On (Not) Doing Theology
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I've been reading Dr. John Dominic Crossan's God and Empire. Normally I don't like it when religion scholars do theology. The study of textual history and theology parted ways early in the 20th century and they are now two separate disciples with their own methods, their own reading lists, and their own degree programs. Textual historians are not members of the clergy or trained theologians (unless they also happen to have degrees from a seminary or have a second degree specifically in theology...) Textual historians are not in the business of telling churches what to do: we have never revised a line of any tradition's Faith and Practices or suggested changing any clause of the creed.
(We wish the churches would be gracious enough to return the courtesy.)
So I feel uneasy when I read Dr. Elaine Pagels' "Salon" interview and she answered questions about her personal beliefs and about contemporary religion, in general. I feel nervous at the recent Biblical Archaeology Review article where four scholars talk about their religious views. Belief (and unbelief) are deeply personal things, often shaped before any future scholar set foot in their degree program - and I think no religion scholar wishes anyone to take their personal views as some kind of professional endorsement for a particular spiritual perspective. It's part of our unstated professional code not to proselytize - and not to tear down — any religion. It's our job to be neutral, to make room for talk about religion that does not automatically become a firefight.
So Crossan's book also makes me uneasy. I've read the past several of his books (I've liked most of them) and I think he understands being a colonized people better than most in the field of Historical Jesus Studies. Despite my qualms, his book reminds me of Walter Wink's work, or Hans Jonas' - it is one of those deeply personal works of scholarship that seems to have felt something deeply true in its subject. We all strive for historical empathy, but these books succeed in a breath-catchingly accurate ways, they capture a spirit about the time that usually only months of reading primary sources (often in the original language) can give.
For example, there's a ... something ... about Manichaeism. A personality? An ethos? Knowing enough about it so Klimkeit's Gnosis on the Silk Road doesn't sound like gibberish is a start, is the point where I started to pick up on it - but now every Manichaean primary source I read has that same 'personality' to it ... the same way the people I know have dominant personality traits (being a trickster, being fussy and exacting, being warm and open, etc.) Now when I read the Dead Sea Scrolls, they also have a personality, an 'aura'; Manichaean sources do; certain Church Fathers do (of course they do, they're individuals) - but it's very hard to pin that sense down or convey it. I can say "That sounds Dead-Sea-Scrolly" and then I usually have to spend 20 minutes groping for why some non-Qumran text reminds me of the DSS.
Crossan conveys that sense about Historical Jesus Studies, and he says insightful things about life under Roman rule (which aren't easy to get at since most of our sources are people who were part of Roman rule...), and he's said fresh things (which I nearly hadn't thought possible) about the century-old scholarly argument on whether Jesus taught apocalypticism or not. (These old, intractable arguments usually exasperate (and bore)* me and I try to avoid them unless I'm liberally assured the author has something new to say.)
*Try being exasperated and bored - it's a difficult combination that has the length of boredom and the restlessness of pique. As I said, I try to avoid it....
I recommend Crossan's book, it's the kind of meditation all historians wish to produce after years of long and thoughtful study. One can argue with Crossan's understanding of how Roman rule worked (or how it impacted its subjects) - but Crossan has archaeology, history, and texts close at hand so that his 'what' of Roman rule (the legions, the Emperor Cult, the economics, provincial government) is difficult to dispute. It will make the best sense if you read the last five or so of his books in a row, but this book stands on its own, is thin, and is fairly easy sailing.
I suppose there is a subtle line: I've heard scholars of religion say "The first generations of Christians were radically inclusive — if you are Christian, how has your tradition kept or not kept that spirit?" I've heard them say, "There is some bitter and vituperative antisemitism in the Gospel of John — perhaps those of us who are Christians should take some care and thought before using those passages (in missionary work, in preaching, in Bible Study, etc.)" It's our job to get people to think things over and look into them more deeply, and I think Crossan's book has approached the boundary of theology more closely than most.
(Note: I support any scholar's right to say anything, I don't believe in shutting anyone up. And I may be wrong in my delicacy about religion as a personal matter; but if religion is an upsetting subject then I try not to come out of the gate with something immediately divisive.)
(Second Note: One of my professors was a scholar who loved to dismay people. I watched him long enough that I think this was deliberate, a way of teaching, a way of broadsiding people's capacity to take offense. (Most religion scholars choose instead to be polite and circumspect.) I've heard Crossan speak and have met him, briefly ... and I don't think he's the same way. Crossan is someone who speaks his mind no matter what the reaction — and article writers looking for good copy sometimes try to set him up as someone like my old professor. After years of reading and listening to both, there is a difference: Crossan's just plainspoken.)
-Kushana



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