Psalms of Solomon and Pauline Studies

This weekend I’ll be presenting my paper on “Psalms of Solomon and Pauline Studies” at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. The session occurs on Sunday from 1 to 3:30pm at the Hilton Bayfront (Sapphire Ballroom M). I’ll make a case that the Psalms of Solomon have more to offer the study of Paul than has been realized. By reading the Psalms of Solomon as a kind of poetry of resistance we can be more attuned to the ways that these psalms functioned for their readers in helping them maintain their deuteronomic and covenantal perspective in the face of current events that might otherwise have led to despair and even abandonment of their cultural and religious traditions. We can also recognize that Paul would have been familiar not just with the theological content within the Psalms of Solomon but more so with the praxis of poetic resistance which they represented--a tradition with deep roots in the Hebrew Scriptures (see the work of Hugh Page along these lines). Thus when Paul uses bits of early Christian psalms or hymns about Christ, we can consider that these may likewise be instances of Paul’s own poetic practice of resistance as he offers his readers an alternative vision of reality from that which was on offer in the world around them.

In addition to the papers of my fellow presenters, prepared responses to my paper are to be given by Pamela Eisenbaum, Iliff School of Theology, Ward Blanton, University of Kent at Canterbury, and N. T. Wright, University of St. Andrews.

Toward a Philosophy of Integrated Learning

In the first chapter of The Heart of Higher Education: A Call to Renewal, Parker Palmer outlines some elements that contribute to a philosophy of what he and others have called “integrated education.” Integrated learning models typically center on techniques and approaches to learning that can help bridge the gap between discrete disciplines and enable students to make connections across the curriculum in ways that are holistic rather than piecemeal. These models include many now familiar elements such as capstone courses, linked courses, service learning, team teaching, first-year experiences, and other creative ways of engaging students as whole persons. While the value of many of these techniques have been recognized, in his chapter “Toward a Philosophy of Integrated Learning,” Palmer addresses not the practices themselves but an underlying philosophy of education that drives the integrated education model. He does this by outlining four categories: ontology, epistemology, pedagogy, and ethics.

The “ontological reality” that Palmer discusses (pp. 25-26) is based on new developments in science that have moved from atomic theory (an understanding of reality as a bunch of individual atoms) to a quantum theory which sees each particle as existing only in relation to other particles. This more relational approach to reality leads to seeing the cosmos as “a historical community of interdependent beings” (citing Ian Barbour). This understanding supports learning that is integrated and understood in ways that are interactive and interconnected across many disciplines.

Palmer discusses an “epistemological necessity” (pp. 27-29), by which he means that “we cannot know this communal reality truly and well unless we ourselves are consciously and actively in community with it as knowers” (27). Here he draws on Polanyi’s Personal Knowledge. He also discusses the issue of objectivity and argues that one can “know a relational reality only by being in relation to it” (28). He gives a terrific example of geneticist and Nobel Prize winner Barbara McCLintock who eschews remaining distant and objective: “Over and over again she tells us one must have the time to look, the patience to ‘hear what the material has to say to you,’ the openness to ‘let it come to you.’ Above all, one must have ‘a feeling for the organism.’“ (28, citing Evelyn Fox Keller’s book chronicling her work). As a scholar of early Jewish and Christian texts, I was struck by this statement and the realization that my own study of these texts has been most enlivened when I’ve approached these texts not as “ancient artifacts to be studied” but as the words of poets and authors who wished to communicate something that was of deep significance to them as human beings.

As “a pedagogical asset” (pp. 29-31) the ontology and epistemology lead to teaching that attends to the nature of the relationships between teacher and student, student and student, and student and subject. Hospitality becomes a key feature here as space is made for safe relationships where—I was surprised to see—academic and intellectual rigor can be expected. This approach to teaching brings together the “hard” virtues of scholarship and the “soft” virtues of community so that the deepest kind of learning can take place.

The “ethical corrective” (pp. 31-33) of which Palmer writes is the result of this relational learning: it results in an engagement with the world with a moral component. Not as an “add-on” but as a natural consequence of relating to the material rather than objectively learning facts about it. Palmer gives an example of his own learning about the Holocaust (in an objective way) versus later coming to grips with the kinds of systemic practices and forces which lay behind the Holocaust and continue to shape aspects of human existence even in Palmer’s own world and own mind.

