bridge between them and the ancient narrative. To explicate this mental library, Toczyski then proceeds to give a thorough, though admittedly not exhaustive, review of the interpretations of the narrative from ancient times to the present day. While he offers this survey as part of his three-dimensional analysis of the narrative, it is in its own right a fascinating study of the ways in which the Rahab character and her story have been read and retold over the centuries. These readings, Toczyski believes, form a rich dynamic database to which his own emerging reading will contribute.
Having elucidated the twin poles of the text’s interior structure and its reception, Toczyski then brings them both into a trialogue with the critical reader, in order to determine, as he quotes from Louise Rosenblatt, “what the reader lives through under the guidance of the text” (127). He re-examines the chronology of the narrative, the narrative comments it contains, and the dialogues within it, with the particular aim of discovering where the reader, sensitized by their mental library, might be caught up into the story in new ways.
One of the main ideas that emerges, and Toczyski makes quite a lot of this, is the power of story within and without the narrative. Rahab expresses both rumor (“we have heard” of the mighty deeds that Yahweh has done for Israel v 10) and personal knowledge (“I know” Yahweh will act for you, v 9), a journey which provokes her faith and courage and causes her to instill fresh faith into the spies as she tells them their own story of the wonders of Yahweh. Toczyski likens this story to the hornet of Exodus 23:28, which goes ahead of the people of Israel to instill paralysis or inspire faith. He then explores the power of the Rahab story for Israel, providing as it does a means to re-evaluate their own values and customs. And the story has power over the critical reader today:
As with every story, the Rahab story can make the empathic reader experience something unique from the complexity of experiences in which characters are involved [173].
I found this monograph a helpful analysis of a number of dimensions of the Rahab narrative. I must confess that I did not always wholly see the benefit of the three-dimensional analysis in itself. In what way is the entire history of reception of a text part of my mental library if I am unaware of some of these readings as I approach the text? I do accept, however, that there is an unbroken chain of interpretations and that each one is likely to be influenced—positively or negatively—by the ones that precede it. Perhaps it is in this way that the reception history of the text is a hermeneutical bridge from the narrative to me. Nonetheless, Toczyski’s careful and thoughtful work has brought to light a number of new perspectives on the narrative, and the book is one which future commentary writers and researchers on Joshua will need to consult.
In the Preface to this work, Professor Yee articulates that this “book is intended for advanced undergraduate and graduate students in seminaries and universities, as well as interested lay readers” (vii). The book supplements standard introductions to the Hebrew Bible/Jewish Scriptures/Tanakh. It brings together “interpretation[s] from feminist and intersectional perspectives”—analyses that include “the interconnected lenses of gender, race/ethnicity, class, the so-called third world, and colonial status” (vii). Following Yee’s Introduction there are four major sections by various scholars devoted to The Torah/Pentateuch, The Deuteronomistic History, Prophecy, and The Writings. There also is an Index of Names and Subjects.
“Feminism,” Yee suggests, “refers to the political activism by women on behalf of women” (1). [Reviewer’s comment: While correct, it is unnecessarily polemical. There are women who would exclude men as feminists; in reality many men engage in political activism on behalf of women. More accurate would be, “by people”]. Feminist Criticism in terms of biblical studies is a subset of “ideological criticism,” a mode of investigation that considers
the power differentials in certain social relationships in the production of the text (who wrote it, when, and why), how these power relations are reproduced in the text itself, and how they are consumed by readers of various social groups” [1-2].
“Intersectionality,” Yee explains, theorizes about the “complex interconnections between gender, race, and class that have marginalized black and nonwhite women in the subjugation they routinely experienced.” In addition she suggests that Intersectionality also addresses such matters as “sexuality, colonial status, ethnicity, physical ability, and so forth” (2). Major sections in her Introduction include Becoming Visible, Recognizing Differences, Raising Voices, and Feminist Perspectives on the Hebrew Bible. In this latter section she has subheadings on Feminist Literary and Historical Interpretations of the Bible; Feminist Interdisciplinary Explorations of the Bible; and Intersectional Perspectives on the Hebrew Bible.
Part 1 considers the Torah/Pentateuch. Carolyn J. Sharp’s chapter purports to address “Character, Conflict, and Covenant in Israel’s Origin Traditions.” Her inquiry pursues “three goals that lie at the heart of [her] feminist hermeneutics: to honor all subjects, to interrogate relations of power, and to reform community” (44). She seeks to “consider character, conflict, and covenant viewed through a feminist prism” (45). Although she considers all five of the books of the Torah, and she does address those three aspects for Genesis and Exodus, and to an extent Leviticus, when it comes to Numbers and Deuteronomy much less is offered for the reader.
The focus of Part 2 is The Deuteronomic History, which covers the books of Deuteronomy-Joshua-Judges-Samuel-Kings. Here Vanessa Lovelace addresses “Intersections of Ethnicity, Gender, Sexuality, and Nation.” She offers a good description of the term Deuteronomic history. Lovelace is critical of the tone of these books. A recurring theme in her chapter is violence against women. She addresses “Masculine Performativity in Joshua” (81). She writes that “Israel’s identity is certainly defined by its exclusiveness from other nations” (77), and then she begins to explore the intersection of gender and nation. She notes that in “Hebrew, both cities and land are grammatically gendered as feminine” (80) which presumably explains why she states that “the invasion of the land [in the book of Joshua] is depicted as the sexual violation of a woman” and that “Canaanite women [serve] as symbolic borders” (78–79). Lovelace refers to a description of the Samson cycle as “one where ‘patterns of masculinity and ethnocentrism intertwine’ ” (91). In her chapter, Lovelace analyzes the roles of several women, Rahab, Deborah, Jael, Delilah, Bath-sheba and Huldah among others.
Prophecy is addressed in part 3. In Corrine L. Carvalho’s chapter “The Challenge of Violence and Gender under Colonization” she notes that, those “studying for the ministry need to process their own reactions to misogynistic and patriarchal elements” in the Bible (107). Further, while the prophets’ messages were “clearly theologically meaningful for its audience, [today it] is often experienced as theologically repugnant by contemporary audiences” (108). She devotes sections to such subjects as Women as Metaphors; the Hidden Lives of Real Women; and that Not All Women are Created Equal. An important section is devoted to Intersectional Readings of Prophetic Texts. In this segment she notes that
two of the most impactful contextual fem inist stances have been mujerista theology, coming from Latina and Hispanic women … and womanist theology, or African American feminism [127].
