Greek is Finished
Well, last night, I turned in my last paper for my last Greek class. Including the title page, two page bibliography and appendixes for the final translation, text criticism, sentence diagrams and word/translation analysis, it rang in at 26 pages. (The actual main body text was something like 14-15 pages.)
It was the culmination of the most intense class I've ever taken. I worked countless hours on it, spending as much time as I could in previous weeks trying to assemble it (although the group project that included a presentation and 25 page paper, as well as translation of 1 Corinthians took precedent since they were due first), and basically did nothing but work on it over the last week. Despite that, I've never cut a paper so close to the deadline as this one: I finished the final draft at 5:35 and it was due at 6:15 yesterday — and I'm the type of guy that likes to have a paper finished at least 24 hours in advance.
That's when my computer started acting up and the printer messed up.
I caught the first set of errors, but not the second set after I sent the print job to my printer from my laptop. A lot of the Greek on the second print had been replaced with little square blocks. I did catch it on the way to Covenant, went to my godmother's house and e-mailed the paper so at least it would be in on time in some form. She journeyed with me to Covenant and gave me some moral support as a desperately tried to reformat the paper (it turned out the second set of errors was from the lack of various fonts on my laptop that I did not have easy access to install). The paper's sentence diagram was all scrambled up and had to be reformatted for the fonts on my laptop before it could be printed. Finally, I got the hard copy to print and delivered the paper to my professor's mailbox.
What a relief. This has been a Greek “bootcamp,” I do believe.
Later Dinner
So last night I was busy with my two projects for the final week of Greek in Exegesis and I didn't get around to dinner until about 8:00 p.m. As I sat at the table eating dinner and trying to think of something other than Greek, it dawned on me it almost felt like winter, despite being 85 degrees outside. It wasn't the temperature, though, you see, but the darkness. It's getting darker earlier again, and at 8:00 it had the certain look to the outdoors that appears closer to my usual 5:00 or 6:00 dinner time in the winter.
It's funny how a little light can make one feel so different!
Wretched Man that I Am
I always find myself drawn back to the following passage. Paul has razor sharp clarity and insight that is amazing throughout his letters, and leaves little wonder why his letters were unquestionably canonical. Though I am hardly preacher material, I cannot help by lapsing into something like a preaching mode when talking about the Pauline Epistles. Nevertheless, this passage offers such a sense that I know exactly what Paul is talking about that it really stands out; I am thankful for it… what a marvelous reminder of the grace of our Lord.
So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!
-Romans 7:21-25 (NIV)
Over at OFB
Well, since I've been a little slow posting here, let me mention what's going on over at Open for Business:
- FotoMagico is Pure Slideshow Magic — my review of a really amazing Mac software program. If you have a Mac and are a picture taker, checkout this review, you probably need this program.
- Desktop FreeBSD (Part 7) — Ed continues the second edition to his much acclaimed FreeBSD series.
- Clicking Off Interaction — My commentary on PowerPoint and similar products.
TQ: More Personal Stuff
Hat tip to Mark, as usual.
How do you sleep? Left side, right side, back or stomach.
Varies. Usually slightly on my side, mostly on my stomach.
How do you brush? Toothbrush, electric, tree bark, etc.
Only the freshest tree bark. Good stuff that tree bark.
Ahem. I have a regular and an electric toothbrush. I prefer the regular, though.
How do you do your hair? Air dry, blow dry, Head out of car on highway, style, no style.
Towel dry a bit, then air dry. I only stick my head out of the car to see if I can understand what it is that dogs enjoy so much about that experience. So far I have only been confirmed in my position of the superior nature of cats.
How do you wake yourself in the morning?
An alarm clock, when necessary.
What is the first thing that you do when you awake?
Preferably get a cup of coffee and read the Post-Dispatch.
What do you sleep on? Waterbed, spring, foam, floor, outside, etc etc.
A spring mattress with foam pillow top.
