Showing posts with label Book Reports. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Reports. Show all posts
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Book Report: Watership Down by Richard Adams
Silflay hraka, u embleer rah!
The phrase above is written in Lapine - a fictional rabbit language in the book Watership Down, by Richard Adams. Strangely enough, after reading the book, you can read that phrase and know exactly what it means.
A continuous bestseller since it was first published in the early 1970's, I first heard of this novel, strangely enough, playing trivia at Buffalo Wild Wings. I distinctly remember a question that asked something like: "This novel about talking rabbits was made into a 1978 animated film." Four possibilities were given. I got the answer wrong, and was shocked to discover that the correct answer was "Watership Down," because that did not, in any way, shape, or form, sound like the title to a book about rabbits who could talk. I suppose I was thinking of something military or sci-fi akin to "Blackhawk Down," although I had no idea what a "watership" was. Aren't all ships "water" ships?
Anyway, the next time I came across this book was while watching my favorite TV show, Lost. In one of the episodes, Sawyer is reading Watership Down, with the cover and title clearly visible.
The third time was just recently when reading White Fire, the latest Agent Pendergast novel by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. In it, a character tells another character to read Watership Down.
After that, I decided the third time's a charm, so I bought the book and read it.
Turns out, "Watership Down" is the name of a hillside in rural England. A bit like "Churchill Downs."
Anyway, as noted above, this book is about the adventures of a group of talking rabbits in rural England. It's technically a children's book, but the writing style is more for adults than kids, and adults are certainly the ones who have made it a best-seller for 40 years.
The author claims that the book was inspired by a very long story he told his daughters during a car trip one day, and he asserts that he did not intend the story to be allegorical in the way that, for instance, Animal Farm by George Orwell is allegorical.
However, most people who have read this book over the years, myself included, can see some distinct allegorical components within the adventures of the rabbits.
To describe the story briefly, a group of rabbits led by a buck named Hazel learns that their warren is about to be destroyed by men building a neighborhood. As such, they set out on a sort of Odyssey-like adventure across rural England, searching for a new place to settle down, dodging dangers along the way. They eventually find a perfect place on Watership Down, but then get involved in a war with a neighboring warren that culminates in a final battle for supremacy and survival.
The book took me a bit of time to really get into, and even after I got into it, it bogged me down in a few places. There are countless descriptions of mundane things like traveling through the woods, grazing, "passing hraka" (which is Lapine for defecating), and sitting around planning things. In that sense, it reminded me a bit of the long, dull passages in Lord of the Rings where all they do for pages and pages at a time is walk through the woods.
Additionally, you practically have to have a PhD in botany, with an emphasis on the flora and fauna of rural England, to understand a lot of the descriptive passages. The author's knowledge of all the plants and animals of his country is overwhelming at times. "They were coming to a thicket of juniper and dog roses, tangled at ground level with nettles and trails of bryony on which the berries were now beginning to ripen and turn red."
Despite these criticisms, I really loved this book by the end of it, and even shed a little tear at the Epilogue. Adams develops the rabbit characters quite well and you feel a closeness and kinship with them - like you are part of the warren, sharing in their adventures and dangers. You definitely root for these characters and despise their enemies.
The author also works in various words of the Lapine language so that you know exactly what the rabbits are talking about when they refer to the dangers of a hrududu, or when they stop to listen for the sounds of nearby elil. It gives a charming sort of aspect to the characters.
Finally, the rabbit community has a very well-developed mythology, akin to a rabbit religion (the sun, named Lord Frith, is their god), and they love to tell stories about their rabbit heroes of old. These stories are a nice touch, a sort of break from the action as all the rabbits hunker down deep in the burrow to listen to the troubadour rabbit tell his tales of the great rabbit prince El-hrairrah and his partner Rabscuttle.
In the end, despite what Richard Adams has said, you can't help but feel that the story is allegorical in many ways, a long metaphor for human life, with its drive for survival, comfort, and blessings, the reality of good and evil, heroes and villains, lovers and fighters. Even the religion of the rabbits seems in many ways allegorical - like humans, they have gods built in their own image, whose attributes are all the best of what rabbits hold dear - trickery, speed, cunning, intelligence, etc. It reminded me of an old notion attributed to the Greek philosopher Xenophanes, who argued that if horses had gods, they'd look like divine horses. As such, human gods are pretty much just divine humans. So too, rabbit gods are divine rabbits.
Anyway, despite the slow pace of the book and the descriptive passages that are sometimes overdone, I really enjoyed this novel and would recommend it to anyone interested in reading a modern classic.
P.S. Silflay hraka, u embleer rah! is a phrase one of the rabbits yells near the end of the book, and it means, basically, "Graze on droppings, you stinking king!" Don't worry, the narrator of the novel kindly translates everything the rabbits say into English, and only writes words occasionally in Lapine :)
Friday, January 10, 2014
Book Report: Zealot by Reza Aslan
Zealot is the latest in a very long line of books by various religious scholars on the life of the historical Jesus. Because it received a lot of attention in the press, it has very quickly become one of the best-selling such books of all time.
Like all books about the historical Jesus, Zealot attempts to draw a portrait of what the Jesus of history was really like, stripped of later theological language and images. Where did he come from? What motivated him? What was the core of his message? How did he perceive himself and his own place in history? What was he like, as an individual? In short, books about the historical Jesus are biographies written by historians, not religious books written by theologians.
Aslan does a masterful job of setting the historical context of Jesus's life and times in first century Palestine. Of all the books I've read about the historical Jesus, I don't think any other writer has built the historical context quite as well, or quite as deeply, as Aslan does. I'd go so far as to call it brilliant. It is definitely the best thing about the book. The first six chapters are essentially a brief primer on Jewish life, culture, and religion from roughly 50 years prior to Jesus's life, through about 50 years after his death, with a specific focus on all the "messiahs" who came and went during that time. First century Palestine was literally "awash in messianic energy" and this is vital to understanding who Jesus was and how his followers understood him.
As the title implies, Aslan's main argument is that Jesus was motivated by the Jewish notion of zeal - which he defines as "a strict adherence to the Torah and the Law, a refusal to serve any foreign master...and an uncompromising devotion to the sovereignty of God." This, according to Aslan, is what lay at the core of Jesus's personal philosophy and theology - a zealous devotion to God and to, ultimately, ridding the Jewish homeland of its Roman overlords.
The majority of Aslan's arguments are in keeping with mainstream Christian scholarship of the last thirty years. There is nothing particularly new or ground-breaking for someone (like me) who is fairly well-read on this subject. However, for someone reading their first book on the historical Jesus, Zealot is a treasure-trove of information written with a very readable style. I can hardly think of a better place to start a study of the historical Jesus. One of the book's strengths is that it reads a bit like a novel, so there is no need to fear a dry, scholarly treatise with this book.
Ultimately, I only had a few quibbles with Aslan's arguments. For instance, while he agrees that there is no evidence that Jesus ever advocated armed rebellion against Rome, he argues that Jesus was not the pacifist that he is commonly portrayed to have been. He states that when Jesus said "love your enemies," he meant that in a purely Jewish context; i.e., love your Jewish enemies, but you can hate foreign or non-Jewish enemies all you want.
While I can agree that Jesus was much more fanatical than modern Christians like to imagine, I don't think the evidence suggests that Jesus excluded non-Jews from his worldview. In fact, I think the evidence is overwhelming of exactly the opposite. It is undoubtedly true that Jesus, like most Palestinian Jews of his day, avoided the impurities associated with non-Jews, but I think the evidence is strong that Jesus ultimately viewed his message as being for everyone, Jew and non-Jew alike. Ultimately, I don't think Jesus was as militant as Aslan implies. I think he viewed the "Kingdom of God" as something that all people would take part in.
The only other significant quibble relates to how Aslan makes his arguments. He tends to make strong assertions, as though he is stating a widely-accepted fact, when in reality most conclusions about the historical Jesus (whether Aslan's or anyone else's) are up for debate. There are also a few times when he draws conclusions on what I think is very sketchy evidence, but most of those examples relate to his narration of events after Jesus's life - events involving the early Christian communities.
All in all, Zealot is a worthwhile book to pick up if you are interested in the historical Jesus. If you've read books like this before, you won't necessarily find anything new or earth-shattering, but the historical detail about first century Palestine, alone, will make the book worthwhile. And if you're new to this subject, Zealot is a good place to start.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Book Report: The Jesus Dynasty
The Jesus Dynasty is a book written a few years ago by religious scholar James D. Tabor. Tabor, according to his website, is the head of the Department of Religious Studies at UNC-Charlotte, and his specialty is Christian Origins and Ancient Judaism. He apparently leads a lot of archaeological expeditions in and around Jerusalem and modern Israel and Galilee.
It's taken me a long time to get through the book, but that isn't because the book wasn't any good - I just haven't had nearly as much interest, in the last year or so, in critical historical Jesus scholarship. I've gotten a bit burned out, I think.
But in any case, the book presents a very provocative reconstruction of the historical Jesus and particularly of the early Christian church that sprang up in his name.
To put Tabor's thesis simply, he argues that early Christianity was split into two main groups - Jewish Christians, based in Jerusalem, and led by James the brother of Jesus, and Gentile (or non-Jewish) Christians, spread in pockets throughout the Roman empire, and led by Paul.
He goes on to argue that the Jerusalem Christians - that is, the Jewish Christians - were the ones who were staying true to the teachings of Jesus, and the non-Jewish Christians, led by Paul, were the ones really creating a whole new religion - one which diverged from the teachings of Jesus in dramatic ways.
He also argues - and this is where the title comes from - that the "Jesus Movement," as he calls it, was really a dynastic movement. He argues that Jesus started as a follower of John the Baptist, and that these two men - Jesus and John - viewed themselves in prophetic terms as the ones God had chosen to bring a message of repentance to Israel, in preparation for the inauguration of the Kingdom of God. The Jewish scriptures spoke of two lines uniting Israel - the priestly line of Aaron, and the royal line of David. John the Baptist, Tabor argues, represented this priestly line, while Jesus - descended through the house of David - represented the royal, or messianic, line.
When John was executed, this threw the movement into confusion for a while, but Jesus eventually returned to the scene, leading the movement by himself, and increasingly viewing himself in messianic terms. He genuinely believed, Tabor argues, that God was going to intervene to free Israel from its Roman oppressors and that Jesus himself would become the new leader of a new Israelite nation. Even on the cross, Tabor believes, Jesus still believed God was going to intervene.
As a result of this, his eventual death came as a great shock to his followers. But once they had recovered from their mourning, they kept his movement alive by coming to understand him through Jewish scriptures as the "Suffering Servant" who had to die for the sins of the world. And they continued to believe that Jesus would eventually return in a Second Coming to rule as God's authority on earth from a new Jerusalem.
Since this entire movement, according to Tabor, was predicated on the fact that Jesus was the Davidic Messiah, it stands to reason that after his death, one of his relatives would take over the movement - like a son ruling after a father. Jesus had no son to inherit his "throne" as it were, so it went to his brother - James. After James died, Tabor argues that it passed to another of Jesus's brothers, Simon - the same Simon known as "Simon the Zealot" from the gospel lists of Jesus's 12 disciples. After Simon's death, it passed to yet another brother, Jude. Jude, according to James, was the last of the Jesus Dynasty, because by that time - around 100 C.E. - the Jewish Christian movement was virtually dead (except for a few pockets here and there). It had been marginalized and ultimately killed by Paul's movement.
Much of these arguments are not so earth-shattering. Many scholars argue that Paul's movement marginalized those Christians who believed in practicing Judaism, and many scholars agree that Jesus had an apocalyptic worldview and saw himself as God's messiah.
What is ground-breaking about Tabor's argument is the assertion that the movement was dynastic - that Jesus really did come from the line of David, and that leadership of the movement passed on successively after his death through his brothers. Tabor argues that three of Jesus's 12 disciples - James son of Alphaeus, Judas brother of James, and Simon the Zealot - were all Jesus's half brothers. He argues that Jesus was Joseph's son with Mary, but that these other sons were the sons of Joseph's brother and Mary - his brother having married Mary after Joseph's death, which was customary.
I'm not really sure what to make of this argument. I find it provocative, but ultimately I think he is on very shaky ground from a historical perspective. He bases his conclusions on very questionable passages within the Gospels and in a few 2nd century texts, and I simply don't know if there is enough reliable evidence there to make some of the assertions he makes.