Finally, in part 4, The Writings, Judy Fentress-Williams and Melody D. Knowles’s chapter titled “Affirming and Contradicting Gender Stereotypes,” points out some interesting contradictions. These ancient texts are probably “written by men for a male audience …and …reflect their ancient socioeconomic context …[where] the portrayal of God usually [is] in male images of king, judge and warrior.” Nonetheless these texts “also stretch and even contradict such assumptions in both the human and divine arenas” (137). The authors focus specific attention on Ruth and Esther; the Song of Songs, Ben Sira [Sirach, Ecclesiasticus]; Woman Wisdom in the wisdom books of Proverbs, Job, and the Wisdom of Solomon. There also are sections on God and Women and the Psalms; and finally Women in the Retellings of the Nation’s History: Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, and 1–2 Maccabees.
As noted, this “book is intended for advanced undergraduate and graduate students in seminaries and universities, as well as interested lay readers.” One hopes that readers might question some of these essays by asking whether some of these voices are overly polemical or strident. An androcentric/patriarchal society is not necessarily misogynistic. Likewise, why is there not more of an effort to find gender-neutral language? God as melekh can also be translated as “ruler” or “sovereign”; it need not be king. Likewise the English for YHWH need not be Lord; other choices include YHWH itself using the actual Hebrew letters, Eternal, or Adonai. To that extent, there are some limits to the usefulness of this volume.
Discussing the different approaches of his fellow biblical scholars, Victor H. Matthews writes of maximalists and minimalists (Matthews, History of Bronze and Iron Age Israel [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019]). Regarding the former, those who “rely on a faith commitment to guide their interpretations of the biblical materials and see the biblical account as a fully accurate account of Israel’s history,” that faction will be pleased with Paul S. Evans’ work; the minimalists who “take the view that the Bible is basically a fictionalized account of events created in the Hellenistic period (third to second centuries BCE) by scribes and priests, who wished to create a foundation story for their community” (History of Bronze, p. 2) less so. Following the general rubrics of The Story of God Biblical Commentary series, Evans divides 1–2 Samuel into forty-seven sections. Each grouping features three parts: Listen to the Story, which includes the complete NIV text, with occasional references to other texts; Explain the Story, which presents some of Evans’ understanding of the historical setting for those chapter(s); and finally, Live the Story, which offers a very Christian-centric reflection on how the story can be lived in the real religious world. This book should serve well those who subscribe to a maximalist viewpoint, be they pastors, students, Sunday school teachers, or laity in general. Evans is an Assistant Professor of Hebrew Scriptures at McMaster Divinity College in Hamilton, Ontario.
As Evans explains in his Introduction, the point of view that he takes is a specifically Christian-focused one, that 1–2 Samuel “was written to teach its reader about God and [God’s] working in the world” both in the past, but also “in the future with the coming of Jesus Christ to fulfill the Davidic promises” (p. 19). It is with this last approach in mind that each section ends with some observations how Christians can live the biblical word in real time. For example, in the Live the Story part of David and Abigail (1 Sam 25), Evans refers to “David as mixture of sinner and saint,” and then he prooftexts with a quote from Paul, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23). Evans then goes on to write of “God’s preventive grace,” explaining that “David’s struggle with Nabal illustrates the truth of 1 Corinthians 10:13 that ‘No temptation has overtaken you …God …will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear” (259–60). In the section dealing with the woman at Endor (1 Sam 28) Evans shows two sides of his writing. On the positive side he offers a good exegesis on the wearing and tearing of robes (p. 280). Negatively, despite the fact that NIV never terms the woman a witch, in addition to correctly labeling her a medium, Evans many times describes her as a witch, and also as a charlatan. He is very unsettled about her activities (pp. 280–84). Although he generally writes well, at times Evans unnecessarily employs trite language. “…the cat was out of the bag”; “right under David’s nose” (p. 428); “how close he was to blowing it” (p. 258); “David who was currently in the business of capturing towns” (p. 280); “David …as his chickens come home to roost” (p. 432). Evans believes that “the modern church finds itself in a largely hostile environment”; yet Scripture “can be a source of hope for the church, which may be discouraged with their role in the world today” (pp. 433–44). His answer is that people “need to submit to God’s will” (p. 436). Given his approach and his goals, Evans succeeds in making this Scripture interesting for and accessible to his audience.
Some relevant background information: I am a rabbi and I have published a series of books on the Hebrew Scriptures specifically from the viewpoint as an Introduction for Christians and Jews (see DavidJZucker.org). When I volunteered to review this work, the BTB book review editor asked me to “consider whether and how it is (or isn’t) useful for its intended audience in part by considering whether it is (or isn’t) useful for you as a reader. That is, one way of framing the issue is by addressing whether a Rabbi could learn something from it. Another way is by addressing whether it is objectionable from your point of view. [Further …] a review of this kind of work needs to address the question of whether the book, by virtue of being written for a Christian evangelical audience, is anti-Jewish in its content or approach.” To address those matters immediately: first, yes, this book is useful for its intended audience (pastors, students …laity in general). Second, it was useful for me, and as a rabbi I learned from Evans’s approach and his studies. No, I did not find the book objectionable, nor did I find it anti-Jewish in its content or approach, although I was disappointed that Evans continued to use the abbreviations BC and AD, and not BCE and CE (Before the Common Era, Common Era, designations which are now fairly well accepted within the interfaith community. He also continues to use the masculine singular term for God, he/his, when more neutral language reflecting God’s being genderless would be preferable for many people.
The present book, containing “the first extended treatment of the baptism in the Holy Spirit in Matthew’s gospel” (dust jacket), offers an impressive intertextual analysis of the possible biblical and parabiblical background of Matthew 3:11, assembling a reasonably persuasive case for the interpretation of this logion as signifying judgment. Given the investigation’s self-imposed limitation (2) to “the Matthean form” of Matthew 3:11, no discussion of the synoptic pre-history of the Baptist’s prophetic judgment speech is to be expected. As such, the author focuses perhaps a bit too strongly on what likely is Matthew’s application of his tradition. Consequently, this book is to be recommended to those readers whose interest in the New Testament is not primarily historical and is focused on Matthew’s use of the Bible.