Note: The questions on this page written by Mark are governed by the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA 2.5 license. I believe my responses are allowed under fair use and therefore are not licensed under the Creative Commons license (I don't want people messing with adapting my personal opinions, thank you very much).
Running on Empty, But Still Going
I feel beat. After being in a fairly intense Greek class for over two months, preceeded by a three week vacation, preceeded by a full academic year of classes, I am tired. I'd like a break, but the next real break is in December. I am looking forward to the fall semester in as much as it will provide some academic variety again. Don't get me wrong, I've learned some great stuff in the Greek classes, and while Greek is still daunting, I can note a sense of feeling more comfortable with the language thanks to these classes, but I'm looking forward to spending some time on systematic theology (Covenant Theology I) and historical theology (Presbyterian History). It's just nice when my mind is feeling burnt out with many miles to go before I sleep, that I can at least change gears. That is only made better by the fact that those two fields are really “my” loves in the theological world.
Nevertheless, I cannot complain about this week, there have been good things mixed in with the work. The hot weather has the pool water warm, and I've taken some breaks to go swimming. And as a special, unexpected bonus, a non-descript box arrived from Roxio on Monday. I tried to figure out what it could be while I completed some work, and I remembered that I had entered an iPhone launch day contest at Roxio's site. The contest required one to send in a picture of oneself standing in line for an iPhone; the first 25 entries would receive a free copy of Roxio Crunch and there would be a grand prize winner of a fifth generation (a.k.a. video) iPod. I decided that the box must contain a boxed copy of Crunch. Surely, it couldn't be, could it? Well, actually it could. When I opened it, I found a black, 30 GB fifth generation iPod inside, with its sealed packaging carefully bubblewrapped. I must admit I was so sure it couldn't be that it took awhile for me to realize I had won. I'm listening to it right now. It sounds much the same as my 20 GB fourth generation iPod, but its fun playing around with the bright color screen, and the larger drive that supports photo syncing is a nice bonus.
Surely a week that includes winning a grand prize is a good week!
Zose Canaan Days I Use to Know
Well, I went to the Muny last night, and saw Joseph. It was spectacular. And if you haven't yet seen it, you should go get a ticket, or get there early and enjoy one of the free seats up on top. Though the sets were more subdued then the Fox Theatre's performance a few years back (with the Fox's broadway tour-ready stage), the Muny's talent actually outshone the Fox's performance, I thought.
What a show!
I've been spending the last week in partial sabbatical from the Internet as other things consumed my time. I'll be back to normal posting soon.
On Reading, Part III.2: Reader Response
Continuing from Part III.1 on Reader Response
A few more words, perhaps, should be said about Reader Response criticism. What did I mean when I said that Reader Response is not permission to interpret the text anyway that I might want? That's a good question. What Reader Response does is look, as I said, at certain types of “readers” that it creates to analyze the text. The control on this is that we are not interested in one individual, but in a comprehensive interpretation.
So, for example, I might create a Freudian reader, and look at how on average, using a Freudian model, I would interpret the text. A liberation theologian or Marxist would create an oppressed reader and look for key parts of the text as they appeal to the downtrodden. As for me, in as much as I would participate in Reader Response, I would likely provide a Jungian model of interpretation.
It has been my long term assertion that the Jungian model is better placed in the next school that we will look at, Mimeticism, but for the sake of argument, consider it here. If we assume that there are certain key archetypes embedded in humanity (whether you wish to call them part of natural law or be truly Jungian sounding and dub them the “collective unconscious”), then it stands to reasons that the text will be read with the reader constantly searching and meeting the text where the text can enter into the archetypal roles. Hamlet is the famous prince he is because we can read into him the role of the tragic hero, or — with only a little stretch of the imagination — a savior figure.
