Derek's Testing Corner
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Words that Hearken Us Back Somewhere
I found out in the process that I really like explaining things to people, and teaching them some new topic by bridging something that they know so far with that new thing. Go from the familiar to the unfamiliar, and you'll almost never go wrong.
Nowadays, I've been trying to spend my time studying a thing like the story of Jesus, my Lord, and it's making me wade into all these subjects I either have no background in, like the cultural significance of so many different words or activities for a 1st Century Jew, or never really used to be 100% good at, like realizing how certain characters must feel as things are happening, or that certain elements of the story continue on behind the scenes while new things are happening, when neither of those things are explicitly mentioned but instead let on. I've been having to stretch inside, in order to make room for all these new details, to learn to take them seriously, and to try to get them to penetrate to the centre of my being, instead of staying somewhere more sideline.
So, I guess I just want to share how I've worked through making some of these things I've studied matter more to me or be more real to me. I do this hoping that they'll be useful to people who are also trying to get their heads around what it's like to study this stuff for the first time, or are bumping into roadblocks, and I'll offer them now and then as I come up with them. Maybe all this'll do is reveal how far behind and foolish I am and help no-one. Well, I don't like that possibility, but we all gotta start from somewhere, even if that somewhere is really humbling as places go, and I'm no different.
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Words that Hearken Us Back Somewhere
...Mark introduces Jesus in a striking scene that tells us more about his identity:
Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. As Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." (Mark 1:9-11)
For the Spirit of God to be pictured as a dove is not particularly striking to us, but when Mark was writing, it was very rare. In the sacred writings of Judaism there is only one place where the Spirit of God is likened to a dove, and that is in the Targums, the Aramaic translaton of the Hebrew Scriptures that the Jews of Mark's time read.
I could understand from the outside well enough this idea. "If the Jews from this time grew up with, read, and therefore knew fairly well a bunch of works including the Targums, and if there was this one word that was so rare the Targums was the only work it showed up inside and Jews would notice and think of the Targums first if you used it, then Mark could reliably make a Jew think of the Targums if he used that word." (I had to spell everything out to myself because otherwise, it wouldn't have been crystal clear for me.) But what was it like from the inside to be taken elsewhere like that? What else do I know about that's like that?
And I came up with Pinky and the Brain! Pinky happily blurts out tons of words that are found nowhere else but with him, and if you hear one, you immediately think "Pinky." NARF. Poit! Zort! And troz! (I laughed so much when I remembered that one - Wikipedia says he started saying it when he found out it was zort in the mirror hahahaa) If culturally American university students attending classes this year grew up with 90s cable TV, watching cartoons as kids, and if Pinky and the Brain caught enough screen time in people's living rooms for lots of them to know Pinky's tics, then you could call up Pinky to many of those fine beings by using one of them. And I know what it's like to be reminded of Pinky.
Pretty much you can take any character in any kind of work that's ever had a catchphrase and get this from the inside. And it seems to be a device that's used a lot - words that cannot but recall something very specific in you if you're a first century Jew - and importantly. Here's why Mark wants to take you back to the Targums.
In the creation account, the book of Genesis 1:2 says that the Spirit hovered over the face of the waters. The Hebrew verb here means "flutter": the Spirit fluttered over the face of the waters. To capture this vivid image, the rabbis translated the passage for the Targums like this: "And the earth was without form and empty, and darkness was on the face of the deep, and the Spirit of God fluttered above the face of the waters like a dove, and God spoke: 'Let there be light.'" There are three parties active in the creation of the world: God, God's Spirit, and God's Word, through which he creates. The same three parties are present at Jesus's batpism: the Father, who is the voice; the Son, who is the Word; and the Spirit fluttering like a dove. Mark is deliberately pointing us back to the creation, to the very beginning of history. Just as the original creation of the world was a project of the triune God, Mark says, so the redemption of the world, the rescue and renewal of all things that is beginning now with the arrival of the King, is also a project of the triune God.
Sweet what he does even though he's just a fisherman.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Remarks on the Teaching of Philosophy of Religion
Those teaching evaluation reminder emails got to me. 'URGENT!' they cried, 'wait, and you'll never get to do us again!...' and I was finally drawn in on a day where there was so much else to do. I decided to splurge out a lot of thoughts I'd been having about my philosophy of religion class. Only some of them actually made it, but what came felt pretty substantial and made in good faith. In the Department question box: "What would you suggest to improve the course?" I gave them this short essay:
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The challenge of teaching philosophy of religion seems to be that religion is not something that most students coming into the course have much of a grounding in. It can be reasonably expected that those students trying out philosophy of mind, of science, or political philosophy have strong interests and backgrounds already in psychology, one or many natural sciences, or poli. science and international affairs. But the average student entering philosophy of religion is someone who hasn't devoted much focus in their lives to any religion, much less engaged it longly, deeply, and with the same patience, or genuine and good-natured aplomb they might for any of the other subjects above.