Although the author’s attention is directed to Matthew 3:11, the broader context of this verse, including Matthew’s infancy narrative, is featured prominently. The programmatic character of Matthew’s opening chapters means that one’s interpretations here carry important implications for the remainder of the Gospel. The book’s third chapter is key, laying the foundation for the remainder of the study. In it McManigal opts for the interpretation of the Holy Spirit and fire in Matthew 3:11 as signifying eschatological judgment with its two possible outcomes. Although other possibilities exist (discussed in the same chapter), this certainly is an uncontroversial opinion that has generated some assent elsewhere. Almost immediately, however, McManigal moves to reductively focus the universal character of said judgment on specifically Israel’s “impending national doom” (22). With this decision he selects an interpretive lens which in the remainder of the book is applied to the entirety of Matthew’s gospel. As the book’s discussion unfolds, this lens enables a loosely concomitant thesis, namely, that the first Gospel presents its readers with a new exodus in which Israel typologically represents Egypt (e.g., 76, 113, 130–31), an exodus “out of Israel and to Jesus” (120).
What is the exegetical justification for this? It is well known that John’s judgment speech is addressed in this Gospel specifically to the Pharisees and Sadducees (Matt 3:7), whom Matthew distinguishes from the rest of the people (Matt 3:5–6). This is a redactional decision, because at this juncture Matthew can be seen expanding his Markan source. Thus, in Matthew it is the religious authorities who are the “brood of vipers” and those who are said to falsely claim Abraham as their father. McManigal is not unaware of this (e.g., 22, 115, 142, 167) but nevertheless insists that in Matthew’s compositional framework “the Pharisees and Sadducees are representative of Israel” (167). In defense of his position, McManigal calls attention to Matthew’s frequent use of the word “generation” rather than “leadership” (e.g., 167, 170). In a telling example, he extends the application of the unclean spirit parable (Matt 12:43-45) to “national Israel” as something about which there can be “little doubt” (170). But the devil is in the details, and so just earlier one finds Matthew at pains to specify the referent of “an evil and adulterous generation” asking Jesus for a sign (Matt 12:39b) as, again, a particular intra-Jewish entity—“some of the scribes and Pharisees” (Matt 12:38). One may also ask to what degree McManigal’s interpretation can be reconciled with the obviously Jewish character of Matthew’s community. Would such a group conceive of itself as binarily opposed to what Mc-Manigal calls “national Israel”? If so, what would it make them? While some changing of the guard is certainly being described in the first Gospel, in all of this it seems preferable to think of a Jewish community of Jesus’ followers who viewed themselves, in classic apocalyptic terms, as the authentic bearers of Israel’s tradition, with a superior interpretation of the Torah and the prophets. The debate, in other words, is intra-Jewish, conducted in this case by a faction that would scarcely have seen itself as distinct from the “national Israel.”
This brings us back to the author’s other thesis, that of an alleged new exodus out of Israel. If deprived of the foundation provided by the reduction of John’s judgment oracle to “national Israel,” this thesis is forced to rely solely on some rather fragile exegesis. Contrary to McManigal’s claim (76), the placement of the Gospel’s second (not including Matthew 2:5, then) fulfillment quotation (Matt 2:15) suggests only that Jesus will return from Egypt, not to it. Furthermore, Herod’s slaying of the children takes place during Jesus’ time in Egypt, aligned by Matthew with the Babylonian exile via the third fulfillment quotation (Matt 2:17–18). McManigal is correct to draw attention to the Exodus intertext of Malachy 3–4 (see Matt 11:10, 14), but does the Baptist’s role, reinforced as it is by the use of Isaiah 40:3 (Matt 3:3), not signify the Lord’s triumphant return to take possession of the land?
In spite of McManigal’s exegetical reach occasionally exceeding his grasp, the book has pluses, provided that the aforementioned questionable interpretations do not go unrecognized. The monograph offers many detailed excursus, and the author’s analyses of Matthew’s biblical allusions are typically conventional and hence reliable from the viewpoint of contemporary scholarship.
Dr. Gregory Lanier, Assistant Professor of New Testament at Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando, Florida, offers a lasting contribution to “Divine Identity Christology.” In this definitive analysis of four meta-phors used by Luke in his Gospel, metaphors that emanate from the Old Testament and “that extend across numerous texts, time periods, and even cultural groups” (p. 225), Dr. Lanier’s Old Testament Conceptual Metaphors and Christology of Luke’s Gospel is “must reading” for any student, scholar, skeptic, or feminist interested in learning how “cross-cultural” metaphors impact doctrine, but the reader must know koine (New Testament) Greek and would benefit from a working knowledge of OT Hebrew.
In a thorough introduction detailing conceptual metaphor theory (CMT), Dr. Lanier selects four of “approximately 250 pieces of christologically relevant data…from narrative details, adjectives, or attributes ascribed to Jesus” (27) in Luke’s Gospel. He exhaustively, efficiently exhumes the “maps” of these metaphors (source domain to target domain), using contextual framing within canonical and apocryphal texts, Luke’s linguistic milieu, hieroglyphics, archaeological and anthropological evidence (there are numerous illustrations from ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia, and other Semitic cultures) to ascertain Luke’s intent in applying these metaphors to Jesus. With intensive scholarship, Lanier shows himself to be a scriptural peritus, one whose study is a model for 21st century Scripture students. In the concluding chapter six, Dr. Lanier suggests other New Testament metaphors that might benefit from similar academic scrutiny:
Results open up further avenues of Christological inquiry …other divine metaphors in the NT that are appropriated to Jesus, such as shepherd, bridegroom, sower, and glory. CMT might also be fruitfully applied to the seemingly elusive study of Son of God and Son of Man [229].
Lanier’s extensive presentation of each metaphor map is valuable for contemporary theology and Christology. Three of four metaphors have been expounded by scholars from religious denominations throughout the centuries; two in particular are deeply embedded in Christian praxis, liturgy, song, and ceremony. Lanier’s second metaphor described in chapter 3, probably the most popular, Anatolē or “dawn” (Luke 1:78), is readily recognizable: The metaphor is found in many holy hymns and common prayers. Luke shows Jesus (target domain) as “light/dawn” (source domain), the “Agent of Salvation” who “is a shining light and the coming of God is the dawn” (80). Lanier demonstrates that most biblical scholars connect Anatolē with a “Jeremiah/Zechariah allusion …the Messiah, specifically of a royal or Davidic sort …a ‘Messiah from heaven, a transcendental figure,’ or even some sort of preexistent Messiah” (89).