Norman Holland talks of “subjectivity questioning objectivity.” The good part of reader response is its focus on a dialectic. The text and the mind are in a constant conflict to create the poem (used in the looser sense, not the sense of verse). This explains why we enjoy texts that conflict with our views and we are prone to forget about simplistic texts that have no ambiguity or depth. There is little dialectical value in those texts. No text is completely free of dialect to be sure, otherwise it would be a mirror image of our mind, but certainly some texts are so poor as to come close.
The important point that this all leads up to, which a wonderful professor I studied under kept re-enforcing because it is so tempting to forget, is that Reader Response is not about how much I enjoy the text. While we can formulate that certain characteristics that will lead to people enjoying the text, such is totally irrelevant to the school's goal. This school is about applying systematic models of readers to the text, not about becoming a newspaper book reviewer who must give new books so many stars and suggest whether her readers will enjoy the book. To pull this whole series back into its starting point at exegesis, note that higher criticism is about interpretation, not reviewing.
With that said, I think we can now move on to Mimeticism with a fuller understanding about why I will argue shortly that one should reject Reader Response and argue that Mimeticism follows similar themes much more fruitfully.
On Reading, Part III.1: Reader Response
Continuing from Part II on the New Criticism
If New Criticism's formal method focused entirely on the text to the point of losing context, I would assert that Reader Response is its polar opposite. Reader Response makes two good assertions: first, it notes, as does formalism, the impossibility of really knowing the author. Certainly, once we admit that an author is not required to present himself as himself — and that is hard to deny, for writers often adopt personae in their writings either intentionally or unintentionally — this seems like common sense. Second, we cannot really know the text as the text either, for we can only know the text such as it interacts with us and we interpret it. This too is hard to deny.
If you sense that modernism is quickly slipping away as we move through critical schools, you would certainly not be far off. Reader Response rejects the idea of objective truth in the text. Instead, what is of interest is the meeting of the written word with the mind to form “the text.” Whenever I read something, I do not read it with the same connections between the words as the author did, but rather my own ideas and connections. I read into the text my hopes and aspirations, my fears and doubts. I find T.S. Eliot particularly appealing at times because I can connect with his characters — or rather I can connect with how I read his characters — that may not be the same thing.
Now, reader response is not a free for all. It is not permission to read whatever I want into the text. But, as a critical method, we might look into how a particular hypothetical audience would read the text. In religious studies, in particular, of interest is often the feminist or liberation readings of the text. These can thrive on Reader Response, since the emphasis can be placed on the text interacting with their modern concerns, rather than trying to keep the text as the text or as the author's intended result.
To be sure, some Reader Response critics come up with some interesting ideas, and I appreciate how they see that the reader is a significant participant in the reading process. Both as a writer and a reader, it is hard to deny the importance of the audience — intended or not — that reads the text. As will become clear in part V and VI, there is good reason for many of Reader Responses' arguments.
Nevertheless, I believe particularly in the realm of Scriptural interpretation, Reader Response is highly dangerous. By rejecting the quest to bound meaning within the guidelines of what historically or formally the text might have meant, even with careful, scholarly methods, Reader Response is a free pass to provide vastly wilder interpretations than are desirable. And not only with Scripture, but also with literature.
When studying the school, more than any other, I was left questioning the exact usefulness of its pursuits. It remains the least objective school in my estimation, and while it is interesting to consider how the words and person meet to form some kind of poem, it is not terribly helpful in a quest for meaning or being.
To get closer to that, we must move on.
Deja Vu
I'm driving home last night from class, listening to a familar song during the mild summer evening. A slight mist is in the air and the streetlights shine with clear beams to the ground. The song hits a familar yet somehow distant note — apparently it has been longer than I thought since I heard this song — and suddenly a particular day from October 2004 comes vividly to mind. I was coming home on a damp, mild autumn evening as the street lights shone down. Real, it is almost real. And with it, a familiar ache from that time, and, again, a different one almost wishing it was that time.
How time flies. Too slowly when the mysteries of upcoming days are yet to be unmasked, but too fast in retrospect of the days already revealed.
