The Adulterous Woman, Part 2: Suspense, Surprise, Primacy and Recency

About a year ago I was teaching Genesis 4 in a GD class that included the stake RS president. As we worked through the opening verses, she raised her hand and with some consternation reported that it looked like someone didn’t much care for Cain. Mentally, I gave her high marks for reading but when it came to verbalizing a response, I had to disabuse her of the idea that the Bible is “neutral.” The Bible is a great piece of ideological reading. Good readers are aware of its trick and techniques. Here’s a selection with some applicability to the story of the Adulterous Woman.

Suspense and Surprise

On one level, suspense and surprise are simply no-brainers. Everybody has seen a horror flick. A group of young women short on brassieres, brains, and batteries descend into a basement to investigate a noise. This is suspense. What will happen? And when something happens, you’re surprised. Although you now know what happened, it wasn’t what you expected…

But you would be amazed at how many readers of the Bible are either unaware or unresponsive in their study. It’s one of the reasons why folks sometimes think that Biblical narrative is boring. The absence of suspense and surprise pretty much defines boring.

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The Adulterous Woman, Part 1: The Narrator

A couple of weeks ago there was a partial reading of the story of the Adulterous Woman over on T&S. In that endeavor, the narrative-critical aspects of the story were not included. Since I have already ascended from dissy-Hell in order to drink gin from the bathtub with my homies, I think I’ll complement the earlier effort before I return. And since I seem to be totally unable to write anything shorter than War and Peace, this is going to have several installments.

Narrative criticism approaches biblical passages as literature, asking how a text communicates its message as a literary artifact. In general, narrative-critics of the Bible use the same methods as those used by those who study fiction. In specific cases, these methods are modified by an awareness of the time and distance that separates modern fiction from the ancient world. Narrative-critical approaches look at characters, rhetoric, style, syntax, plot, imagery, setting, tone, and point of view (focalization), among other things.

Standing above all this, however, is the narrator. Narrative critics look at the narrator as the one who selects the scenes that are shown, decides what characters say, sets the pace of the narration, evaluates characters, chooses how much background the reader knows, and provides the all-important “insider information” that helps us make sense of what we are reading. In the literary world of the Bible, the narrator, implied author, and real author are very closely aligned.

The narrator, then, is normally the reader’s best friend when it comes to understanding a story. The three-way relationship between the reader, the narrator, and the discourse is one of the most important aspects of narrative theory. And it naturally follows that when that relationship is rendered unreliable or otherwise ambiguous, interpretation becomes far more challenging.

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The Wisdom of Hannah

So…

I wrote this for a ward RS board meeting, just after finishing my third semester of Hebrew. And I was sooooo proud of what I could do! Now, it looks naive and sentimental to me.

On one level I cringe as I read it, but on another I smile as I remember what it was like in those wonderful, happy, first days of being able to actually deal with scripture. I was free of the constraints of English and of the enforced interpretation of another’s translation — free forever.

Read and smile with me, won’t you?

–Dissy-writing Mogget

The Wisdom of Hannah

Like many of the Bible’s great stories, the tale of the childless Hannah’s petition for her son Samuel is very short. Hannah’s husband is Elkanah. He has a second wife named Peninnah, by whom he has a number of children. The family makes a yearly pilgrimage to Shiloh. Shiloh is under the care of the over-tolerant Eli and his two thuggish sons, Hophni and Phineas. Each year during their stay at Shiloh, Peninnah torments Hannah over her barren condition, causing her to weep and to refuse participation in the ritual meal. Finally, Hannah takes the matter to the Lord and Samuel is born – Elkanah being something of an afterthought in the whole process.