The final of the four metaphors studied by Lanier is from the Parable of the Wicked Tenant (Luke 20:17, 18), a direct citation from Psalm 118[117]:22 which has “received more treatment than any other NT metaphor” (168). Yet Lanier offers comprehensive, compelling research for further study in chapter five. The stone/lithon metaphor has two facets: “The rejected stone …portrays Jesus in terms of the OT/Jewish conceptual metaphor king as a rejected/selected stone” and “the crushing stone portrays him in terms of Israel’s judgment/salvation by God is an encounter with a stone-rock” (168). In the Lenten liturgy, the lithon metaphor is understood by believers to represent Jesus, but Lanier posits that the faithful do not grasp the depth of this metaphor.
Keras, or horn (Luke 1:68), Lanier’s first metaphor in chapter two, is not as ubiquitous in song or celebration as the previous two metaphors. Keras also possesses multifaceted meaning. Lanier states,
I will argue that [Luke] maps the horn domain to Jesus as target domain—draw ing mainly on defeat of enemies—striking them with a horn and exalting someone’s status is lifting his/her horn conceptual metaphors [35].
Lanier explicates how Luke borrows from an “antecedent tradition” and adapts the metaphor to denote Jesus as “messianic deliverer,” a divine conception of Jesus (78–79).
But the critical contribution of Dr. Lanier resides in chapter 4, his map of the third metaphor: ornis, or mother bird/hen, a metaphor neglected by patriarchal scholarship through the centuries, maybe because of this metaphor’s distinctly feminine qualities. The “subject of no substantial treatment …usually receiving sparse comment or being completely overlooked” (129), the ornis metaphor is refined by Luke (since there is a lack of substantial verbatim parallels from ancient sources) to “portray Jesus in terms of the divine conceptual metaphor [that] God is the mother bird who gathers the children of Jerusalem/Zion” (129). Luke uses ornis to apply to Jesus, referencing the OT symbol of God sheltering the people of Jerusalem under “wings.” In a ground-breaking culmination of his extensive research of ornis, Lanier states that Luke transforms this tradition to identify Jesus as
the mother bird who seeks to give the children of Jerusalem shelter and ‘gather’ them under his wings …a significant re-mapping of divine metaphors and motifs to a new target domain [167].
No wonder patriarchal posterity overlooked ornis! This feminine image, like the others, identify Jesus as God.
In Abide and Go, Michael J. Gorman brings together his two primary interests: missional hermeneutics and theosis. Readers of Gorman’s work know that he has published extensively on these topics, particularly focusing on the Pauline literature. Developed originally for the Didsbury Lectures of 2016, this book applies Gorman’s missional-theotic emphasis to John’s Gospel. The result is a reading of John that focuses on missional spirituality, which Gorman believes to be a primary theme of the Gospel.
Gorman’s thesis is that
John has a particular missional structure and theme that manifest its understanding of the missio Dei—and that its missional spirituality is a spirituality of participation in the very life and life-giving mission of God, by which Jesus’ disciples demonstrate their likeness to God and become more and more like God [p. xvii].
The argument of the book is structured in seven chapters, which begin with introductory issues (chapter 1) and move selectively through John (chapters 2–5), before concluding with a thematic chapter on ethics in John (chapter 6) and a chapter drawing implications of the study (chapter 7).
In chapter 1, Gorman defines his terms and sets the stage for his argument. Specifically, he understands “missional hermeneutics” as a type of theological interpretation that reads “Scripture to discern and participate in what God is doing in Christ by the Spirit in general, and in a particular time and place” (p. 4). For Gorman, theosis involves the indwelling of Christ in the believer such that the believer becomes like God. The combination of these two themes produces the fundamental claim of the book:
Johannine spirituality fundamentally consists in the mutual indwelling of the Triune God …and Jesus’ disciples such that disciples participate in the divine love and life, and therefore in the life-giving mission of God [p. 8].
Such missional theosis, Gorman claims, is summed up in the terms “abide and go.”
Chapter 2 begins the argument with an analysis of John 1–12. The chapter begins with some broad affirmations on the missional shaping of John. Interacting with a range of Johannine scholarship, Gorman argues that the overall thrust of John’s Gospel is both missional and spiritual (“theotic” in Gorman’s terms). Gorman concludes that the structure of John is missional as every part of the Gospel focuses on the mission of the triune God. Here Gorman demonstrates the importance of mission in John, but some readers may wonder if the theme, at least at times, is forced upon the text.
Chapter 3 narrows in focus to John 13–16 (the “Farewell Discourse”). Gorman believes that the twin themes of mission and theosis are most prominent in these chapters of John. Gorman argues that the entire passage could be more accurately labeled “Mission Discourse” (p. 77) since both the content and intent of these chapters are missional. He writes, “the focus of the Farewell Discourse …is the disciples’ centrifugal (externally oriented) mission after Jesus’ departure” (p. 83). Gorman then walks chapter-by-chapter through the Farewell Discourse highlighting missional themes.
Chapters 4 and 5 address sending language in John, focusing on John 17 and John 20–21 respectively. For Gorman, the prayer of Jesus in John 17 is saturated with the language of theosis and mission. He emphasizes Jesus’ prayers concerning the mutual indwelling of believers and God and the resulting unity of believers. Moreover, Gorman argues that these are inherently missional themes. Chapter 5 extends the argument into John 20–21. Gorman believes these chapters push the missional agenda of John through various textual links to earlier missional texts in John. Thus, the disciples are to participate in and carry on the mission of the resurrected Jesus.
In chapter 6, Gorman turns his attention to Johannine ethics. This chapter is unique in that Gorman addresses a controversial topic in Johan-nine studies from a missional-theosis viewpoint. He argues that there is an implicit ethic of enemy love running through the narratives and teaching sections of John. The strength of the chapter is that Gorman makes an exegetical argument to support the idea that, contrary to the views of some scholars, there is an ethic of love toward outsiders in John. And, of course, this love toward outsiders is participation of believers in the missional love of God toward his enemies.
The book concludes with a summary and application chapter. Here Gorman draws together the various threads of his argument and attempts to make some concrete applications for the contemporary church.