For instance, he relies on the genealogies of Jesus to support his assertion that Jesus was from the royal line of David. For those who don't know, the genealogy of Jesus is provided by both Matthew and Luke, and is somewhat notorious for the fact that each writer gives a completely different genealogy. Most modern scholars (that I am aware of, anyway), don't put much stock in the accuracy of these genealogies, simply because they are, in fact, contradictory. Furthermore, how could the writers of Luke and Matthew have known this information?
But Tabor relies on them as factual, and reconciles their discrepancies by arguing that Matthew's genealogy is through Joseph, while Luke's is through Mary. This is not a new argument - it has been the position of the Catholic Church since time immemorial. And I find it totally insupportable. Both writers make it obvious and explicit that their genealogies are given through Joseph.
Matthew's starts with Abraham, and ends like this: "Mathan the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, and Mary was the mother of Jesus."
Clearly that's a genealogy through Joseph's line.
Luke provides his genealogy the other way around - starting with Jesus and going all the way back to Adam. Here's what Luke says: "He [Jesus] was the son, so it was thought, of Joseph, the son of Heli, the son of Matthat...."
Clearly both these writers are explicitly providing a male genealogy. I just can't see how any argument can be made to the contrary. Yet the notion that Luke's genealogy provides Mary's line is an important argument in Tabor's overall thesis, underlying the claims he makes later. It's a problem, for sure.
He also accepts Luke's story about John the Baptist's heritage - with a priestly father named Zachariah and a mother who was a cousin to Mary - making John and Jesus cousins themselves. This is what Luke tells us, but most scholars I am familiar with do not take these passages seriously. This story of John the Baptist is Luke's way of writing theology, not history.
The problem with all these background arguments is that so much of what comes later in the book - all his arguments relating to the Jesus Movement and the Jesus Dynasty - are built on these assumptions about the biological background of Jesus and John. If those assumptions are shaky, it casts doubt on all the subsequent arguments.
In the end, I have to say that the book provided a very thought-provoking perspective on Jesus and the movement that sprang up in his name after his death, but I am not sure that I agree with all of Tabor's ultimate conclusions. At the very least, I feel like he has not adequately provided reliable evidence for these claims. It comes across to me as a lot of speculation based on shaky evidence and the occasional grasping at straws.
Still, despite that rather harsh criticism, I think the book is a valuable asset in the growing body of work on the "historical Jesus," and I would certainly recommend it to anyone who has a serious interest in this field.
It's taken me a long time to get through the book, but that isn't because the book wasn't any good - I just haven't had nearly as much interest, in the last year or so, in critical historical Jesus scholarship. I've gotten a bit burned out, I think.
But in any case, the book presents a very provocative reconstruction of the historical Jesus and particularly of the early Christian church that sprang up in his name.
To put Tabor's thesis simply, he argues that early Christianity was split into two main groups - Jewish Christians, based in Jerusalem, and led by James the brother of Jesus, and Gentile (or non-Jewish) Christians, spread in pockets throughout the Roman empire, and led by Paul.
He goes on to argue that the Jerusalem Christians - that is, the Jewish Christians - were the ones who were staying true to the teachings of Jesus, and the non-Jewish Christians, led by Paul, were the ones really creating a whole new religion - one which diverged from the teachings of Jesus in dramatic ways.
He also argues - and this is where the title comes from - that the "Jesus Movement," as he calls it, was really a dynastic movement. He argues that Jesus started as a follower of John the Baptist, and that these two men - Jesus and John - viewed themselves in prophetic terms as the ones God had chosen to bring a message of repentance to Israel, in preparation for the inauguration of the Kingdom of God. The Jewish scriptures spoke of two lines uniting Israel - the priestly line of Aaron, and the royal line of David. John the Baptist, Tabor argues, represented this priestly line, while Jesus - descended through the house of David - represented the royal, or messianic, line.
When John was executed, this threw the movement into confusion for a while, but Jesus eventually returned to the scene, leading the movement by himself, and increasingly viewing himself in messianic terms. He genuinely believed, Tabor argues, that God was going to intervene to free Israel from its Roman oppressors and that Jesus himself would become the new leader of a new Israelite nation. Even on the cross, Tabor believes, Jesus still believed God was going to intervene.
As a result of this, his eventual death came as a great shock to his followers. But once they had recovered from their mourning, they kept his movement alive by coming to understand him through Jewish scriptures as the "Suffering Servant" who had to die for the sins of the world. And they continued to believe that Jesus would eventually return in a Second Coming to rule as God's authority on earth from a new Jerusalem.
Since this entire movement, according to Tabor, was predicated on the fact that Jesus was the Davidic Messiah, it stands to reason that after his death, one of his relatives would take over the movement - like a son ruling after a father. Jesus had no son to inherit his "throne" as it were, so it went to his brother - James. After James died, Tabor argues that it passed to another of Jesus's brothers, Simon - the same Simon known as "Simon the Zealot" from the gospel lists of Jesus's 12 disciples. After Simon's death, it passed to yet another brother, Jude. Jude, according to James, was the last of the Jesus Dynasty, because by that time - around 100 C.E. - the Jewish Christian movement was virtually dead (except for a few pockets here and there). It had been marginalized and ultimately killed by Paul's movement.
Much of these arguments are not so earth-shattering. Many scholars argue that Paul's movement marginalized those Christians who believed in practicing Judaism, and many scholars agree that Jesus had an apocalyptic worldview and saw himself as God's messiah.
What is ground-breaking about Tabor's argument is the assertion that the movement was dynastic - that Jesus really did come from the line of David, and that leadership of the movement passed on successively after his death through his brothers. Tabor argues that three of Jesus's 12 disciples - James son of Alphaeus, Judas brother of James, and Simon the Zealot - were all Jesus's half brothers. He argues that Jesus was Joseph's son with Mary, but that these other sons were the sons of Joseph's brother and Mary - his brother having married Mary after Joseph's death, which was customary.
I'm not really sure what to make of this argument. I find it provocative, but ultimately I think he is on very shaky ground from a historical perspective. He bases his conclusions on very questionable passages within the Gospels and in a few 2nd century texts, and I simply don't know if there is enough reliable evidence there to make some of the assertions he makes.
For instance, he relies on the genealogies of Jesus to support his assertion that Jesus was from the royal line of David. For those who don't know, the genealogy of Jesus is provided by both Matthew and Luke, and is somewhat notorious for the fact that each writer gives a completely different genealogy. Most modern scholars (that I am aware of, anyway), don't put much stock in the accuracy of these genealogies, simply because they are, in fact, contradictory. Furthermore, how could the writers of Luke and Matthew have known this information?
But Tabor relies on them as factual, and reconciles their discrepancies by arguing that Matthew's genealogy is through Joseph, while Luke's is through Mary. This is not a new argument - it has been the position of the Catholic Church since time immemorial. And I find it totally insupportable. Both writers make it obvious and explicit that their genealogies are given through Joseph.
Matthew's starts with Abraham, and ends like this: "Mathan the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, and Mary was the mother of Jesus."
Clearly that's a genealogy through Joseph's line.
Luke provides his genealogy the other way around - starting with Jesus and going all the way back to Adam. Here's what Luke says: "He [Jesus] was the son, so it was thought, of Joseph, the son of Heli, the son of Matthat...."
Clearly both these writers are explicitly providing a male genealogy. I just can't see how any argument can be made to the contrary. Yet the notion that Luke's genealogy provides Mary's line is an important argument in Tabor's overall thesis, underlying the claims he makes later. It's a problem, for sure.
He also accepts Luke's story about John the Baptist's heritage - with a priestly father named Zachariah and a mother who was a cousin to Mary - making John and Jesus cousins themselves. This is what Luke tells us, but most scholars I am familiar with do not take these passages seriously. This story of John the Baptist is Luke's way of writing theology, not history.
The problem with all these background arguments is that so much of what comes later in the book - all his arguments relating to the Jesus Movement and the Jesus Dynasty - are built on these assumptions about the biological background of Jesus and John. If those assumptions are shaky, it casts doubt on all the subsequent arguments.
In the end, I have to say that the book provided a very thought-provoking perspective on Jesus and the movement that sprang up in his name after his death, but I am not sure that I agree with all of Tabor's ultimate conclusions. At the very least, I feel like he has not adequately provided reliable evidence for these claims. It comes across to me as a lot of speculation based on shaky evidence and the occasional grasping at straws.
Still, despite that rather harsh criticism, I think the book is a valuable asset in the growing body of work on the "historical Jesus," and I would certainly recommend it to anyone who has a serious interest in this field.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
The Infernova
You may have noticed (or probably not) a new blog link on the left side of the page called "Alenthony's Inferno." That's a blog site kept by one of my good friends, and I recommend it to you heartily.
Alenthony has recently published his first book, a work of epic poetry that satirizes Dante's Inferno. It's called "The Infernova."

I read it in about 24 hours. It's not long, but I couldn't put the book down. It's written in rhyming verse, and that had me nervous at first because I've read very little epic poetry in my life, and never rhyming epic poetry.
And yet, shockingly, he pulled it off. It flowed like a Homerian epic, and I mean that sincerely. As I told him, I'm no expert poet, but I do dabble in it now and then and have published some of my own poetry - and I could never pull off what he pulled off. The style fits the symbolic, dream-like state of the story, and the rhyme scheme is authentic and clean; it never distracts from the plot. I was genuinely impressed and I had no problem reading and understanding what was being said.
The book, as I said, is an epic poem that creates a symbolic satire of Dante's Inferno in reverse: instead of gays and Jews and adulterers in this new hell, it's scam artists and conspiracy theorists and scheming politicians and televangelists (among others). It's written as a sort of symbolic dream in a computerized future, so everything seen is not real, but a computer simulation. This is how Alenthony gets around the problem of sounding like a hell-fire and damnation preacher. It's only a symbolic hell, not a real hell. The narrator's guide through hell is none other than Mark Twain, which I thought was a really clever twist.
I would be lying if I described it as anything other than "atheist" fiction. In fact, the small publishing company that my friend set up to publish the book states, on its website, that it caters to: "...freethinkers, atheists, agnostics, pantheists, and humanists."
There is no love lost for religious thinking in this book, though I would describe the book in general as more of an apologetic for rationalism and intellectual honesty than a polemic against religion. Still, traditional believers would find much to offend them, no doubt, in this book. Alenthony doesn't pull any punches in regards to his perception of how religion has affected and continues to affect the world.
Of course, I don't agree with all the ideologies present in the story. I'm not an atheist, after all. I pointed out a few problems to him, in fact. Some of the gods and prophets in his symbolic hell are really just parodies of the original, and he seemed eager to "punish" people in his hell even if they, themselves, were okay but their ideas and teachings got used by others for evil. Be that as it may, most of his ideology is pretty well on target, and it's important to remember that this is epic poetry and satire, not biography.
The punishments he contrives for the various intellectual "crimes" match the real-world crime perfectly in dream-world symbolism. For instance, conspiracy theorists are broken down into pulp inside a paper mill, and their bodies become the tabloids they previously had published, written for, and circulated. Similarly, televangelists are encased inside tombs where they must shout and preach for eternity, and their "hot air" heats the interior of their tombs to hellish proportions.
Alenthony's "hell," like Dante's, is composed of 9 levels, with each level populated by increasingly more horrific sinners against intellect and rationalism. Some notable figures - some surprising and some not-so-surprising - show up: Nostrodamus and Joseph Smith, for instance, but also great scientists like Newton, Faraday, and even Albert Einstein.
As for ideology in specific, there were a few things that I stringently disagreed with. I have already noted how some of his prophets and gods are really just parodies of the original and how he lumps basically "good" religious people into his hell. As I said to him, one would have to wonder if Ghandi, Schweitzer, and MLK Jr. (though they are not named specifically) were also in this vision of hell, since they certainly taught and worked from within a specific religious worldview, albeit a very humanist one.
I also disagreed with his depiction (though not a caustic one) of Jesus. Jesus basically takes the fall because so many people for so many centuries have misused his teachings for evil. That doesn't seem fair.
My belief is that the historical Jesus was a radical ethicist, who certainly would have couched his beliefs in divine language, but whose primary message was one of breaking down social barriers, negating the systemic evil of the world around him, and preaching a new vision of a world without physical and emotional and cultural oppression. In that sense, he is relevant not only for his own ancient, patriarchal and imperial time period, but also for the modern world. Again, that he has been frequently misused by 2000 years of theology is not his own personal fault, nor the fault of his own vision/theology.
There was a specific comment in the text, pg 151, that I found fault with: "We've always had sadistic villains, but to cause benign and otherwise good people to be bad requires organized religion." That seems like an ad hoc fallacy.