Readings of this story traditionally focus on Hannah’s distress, seeing it solely in terms of a lack of fulfillment of her maternal instincts and perhaps a desire for relief from her co-wife Peninnah’s provocations. But this is too simple an analysis. It seems to me that there is a difference between Rachel’s lament to Jacob: “Give me children or I’ll die,” (Gen 30:1) and Hannah’s petition: “Lord of Host, if you really will look on your servants’ woe…and give your servant male seed, I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life…” (1Sam 1:11) Rachel’s lament is focused strictly inward, on herself. But Hannah’s petition has both an inward and an outward component. Hannah seems to think that the boy baby she’s asking for might also be something the Lord could use as well. In fact, she’s so sure of it that she makes it the centerpiece of her petition!

Now if this is the case, and I think it may be, then it has some significant consequences for our understanding of Hannah. Among other things, Hannah goes from being a simple country girl sunk in her own misery and waiting in a sort of mindless faith and humility to an alert, intelligent woman with the initiative to attempt a partnership with the Lord. So as we read the story together, I am going to point out more reasons why I think these things to be the case and to suggest a broader appraisal both of Hannah’s virtues and of how an appreciation for them might influence us.

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The Power of Symbols


A few recent posts in various blogs has got my thinking about symbols. Wade at The Straight and Narrow Blog and Mark Bulter at M* have both identified symbols in their posts. The issue here is how we are supposed to know a symbol when we see it, how we are supposed to know the correct interpretation of that symbol, and how we are supposed to act both mentally and materially in response to it. These issues have been debated at lenght among anthropologists.

From the 1960’s to the end of the 1980’s, symbolic anthropology ruled the academic roost. Mary Douglas, Clifford Geertz, Victor Turner and others argued that culture and religion were a system of symbols, “webs of signification” and members of a culture (or religion) interpreted these symbols in order to act and navigate the world. Geertz, who looked quite a bit at religion, described it primarily as a symbolic system that induced beliefs, dispositions, and behaviors in its interpretors. The attractiveness of symbolic anthropology in the academy at large is that it brought a wide variety of disciplines such as history, literature, anthroplogy, and linguistics under one common methodological umbrella, namely, the art of interpretation. However, it saw symobls (and rituals) as a stimulus and human behaviors as a response, without much to mediate that relationship.

Beginning in the 1990’s scholars of religion began to be increasingly skeptical of symbolic anthropology, precisely because it couldn’t explain the relationship between symbols and practices. How exactly does a symbol inculcate certain values, dispositions, beleifs, etc? Instead, scholars began to turn to “practice theory”, a particular anthroplogical approach developed mostly in France. Foucault, Bourdieu, Certeau and others focused on the relationship between cultural symbols (discourses) and practices. Anthropologists of religion such as Talal Asad picked up on these insights and showed how a wide variety of practices are involved in inculcating religious beleif from symbols. He argued that symbols themselves were inneffective at bringing about religious dispositions and behaviors without power that ensured the proper interpretation of symbols. He looks at how St. Augustine authorized the use of violent force against heretics who misunderstood the scriptures as a way of showing that the texts themselves could not be properly interpreted without the sword.

The cumulative effect of both anthropological approaches was to show that symbols are not natural. They are the products of traditions and that a variety of interpretations exist within and between religious cultures about the meanings of symbols. What practice theory also showed is that these symbols required power to ensure their proper interpretation and to give them to ability to have meaning.

As Mormons, we really don’t have a very deep reflective tradition on the power and nature of symbols. We seem to be stuck in a particular moment that sees symbols as naturally occuring or as self evident to astute observers, rather than the product of our own interpretation. As such, we are unwilling to see how our interpretations of symbols are produced within a superimposed ideology. Further, we tend to see symbols in a stimulus-response model and don’t consider how interpretations are authorized by our culture.

I guess the question that I have is what sorts of practices, disciplines, sanctions, etc are at work in the production of Mormon identity and the relationship between Mormon symbols (temple, scriptures, hierarchy, etc) and behavior? Note, these words sometimes have a negative valence, but for anthropologists, they are simply descriptive terms for how societies work. I want to know how Mormon society works, how its symbols are produced and how they produce Mormons.