Michael Gorman is a leading scholar in the growing field of missional hermeneutics, producing two of the few monographs that seek to apply a missional hermeneutic to particular biblical texts (his Becoming the Gospel is the other). The strengths of the book are many: clearly defined terms; consistent hermeneutic; clear argumentation from the biblical text. Despite these and other strengths, some readers will remain skeptical. Two questions should be raised about this book particularly and the missional hermeneutic movement in general. First, how does one prevent the import of an external theme into biblical texts? That is, there is a need for hermeneutical checks and balances. Second, what does a missional hermeneutic contribute that would not be gained from other, more traditional, interpretive approaches? This is a question that insiders must continue to address. Nevertheless, Abide and Go makes a significant contribution to the fields of hermeneutics and Johannine studies and deserves attention.
Katherine Hockey and David Horrell provide a collection of stimulating essays on ethnicity, race, and religion from a series of workshops and a conference at the University of Exeter during 2016. Horrell begins the volume with an introduction that discusses the definition and use of “race,” “ethnicity,” and “religion” and the social construction of ethnic identity.
The three chapters in part one by Teresa Morgan, John M. G. Barclay, and Judith M. Lieu discuss race and ethnicity in antiquity in order to help readers avoid anachronistically imposing modern perspectives on ancient texts. Morgan capably demonstrates that ethnicity is regularly invoked in ancient texts to mark identity and differentiation but “its content is variable, negotiable, and contestable” (27). Barclay argues convincingly that ancient ethnicity should be understood as a polythetic and not monothetic category; there are clusters of characteristics but no single item essential for inclusion in an ethnic group. Lieu examines the Letter to Diognetus to illustrate how the text interacts with, transfigures, and plays with the discourse of ethnic identity.
The four chapters in part two by Gregory L. Cuéllar, Kathy Ehren sperger, Halvor Moxnes, and James Crossley seek to expose the negative influence of racism and modern conceptions of race in the historical development of the field of biblical scholarship. Cuéllar demonstrates how S. R. Driver’s convictions that Europeans were the superior race influenced his historical critical scholarship on Genesis at the end of the 19th century. Ehrensperger helpfully suggests that hesitancy to use racial terminology (Rasse) in German-language New Testament scholarship better aligns discussions of ethnicity with the open nature of ancient terminology such as ethnos, genos, and laos (109). Moxnes identifies a continuity of stereotypes over time and scholarly versus popular views and argues that “racial stereotypes are not only part of popular prejudices, but that they also form the (unconscious?) substructure of scholarly discussions” (113). Crossley critiques N. T. Wright by arguing that the “construction of superiority over against Judaism is typical of Wright’s presentation of Jesus and Paul” (138). This is a puzzling critique since it is hard to imagine how Christianity ever came into existence if the first Jewish Christians did not think that Judaism with Jesus had some advantages over Judaism without Jesus.
The five chapters in part three by Denise Kimber Buell, Musa W. Dube, Ma. Marilou S. Ibita, Love L. Sechrest, and Wie Hsien Wan seek to critique the problem of whiteness in biblical studies and propose alternatives. Buell argues that whiteness infects everyone who is racialized as “white” even if they do not recognize racism in themselves because it is hard to see implicit racism that reinforces structural privilege. Individual agency is not sufficient to overcome racism (151). Whiteness infuses the history and approaches of biblical studies and functions as the norm and core against which everything in the discipline is measured (154). Whiteness can be perpetuated regardless of someone’s embodiment or racial identification (163–64) and is closely linked to “totalizing authority—divine or otherwise” (163). Buell’s denigration of individual agency highlights the systemic nature of the problem but seems unduly fatalistic and deterministic. Dube identifies strategies of resistance employed by Batswana Bible readers to the first translation of the Bible into their language by a colonizing European missionary. In contrast to the other authors in part three, Ibita argues that minority scholars should not totally break from “Western assumptions” (193), and she explicitly rejects the metaphor of dismantling the master’s house in favor of a dialogical approach that fosters interconnections (197). Ibita is the only author who expresses concern about how the dominant historical-critical approach challenges most Filipino exegetes who “regard the Bible also as God’s Word, revelatory of God’s will” (192). The lack of concern among other contributors for this minority perspective in the academy could suggest that advocacy for the Other only runs skin-deep and there is not genuine interest in ideological otherness (cf. Crossley’s quote from Žižek on page 136). Sechrest explores Martin Luther King Jr.’s hermeneutical use of analogy and employs a similar hermeneutic to the parable of the Good Samaritan to argue that part of the point is that the Samaritan was an Israelite insider who expressed intra-racial concern. Wan concludes the volume by exploring the implications of Audre Lorde’s claim that the “master’s tools will never dis-mantle the master’s house” (219). He argues that non-European voices are allowed to participate in biblical studies only “under regulated conditions, that is, insofar as they approximate whiteness” (224).
The biggest problem with how Buell and several other contributors frame the issue is that there is no space for criticism; any critique from any source can be dismissed as an expression of whiteness and oppressive power. If critique is impossible, it is no less totalitarian than the system it opposes and inimical to honest academic inquiry and dialogue. Ibita’s chapter offers realistic hope; she discusses genuine challenges but suggests that they can be solved by abandoning polarizing and conflict-oriented rhetoric and focusing on constructive and open dialogue to promote the flourishing of everyone in the discipline.
Let the Reader Understand is an exceptionally well-organized collection of remarkable essays that would serve nicely as the backbone of a seminar on narrative criticism. Following three personal tributes from David Rhoads, John Donahue, and Robert Fowler, Werner Kelber’s introductory chapter argues that Malbon’s narrato-logical project is neither a continuation nor a rebirth of any premodernist mode of Bible reading or interpretation, but an eminently modern undertaking grounded in structuralism and New Criticism. However, it does connect with Luther’s notion of the self-sufficiency of scripture and with the notion of scripture’s profound and inexhaustible fecundity championed by patristic and medieval exegetes.
In Part Two (“Issues in Methodology”), Alan Culpepper focuses on Malbon’s work concerning the respective points of view of the implied author, the narrator, and the character of Jesus and its contribution to Markan studies, which he argues is “a more subtle nuance” that ultimately places Mark’s messianic secret motif in “a new perspective” because of the tension between the narrator’s and Jesus’ points of view. Elizabeth Shively attempts to build on Malbon’s analysis of the Markan disciples by integrating narrative criticism with cognitive sciences in order to ask not only what the disciples say (and what Jesus says with respect to them) and do, but also why they do so. She depicts the Markan narrative as a process of unveiling whereby the narrator conveys “explicit and implicit, natural and supernatural reasons for acting,” inviting readers to “think about thinking,” and establishing “a model for making sense of their own stories in the world” (49–50). Following Malbon’s lead, Kelly Iverson further ponders the integration of narrative criticism and performance criticism with respect to characters and characterization, noting a number of points where they do not fit together easily.