Was it organized religion, or systemic evil and fear, that made complicit criminals out of so many Germans involved in the Holocaust? Hitler's actions can be explained as the evil of a madman - but it took thousands of regular joes to carry out the Holocaust. What led them to be complicit in that? Anti-Semitism was certainly rife within Lutheran Christianity, but even Luther himself never suggested genocide. You can think Jews are Christ-killers without actually wanting to go kill Jews. I think it was systemic evil and fear that led to the Holocaust, not organized religion.
Evil does not require religion. And mass evil also doesn't require religion. In addition to the Holocaust, consider Communist Russia and the countless leaders and military personnel complicit in Stalin's reign of terror. Clearly organized religion in that atheist government was not behind their mass complicity in systemic evil.
These really are minor quibbles with the book, however. Again, it is epic poetry with symbolic meaning, not biography or objective history. All in all, I thought the book was absolutely excellent. It was brilliantly composed with a literary style equal to any great writer; it's structure and development was clever and meaningful; and within an atheist worldview, it's ideology was consistent and poignant.
I highly recommend "The Infernova" to anyone who fancies themselves a progressive or freethinker, or any atheist, agnostic, or secular humanist who enjoys and appreciates good literature with a meaningful plot.
Here are a few links:
Blackburnian Press, my friend's small publishing company.
"The Infernova" on Barnes & Noble's website.
"The Infernova" on Amazon.
Alenthony has recently published his first book, a work of epic poetry that satirizes Dante's Inferno. It's called "The Infernova."

I read it in about 24 hours. It's not long, but I couldn't put the book down. It's written in rhyming verse, and that had me nervous at first because I've read very little epic poetry in my life, and never rhyming epic poetry.
And yet, shockingly, he pulled it off. It flowed like a Homerian epic, and I mean that sincerely. As I told him, I'm no expert poet, but I do dabble in it now and then and have published some of my own poetry - and I could never pull off what he pulled off. The style fits the symbolic, dream-like state of the story, and the rhyme scheme is authentic and clean; it never distracts from the plot. I was genuinely impressed and I had no problem reading and understanding what was being said.
The book, as I said, is an epic poem that creates a symbolic satire of Dante's Inferno in reverse: instead of gays and Jews and adulterers in this new hell, it's scam artists and conspiracy theorists and scheming politicians and televangelists (among others). It's written as a sort of symbolic dream in a computerized future, so everything seen is not real, but a computer simulation. This is how Alenthony gets around the problem of sounding like a hell-fire and damnation preacher. It's only a symbolic hell, not a real hell. The narrator's guide through hell is none other than Mark Twain, which I thought was a really clever twist.
I would be lying if I described it as anything other than "atheist" fiction. In fact, the small publishing company that my friend set up to publish the book states, on its website, that it caters to: "...freethinkers, atheists, agnostics, pantheists, and humanists."
There is no love lost for religious thinking in this book, though I would describe the book in general as more of an apologetic for rationalism and intellectual honesty than a polemic against religion. Still, traditional believers would find much to offend them, no doubt, in this book. Alenthony doesn't pull any punches in regards to his perception of how religion has affected and continues to affect the world.
Of course, I don't agree with all the ideologies present in the story. I'm not an atheist, after all. I pointed out a few problems to him, in fact. Some of the gods and prophets in his symbolic hell are really just parodies of the original, and he seemed eager to "punish" people in his hell even if they, themselves, were okay but their ideas and teachings got used by others for evil. Be that as it may, most of his ideology is pretty well on target, and it's important to remember that this is epic poetry and satire, not biography.
The punishments he contrives for the various intellectual "crimes" match the real-world crime perfectly in dream-world symbolism. For instance, conspiracy theorists are broken down into pulp inside a paper mill, and their bodies become the tabloids they previously had published, written for, and circulated. Similarly, televangelists are encased inside tombs where they must shout and preach for eternity, and their "hot air" heats the interior of their tombs to hellish proportions.
Alenthony's "hell," like Dante's, is composed of 9 levels, with each level populated by increasingly more horrific sinners against intellect and rationalism. Some notable figures - some surprising and some not-so-surprising - show up: Nostrodamus and Joseph Smith, for instance, but also great scientists like Newton, Faraday, and even Albert Einstein.
As for ideology in specific, there were a few things that I stringently disagreed with. I have already noted how some of his prophets and gods are really just parodies of the original and how he lumps basically "good" religious people into his hell. As I said to him, one would have to wonder if Ghandi, Schweitzer, and MLK Jr. (though they are not named specifically) were also in this vision of hell, since they certainly taught and worked from within a specific religious worldview, albeit a very humanist one.
I also disagreed with his depiction (though not a caustic one) of Jesus. Jesus basically takes the fall because so many people for so many centuries have misused his teachings for evil. That doesn't seem fair.
My belief is that the historical Jesus was a radical ethicist, who certainly would have couched his beliefs in divine language, but whose primary message was one of breaking down social barriers, negating the systemic evil of the world around him, and preaching a new vision of a world without physical and emotional and cultural oppression. In that sense, he is relevant not only for his own ancient, patriarchal and imperial time period, but also for the modern world. Again, that he has been frequently misused by 2000 years of theology is not his own personal fault, nor the fault of his own vision/theology.
There was a specific comment in the text, pg 151, that I found fault with: "We've always had sadistic villains, but to cause benign and otherwise good people to be bad requires organized religion." That seems like an ad hoc fallacy.
Was it organized religion, or systemic evil and fear, that made complicit criminals out of so many Germans involved in the Holocaust? Hitler's actions can be explained as the evil of a madman - but it took thousands of regular joes to carry out the Holocaust. What led them to be complicit in that? Anti-Semitism was certainly rife within Lutheran Christianity, but even Luther himself never suggested genocide. You can think Jews are Christ-killers without actually wanting to go kill Jews. I think it was systemic evil and fear that led to the Holocaust, not organized religion.
Evil does not require religion. And mass evil also doesn't require religion. In addition to the Holocaust, consider Communist Russia and the countless leaders and military personnel complicit in Stalin's reign of terror. Clearly organized religion in that atheist government was not behind their mass complicity in systemic evil.
These really are minor quibbles with the book, however. Again, it is epic poetry with symbolic meaning, not biography or objective history. All in all, I thought the book was absolutely excellent. It was brilliantly composed with a literary style equal to any great writer; it's structure and development was clever and meaningful; and within an atheist worldview, it's ideology was consistent and poignant.
I highly recommend "The Infernova" to anyone who fancies themselves a progressive or freethinker, or any atheist, agnostic, or secular humanist who enjoys and appreciates good literature with a meaningful plot.
Here are a few links:
Blackburnian Press, my friend's small publishing company.
"The Infernova" on Barnes & Noble's website.
"The Infernova" on Amazon.
Monday, July 07, 2008
A Brief Response to R. Douglas Geivett's Article: "The Epistemology of Resurrection Belief"
R. Douglas Geivett is, by all accounts, a respected philosophy professor at Biola University in California, and his body of work, among other things, covers the philosophy of religion and epistemology. Epistemology, in lay terms, is the study of the foundation, nature, and validity of human knowledge. Applied to religion, epistemology studies what we can know about God and the stories of the Bible, and how our knowledge of the world impacts our religious views. Geivett is, by his own assertion, a Christian and a theist in the classical sense of those terms. In regards to the resurrection, he states: “As I see it, the best causal explanation for a bodily resurrection is a miracle – an act of God.”
In the book “The Resurrection of Jesus: John Dominic Crossan and N.T. Wright in Dialogue,” edited by Robert B. Stewart and including not only a dialogue between the two historians in the title, but also a series of essays by various religious scholars, Geivett presents an article discussing the epistemology of beliefs about the resurrection. In this article, Geivett discusses the merits of Wright and Crossan’s individual methods and conclusions, and makes the argument that while Wright appears to approach his scholarship with a “worldview neutral” approach, Crossan’s approach is somewhat biased by his own beliefs – that is, Crossan’s work is not entirely “metaphysically neutral.”
To put this in perspective, we must first take a very brief look at who Wright and Crossan are, and what Geivett means by “metaphysically neutral.”
N.T. Wright is the current Bishop of Durham in the Anglican Church, and is a very well-respected and noted New Testament scholar. He is also, as might be imagined considering his professional position, a classical theist.
In regards to the resurrection, Wright believes that the best conclusion to draw from the available historical evidence is that Jesus really was resurrected bodily from the dead. No other conclusion can best explain the available evidence. As Geivett points out, however, Wright resists the urge to attribute this resurrection necessarily to God – even though Wright, as a theist, no doubt believes God was responsible. In Geivett’s opinion, Wright refrains from attributing the resurrection to God because the answer to the question of how Jesus came to be resurrected requires adherence to a specific worldview – in this case, classical theism. Obviously, if one believes in God, then the clear assumption would be that God was responsible for Jesus’ resurrection. But since, in Geivett’s opinion, Wright’s resurrection scholarship strives for “worldview neutrality” (that is, he attempts to keep his own theistic beliefs out of his professional scholarship), Wright does not ever make this “God raised Jesus bodily” assertion directly, and instead ends his arguments at what can be known from the objective evidence at our disposal. Thus, he believes the evidence suggests Jesus was raised physically from the dead, but does not openly assert that God was necessarily responsible for it, because the objective historical evidence, by itself, cannot support this otherwise subjective assertion.
John Dominic Crossan, like N.T. Wright, is a very well-respected New Testament scholar who has published dozens of books and articles, and is an Emeritus Professor of Religious Studies at DePaul University, having spent most of his professional career there. Unlike Wright, Crossan is not a classical theist, and is probably better described as a “progressive non-theist Christian” – that is, he considers himself a Christian in that he follows and attempts to emulate the life of Christ, but does not believe in a theistic god, or in the divinity of Jesus.
Crossan’s conclusions about the resurrection follow a groundbreaking method of using not only canonical and non-canonical textual evidence, but also the evidence of 1st century secular history, anthropology, archaeology, geography, and human psychology. In other words, Crossan’s method employs contextual background as well as textual evidence. Using these methods, Crossan asserts that the resurrection was naturalistic in origin, resulting from the firm conviction of the earliest Christians that they had experienced the resurrected Jesus. Crossan believes these early Christians experienced apparitions, or visions, of Jesus similar to visions of dead friends and relatives that many people, even in modern times, experience. These early Christians interpreted these apparitions the only way that a 1st century person could interpret them – as literal appearances by a resurrected Jesus. In other words, they did not have post-Enlightenment understandings of the world to help them see that these were just manifestations of their grieving minds. An empty tomb may also have contributed to their mistaken interpretation (although Crossan only “concedes” an empty tomb for the sake of argument – his own belief is that Jesus was not likely buried in a tomb).
In Geivett’s opinion, however, Crossan’s methodology is not worldview neutral (that is, his method is biased), because Crossan himself is not a theist. For Geivett, it stands to reason that Crossan, as a non-theist, would ultimately conclude non-theistic origins for the resurrection of Jesus. He states this quite explicitly in his article:
My first issue should already be obvious to anyone who has been following my train of thought in this essay. How is it that Crossan, as a non-theist, is biased in his non-theistic interpretations of the resurrection, but Wright, as a theist, is somehow not biased in his theistic interpretations of the resurrection? It would seem that Geivett is applying a double standard to Crossan – which may stand to reason since Geivett, as a classical theist, naturally disagrees with Crossan’s conclusions. Geivett attempts to reconcile this problem by the argument I illustrated above in regards to Wright’s resurrection theology: Wright, despite being a theist, does not go so far as to assert that God must have been responsible for raising Jesus bodily from the dead. In the name of neutrality, Wright leaves such an assertion – which requires subjective belief rather than objective evidence – out of his conclusion. Regardless of that (because it is beside the point, in my opinion), I am by no means convinced that the “best” explanation of the available data is that Jesus was physically and literally raised from the dead (which is what Wright concludes). Therefore, I would argue with Geivett that Wright’s conclusion is, in fact, informed by his own theistic beliefs, inasmuch as Crossan’s conclusion is informed by his own non-theistic beliefs.
