Today oddly draining due to full influx of new information. For example, I now know of the mystery religons of Eleusis, dedicated primarily to Demeter and Persephone. They were open to males, females and slaves, and involved some kind of sacred ritual which no one was able to speak of. In all probablity this ritual involved something being said, something being done, and something being shown. Prof. Sexson is of the theory that the thing said may have been "rain concieves." I was immediately reminded of some ancient Chinese saying(can't remember where I heard it) describing how when it is raining the sky is making love to the earth. Anyway.

There is the word kerygma, which means proclamation. According to Frye, this is what the Bible is aimed at.

We also touched on the end of the book of Job, where God speaks to Job out of the whirlwind and says ( in essence) through a poem " Have you any conception of what I have to deal with as Creator of the universe? N0! I am mightier than you are! Be submissive!" I am reminded of Virginia Woolf's comment, upon reading Job, that she didnt' think God came out of it very well. I'm inclined to agree, to a certain extent. I do think that there is something to the idea discussed by Frye that doubt is not harmful to faith, but that it is the dialectical opposite of faith. And therefore, Job is getting at something that his three so-called friends(who say one must NEVER question God) are not.
Incidentally, I do think that the theory that Job(or at least the middle section of Job) was written by a Greek interesting. Highly unlikely but interesting.

Then on to the Gospel of Mark, the earliest of the synoptic Gospels. The writing style employed within it is(to use another word I learned today) parataxis, which means that the most frequently used words are "and" and "immediately".
One thing reading Mark, which stood out to me, was how very often after having performed a healing miracle Jesus tells the person(s) to tell no one. Which of course they do. Why?

I'll also have to ponder a bit on seeing the parable as an attack on the stuctures of one's expectations. Never really thought of that.

PS. Thank you for reassuring me even more in the conclusion I've reached that Dr. Laura sucks. Ignorance and intolerance typically do.

The Book of Ecclesiastes is one of the few instances in the Bible where we encounter epicureanism, which essentially boils down to this:Eat, drink and be merry for tommorrow you die. "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity!" This phrase is the book's motto, but through it we can also see an example of how it was dealt a hard hand in translation. The word in Hebrew, hevel, is exceedingly difficult to translate. It's literal meaning can be given, roughly, as "mist", "vapor" or "fog". So all endeavor is reduced to a fog, because all of us, the good the evil, the industrious and the lazy, the wise and the stupid, all come to the same end. We all die eventually. It's as Charlotte says in Charlotte's Web: "What's a life anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die."

And I also know how I can properly correct people who use that phrase, "the Patience of Job", particularly when employing it in a way that tries to uphold retributive justice. They, in all probability, concentrated only on the Prolougue and the Epilogue and ignored--or skimmed over--the whole middle section. In this section Job is very vocal in his insistence that he did not deserve all this shit happening to him, and even asks God to come down and explain why good people suffer and bad people don't. God does so, but he of course doesn't answer the question. He tells Job(and this is of course paraphrasing) "I am mightier then you are, and unknowable! Do you except this?!", to which Job(perhaps understandably humbled) says "Oh yes Lord! Forgive my impudent questions." But at least he had the guts to ask. And maybe that's all that ever really can be done is ask. I don't know.

I read the book of Job yesterday, but found out that we will be doing it and Ecclesiastes on Thursday. I also awoke to the understanding--which I can't really believe I didn't find out specifically while reading The Slave--that the Talmud is comprised of the Mishna and the Gemara. There's a bit less perplexion(sp?Is that even an actual word?) on my part now. I also think that I may want to read Singer's short story Gempol the Fool now. I admit that as a general rule I'm not partial to short stories(*ducking for cover as things are hurled at me in outrage*)but that one may end up among the ranks of the happy exceptions. If it's nearly as well written and profound as The Slave.

A society that doesn't honor its teachers is a doomed society. Did you read that Mr. Bush? Of course not; the Department of Homeland Security did and will probably be coming to cart me away.

I also know now that wisdom is hokmah in Hebrew, and that the Hebrew name for the Teacher in Ecclesiastes is Qohelath.

I did not know previously that Hamlet contains more question marks then any other play by Shakespeare, but I can also say that I'm not suprised that that is the case. It is a play that poses more questions than it answers, but that's why it's fascinating. Works of art or people(like Polonius) which purport to have all the answers in all likeihood do not, and bore us much more quickly then those pesky folks(like Hamlet) who do nothing but ask questions. Interesting how that works, I think.