Part Three (“Studies in Characterization”) begins with an essay by Joanna Dewey wherein, by investigating Jesus’ actions, she tests, successfully proves, and thereby extends Malbon’s thesis that the Markan Jesus points away from himself toward God. Christopher Skinner methodically applies Malbon’s five-pronged approach to characterization in his analysis of the so-called Longer Ending of Mark, providing another line of evidence against the ending’s inclusion and further nuancing the trajectory of early Christianity’s development. Similar to Dewey and Skinner, but less fully and systematically, Joel Williams seeks to extend Malbon’s approach through an exploration of Mark’s characterization of demons in relation to Satan, Jesus, the disciples, and the religious authorities. Edwin Broadhead’s essay proposes the guest room where Jesus and his disciples celebrate Passover as an image that supports Jesus’ characterological identification as a prophet. Against the scholarly consensus concerning the parable of the Good Samaritan, Mikeal Parsons argues for identifying the Samaritan as Jesus on the grounds that it is an example of what Malbon labels “reflected christology” (i.e., the Samaritan is a character “whose words and actions mirror how Jesus ‘relates to others and thus to God’ ” (124). Lastly, David Barr, championing the space that Malbon’s narrative criticism occupies “between the historical and the theological” (136), focuses on the contrasting, contradictory, and complex characterization of Jesus in John’s Apocalypse, wherein he finds a consistent inconsistency that results in a rounded character that is neither completely predictable nor easy to understand.
Although labeled “Narrative Readings,” the essays that constitute Part Four are still largely studies of characters and characterization. Ira Brent Driggers identifies a productive char-acterological dynamic in the poor widow of Mark 12 that emerges in the narrative space between interpretations that regard her as a positive example and those that view her as a tragic victim. In his feminist analysis of the Magnificat, David Clines essentially explores the embedded characterization of God, Mary, and others in order to deconstruct the song’s apparent theme of liberation as nothing but a chimera. Calvin Roetzel, seeming to regard narrative space as conceptual space, effectively but indirectly characterizes Paul in relation to the implied author of Mark in an effort to demonstrate that the latter was influenced by the former. Jerry Sumney considers Paul’s views on eschatological, vicarious, and mimetic suffering, and argues that his implicit narrative shares much in common with that of the implied author of Mark. Finally, Brian Britt returns to direct narratological analysis but with a shift toward a broader and more theory-inflected methodological impulse that occupies a very different sort of space than those investigated by Barr, Driggers, and Roetzel. His attempt to provide “a model for biblical scholarship beyond the secular-religious, traditional-modern divide” (213) results in handling the “irreducible ambiguity” of Genesis 32:23–33 in a way that masterfully demonstrates and articulates the complex interplay of history/philology and narrative.
The final section (“Aesthetic and Political Readings”) reflects an attempt to weigh the implications and consequences narrative readings of biblical literature might have on a range of issues. Robert Tannehill begins with a consideration of how the teachings of Jesus on matters of love and forgiveness in the synoptic Gospels might factor into the United States’ criminal justice system. Cheryl Exum evaluates the resistive feminist portrayal of the annunciation in Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s Ecce Ancilla Domini in order to read against the grain of Luke’s characterization of Mary through her response to the angel, Gabriel. Heidi Hornick provides “a brief art historical formal analysis” of the Junius Bassus sarcophagus and the beardless Christ depicted not only there but also in the paintings of Michelangelo and Caravaggio. Geert Van Oyen further pursues the theme of art as visual exegesis by juxtaposing the Gospel of Mark’s mostly indirect characterization of God as paradoxical to Constantin Brancusi’s “Table of Silence” as an evocation of the same sort of mystery inherent in Mark’s narrative. Philip Ruge-Jones takes up Mark’s eschatology, looking specifically at Mark 5:21–43, with an emphasis on its spatial and socio-hierarchical dimensions and in relation to both performance criticism and the context of Latin America, which he terms “performing the text in Spanish” (292). Richard Walsh proffers a provocative portrayal of the paraphrasing, parodic, paratactic, and parabolic qualities and dynamics of Mark and Denys Arcand’s Jesus of Montreal. Playing on the role of role-playing in the context of (theatrical, cinematic) performance, Walsh deeply problematizes narrative and historical identity. Cynthia Briggs Kittredge turns to her own poetry as a means of giving Markan characters speech and agency while sidestepping some of the constraining conventions of biblical criticism. Finally, the volume concludes with a retrospective by Edwin Broadhead that locates Malbon’s method and work within the history of New Testament scholarship, noting along with Kelber and Culpepper that her most innovative contribution has been her recognition of the tension between Mark’s narrator and Mark’s Jesus.
The essays in this volume represent every aspect of Malbon’s influential work: narrative space, characters and characterization, visual exegesis in art, and the aural experience of oral performance. Furthermore, there are fruitful—sometimes surprising—connections between chapters (e.g., Exum, Britt, Williams, and Van Oyen; Parsons, Clines, and Exum; Iverson, Ruge-Jones, and Walsh). However, while the majority of the contributors reflect an effort to think with Malbon on a fundamental level, many seem to draw only selectively on narrative theory in a way that does not unsettle the commonplace assumptions of New Testament scholarship that she so deftly challenged. In fact, some (e.g., Roetzel and Sumney, especially) are so far removed from Malbon’s analytical approach that the reader will be left with the task of determining how to think about their arguments from a narratological perspective. On the other hand, there are also those (e.g., Britt and Walsh) who jump headlong into the waters now troubled by narrative theory and happily splash about in the waves it sets in motion. In short, Broadhead is right to contend that articulating the tension between narrator and character is one of Malbon’s greatest and most innovative contributions, and this collection of essays illustrates significant differences concerning how far interpreters are willing to go in following the repercussions of that insight.
This outstanding collection of thirty six essays is divided into an introductory chapter and five major parts. The introductory chapter, “The New Testament and Early Christian Literature in the History of Gender and Sexuality” (Dunning), notes that biblical studies offer a meaningful contribution to feminist and queer criticism since they address texts that “have played a foundational role in the history of reflection on these issues in Western thought, and continue to impact cultural and religious debates today” (p. 2).