The problem here, in addition to being an apparent double standard on the part of Geivett, is that Geivett’s entire argument is philosophical in nature, and therefore is not grounded in reasonable reality. If Crossan’s conclusions are biased by his non-theistic beliefs, then the same argument could be made to suggest that non-goblinists are biased when they conclude there are no goblins in their garden. Is there such a thing as a theistic Christian who denies the divine aspects of the resurrection, or a non-theist who affirms the divine aspects of the resurrection? I certainly do not know of any, because such positions would be contradictory by their very nature. Even Geivett seems to agree with this when he says, “But what else could explain the phenomenon of a bodily resurrection [other than God]? I can’t think of a single other plausible explanation.” Then later, “Suppose you don’t believe in God. What’s the likelihood that you would…conclude that Jesus had risen bodily…? I’d say not likely at all.”
My second issue with Geivett’s criticism of Crossan’s method is that he seems to be putting the cart before the horse, or, to use another silly metaphor, placing the chicken before the egg. Geivett seems to assume that Crossan is, and always has been, a non-theist, and that his conclusions, therefore, are biased by those non-theistic worldviews. This might be a reasonable argument, if it were true that Crossan had always been a non-theist. I do not claim to know every detail of Crossan’s personal spiritual journey, but I do know that it is very common within religious scholarship for scholars to enter the field as traditionally-believing Christians, and to end up becoming, after looking at the evidence neutrally, non-theists, agnostics, or progressive Christians. I have made the argument before that this sort of biblical scholar – the kind that starts off as a traditional believer, follows the evidence where it leads, and ends up rejecting traditional belief – is by definition the most “unbiased” type of scholar. Of course, the reverse would also be true – a scholar who starts off as an agnostic or non-theist, follows the evidence where it leads, and then becomes a traditional believer, would also be “unbiased.” However, I do not personally know of a single religious scholar that this path applies to.
In regards to Crossan, I do know that he began his career as a theologian – a priest in the Anglican Church. He later left the priesthood and began developing his aforementioned non-theistic conclusions about the nature of Jesus and God. This would imply, then, that Crossan began his career as a classical theist, ended up rejecting this position after careful, unbiased study, and became the non-theist progressive that he is today. If this is true – and I think it is – then Geivett’s assertion that Crossan’s methods are biased by his non-theism is completely without merit. Crossan’s methods were and are unbiased, which is why he ended up rejecting the traditional beliefs of his younger years, and now accepts a more naturalistic explanation for the resurrection.
I agree with Geivett when he says that we should “take care to recognize, as far as possible, the real limits of our knowledge and understanding.” I also agree with him when he acknowledges that any historian must sometimes apply personal worldviews when evaluating historical data. What this means, in the end, is that no historical conclusion – especially in the field of New Testament scholarship – is ever completely without personal bias. We all bring our own beliefs and ideas to the table when we begin to study the available evidence for the stories of Jesus. Recognizing this inherent human non-neutrality is, I believe, one of the most important steps in opening the door to meaningful and mutually valuable dialogue in the field of religion.
In the book “The Resurrection of Jesus: John Dominic Crossan and N.T. Wright in Dialogue,” edited by Robert B. Stewart and including not only a dialogue between the two historians in the title, but also a series of essays by various religious scholars, Geivett presents an article discussing the epistemology of beliefs about the resurrection. In this article, Geivett discusses the merits of Wright and Crossan’s individual methods and conclusions, and makes the argument that while Wright appears to approach his scholarship with a “worldview neutral” approach, Crossan’s approach is somewhat biased by his own beliefs – that is, Crossan’s work is not entirely “metaphysically neutral.”
To put this in perspective, we must first take a very brief look at who Wright and Crossan are, and what Geivett means by “metaphysically neutral.”
N.T. Wright is the current Bishop of Durham in the Anglican Church, and is a very well-respected and noted New Testament scholar. He is also, as might be imagined considering his professional position, a classical theist.
In regards to the resurrection, Wright believes that the best conclusion to draw from the available historical evidence is that Jesus really was resurrected bodily from the dead. No other conclusion can best explain the available evidence. As Geivett points out, however, Wright resists the urge to attribute this resurrection necessarily to God – even though Wright, as a theist, no doubt believes God was responsible. In Geivett’s opinion, Wright refrains from attributing the resurrection to God because the answer to the question of how Jesus came to be resurrected requires adherence to a specific worldview – in this case, classical theism. Obviously, if one believes in God, then the clear assumption would be that God was responsible for Jesus’ resurrection. But since, in Geivett’s opinion, Wright’s resurrection scholarship strives for “worldview neutrality” (that is, he attempts to keep his own theistic beliefs out of his professional scholarship), Wright does not ever make this “God raised Jesus bodily” assertion directly, and instead ends his arguments at what can be known from the objective evidence at our disposal. Thus, he believes the evidence suggests Jesus was raised physically from the dead, but does not openly assert that God was necessarily responsible for it, because the objective historical evidence, by itself, cannot support this otherwise subjective assertion.
John Dominic Crossan, like N.T. Wright, is a very well-respected New Testament scholar who has published dozens of books and articles, and is an Emeritus Professor of Religious Studies at DePaul University, having spent most of his professional career there. Unlike Wright, Crossan is not a classical theist, and is probably better described as a “progressive non-theist Christian” – that is, he considers himself a Christian in that he follows and attempts to emulate the life of Christ, but does not believe in a theistic god, or in the divinity of Jesus.
Crossan’s conclusions about the resurrection follow a groundbreaking method of using not only canonical and non-canonical textual evidence, but also the evidence of 1st century secular history, anthropology, archaeology, geography, and human psychology. In other words, Crossan’s method employs contextual background as well as textual evidence. Using these methods, Crossan asserts that the resurrection was naturalistic in origin, resulting from the firm conviction of the earliest Christians that they had experienced the resurrected Jesus. Crossan believes these early Christians experienced apparitions, or visions, of Jesus similar to visions of dead friends and relatives that many people, even in modern times, experience. These early Christians interpreted these apparitions the only way that a 1st century person could interpret them – as literal appearances by a resurrected Jesus. In other words, they did not have post-Enlightenment understandings of the world to help them see that these were just manifestations of their grieving minds. An empty tomb may also have contributed to their mistaken interpretation (although Crossan only “concedes” an empty tomb for the sake of argument – his own belief is that Jesus was not likely buried in a tomb).
In Geivett’s opinion, however, Crossan’s methodology is not worldview neutral (that is, his method is biased), because Crossan himself is not a theist. For Geivett, it stands to reason that Crossan, as a non-theist, would ultimately conclude non-theistic origins for the resurrection of Jesus. He states this quite explicitly in his article:
No wonder Crossan disagrees with Wright about the nature of the resurrection. No wonder he concludes that Jesus did not literally rise bodily from the dead. For what is denied by his metaphysical commitments precludes the possibility of a literal bodily resurrection of Jesus by God…[Crossan’s] verdict as a New Testament historian does not [diverge] from his worldview commitments at all. It is not metaphysically neutral.There are two problems that I have with Geivett’s criticism of Crossan (although, in his defense, Geivett claims that his assertions are “by no means a criticism of Crossan’s methods,” since historians have no choice but to sometimes allow their own beliefs to “inform their historical judgment” when the evidence has gaps).
My first issue should already be obvious to anyone who has been following my train of thought in this essay. How is it that Crossan, as a non-theist, is biased in his non-theistic interpretations of the resurrection, but Wright, as a theist, is somehow not biased in his theistic interpretations of the resurrection? It would seem that Geivett is applying a double standard to Crossan – which may stand to reason since Geivett, as a classical theist, naturally disagrees with Crossan’s conclusions. Geivett attempts to reconcile this problem by the argument I illustrated above in regards to Wright’s resurrection theology: Wright, despite being a theist, does not go so far as to assert that God must have been responsible for raising Jesus bodily from the dead. In the name of neutrality, Wright leaves such an assertion – which requires subjective belief rather than objective evidence – out of his conclusion. Regardless of that (because it is beside the point, in my opinion), I am by no means convinced that the “best” explanation of the available data is that Jesus was physically and literally raised from the dead (which is what Wright concludes). Therefore, I would argue with Geivett that Wright’s conclusion is, in fact, informed by his own theistic beliefs, inasmuch as Crossan’s conclusion is informed by his own non-theistic beliefs.
The problem here, in addition to being an apparent double standard on the part of Geivett, is that Geivett’s entire argument is philosophical in nature, and therefore is not grounded in reasonable reality. If Crossan’s conclusions are biased by his non-theistic beliefs, then the same argument could be made to suggest that non-goblinists are biased when they conclude there are no goblins in their garden. Is there such a thing as a theistic Christian who denies the divine aspects of the resurrection, or a non-theist who affirms the divine aspects of the resurrection? I certainly do not know of any, because such positions would be contradictory by their very nature. Even Geivett seems to agree with this when he says, “But what else could explain the phenomenon of a bodily resurrection [other than God]? I can’t think of a single other plausible explanation.” Then later, “Suppose you don’t believe in God. What’s the likelihood that you would…conclude that Jesus had risen bodily…? I’d say not likely at all.”
My second issue with Geivett’s criticism of Crossan’s method is that he seems to be putting the cart before the horse, or, to use another silly metaphor, placing the chicken before the egg. Geivett seems to assume that Crossan is, and always has been, a non-theist, and that his conclusions, therefore, are biased by those non-theistic worldviews. This might be a reasonable argument, if it were true that Crossan had always been a non-theist. I do not claim to know every detail of Crossan’s personal spiritual journey, but I do know that it is very common within religious scholarship for scholars to enter the field as traditionally-believing Christians, and to end up becoming, after looking at the evidence neutrally, non-theists, agnostics, or progressive Christians. I have made the argument before that this sort of biblical scholar – the kind that starts off as a traditional believer, follows the evidence where it leads, and ends up rejecting traditional belief – is by definition the most “unbiased” type of scholar. Of course, the reverse would also be true – a scholar who starts off as an agnostic or non-theist, follows the evidence where it leads, and then becomes a traditional believer, would also be “unbiased.” However, I do not personally know of a single religious scholar that this path applies to.
In regards to Crossan, I do know that he began his career as a theologian – a priest in the Anglican Church. He later left the priesthood and began developing his aforementioned non-theistic conclusions about the nature of Jesus and God. This would imply, then, that Crossan began his career as a classical theist, ended up rejecting this position after careful, unbiased study, and became the non-theist progressive that he is today. If this is true – and I think it is – then Geivett’s assertion that Crossan’s methods are biased by his non-theism is completely without merit. Crossan’s methods were and are unbiased, which is why he ended up rejecting the traditional beliefs of his younger years, and now accepts a more naturalistic explanation for the resurrection.
I agree with Geivett when he says that we should “take care to recognize, as far as possible, the real limits of our knowledge and understanding.” I also agree with him when he acknowledges that any historian must sometimes apply personal worldviews when evaluating historical data. What this means, in the end, is that no historical conclusion – especially in the field of New Testament scholarship – is ever completely without personal bias. We all bring our own beliefs and ideas to the table when we begin to study the available evidence for the stories of Jesus. Recognizing this inherent human non-neutrality is, I believe, one of the most important steps in opening the door to meaningful and mutually valuable dialogue in the field of religion.
Friday, April 25, 2008
A Discussion of "Misquoting Jesus" by Bart Ehrman
For those of you who read my blog regularly, let me apologize in advance for the differing format for this blog. Most of my blog posts are written like essays, and I write most of them to be just that -- essays or articles. This post, however, is actually from a post I made on the Rush messageboard, so it's not going to have the normal style that you might be familiar with. I recently finished New Testament scholar Bart Ehrman's bestselling book on New Testament textual criticism called "Misquoting Jesus," and it a really good book. I posted about it on the messageboard, and wanted to share my thoughts here, too. So here it is...
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On another thread, we got to talking about how the Bible has been changed and amended over the centuries by various scribes during the era when all copies were handwritten. I pointed out that I had been reading Bart Ehrman's best-seller "Misquoting Jesus", which discusses this topic in detail, and Jeremy commented that this is one of the reasons why he can't accept the "infallible Word of God" thing anymore. I wanted to talk a little more about this book, now that I'm done with it. As I said on the other thread, this is a book that every Christian needs to read.
I ended up reading this book in 4 days. I do read a lot more than the average person, but it still normally takes me 3 or 4 weeks to get through an entire non-fiction book. This one, however, was so captivating, and was so easy to follow, that I just breezed right through it. It's probably the first major publication on this topic (textual criticism) to be written for laypeople and casual readers, as opposed to scholars and graduate students. And Ehrman does a fantastic job of taking this otherwise complex subject and describing it in such a way that it is very easy to follow and understand. The book is just absolutely fantastic, and I recommend it to anyone with an interest in how our modern Bibles came down to us from the original texts.