I've (re)learned a few things. Among them, we can choose our own term paper topic, that polemical methods and fiction differ in what they can teach us but they still do teach, and that Wallace Stevens perfectly captures the essence of the idea that understanding simile and metaphor brings us another sense of conciousness(this is a notion I first touched with when I studied Stevens with a very dear friend).

I do think that there is something to the Longanus(sp?) approach to criticism; about whether or not something lifts us into the sublime. I can think of a few works of art(film and book and other) that I think produced such a sensation in myself, but I'm almost afraid that saying what they are would set up others for possible disappointment should they seek them out. However, we also discussed today how actual 'evidence' can't really prove or disprove whether or not something is real. Maybe the 74 elders did just see light playing on the mountains, as Martin Buber theorizes; does this mean that they weren't in the presence of Yahweh? NO. With this in mind, I'll mention my own petty artistic experiances of the sublime(first seeing Hayao Miyazaki's film Princess Mononoke, first in-depth reading of Romeo and Juliet, Michealangelo's David.... thank you for humoring me).

I also learned a few new words.Eschatology, which refers to notions of an End, and which can be understood either literally(as certain pernicous influences attempted to impart it to me when I was younger) or metaphorically. This latter is probably how the New Testament, and the book of Revelation(which in itself is the literal meaning of apocalypse; in Greek apo means remove, and calypsus means veil- "Remove the veil"- Reveal) should be considered. This yields the understanding that the world is coming to an end all the time, we just don't realize it. When being told of this idea, I couldn't help but think of Virginia Woolf, and Mrs. Dalloway. Which may or may not be at all relatable to the New Testament, but perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

The time has come for an in-depth entry on Singer's The Slave. I have posted previously that I found the book compulsively readable(and that it could make a good movie)and mentioned that it has aesthetic parallals to the Bible--particularily in regards to narrative irony--. Now is when I go into specifics.

The name of the protagonist is that of one of the Patriarchs: Jacob. When the novel opens, he has been a slave in the peasent village of Josefov for four years. He has fallen in love with his master's daughter Wanda, and she with him. But he feels tormented by his desire, principally because she is a Gentile. Eventually a plan is formulated: he will convert her(she is greatly willing) and they will run away. Alas, things do not go the way either of them quite suspect.
*I have been delibrately oblique in my plot description up to this point. However I will now be refering to events which transpire later in the book, which would be construed as spoilers.*

Other Biblical motifs abound: Wanda's name is changed to Sarah(like Sarai became Sarah), like Rachel she dies in childbirth, and the baby is named Benjamin. I was also reminded of Genesis in how the book covered such a vast amount of time and territory in a rather economical number of pages(148 pages). Singer's style is of course not even as close to being as spare and ellipitcal as the J writer, but that doesn't matter. But even deeper then this is the aforementioned vein of irony running throughout. Probably the most prominent instance in the story comes at the conclusion. Jacob, now very old, as returned from Israel to collect Sarah's remains in order to bury them at the Mount of Olives, along with himself when he dies. But he cannot find the spot where she was buried, and he dies in the morning. The villagers(some of whom actually remebering him from years ago) decide to bury him in one of the clear spots in the burial ground. But when they dig into the earth, they find the skeltel remains of a woman with blond hair, and realize this is the wife of Jacob, and bury him there as well. Wow.

There is also the question of theodicy throughout the novel. One example is the end of part three of Chapter four, with Wanda pondering the difference of fate between her father(dearly loved by her and dying) and the Bailiff's cruel, immoral son Stephan.

"Jacob said that God was just, that He rewarded the good and punished the wicked, but Stephan,idler, whoremaster, assasin, flourished like the oak, while her father, whose whole life had been dedicated to work and who had done injustice to no one, crumbled into ruins. What sort of justice was this?"(pg. 40)

And then the mistaken instances of ephipany that occur in Part Two. The first example of Sarah, who is passing as a mute, crying out when it appears that Jacob will be killed by Adam Pilitzky, the Christian land lord of their village. The event is interpreted as a miracle, and Sarah, previously derided is now regarded as a holy woman. In parts four through five of chapter nine a small band of pilgrims arrive at Jacob and Sarah's home. Yet another prime example of irony occurs when they are greeted by Jacob.

"'Good evening, visitors. Bless you.'

'Good evening rabbi,' the man answered in a deep, gruff voice.

'I am not a rabbi,' Jacob said, 'only a humble Jew.'

'God has granted you a saint for a wife,' one of the women answered, 'so you must be a saint also.'" (pg. 96).