Part 1 of the Handbook, “Theory and Method,” includes ten essays. In “Feminist Biblical Interpretation,” Katherine A. Shaner highlights five major reading strategies for biblical interpretation: to “expose modern assumptions that hide women,” “recover women as possible role models,” “analyze how texts and contexts ‘think with’ women,” to shift from author to communities and pluralities,” and to “attend to the ethics of interpretation and the liberation of women.” In “Reconstructing Women’s History in Antiquity,” Ross S. Kraemer argues that recovery Christian women’s experiences is beset with challenges, notably that we lack identifiably Christian material remains before about the mid-3rd century CE, and our textual remains are largely androcentric. Laura Salah Nasrallah, in “Material Culture and Historical Analysis,” suggests that critical examination of material culture is best undertaken “as part of a feminist historiographical and intersectional project” (p. 63). Colleen M. Conway’s “Masculinity Studies” suggests that attention to the variety of masculinities in the Roman world, and how these are adopted and adapted by NT, authors provides a place for biblical scholars to make an important contribution to gender and sexuality studies. “Queer Theory,” by Stephen D. Moore, describes the origins of queer theory and traces the history of queer approaches to the NT texts. In “Gender and Sexuality in Postcolonial Perspective,” M. Adryael Tong describes the origins of postcolonial approaches to the text and raises several important issues, including that of Asian and African interpreters finding their own experience reflected in the biblical texts by ignoring or downplaying the ethnic particularity of Jewish experience in the texts. Yii-Jan Lin, in “Who is the Text? The Gendered and Racialized New Testament,” says “the text of the New Testament suffers all the dangerous ailments of the feminine: the texts are corruptible and adulterated, they are unfaithful, and their progeny may be illegitimate” (p. 141). Shanell T. Smith, in “‘She Did That!’: Female Agency in New Testament Texts—A Womanist Response,” argues, from a womanist perspective, that biblical scholars do not often consider seriously enough the agency of women in NT texts. In “LGBTIQ Strategies of Interpretation,” Joseph A. Marchal refers to three major strategies for LGBTIQ interpretation: “historical-context [stressing difference between ancient and modern conceptions of sex and sexuality], affirmative-identifying [seeking positive or affirmative characters for the LGBTIQ community], or queerly-critical” [using wider queer theory to raise questions about the text] (p. 177). Finally, in “Posthumanism,” Denise Kimber Buell shows that the NT texts “presume that to be human is to be porous, vulnerable to external and competing internal agencies, and constituted from matter that also constitutes nonhuman entities” (p. 212).
Part 2 of the Handbook, “Social and Intellectual Contexts,” includes three essays. In “Jewish Women’s Life and Practice in the World of the New Testament,” Tal Ilan notes that, since the New Testament period falls between the biblical and Talmudic periods, our sources are fewer for this period than the others, though texts (e.g. Qumran, the Mishnah, Josephus’ works) and material remains (e.g. inscriptions) show women participating in public life, even if they are sometimes sanctioned for how they do so. In “Hellenistic Philosophy and Literature,” David E. Fredrickson contrasts philosophy and poetry by noting the philosophical stress on self-control/completion as opposed to the poetic emphasis on the other/lover as representative of the universal. Davina C. Lopez, in “Roman Imperial Culture,” argues that NT texts, by adopting, adapting, and contesting Roman imperial ideologies offer alternative approaches to the world “as it should be” (p. 262) rather than as it was.
Seven essays are included in part 3 of the Handbook, “Texts.” These are “Jewish Literature of the Second Temple Period,” (Karina Martin Hogan); “The Gospels and Acts” (Amy-Jill Levine); “Pauline Letters” (Jorunn Øklund); “The General Epistles and Hebrews” (Timothy Luckritz Marquis); “Revelation” (Lynn Huber); “Nag Hammadi and Related Literature” (Anne McGuire); and “Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles” (Jennifer Eyl). Each of these essays approaches the named text(s) by raising questions related to the theories and methods of part 1 of the Handbook, mostly feminist and queer approaches. These essays all make valuable contributions, though it is disappointing not to see womanist and/or postcolonial approaches represented more fully in this part of the Handbook.
Five “Paradigmatic Figures” are featured in Part 4: “Jesus,” by Karen L. King, focuses upon four main portrayals of Jesus: elite man/unman; divine Sophia and mother; husband, virgin, and eunuch; and circumcised Jew, which demonstrate “the extraordinarily diverse ways in which representations of Jesus/Christ served as paradigmatic figures for authorizing, exemplifying, and promoting early Christian beliefs and practices” (p. 429). “Mary Magdalene,” by Ann Graham Brock and “Mary, the Mother of Jesus,” by Mary F. Foskett discuss both the data and the ideologies of presentations of Mary Magdalene and Jesus’ mother in a variety of texts, noting how each woman is portrayed differently depending upon the concerns of the author. Cahana-Blum’s chapter, “Sophia,” discusses how Wisdom is described in texts ranging from Proverbs to Gnosticism. Finally, Ross S. Kraemer, in “Thecla,” argues “Christian women are the ultimate exemplars of masculine morality and piety” in the Acts of Thecla, even when compared to Christian men (p. 497).
The final part, “Topics,” contains ten essays. In “Leadership Roles and Early Christian Communities,” Carolyn Osiek raises interesting questions about what leadership is and makes several positive suggestions for assessing women’s leadership in early Christianity. Jennifer W. Knust’s “Marriage, Adultery, and Divorce” describes positive and negative attitudes toward marriage within NT texts and shows that sexual desire is a problem for all of the NT authors. Robert H. Von Thaden, Jr., in “Procreation, Children, and Family,” shows that early Christian families looked like Roman and Jewish families, but it is noteworthy that Jesus and his disciples, and Paul, are nowhere described as being responsible for childcare. In “Celibacy and Virginity” B. Diane Lipsett offers several examples, including Jesus’ rejection of Levirate marriage in the afterlife, to show that the NT contains “ambivalent strains of celibacy and virginity that are disruptive of more typical cultural discourses about marriage, reproduction, and sexual difference” (p. 570). “Same-Sex Relations,” by Benjamin H. Dunning, takes up the issue of whether same-sex relations in antiquity were considered in any sense like modern same-sex relations, arguing especially that the assumption that they were raises its own problems for thinking about same-sex relations in theology today. Susanna Drake’s “Sexual Slander” points to several examples of sexual slander (e.g. 1 Cor. 5; 2 Peter; Jude; Revelation) to show that early Christians participated in a practice found widely throughout the Greco-Roman world. The othering of women is a form of violence, according to Kimberly B. Stratton in “Violence,” and chastity, to whom it was available, could be a way of destabilizing power and sexualized violence. Jennifer A. Glancy, in “Slavery and Sexual Availability” shows that there is no clear condemnation in the NT of a man having sex with his slaves, and Carly Daniel-Hughes, “Prostitution,” argues that most prostitutes in antiquity were slaves. Finally, Taylor G. Petrey, “The Resurrection Body,” argues that, instead of asking whether sexual difference is preserved in the resurrection, we should focus carefully upon how ancient Christian thinkers “themselves define sexual difference” (p. 672).