The thing that's interesting is that none of this is new material. Scholars and theologians have known literally since the very inception of Christianity in the 2nd and 3rd centuries that textual variants existed and were widespread. It was actually a topic of a lot of concern for many of the early church fathers, writing in the 2nd and 3rd centuries. Furthermore, the fact that the texts were frequently changed was a source of ammunition for many opponents of Christianity during those early years. For instance, as early as the 160's and 170's C.E. -- less than 100 years after many of the books were written -- the pagan philosopher Celsus -- who wrote an entire book condemning the Christian religion -- pointed out that one of the reasons Christianity was so suspect is because they frequently altered and amended their own holy texts to fit changing theologies and to counter "heretical" belief systems.
Ehrman points out again and again throughout the book that the vast majority of the variations among the texts are minor and completely insignificant to the meaning of the passage. The book itself is actually dedicate to Bruce Metzger, who is almost universally regarded as the pre-eminent textual scholar in the world, and yet Metzger is also a traditionally believing Christian. Most of the variations are simply scribal mistakes...accidentally omitting a word or phrase here or there, or mispelling a word, or using the wrong word because of similarities in spelling (sort of like mixing up "for" and "four", for instance). The early Greek texts were very difficult to copy. They didn't write in those days the way we write now. The texts were actually written in what we would call a stream of consciousness -- there were no capital letters and lower case letters, and there was no punctuation. Furthermore, the writers frequently didn't even put spaces between words and sentences. itliterallywouldreadlikethistothehumaneyeandtherewouldbenospacesbetweenonesenten
ceandthenext
You can see how tedious the job of copying a manuscript would be. Not only would the eye quickly weaken, but it would be very easy to accidentally write the wrong word. For instance, consider this phrase: ilookedatthetableandsawabundancethere. Does that say that I saw a table with a lot of food on it, or does it say that I saw a table where a bun got up and started dancing? So you can see how mistakes would be common and wide-spread. Furthermore, in the earliest centuries, most of the scribes were not professionals, but were instead amatuers from various Christian communities who happened to know how to read and write, and so would be asked to make copies. For this reason, and against what might otherwise seem self-evident, our earliest sources are frequently the ones that have the most mistakes and variations. Those amatuer Christian scribes were also more likely to make intentional changes based on their own theological interpretations, as opposed to the later professional scribes who may not have been Christians at all, but were simply being paid to make copies.
But while most of the changes were simple mistakes, some of the changes were very obviously deliberate, and by using the scientific investigative method, one can make strong arguments for why a text may have been deliberately altered. Even in most of those cases, the alteration wasn't greatly significant, and in most cases, the scribe who changed it wasn't doing it because of some ulterior motive, but because he honestly thought he was making the text "correct" (for instance, he might have assumed the manuscript had an error in it, so he would change what he thought was an error, but was in fact changing something that was authentic).
However, there are a few cases here and there where deliberate changes singificantly altered the theology of the passage and sometimes even of the entire book. For instance, there is a passage in the book of John that in some early manuscripts refers to Jesus as "the unique God." This is a clear and obvious supportive statement for the concept of the Trinity and the doctrine that Jesus was God in the flesh. However, it is known to have been a scribal addition, not original to the text. The original text, in fact, called Jesus the "unique Son," not the "unique God," and the phraseology used was the exact same language that was used elsewhere in John. We know the phrase as "only begotten Son," but what it actually says is "the unique Son" (such as in the famous verse of John 3:16). Anyway, this is the same exact phrase used in the passage in question. But scribes later changed it to say "unique God," apparently attempting to insert language that would support their understanding of Jesus as God in the flesh. There are many other numerous examples of changes like this.
What sets this book apart, I think, in addition to its readability, is the fact that unlike most every other scholarly book I have read, this book deals largely in objective, indisputable facts, rather than the gathering of evidence and the assertion of a reasoned argument based on that evidence. There is some of that in this book, particularly when it comes deciding which particular text represents the variation, and which text represents the original. Often times it's easy to figure out which text has the change, and which text has the original, but other times it's not so easy.
But by and large, this book deals with objective facts rather than subjective analysis. People may not like knowing that the New Testament texts have been changed and altered, and that in some cases we simply cannot know with certainty what the original text said, but whether they like it or not, they cannot argue that the variations don't exist. We have the manuscripts, and we know they don't match up. This objective, indisputable fact alone should cause anyone to think twice before asserting that the Bible is the infallible inerrant word of God.
Even if one presupposes that the original texts were the infallible inerrant word of God, it's a rather meaningles proposition, because we don't have the originals, and we don't have copies of copies of copies of the originals, and in many cases we cannot be certain what the original actually said. Therefore, it seems that if God was going to take the trouble to inspire the originals, he should have also taken the trouble to ensure that the originals were transmitted perfectly down the ages to us. He didn't do this, however, which leads to the obvious conclusion that he probably didn't inspire the originals either.
This recognition on the part of Ehrman was what first caused him, as an evangelical Christian graduate student, to begin realizing that what he thought was the inspired infallible word of God was, in fact, nothing of the sort. The Bible as we know it today, was not only written by eminently human people, but has since been corrupted by human people too.
None of this, of course, means that nothing in the New Testament can be trusted as original material. As Ehrman points out numerous times, most of the variations are insignificant, and even with hundreds of thousands of variations, there are still plenty of places where just about every text agrees. The variations, then, don't negate the entirety of the texts, but they simply put into perspective that much of what we know as "Biblical truths" are not necessarily based on original material.
One really eye-opening change is the famous passage in John where Jesus is presented with a woman caught in adultery. The Pharisees are trying to trap him by asking whether she should be stoned, as the law of Moses commands. If he says yes, then he is contradicting his own message of love and mercy, but if he says no, then he is blaspheming and contradicting God's law. Instead of answering, Jesus is depicted as stooping to the ground and writing in the sand. What he writes is not revealed to us. After a few minutes, he looks up and makes one of his most famous statements: "You who is without sin should cast the first stone." The Pharisees walk away in shame, and then Jesus, once he is alone with the woman, tells her that if the others will not judge her, then neither will he, and he commands her to go in peace and sin no more.
This passage, as I said, is one of the most famous stories of Jesus known to Christians. "You who is without sin should cast the first stone" is an oft-repeated phrase that has been the source of countless sermons and teachings. I would think that there are very few Christians who are not familiar with this phrase. The passage has also been used by apologists to show that Jesus -- who is believed by most scholars to have been illiterate like most every other 1st century Jew in his social class -- actually could read and write, because he is depicted in this passage as writing in the sand.
The problem is, the story is not original, and this is known almost to the point of being universally accepted by scholars of all theological persuasions. It does not appear in any of our earliest manuscripts, and despite its current widespread popularity, it is never mentioned by any early Church fathers in their writings. In fact, it does not begin to appear in our manuscripts until the 5th and 6th centuries. And when it does first begin to appear, it is frequently inserted in different spots. Some of these manuscripts have it in chapter 7, some in chapter 15, some in chapter 21, etc. There is even one manuscript that puts it not in John at all, but in Luke! Clearly it was added at some late date by a scribe who was probably familiar with the story from oral tradition, or possibly from another text that is no longer in existence, and he decided it was important enough to be added into the Bible's Gospel tradition. It may very well represent an early oral memory of a scene involving Jesus, and in that sense, it may be a perfectly valid story about Jesus that simply, for whatever reason, was never originally included in any of our Gospels. But the fact remains that it was not original to the Gospel of John, and was instead added much later by an anonymous scribe from an anonymous source. It's also important to point out, on the issue of possibly being an early oral tradition, that it not only doesn't appear in any original texts of the Gospels, but it also isn't found in any of the non-biblical writings like the Gnostic gospels and the Gospel of Thomas and other early Christian accounts. This, then, would imply that whatever its origins are, it probably wasn't early.
Well, I've written way more than I intended. But if you have read everything I wrote, and find it as interesting and fascinating as I do, then you will love this book, because that's what the entire book is about. I can't recommend this book enough to Christians and others with an interest in this topic.
---
On another thread, we got to talking about how the Bible has been changed and amended over the centuries by various scribes during the era when all copies were handwritten. I pointed out that I had been reading Bart Ehrman's best-seller "Misquoting Jesus", which discusses this topic in detail, and Jeremy commented that this is one of the reasons why he can't accept the "infallible Word of God" thing anymore. I wanted to talk a little more about this book, now that I'm done with it. As I said on the other thread, this is a book that every Christian needs to read.
I ended up reading this book in 4 days. I do read a lot more than the average person, but it still normally takes me 3 or 4 weeks to get through an entire non-fiction book. This one, however, was so captivating, and was so easy to follow, that I just breezed right through it. It's probably the first major publication on this topic (textual criticism) to be written for laypeople and casual readers, as opposed to scholars and graduate students. And Ehrman does a fantastic job of taking this otherwise complex subject and describing it in such a way that it is very easy to follow and understand. The book is just absolutely fantastic, and I recommend it to anyone with an interest in how our modern Bibles came down to us from the original texts.
The thing that's interesting is that none of this is new material. Scholars and theologians have known literally since the very inception of Christianity in the 2nd and 3rd centuries that textual variants existed and were widespread. It was actually a topic of a lot of concern for many of the early church fathers, writing in the 2nd and 3rd centuries. Furthermore, the fact that the texts were frequently changed was a source of ammunition for many opponents of Christianity during those early years. For instance, as early as the 160's and 170's C.E. -- less than 100 years after many of the books were written -- the pagan philosopher Celsus -- who wrote an entire book condemning the Christian religion -- pointed out that one of the reasons Christianity was so suspect is because they frequently altered and amended their own holy texts to fit changing theologies and to counter "heretical" belief systems.
Ehrman points out again and again throughout the book that the vast majority of the variations among the texts are minor and completely insignificant to the meaning of the passage. The book itself is actually dedicate to Bruce Metzger, who is almost universally regarded as the pre-eminent textual scholar in the world, and yet Metzger is also a traditionally believing Christian. Most of the variations are simply scribal mistakes...accidentally omitting a word or phrase here or there, or mispelling a word, or using the wrong word because of similarities in spelling (sort of like mixing up "for" and "four", for instance). The early Greek texts were very difficult to copy. They didn't write in those days the way we write now. The texts were actually written in what we would call a stream of consciousness -- there were no capital letters and lower case letters, and there was no punctuation. Furthermore, the writers frequently didn't even put spaces between words and sentences. itliterallywouldreadlikethistothehumaneyeandtherewouldbenospacesbetweenonesenten
ceandthenext
You can see how tedious the job of copying a manuscript would be. Not only would the eye quickly weaken, but it would be very easy to accidentally write the wrong word. For instance, consider this phrase: ilookedatthetableandsawabundancethere. Does that say that I saw a table with a lot of food on it, or does it say that I saw a table where a bun got up and started dancing? So you can see how mistakes would be common and wide-spread. Furthermore, in the earliest centuries, most of the scribes were not professionals, but were instead amatuers from various Christian communities who happened to know how to read and write, and so would be asked to make copies. For this reason, and against what might otherwise seem self-evident, our earliest sources are frequently the ones that have the most mistakes and variations. Those amatuer Christian scribes were also more likely to make intentional changes based on their own theological interpretations, as opposed to the later professional scribes who may not have been Christians at all, but were simply being paid to make copies.
But while most of the changes were simple mistakes, some of the changes were very obviously deliberate, and by using the scientific investigative method, one can make strong arguments for why a text may have been deliberately altered. Even in most of those cases, the alteration wasn't greatly significant, and in most cases, the scribe who changed it wasn't doing it because of some ulterior motive, but because he honestly thought he was making the text "correct" (for instance, he might have assumed the manuscript had an error in it, so he would change what he thought was an error, but was in fact changing something that was authentic).
However, there are a few cases here and there where deliberate changes singificantly altered the theology of the passage and sometimes even of the entire book. For instance, there is a passage in the book of John that in some early manuscripts refers to Jesus as "the unique God." This is a clear and obvious supportive statement for the concept of the Trinity and the doctrine that Jesus was God in the flesh. However, it is known to have been a scribal addition, not original to the text. The original text, in fact, called Jesus the "unique Son," not the "unique God," and the phraseology used was the exact same language that was used elsewhere in John. We know the phrase as "only begotten Son," but what it actually says is "the unique Son" (such as in the famous verse of John 3:16). Anyway, this is the same exact phrase used in the passage in question. But scribes later changed it to say "unique God," apparently attempting to insert language that would support their understanding of Jesus as God in the flesh. There are many other numerous examples of changes like this.