The Death of Jesus in Mark IV

And so we come to the last of my little four part series. If you’ve just dropped in, the first three are below. Other than that, enjoy!

The Burial of Jesus

As the day draws to a close Mark’s readers are suddenly confronted with a bewildering set of religious and statutory complications regarding the corpse of Jesus. Jewish law required that the corpse be buried by sundown to prevent defilement of the land. Roman law prohibited removal of the body from the cross without permission of the prefect. Burial is a matter for the male disciples, but they are nowhere to be found. And in this case, the situation is more urgent because it is now late Friday and the Sabbath is approaching.

Like the great knot formed at the death of Jesus, this smaller tangle that has spun off the events on Golgotha must be unsnarled. But as the little knot slips free and Jesus is buried, the great knot will also begin to loosen, drawing Mark’s readers irresistibly forward toward a faint post-crucifixion future.

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The Death of Jesus in Mark III

Hello everyone! I had a good weekend but now, as usual, I need a rest. In any case, here is the third installment, covering Mark’s report of various initial reactions to the death of Jesus. The first to react is God, followed by the centurion. Finally, Mark mentions the fact that some women have been watching, as well… And if you’ve just wandered in, the first two pieces are below.

Reactions to the Death of Jesus

With the stark narration of the death of Jesus, attention begins to spill out from the cross. The first to respond is, appropriately, God, who now makes his interest immediately apparent. Next, a final bystander will speak. But this one, who must be presumed initially hostile, is apparently far more alert than those who stood around waiting for Elijah. As Mark tells the story:

“And the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom.

And when the centurion, which stood over against him, saw that he so cried out and gave up the ghost, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God.”

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The Death of Jesus in Mark II

Just in case you have wandered in accidently, this is the second of a series on the death of Jesus in the Second Gospel. To find the first entry, scroll on down and make yourself right at home.

The Ninth Hour

In Gethsemane Jesus had addressed God, eloquently affirming his freely chosen submission to the divine will in spite of personal dismay (14:36). Now his isolation is so intense that the serenity which has characterized his behavior thus far finally breaks. When he calls out, after some three hours of darkness, it will be in the words of a scriptural passage that cannot be understood as anything other than an exquisite lament: “Elōi, Elōi, lama sabachthani,” translated “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” is what Mark reports and these words are, according to Mark, the only and final words spoken by Jesus from the cross.

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The Death of Jesus in Mark I

Some years ago, when I was a sweet, young Mogget, I thought to participate in Education Week by way of offering a four-class series on the death of Jesus in the Gospels. My intent was to bring out the unique theological insights offered by the authors of each of these exquisite pieces.

In order to compete for a position, I had to actually write up and give one of my proposed classes. In the end, my proposal was not accepted and I probably should not re-use my rejected work. But since things are getting exceedingly boring around here while I do dissy stuff, I guess I’ll serialize it and post it. You can make of it what you will.

The Death of Jesus in Mark

As Mark’s story of the mortal ministry of Jesus comes to a close in the Second Gospel, three major narrative strands running throughout the entire Gospel chave become tangled in a great and potentially insolvable knot:

–The first strand is the consistent failure of the disciples to recognize and respond to Jesus for who and what he is.

–The second strand is the failure of the Jewish leadership and polity to likewise react properly to Jesus.

–The third strand is the apparent, and I stress the word apparent, failure of Jesus in his mission and role as Son of God, Messiah, and herald of the approaching kingdom of God.

When Jesus dies, these three strands of real and apparent failure come together in a great tangle that to the mortal eye has no loose ends.

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The Armor of God

We pause for a brief NT interlude…mostly because I had to speak at a fireside last night. The year-long theme of the group has been the armor of God pericope from Eph 6:10-20. My part of the operation was v. 17, the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit.

But as a Bible Dork, I simply cannot confine myself to one verse. Text without context is pretext, or something like that. So here, for what it might be worth, are my notes.

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