The other instance of mistaken epiphany(or perhaps a mistaken view of the demonic would be more accurate)is when Sarah, delivering the baby, in great pain, begins to babble in Yiddish and Polish. The villagers believe her to be possesed by a devil, before inevitably, the truth is discerned.

These mistaken incidences of a supernatural prescence through a questioning eye on religon. But, I would argue, it is the ultimately uniting force of irony(Jacob and Wanda/Sarah do eventually manage to be to together, albiet not in the way that Jacob and planned) that signifies the presence of God in the world of this story.

I will note one more thing before ending. What does the title mean? Of course Jacob is a literal slave during Part One. But he also feels that he is a slave to forces that he cannot control, first to desire for Wanda and more enduringly, to the sense of divine will, however absent God may appear to be.

There are apparently two kinds of teaching and learning.
1.The kind that assumes you don't know something, and need to(Christian understanding).
2.The kind that asuumes you already know; you've just forgotten(Greek understanding).

This class has thus far operated under both understandings of teaching and learning. At least for me it has. Just like Northrop Frye's comments on page 92 that the Old Testament, while touching upon actual historical events, is not history and that the New Testament, though concerned with the life of an actual person, is not biography.

I also have (re)learned today that in the Koran passages are called surahs(sp?). I also feel stung--yet again-- by the irony that three major religous traditions that have expressed such intense animosity toward each other are so intimately connected in there roots.

The Midrash is a collection of rabbinical lore, and contained in it is an altered version of Exodus 4:24-26, where Moses is nearly consumed by a serpent before Zipporah circumcises their son, rather then nearly being killed by Yahweh(who is apparently anthropomorphic and bipolar). Of course Harold Bloom would say that this whole episode, which many have attempted to provide unsatisfactory explanations for, is ultimately uncanny and inexiplicable. And this is all it ever can be.

And I also now know what all ancient poetry is based upon: trying to make a certain thing happen by singing of it. As if there is a kind of elemental power in the human voice, used in song, that could somehow command change. Fascinating notion.

Alright, I'll stop. I've already been far too rambling and disjointed today.

We met in our groups today. The meeting was very brief, being as not many of us had actually read 1 and 2 Samuel. A decision was then reached to have it all read by next Thursday and then we would take our plan from there.

We also choose to break up presenting both sections of the book of Samuel: Four concentrating on 1 Samuel and five on 2 Samuel. As to the actual presentation, nothing has been settled upon as of yet.

I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.

The first information gleaned from today's class(aside from the fact that I am a poor pronouncer of peoples' names)was what Frye's chapter nine puts forth; namely that everything in the Book of Exodus is mirrored in the Gospels, particularily the freedom from bondage motif.

But there are other examples. Both contain an episode that could be described as the Slaughter of the Innocents. This grisly story is also one of twenty two points discussed in a book titled The Myth of the Birth of the Hero by Renke. An attempt is made by the Father/King to prevent the hero from growing up and usurping him by killing all the male children, but one manages to survive, who is of course the one who will defeat the Father/King. The hero is then raised by foster parents(the Pharoh's daughter with Moses, Joseph and Mary with Jesus) and we know little or nothing about their childhood, which can be a bit maddening for the reader, but never mind. And then at some point they learn the truth about who they are, and then must answer The Call. The hero can say "Yes!!" or can resist with all his might and still end up doing what he was destined to do.
Jesus, in his story, is typically understood to have a "Yes!!" response. Which is what makes Kazantzakis' The Last Temptation of Christ so intriguing and controversial, because he is depicted there as taking the opposite route and resisting. There is also the implication that he is stirred by feelings of romantic love, which really cheesed off fundamentalists everywhere, but I'll move on now.

The word heilsgeschichte, which is German for "holy history", catches the essence of how the Exodus story sits in Hebrew history. It is not concrete historical fact(far from it); rather it is a history embued with spiritual signifigance for this particular people. The Illiad could stand as a Grecian example.

And finally, two words and their shared similar signifigance: epiphany, which is a manifestation of the divine. And theophany, which is a revelation of God. Is there a difference between these two terms, however tenuous(sp?)? And if so, what is it exactly? I shall ponder on this.

Today we went over questions which will be on the test on Thursday. It was largely helpful reiteration, but I did learn something today which I did not know previously.

I learned that an etiology is a metaphorical or mythological explanation for why something is. For example: Snakes crawl on their bellies as punishment for encouraging the first humans to eat from the tree of knowledge, or woman have pain in childbirth as punishment for disobedience. Two examples that are closely linked and involve punishment. Didn't have that as the immediate intention, but there we go.

Not explanations that science would accept, obviously. But that is why it is mythological rather then factual.