What sets this book apart, I think, in addition to its readability, is the fact that unlike most every other scholarly book I have read, this book deals largely in objective, indisputable facts, rather than the gathering of evidence and the assertion of a reasoned argument based on that evidence. There is some of that in this book, particularly when it comes deciding which particular text represents the variation, and which text represents the original. Often times it's easy to figure out which text has the change, and which text has the original, but other times it's not so easy.
But by and large, this book deals with objective facts rather than subjective analysis. People may not like knowing that the New Testament texts have been changed and altered, and that in some cases we simply cannot know with certainty what the original text said, but whether they like it or not, they cannot argue that the variations don't exist. We have the manuscripts, and we know they don't match up. This objective, indisputable fact alone should cause anyone to think twice before asserting that the Bible is the infallible inerrant word of God.
Even if one presupposes that the original texts were the infallible inerrant word of God, it's a rather meaningles proposition, because we don't have the originals, and we don't have copies of copies of copies of the originals, and in many cases we cannot be certain what the original actually said. Therefore, it seems that if God was going to take the trouble to inspire the originals, he should have also taken the trouble to ensure that the originals were transmitted perfectly down the ages to us. He didn't do this, however, which leads to the obvious conclusion that he probably didn't inspire the originals either.
This recognition on the part of Ehrman was what first caused him, as an evangelical Christian graduate student, to begin realizing that what he thought was the inspired infallible word of God was, in fact, nothing of the sort. The Bible as we know it today, was not only written by eminently human people, but has since been corrupted by human people too.
None of this, of course, means that nothing in the New Testament can be trusted as original material. As Ehrman points out numerous times, most of the variations are insignificant, and even with hundreds of thousands of variations, there are still plenty of places where just about every text agrees. The variations, then, don't negate the entirety of the texts, but they simply put into perspective that much of what we know as "Biblical truths" are not necessarily based on original material.
One really eye-opening change is the famous passage in John where Jesus is presented with a woman caught in adultery. The Pharisees are trying to trap him by asking whether she should be stoned, as the law of Moses commands. If he says yes, then he is contradicting his own message of love and mercy, but if he says no, then he is blaspheming and contradicting God's law. Instead of answering, Jesus is depicted as stooping to the ground and writing in the sand. What he writes is not revealed to us. After a few minutes, he looks up and makes one of his most famous statements: "You who is without sin should cast the first stone." The Pharisees walk away in shame, and then Jesus, once he is alone with the woman, tells her that if the others will not judge her, then neither will he, and he commands her to go in peace and sin no more.
This passage, as I said, is one of the most famous stories of Jesus known to Christians. "You who is without sin should cast the first stone" is an oft-repeated phrase that has been the source of countless sermons and teachings. I would think that there are very few Christians who are not familiar with this phrase. The passage has also been used by apologists to show that Jesus -- who is believed by most scholars to have been illiterate like most every other 1st century Jew in his social class -- actually could read and write, because he is depicted in this passage as writing in the sand.
The problem is, the story is not original, and this is known almost to the point of being universally accepted by scholars of all theological persuasions. It does not appear in any of our earliest manuscripts, and despite its current widespread popularity, it is never mentioned by any early Church fathers in their writings. In fact, it does not begin to appear in our manuscripts until the 5th and 6th centuries. And when it does first begin to appear, it is frequently inserted in different spots. Some of these manuscripts have it in chapter 7, some in chapter 15, some in chapter 21, etc. There is even one manuscript that puts it not in John at all, but in Luke! Clearly it was added at some late date by a scribe who was probably familiar with the story from oral tradition, or possibly from another text that is no longer in existence, and he decided it was important enough to be added into the Bible's Gospel tradition. It may very well represent an early oral memory of a scene involving Jesus, and in that sense, it may be a perfectly valid story about Jesus that simply, for whatever reason, was never originally included in any of our Gospels. But the fact remains that it was not original to the Gospel of John, and was instead added much later by an anonymous scribe from an anonymous source. It's also important to point out, on the issue of possibly being an early oral tradition, that it not only doesn't appear in any original texts of the Gospels, but it also isn't found in any of the non-biblical writings like the Gnostic gospels and the Gospel of Thomas and other early Christian accounts. This, then, would imply that whatever its origins are, it probably wasn't early.
Well, I've written way more than I intended. But if you have read everything I wrote, and find it as interesting and fascinating as I do, then you will love this book, because that's what the entire book is about. I can't recommend this book enough to Christians and others with an interest in this topic.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Lee Strobel: Biased Apologist or Champion of Intellectual Honesty?
In his books “The Case for Christ” and “The Case for the Real Jesus,” Christian apologetic writer Lee Strobel portrays liberal biblical scholars as approaching scholarship with predetermined agendas that color their presentation of the evidence. He suggests that instead of coming to the table with an unbiased perspective, these scholars have preconceived notions, and they subsequently gather, interpret, and present only the evidence that supports these notions. But is this a fair assessment? Are biblical scholars to be regarded as radicals with a skeptic’s agenda, or is Strobel himself guilty of the very biased methods he pins on his opponents? In fact, a simple comparison of the investigative and rhetorical methods of those like Strobel over against academically-trained biblical scholars reveals that Christian apologists, and evangelical scholars, are much more likely to bring bias and agenda into the picture.
Strobel himself is a journalist and lawyer who converted from atheism to Christianity in early adulthood. As such, he is not a trained biblical scholar, and his conversion was not based on scholarship, but rather on the decision that he needed God in his life (as most conversions are). In his defense, he does not pretend to be a scholar himself. His best-selling series of “The Case For” books are structured as journalistic investigations into the hot topics of traditional Christianity. His method of operation consists of interviews with biblical scholars discussing various theological components of Christianity.
In arguing that liberal scholars bring bias into the picture, Strobel routinely fails to provide much evidence for these assertions. Instead, he relies on disparaging hyperbole to paint these scholars in a negative light, while referring to those in his own camp with uplifting and respectful language. For instance, when referring to the traditionally-leaning scholar and Strobel confidant Ben Witherington, Strobel refers to him as the renowned “Ben Witherington III of Asbury Theological Seminary.” Yet when quoting “liberal” scholar Bart D. Ehrman, Strobel introduces him as “Bart Ehrman, the agnostic professor of religion at the University of North Carolina.” He fails to mention that Erhman is Princeton-educated, one of the most well-respected and best-selling scholarly writers on earth, and is, in fact, the head of religious studies at UNC, not simply a professor of religion.
Strobel also throws the word “liberal” around like a smelly fish. When referring to the scholars whose work he is attempting to deconstruct, he routinely makes sure to include this emotionally-charged word. Thus, John Shelby Spong is not an eminent scholar and retired bishop of the Episcopalian Church, but is instead just a “liberal” biblical scholar. The effect of this hyperbole is twofold. First, it tells the evangelicals who make up the vast majority of his readership that this scholar is not to be trusted. I know of very few evangelicals who put much stock in the views of liberal politicians or theologians. Second, the use of this word tells his readers that this scholar is no run-of-the-mill scholar, but is instead a “liberal” scholar. The implication, then, is that this scholar is a maverick on the fringe of the scholarly world. In fact, the far and away vast majority of biblical scholars would fall under the umbrella of “liberal” by any typical evangelical understanding of the word. To refer to a biblical scholar as a “liberal scholar” would be like referring to a police officer as a “gun-toting cop.” Not only is it redundant, but it creates a misleading negative connotation. Thus, Strobel effectively uses these kinds hyperbole to diminish the accomplishments of many biblical scholars, and to paint them as mavericks on the fringe of scholarship whose opinions cannot be trusted.
And all this happens before he even gets to the first word of his argument.
Nevertheless, and biased hyperbole aside, how does Strobel’s method of operation compare to that of the academics he accuses of scholarly prejudice?
As mentioned above, Strobel formats his books as no-nonsense journalistic investigations into the authenticity of Christianity, and he interviews biblical scholars to get their opinions on the “tough questions” that skeptics ask. In doing so, however, he chooses only those scholars whose body of work supports his own Christian beliefs. Thus, in “The Case for Christ,” we get ten or twelve interviews discussing ten or twelve separate hot topics, and each of the interviewees is a known traditionally-believing biblical scholar. In other words, his “fact witnesses” (as he calls them) are all established “friends” of evangelical Christianity. This holds true for his book “The Case for the Real Jesus” as well. Not a single interviewee in either book is an established “liberal” scholar – that is, any scholar whose work points away from traditional theology. Instead, much of the interview content is an effort to deconstruct the views of these so-called mavericks.
This leads to the next point on Strobel’s methods. In his books, Strobel will introduce a conclusion presented by a liberal scholar or noted skeptic (such as Elaine Pagels, Bart Ehrman, John Dominic Crossan, and a slew of others), give the gist of the conclusion (for instance, “Jesus of Nazareth never claimed to be the Jewish Messiah,”), and then proceed from there on a discussion with an evangelical scholar who proudly criticizes and attempts to demolish the conclusion. This demolition, naturally, includes a one-sided presentation of evidence very obviously fine-tuned to support the deconstruction.
What Strobel fails to do is provide both bodies of evidence in detail, thereby allowing the reader to determine the conclusion for him- or herself. Instead, Strobel presents only the conclusion of the scholar or skeptic (“Jesus of Nazareth never claimed to be the Jewish Messiah”), and intentionally leaves out the systematic gathering of evidence that was vital to the formation of the conclusion. Such an approach is analogous to putting a person on trial for murder, and then only allowing prosecution witnesses to testify. Strobel simply does not give his readers both sides of the story. To a traditionally-believing Christian, an assertion like “Jesus of Nazareth never claimed to be the Jewish Messiah” would be shocking and troubling, and it would be easy to convince them of the absurdity of such a statement by only producing evidence against it, rather than evidence both for and against. For a trained lawyer like Strobel (who, ironically enough, writes “The Case for Christ” against the metaphor of a court trial), this is unacceptable. Despite his altruistic claims to the contrary, it would seem clear that his motivations go beyond simple unbiased investigations.
In light of this, what do we see when we approach so-called “liberal” scholarship? Do these scholars bring biases and agendas to the table?
No reputable biblical scholar would ever claim to have absolute answers on anything relating to the Bible (which automatically puts them at odds with Bible literalists – like Strobel – who claim the Bible is historically factual and inerrant). The job of the biblical scholar, then, is to set aside personal belief, gather the available evidence, analyze the available texts, and make reasoned conclusions based on that investigation and study. This is the classic Socratic principle of “following the evidence wherever it leads,” even if it forces you to rethink your own beliefs and preconceived notions.
This method is exactly the method employed by the “liberal” scholars Strobel loves to denigrate in his books. Scholars like John Dominic Crossan, Karen Armstrong, Marcus Borg, James M. Robinson, Elaine Pagels, and Burton L. Mack (to name only a few out of thousands) have consistently put forth arguments in their books and scholarly papers that fall in line with the principle of following the evidence where it leads. Putting their own personal beliefs aside, they simply gather the evidence and draw reasoned conclusions. Any scholar of any subject who did not approach scholarship this way could not be considered a reputable scholar.
Having said this, what evidence can be found to illustrate these scholars’ willingness to lay aside agendas, preconceptions, and personal beliefs?
One way would be to study all the writings of these scholars for one’s self. That takes time. But on a more compact level, we can simply review the religious testimonies of many biblical scholars. In the world of biblical scholarship, are you more likely to find atheists, agnostics, and liberal Christians, or are you more likely to find evangelical and traditionally-believing Christians? Even traditionalists like Strobel can agree that most biblical scholars fall into the first camp (which is why he writes books to deconstruct their conclusions). Bring up the issue of biblical scholarship to an evangelical, and you will likely get heaped with scorn and/or pity and be reminded that Christianity is about faith, not science or the scientific method. This is illustrated most succinctly in the famous warning by St. Augustine in his “Confessions,” wherein he cautions Christians not to think too much about their faith and not to delve too deeply into history and scholarship. Martin Luther, the founder of Protestant theology, also gave dire warnings against intellectual theological pursuits, warning that "Reason is the greatest enemy that faith has," and suggesting that "Whoever wants to be a Christian should tear the eyes out of his reason." For St. Augustine, Martin Luther, and most every other Church father, reason and intellectualism were certain paths toward heresy. Why are they certain paths toward heresy? Because following the argument where it leads in regards to Christian theology is a sure-fire way to legitimize doubts, uncertainties, and suspicions regarding traditional Church doctrines.