All of these chapters attempt to balance attention to prior contributions related to their topic with an effort to make a contribution to moving forward. Throughout the Handbook, the intended audience for these chapters seems to vary greatly. Many of the contributions could be used profitably with advanced undergraduates (e.g. Shaner, Kraemer, Conway, Osiek, Glancy, Levine, Eyl), while others seem to anticipate a much richer knowledge of their readers and would be better suited to use with advance graduate students and scholars (e.g. Lin, Buell, McGuire, Cahana-Blum). That is not to say that these former examples are too basic for graduate students and scholars nor that the latter are too complex to be worthwhile. Each of the essays in this collection makes a valuable contribution to further our thinking about the NT, gender, and sexuality. This volume belongs in the library of any serious research institution, but it also can find a home in undergraduate-only contexts like the one in which I teach where students are wrestling with these foundational texts.
Paul and the Greco-Roman Philosophical Tradition provides a collection of cogent and well-researched chapters which put Paul in dialogue with the influential philosophers and philosophical systems of the first century. Particular attention is given to Philo, Seneca, and Stoicism.
In the introduction, Andrew Pitts briefly surveys research on Paul as philosopher over the past several decades and comments on each of the chapters. Nijay Gupta argues against a conscious connection between 1 Thessalonians 2:1–12 and Dio Chrysostom’s Ad Alexandrinos in regard to methods, wording, or perspective, and suggests instead that Paul was influenced by a widespread knowledge of pop philosophy. Gupta argues that Paul employed the popular philosophical topos of the good soldier to exhort his hearers to a life of virtue. Joseph Dodson compares 1 Thessalonians with three essays from Seneca on the topics of grief and consolation, hope and sanctification, personifications and powers, and cosmic destruction and renewal. Dodson notes, in particular, Paul’s comparative lack of interest in the details of apocalyptic eschatology and the intermediate state.
David Briones compares Paul’s comments on friendship in Philippians with Aristotle’s discussion of the topic in his Nicomachean Ethics to highlight similarities and the significant differences that develop when a divine friend is included as a party in human friendships. “A divine party in human friendship completely shatters the logic of Greek friendship” (p. 74). Andrew Pitts and Bahij Ajluni cogently critique the popular interpretation of Romans 13, which understands “doing the good” as a call to public benefaction and evidence of the existence of wealthy high-status Christians in Rome. Niko Huttunen explores Paul’s apparent use of the divine law that the stronger should prevail over the weaker in light of Epictetus’ articulation of the law. Paul holds to a form of that law as evidenced in Romans 13:1. Even though Paul was convinced that baptism removed social hierarchies and the resultant distinction between strong and weak, the distinctions would still exist until eschatological consummation.
Orrey McFarland introduces “prepositional metaphysics,” the way that specific prepositions are used to describe causation in ancient philosophical traditions by designating the agent, instrument, material, and motive of causation. McFarland compares the use of prepositional metaphysics in Philo and Paul (Rom 11:36; 1 Cor 8:6) to show that they both employ the technical meanings of prepositions for defining causation while differing in their views of causation. Runar Thor-steinsson compares Paul with Seneca and Epictetus to argue that, although Paul held to traditional Jewish monotheism, there is some fluidity and there are indications of both pantheistic (1 Cor 15:28) and panentheistic (Rom 8:9–11) ideas. Madison Pierce compares the development of Jewish wilderness traditions in the Wisdom of Solomon, 1 Corinthians, and Hebrews 3–4. In Wisdom, the wilderness journeys highlight God’s divine provision for his people while Paul and Hebrews focus more on human rebellion and punishment: “Each author has constructed his ‘tale’ about the wilderness in accordance with his perception of what will spur his readers on to virtuous, or righteous, behavior” (p. 166).
Timothy Brookins cogently argues that Paul’s use of “nature” in his argument about women’s hair in 1 Corinthians 11:2–16 would not have been understood as convention or custom by his original hearers; nature was the objective and unchanging rule by which conventions and customs were to be evaluated. Brookins uses insights from the New Rhetoric to argue that Paul was primarily using this argument from nature to persuade and connect with his audience, and it is very difficult to discern his own views of the matter. Jonathan Worthington compares the use of Genesis 1–2 in De opificio mundi by Philo and 1 Corinthians to argue that both interpreters sometimes engage in asymmetrically gendered exegesis in line with their culture and context while other times they are exegetically symmetrical.
Gitte Buch-Hansen argues that both Philo and Paul connect sexual desire with generation in Genesis. This understanding helps the interpreter see the connection between Paul’s Sarah-Hagar allegory in Galatians and the subsequent vice-list that beings with desire. Mathias Nygaard compares the positive and negative uses of the metaphor of death in moral exhortation in Paul and Seneca. There are several similarities, but they are dissimilar in the way that Paul presents death as the result of sin and participation in the death of another as the solution. Brian Tabb compares Paul’s speech in Acts 17 with Seneca’s Epistle 95. They both critique superstitious religious practices based on ignorance and the focus on physical temples while highlighting God’s sovereign rule and lack of need. Paul goes beyond Stoicism in his focus on Jesus’ resurrection and the future judgment.
The contributors each demonstrate competence and expertise and the monograph makes a worthwhile contribution to the field; it will be a valuable resource for further research. The volume, however, is eclectic and does not provide a unified methodology or theoretical approach to situating Paul within his environment. The authors (competently) do what is right in their own eyes, and the readers are generally left on their own to develop and apply the implications of the studies to the broader theoretical issues.