In these ways, Palmer outlines a compelling case for seeing integrative education as a model for education that accords with the latest scientific research on the nature of reality as being interconnected and relational, that aligns with the rich and deep ways in which humans can truly come to know things, that has specific implications for classroom instruction, and that leads to meaningful ethical reflection rather than an artificial, ethically-stunted distance from a given subject. Those unfamiliar with the work of Parker Palmer but who are interested in seeing their students grow and learn in ways that prepare them for lives of meaningful service beyond the walls of the university will find some welcome assistance here in understanding why those aspirations make sense and why they should not be abandoned even in the face of many other pressures.

Lucian's "The Ignorant Book Collector:" When a Classic Hits a Little too Close to Home

My former professor and good friend David Aune recently passed on to me a generous selection of some of the volumes he had collected from the Loeb Classical Library. I was thrilled to receive this kind gift since, as a doctoral student, I had only been able to acquire but a bare minimum of Loeb volumes, and in the intervening years, I have had little need to enhance my collection (being close to a university library at all times). But since my graduate student days I, like many, had become enamored with the sharp wit and incisive prose of Lucian (a second century Greek writer and satirist). My favorite was his "Alexander the False Prophet," and I am proud to say that I did already own the volume that contains that piece. So I was thus quite delighted to find among the volumes that David sent me volume three of the eight volumes of Lucian included in the LCL. Given my predilection for Lucian, this was the first of the volumes David sent me that I chose to spend some time looking through (with my apologies to Homer and Plutarch). On perusing the table of contents I was intrigued to find an essay entitled "The Ignorant Book Collector." As expected, the essay highlights the folly of an individual who prides himself in acquiring a large library of fine volumes in the hopes that he will gain a reputation as a learned and wise man among his peers. As I prepare to unload these green and red Loeb volumes onto my own office shelves, I cannot help but pause to consider the irony of having received this fine set of books in which the first thing I read is an essay which criticizes book owners who are not worthy of the books they possess. And so I'll quote Harmon's translation of a particular convicting paragraph of this essay:

What good, you strange person, will it do you to own them, when you do not understand their beauty and will never make use of it one whit more than a blind man would enjoy beauty in favourites ? To be sure you look at your books with your eyes open and quite as much as you like, and you read some of them aloud with great fluency, keeping your eyes in advance of your lips; but I do not consider that enough, unless you know the merits and defects of each passage in their contents, unless you understand what every sentence means, how to construe the words, what expressions have been accurately turned by the writer in accordance with the canon of good use, and what are false, illegitimate, and counterfeit. (Lucian, Vol. 3, LCL, p. 177 trans Harmon)

Ouch. To be sure, Lucian raises a high standard of what it would take to really be counted as a learned and erudite reader of ancient texts. I don't dare to hope to go so far as to "know the merits and defects of each passage" in my new collection of Loeb volumes. But I am reminded by his sarcasm and wit, once again, that the value of the classics for a scholar of Christianity and Judaism in antiquity is not so much in understanding the origins of key words or interesting parallels or giving in to "parallelomania," but rather in coming to grips with the thought world which informs ancient Greek and Roman authors of all stripes. With such a broad understanding, scholars of early Judaism and early Christianity can more fully appreciate the world in which educated Jews and Christians contributed their own works and can more effectively articulate the kind of meaningful connections by which these authors engaged the thoughts and hopes and fears of that world in light of their understanding of the actions of the God of Israel in history.

Accordingly, I am grateful to David for this kind gift. And I am energized, once again, as I aim not to be deserving of being counted as a distant descendant of Lucian's ignorant book collector, but instead to be counted among those who truly benefit from wide reading. Not to be known as someone with a passion for expensive books, but rather to be known as one who has begun to take the time to understand these books in ways that open up understanding and enhance my ability to think carefully, critically, and creatively. But for now, I should probably set as my first goal just to unpack the boxes and start reading.