But the religious leanings of most scholars, alone, do not tell us much about whether these scholars are intellectually honest. Maybe they started out as skeptics. Instead, to see the whole picture, we must also look at where most of these scholars began.
In fact, most people who choose to enter religious scholarship do so because they are already Christian believers. To name just a few, Bart Ehrman, Elaine Pagels, Marcus Borg, Robert M. Price, and John Shelby Spong all began their scholarly careers as traditionally-believing Christians. Yet for each of these scholars, and countless others, their willingness to engage in unbiased research, and to follow the argument wherever it led, ultimately conducted them away from traditional beliefs. Ehrman now calls himself an agnostic; Pagels, Borg, and Spong are all strong voices for progressive (that is, non-traditional) Christianity; and Price, despite having a doctorate in theology and being an ordained Baptist minister, has since renounced religion all together and is now an atheist. The personal spiritual paths of these named scholars mirror that of many hundreds of others in the field.
On the opposite side, how often does someone enter the field of biblical scholarship out of purely academic interests? How many scholars start off as atheists, agnostics, or progressive Christians? There are a few out there, but I do not personally know of any scholar, past or present, who began their scholarly career as an atheist or skeptic, and then converted to traditional Christian beliefs based on their scholarly work. Such a scholar may exist, but I am not familiar with him or her. In fact, the only traditionally-believing biblical scholars that I am familiar with began their careers as traditional believers, theologians, and evangelicals.
It is a simple fact that most biblical scholars start as traditional believers, and then their scholarship leads them to non-traditional forms of Christianity, agnosticism, or even atheism.
When the evidence is viewed this way, it casts a long cloud of suspicion and doubt on those biblical scholars whose scholarship serves simply to confirm their beliefs, rather than to send them on a divergent path. It would be hard for a scholar to convince anyone that they began their scholarly career as a traditional believer, spent their career gathering and analyzing evidence, and in the end determined that the evidence showed they had been right all along. Yet this is, in fact, precisely what Lee Strobel does in his various books. He begins from a position of traditional beliefs, puts together only that evidence which supports his beliefs, and then concludes that all the evidence reinforces what the Church has been teaching all along. In the academic world, this is known as pseudo-scholarship, and Strobel is one of the modern kings.
Of course, it is certainly possible to draw a conclusion about something based on a gut feeling, and then later investigate its reliability and determine that your feeling was correct. For instance, someone may conclude that Japanese cars are better than American cars, based on gut feelings about the Japanese work ethic. After developing this “gut feeling,” this person may then actually look at the evidence and determine that, in fact, Japanese cars are more reliable than American cars. But car reliability – or any other simple analogy one might think of – is a far cry from the vast field of religious persuasion and revelation. It seems unlikely that a truly intellectually honest look at Christian history and biblical scholarship would only serve to reinforce traditional doctrine, dogma, and theology. Again, if that were the case, why do so many evangelicals, and why do Church figures such as St. Augustine and Martin Luther, warn so stringently against it? It would seem that they, in fact, agree: intellectually honest scholarship negatively impacts traditional faith.
In the end, Lee Strobel’s method of operation betrays his biased agenda. He uses hyperbole to diminish the accomplishments of his enemies and to paint them erroneously as fringe mavericks whose work cannot be trusted; he gathers only the evidence that supports his predetermined beliefs; and he intentionally fails to present the evidence of the skeptics and “liberals,” presumably out of fear that it might weaken his position. Furthermore, he accuses his enemies of agenda and bias, despite the fact that the vast body of evidence seems to point to the exact opposite conclusion regarding mainstream biblical scholars. The very fact that most biblical scholars start as traditional believers, and end up as skeptics and liberals, indicates that they are, in fact, approaching the field without bias or agenda. It would seem, then, that Strobel is guilty of the very “sin” he accuses his enemies of committing – blatant intellectual dishonesty.
I think Shakespeare said it best in “Hamlet”: Methinks thou dost protest too much, Mr. Strobel.
Strobel himself is a journalist and lawyer who converted from atheism to Christianity in early adulthood. As such, he is not a trained biblical scholar, and his conversion was not based on scholarship, but rather on the decision that he needed God in his life (as most conversions are). In his defense, he does not pretend to be a scholar himself. His best-selling series of “The Case For” books are structured as journalistic investigations into the hot topics of traditional Christianity. His method of operation consists of interviews with biblical scholars discussing various theological components of Christianity.
In arguing that liberal scholars bring bias into the picture, Strobel routinely fails to provide much evidence for these assertions. Instead, he relies on disparaging hyperbole to paint these scholars in a negative light, while referring to those in his own camp with uplifting and respectful language. For instance, when referring to the traditionally-leaning scholar and Strobel confidant Ben Witherington, Strobel refers to him as the renowned “Ben Witherington III of Asbury Theological Seminary.” Yet when quoting “liberal” scholar Bart D. Ehrman, Strobel introduces him as “Bart Ehrman, the agnostic professor of religion at the University of North Carolina.” He fails to mention that Erhman is Princeton-educated, one of the most well-respected and best-selling scholarly writers on earth, and is, in fact, the head of religious studies at UNC, not simply a professor of religion.
Strobel also throws the word “liberal” around like a smelly fish. When referring to the scholars whose work he is attempting to deconstruct, he routinely makes sure to include this emotionally-charged word. Thus, John Shelby Spong is not an eminent scholar and retired bishop of the Episcopalian Church, but is instead just a “liberal” biblical scholar. The effect of this hyperbole is twofold. First, it tells the evangelicals who make up the vast majority of his readership that this scholar is not to be trusted. I know of very few evangelicals who put much stock in the views of liberal politicians or theologians. Second, the use of this word tells his readers that this scholar is no run-of-the-mill scholar, but is instead a “liberal” scholar. The implication, then, is that this scholar is a maverick on the fringe of the scholarly world. In fact, the far and away vast majority of biblical scholars would fall under the umbrella of “liberal” by any typical evangelical understanding of the word. To refer to a biblical scholar as a “liberal scholar” would be like referring to a police officer as a “gun-toting cop.” Not only is it redundant, but it creates a misleading negative connotation. Thus, Strobel effectively uses these kinds hyperbole to diminish the accomplishments of many biblical scholars, and to paint them as mavericks on the fringe of scholarship whose opinions cannot be trusted.
And all this happens before he even gets to the first word of his argument.
Nevertheless, and biased hyperbole aside, how does Strobel’s method of operation compare to that of the academics he accuses of scholarly prejudice?
As mentioned above, Strobel formats his books as no-nonsense journalistic investigations into the authenticity of Christianity, and he interviews biblical scholars to get their opinions on the “tough questions” that skeptics ask. In doing so, however, he chooses only those scholars whose body of work supports his own Christian beliefs. Thus, in “The Case for Christ,” we get ten or twelve interviews discussing ten or twelve separate hot topics, and each of the interviewees is a known traditionally-believing biblical scholar. In other words, his “fact witnesses” (as he calls them) are all established “friends” of evangelical Christianity. This holds true for his book “The Case for the Real Jesus” as well. Not a single interviewee in either book is an established “liberal” scholar – that is, any scholar whose work points away from traditional theology. Instead, much of the interview content is an effort to deconstruct the views of these so-called mavericks.
This leads to the next point on Strobel’s methods. In his books, Strobel will introduce a conclusion presented by a liberal scholar or noted skeptic (such as Elaine Pagels, Bart Ehrman, John Dominic Crossan, and a slew of others), give the gist of the conclusion (for instance, “Jesus of Nazareth never claimed to be the Jewish Messiah,”), and then proceed from there on a discussion with an evangelical scholar who proudly criticizes and attempts to demolish the conclusion. This demolition, naturally, includes a one-sided presentation of evidence very obviously fine-tuned to support the deconstruction.
What Strobel fails to do is provide both bodies of evidence in detail, thereby allowing the reader to determine the conclusion for him- or herself. Instead, Strobel presents only the conclusion of the scholar or skeptic (“Jesus of Nazareth never claimed to be the Jewish Messiah”), and intentionally leaves out the systematic gathering of evidence that was vital to the formation of the conclusion. Such an approach is analogous to putting a person on trial for murder, and then only allowing prosecution witnesses to testify. Strobel simply does not give his readers both sides of the story. To a traditionally-believing Christian, an assertion like “Jesus of Nazareth never claimed to be the Jewish Messiah” would be shocking and troubling, and it would be easy to convince them of the absurdity of such a statement by only producing evidence against it, rather than evidence both for and against. For a trained lawyer like Strobel (who, ironically enough, writes “The Case for Christ” against the metaphor of a court trial), this is unacceptable. Despite his altruistic claims to the contrary, it would seem clear that his motivations go beyond simple unbiased investigations.
In light of this, what do we see when we approach so-called “liberal” scholarship? Do these scholars bring biases and agendas to the table?
No reputable biblical scholar would ever claim to have absolute answers on anything relating to the Bible (which automatically puts them at odds with Bible literalists – like Strobel – who claim the Bible is historically factual and inerrant). The job of the biblical scholar, then, is to set aside personal belief, gather the available evidence, analyze the available texts, and make reasoned conclusions based on that investigation and study. This is the classic Socratic principle of “following the evidence wherever it leads,” even if it forces you to rethink your own beliefs and preconceived notions.
This method is exactly the method employed by the “liberal” scholars Strobel loves to denigrate in his books. Scholars like John Dominic Crossan, Karen Armstrong, Marcus Borg, James M. Robinson, Elaine Pagels, and Burton L. Mack (to name only a few out of thousands) have consistently put forth arguments in their books and scholarly papers that fall in line with the principle of following the evidence where it leads. Putting their own personal beliefs aside, they simply gather the evidence and draw reasoned conclusions. Any scholar of any subject who did not approach scholarship this way could not be considered a reputable scholar.
Having said this, what evidence can be found to illustrate these scholars’ willingness to lay aside agendas, preconceptions, and personal beliefs?
One way would be to study all the writings of these scholars for one’s self. That takes time. But on a more compact level, we can simply review the religious testimonies of many biblical scholars. In the world of biblical scholarship, are you more likely to find atheists, agnostics, and liberal Christians, or are you more likely to find evangelical and traditionally-believing Christians? Even traditionalists like Strobel can agree that most biblical scholars fall into the first camp (which is why he writes books to deconstruct their conclusions). Bring up the issue of biblical scholarship to an evangelical, and you will likely get heaped with scorn and/or pity and be reminded that Christianity is about faith, not science or the scientific method. This is illustrated most succinctly in the famous warning by St. Augustine in his “Confessions,” wherein he cautions Christians not to think too much about their faith and not to delve too deeply into history and scholarship. Martin Luther, the founder of Protestant theology, also gave dire warnings against intellectual theological pursuits, warning that "Reason is the greatest enemy that faith has," and suggesting that "Whoever wants to be a Christian should tear the eyes out of his reason." For St. Augustine, Martin Luther, and most every other Church father, reason and intellectualism were certain paths toward heresy. Why are they certain paths toward heresy? Because following the argument where it leads in regards to Christian theology is a sure-fire way to legitimize doubts, uncertainties, and suspicions regarding traditional Church doctrines.
But the religious leanings of most scholars, alone, do not tell us much about whether these scholars are intellectually honest. Maybe they started out as skeptics. Instead, to see the whole picture, we must also look at where most of these scholars began.
In fact, most people who choose to enter religious scholarship do so because they are already Christian believers. To name just a few, Bart Ehrman, Elaine Pagels, Marcus Borg, Robert M. Price, and John Shelby Spong all began their scholarly careers as traditionally-believing Christians. Yet for each of these scholars, and countless others, their willingness to engage in unbiased research, and to follow the argument wherever it led, ultimately conducted them away from traditional beliefs. Ehrman now calls himself an agnostic; Pagels, Borg, and Spong are all strong voices for progressive (that is, non-traditional) Christianity; and Price, despite having a doctorate in theology and being an ordained Baptist minister, has since renounced religion all together and is now an atheist. The personal spiritual paths of these named scholars mirror that of many hundreds of others in the field.
On the opposite side, how often does someone enter the field of biblical scholarship out of purely academic interests? How many scholars start off as atheists, agnostics, or progressive Christians? There are a few out there, but I do not personally know of any scholar, past or present, who began their scholarly career as an atheist or skeptic, and then converted to traditional Christian beliefs based on their scholarly work. Such a scholar may exist, but I am not familiar with him or her. In fact, the only traditionally-believing biblical scholars that I am familiar with began their careers as traditional believers, theologians, and evangelicals.
It is a simple fact that most biblical scholars start as traditional believers, and then their scholarship leads them to non-traditional forms of Christianity, agnosticism, or even atheism.