Two consequences follow, I think. 1) Students are less able to picture faithfully and charitably the phenomenon they are ostensibly philosophizing about - how will they create any examples of real penetration and depth of reflection? 2) They are forced to begin from whatever scraps of attitudes and ideas towards various religions are lying about popular culture. Many are negative of course. For instance, in the case of Christianity, it is news to them that scholarship in such fields as biblical studies or theology is brimming with vitality in many, if not all places, and are not just so much slavish and grovelling slobberings praising God (to name the worst of what people can think, not that all think like so), but rather instead can be absorbing, fascinating, and careful work, even for positions taken that are pro that religion. For Sam to have to bump into this attitude while he teaches, and wonder what he should do about it, knowing otherwise, probably makes him have to speak the unpopular position often, and more generally, it can be imagined that attitudes like these would represent a substantial obstacle to any student trying to engage or understand religion deeply, which is what a philosophy of religion should aim fundamentally to inculcate.
But perhaps a more helpful point about the ideas from popular culture that students come in with for the readers of this, as course-setters, is that they can often end up obscuring what the religion is actually like. I can draw another example out of Christianity, as being an adherent, it is easier for me to notice. Talk long enough about Christianity, and you may wander into epistemological justifications for it, and faith will come into the conversation, and you may hear a student make a comment that faith is belief in the face of the evidence, or conviction, or some such thing. But it is not. Faith is trust first, an aspect of a relationship between individuals where one, through acquaintance, or even a long (and possibly witheringly difficult) knowledge of the other, feels of the other that he is worthy of generally being given the benefit of the doubt, and when far enough, even being taken at his word, and it is through being this that faith starts having epistemological import. The key question is not whether taking others at their word is bad in principle, for we do this all the time when we read the nearest history text or listen to a prof expose us to new things - testimony and authority are legitimate sources of knowledge, or at least of their transmission. The key question has always been whether that source you are trusting is credible. And because trust over the matters Christianity speaks over has rather momentous consequences for the life of the truster, momentous enough to get the truster to not always know what to think of who he trusts, faith has another dimension to its character -> it is faith against appearances. As one writer roughly put it, “Faith is the art of not letting your emotions pull a blitzkreig on you when things are uncertain or not going right.” When I am told by the Arts Advisor that the skills I gain in philosophy are transferable, and make me a hot item among employers, will I be able to take her at her word, and for the whole of the next four years of my education not sometimes wonder cynically if I'd be better off in a vocational program for my daily bread and meat, and not one day wonder so hard that I pick up, leave, and become a med assistant instead? Faith of the Christian variety is a very similar affair. Fortunately, God is quite okay with the runners, leavers, frequent quitters, and those who don't always know quite what to think of him. His whole pleasure is that we are always invited back, and then into more. My point though, is just that if from the obfuscating effect popular culture has, students cannot produce accounts of basic religious phenomena like the above (like they might be able to for mental, natural, or social and political phenomena) because of where they come from, so much the worse for their understanding when they come out later on.
Just about the only thing that can be done about this is to promote simple exposure to what is possible within the religions, and to have a steely resolve to flesh out the real McCoy whenever misconceptions and misrepresentations crop up. I recognize that's a tall order, but I am trying to recognize what the problem I've pointed out seems to need. Professor Sam does a few things already in this direction. He does indicate his respect and interest wherever he has it for the many diverse authors we read, which can influence the way students regard who and what they're reading positively, and there have been points where he has not hesitated to point out that straw men are straw men, or at least indicate his discomfort while trying to leave a student's dignity intact.
What would make for something truly interesting and unprecedented would be if there was a component to the course where for each of the religions he taught something about, he'd cover “what it is like to be an adherent of this religion at the height of what their faith stands for,” lifting up some life dynamics, spiritual dynamics, or some individual that he himself genuinely felt inspired by, interested, or saw a lot of good in, that he could feel pleased to share with the class about. Sam could ask any religious friends he had true respect for where to go to find out about inspiring patterns and movements in the dynamics or day-to-day of a religious life. Like I've been saying, the students of philosophy of religion need exposure in order to picture properly what they're talking about. This, to my mind, would be the perfect way to get that. We always value comparing the strongest of everything with each other in philosophy, don't we?
It might be objected that this would take way too long and take up too much of the course within a single term. The arguments for God's existence and other topics do need to be covered at some point. But, well, religion is a big topic, and you are out to inculcate deep understanding of it, are you not? Start with a smattering of the ground phenomena, then. Couldn't a full-year course be tried out?
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I had a real nice chat with Professor Sam (name has been changed) in his office a week ago where I found out a lot about him, his interests and his past, and he told me that philosophy of religion used to actually be full-year before the department decided to shorten it. It was such a cool coincidence! I wonder if what I've written will get anyone who reads it to pause..