When the evidence is viewed this way, it casts a long cloud of suspicion and doubt on those biblical scholars whose scholarship serves simply to confirm their beliefs, rather than to send them on a divergent path. It would be hard for a scholar to convince anyone that they began their scholarly career as a traditional believer, spent their career gathering and analyzing evidence, and in the end determined that the evidence showed they had been right all along. Yet this is, in fact, precisely what Lee Strobel does in his various books. He begins from a position of traditional beliefs, puts together only that evidence which supports his beliefs, and then concludes that all the evidence reinforces what the Church has been teaching all along. In the academic world, this is known as pseudo-scholarship, and Strobel is one of the modern kings.
Of course, it is certainly possible to draw a conclusion about something based on a gut feeling, and then later investigate its reliability and determine that your feeling was correct. For instance, someone may conclude that Japanese cars are better than American cars, based on gut feelings about the Japanese work ethic. After developing this “gut feeling,” this person may then actually look at the evidence and determine that, in fact, Japanese cars are more reliable than American cars. But car reliability – or any other simple analogy one might think of – is a far cry from the vast field of religious persuasion and revelation. It seems unlikely that a truly intellectually honest look at Christian history and biblical scholarship would only serve to reinforce traditional doctrine, dogma, and theology. Again, if that were the case, why do so many evangelicals, and why do Church figures such as St. Augustine and Martin Luther, warn so stringently against it? It would seem that they, in fact, agree: intellectually honest scholarship negatively impacts traditional faith.
In the end, Lee Strobel’s method of operation betrays his biased agenda. He uses hyperbole to diminish the accomplishments of his enemies and to paint them erroneously as fringe mavericks whose work cannot be trusted; he gathers only the evidence that supports his predetermined beliefs; and he intentionally fails to present the evidence of the skeptics and “liberals,” presumably out of fear that it might weaken his position. Furthermore, he accuses his enemies of agenda and bias, despite the fact that the vast body of evidence seems to point to the exact opposite conclusion regarding mainstream biblical scholars. The very fact that most biblical scholars start as traditional believers, and end up as skeptics and liberals, indicates that they are, in fact, approaching the field without bias or agenda. It would seem, then, that Strobel is guilty of the very “sin” he accuses his enemies of committing – blatant intellectual dishonesty.
I think Shakespeare said it best in “Hamlet”: Methinks thou dost protest too much, Mr. Strobel.
Friday, December 15, 2006
A Christmas Carol
"The poulterers' shops were still half open, and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence."
Over the last few days, I read Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol for the first time. Of course, I have seen the story done on stage a number of times (mostly as a child), and the various movies are a yearly Christmas tradition. (My favorite, as many of you might know, is Albert Finney's portrayal in the early 1970's British musical version "Scrooge." I've already watched it once this year, and may do so again.) But despite being very familiar with the story itself through stage and film, and despite having bought a copy of the book some years back, I had never taken the time to sit down and read the story.
So, having bought a new edition of the book after Christmas last year, I finally sat down a few days ago and began the original story.
It was absolutely sublime!
As much as I love the film and stage adaptations of the story, the book was just wonderful. So full of color and imagination and description - you could fairly feel the 19th century London cold, the piles of apples and oranges on the street carts, the hawkers calling out to passers-by bundled head-to-toe in woolen coats and boots.
This really is the quintessential Victorian Christmas story. I suppose I'm only about 170 years late in determining that, but now that I have read the story, I can see why it was such an instantaneous hit with readers. It was so successful during his lifetime, in fact, that Dickens began a tradition of writing Christmas stories every year. The edition of A Christmas Carol that I purchased last year has two other Dickens Christmas stories in it as well, although I have not yet dived into those two.
So I highly recommend this book. If you have seen any or most of the various Scrooge movies that have been made over the years, much of the book will be familiar, but there are a few scenes here and there that I have never seen re-enacted in a play or a movie, including a trip out to a mining colony on the coast of England, and a hovering ride over the English Channel to view Christmas on a Navy ship.
Even after all these years of watching movies and plays based upon this story, I was still moved, emotionally, while reading this book, particularly during the scenes with the Cratchit family. And at the end, I almost felt a tear well up when Scrooge showed up on his nephew's doorstep for Christmas Lunch.
I'll end this post with one of the more poignant passages from the book. The Ghost of Christmas Present has just reminded Scrooge of his harsh words about how if the poor are going to die "then they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population." The Ghost told him this after Scrooge expressed concern about whether or not Tiny Tim would die. The Ghost goes on to say the following:
"Man," said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! To hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust."
That last line, in particular, strikes a powerful chord. How relevent, 170 years downstream, and in another country, for the self-righteous protestations of the wealthy American!
Over the last few days, I read Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol for the first time. Of course, I have seen the story done on stage a number of times (mostly as a child), and the various movies are a yearly Christmas tradition. (My favorite, as many of you might know, is Albert Finney's portrayal in the early 1970's British musical version "Scrooge." I've already watched it once this year, and may do so again.) But despite being very familiar with the story itself through stage and film, and despite having bought a copy of the book some years back, I had never taken the time to sit down and read the story.
So, having bought a new edition of the book after Christmas last year, I finally sat down a few days ago and began the original story.
It was absolutely sublime!
As much as I love the film and stage adaptations of the story, the book was just wonderful. So full of color and imagination and description - you could fairly feel the 19th century London cold, the piles of apples and oranges on the street carts, the hawkers calling out to passers-by bundled head-to-toe in woolen coats and boots.
This really is the quintessential Victorian Christmas story. I suppose I'm only about 170 years late in determining that, but now that I have read the story, I can see why it was such an instantaneous hit with readers. It was so successful during his lifetime, in fact, that Dickens began a tradition of writing Christmas stories every year. The edition of A Christmas Carol that I purchased last year has two other Dickens Christmas stories in it as well, although I have not yet dived into those two.
So I highly recommend this book. If you have seen any or most of the various Scrooge movies that have been made over the years, much of the book will be familiar, but there are a few scenes here and there that I have never seen re-enacted in a play or a movie, including a trip out to a mining colony on the coast of England, and a hovering ride over the English Channel to view Christmas on a Navy ship.
Even after all these years of watching movies and plays based upon this story, I was still moved, emotionally, while reading this book, particularly during the scenes with the Cratchit family. And at the end, I almost felt a tear well up when Scrooge showed up on his nephew's doorstep for Christmas Lunch.
I'll end this post with one of the more poignant passages from the book. The Ghost of Christmas Present has just reminded Scrooge of his harsh words about how if the poor are going to die "then they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population." The Ghost told him this after Scrooge expressed concern about whether or not Tiny Tim would die. The Ghost goes on to say the following:
"Man," said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! To hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust."
That last line, in particular, strikes a powerful chord. How relevent, 170 years downstream, and in another country, for the self-righteous protestations of the wealthy American!
Monday, July 24, 2006
Book Report
Blue Like Jazz
By: Donald Miller
The subtitle of this book is “Non-Religious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality” and I think that sums the book up very well.
Miller has an endearing writing style: funny, sarcastic, very matter-of-fact and stripped of pretentiousness. On the back of the book, a critic says that Miller “is like Anne Lamott with testosterone...” This is a very accurate description, if you know who Anne Lamott is.
Miller seems (to me) to defy logic by basically being a progressive liberal evangelical Christian. I never would have thought such a thing were possible, but then again, he is from Oregon, and they’re all a little cracked out there, I believe.
He basically has an evangelical view of the basics of Christianity: God is an actual theistic Being; Satan is an actual Being and is in charge of the world and is responsible for trying to lead good people astray with temptation, selfish desires, bad thoughts, etc; Jesus was the divine Son of God, born of a virgin, died on the cross to save us from our sins, rose bodily on the 3rd day, and is now directly involved in the affairs of humans – leading, directing, guiding, supporting, answering prayers, setting forth a plan for our lives, etc. He believes fully in the Trinity, the Resurrection, and the divine inspiration of the bible, and he uses capitalized masculine pronouns to refer to God (i.e. “He” and “Him” and “His”).
Yet despite these things, he has a liberal progressive view of Christian spirituality. He speaks boldly and straight-forwardly about the hypocrisy of fundamentalist and even moderate Christians. He derides the Republican Party for their faux-Christian platitudes. He recounts a Bush protest he attended one of his friends, where they went around chanting and holding up war protest signs. He talks about how he enjoys the company of his atheist, hippie, pot-smoking friends a lot more than most of his Christian friends, and that those people taught him Godly love in a way that he never learned from other Christians. He talks about a pastor friend of his whom he refers to as Mark the Cussing Preacher. He speaks against the self-absorbed lifestyle of most Americans, including Christians, and all but endorses a basically communist economic view of society. He drives a motorcycle and drinks beer, and thinks that the primary role of a church should be community, love, and charity, with evangelism never even entering the picture.
I found myself constantly pushed and pulled by this book. At one point, about halfway through, I came very close to deciding to put the book up, because some of his evangelical ideas about the nature of God were so backward to me, and irritatingly in contrast with his otherwise progressive spiritual ideas. But I stuck it out and found several chapters later in the book that really resonated with me, particularly his chapters about the nature of love, money/wealth, and the human tendency for self-absorption.
If you’re interested in a witty, endearing, frank, partly-autobiographical book on the modern Christian lifestyle, this is a book that you will enjoy. It’s chock full of anecdotes, stories, humor, and even a couple of humorous, hand-drawn comic strips that he uses to illustrate some points.
If you’re offended by a Christian who talks about drinking, pot-smoking, and penguin sex, engages in Republican-bashing, talks positively about cussing pastors, atheist hippies, and atheist universities, and who uses the word “crap” continually, then this book is not for you.
By: Donald Miller
The subtitle of this book is “Non-Religious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality” and I think that sums the book up very well.
Miller has an endearing writing style: funny, sarcastic, very matter-of-fact and stripped of pretentiousness. On the back of the book, a critic says that Miller “is like Anne Lamott with testosterone...” This is a very accurate description, if you know who Anne Lamott is.
Miller seems (to me) to defy logic by basically being a progressive liberal evangelical Christian. I never would have thought such a thing were possible, but then again, he is from Oregon, and they’re all a little cracked out there, I believe.
He basically has an evangelical view of the basics of Christianity: God is an actual theistic Being; Satan is an actual Being and is in charge of the world and is responsible for trying to lead good people astray with temptation, selfish desires, bad thoughts, etc; Jesus was the divine Son of God, born of a virgin, died on the cross to save us from our sins, rose bodily on the 3rd day, and is now directly involved in the affairs of humans – leading, directing, guiding, supporting, answering prayers, setting forth a plan for our lives, etc. He believes fully in the Trinity, the Resurrection, and the divine inspiration of the bible, and he uses capitalized masculine pronouns to refer to God (i.e. “He” and “Him” and “His”).
Yet despite these things, he has a liberal progressive view of Christian spirituality. He speaks boldly and straight-forwardly about the hypocrisy of fundamentalist and even moderate Christians. He derides the Republican Party for their faux-Christian platitudes. He recounts a Bush protest he attended one of his friends, where they went around chanting and holding up war protest signs. He talks about how he enjoys the company of his atheist, hippie, pot-smoking friends a lot more than most of his Christian friends, and that those people taught him Godly love in a way that he never learned from other Christians. He talks about a pastor friend of his whom he refers to as Mark the Cussing Preacher. He speaks against the self-absorbed lifestyle of most Americans, including Christians, and all but endorses a basically communist economic view of society. He drives a motorcycle and drinks beer, and thinks that the primary role of a church should be community, love, and charity, with evangelism never even entering the picture.
I found myself constantly pushed and pulled by this book. At one point, about halfway through, I came very close to deciding to put the book up, because some of his evangelical ideas about the nature of God were so backward to me, and irritatingly in contrast with his otherwise progressive spiritual ideas. But I stuck it out and found several chapters later in the book that really resonated with me, particularly his chapters about the nature of love, money/wealth, and the human tendency for self-absorption.
If you’re interested in a witty, endearing, frank, partly-autobiographical book on the modern Christian lifestyle, this is a book that you will enjoy. It’s chock full of anecdotes, stories, humor, and even a couple of humorous, hand-drawn comic strips that he uses to illustrate some points.
If you’re offended by a Christian who talks about drinking, pot-smoking, and penguin sex, engages in Republican-bashing, talks positively about cussing pastors, atheist hippies, and atheist universities, and who uses the word “crap” continually, then this book is not for you.
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