This article deals with a highly debated text, namely 2 Maccabees 12, specifically the problematic verses (38–45) which contain a theology that is distinctly non-Jewish in import. Indeed, most recent scholars concerned with this passage do not seem to be unanimous apropos the best interpretation of the events that are described, resulting in a range of different opinions concerning, inter alia, the afterlife, purgatory and/or doctrinal disputes between Pharisees and Sadducees. By means of an interpretivist or constructivist epistemology, the authors (...) advocate that normally, traditional Judaism emphasises personal, individual responsibility and accountability, whereas in this text God is portrayed as requiring material, financial payment for wrongdoing and not individual תשובה [teshuvah]. This is in contradistinction to, inter alia, Exodus 30:11–16 and theologically Jewish ‘transgression’ has clearly metamorphosed into Christian ‘sin’. In addition, Judas Maccabeus seems to have retained a half-shekel methodology (employed for Jewish men of military age – soldiers) whilst emphasising the ‘atonement for your lives’ from Exodus 30:11–16 in a more literalistic, materialistic, non-Jewish sense whilst de-emphasising the real need to maintain the Temple as well as the proper, traditional rules of תשובה. (shrink)

The fifth commandment is part of the Ten Commandments that God gave to Moses on Mount Sinai. The Bible is the eternal word of God, so this fifth Law has a meaning that must be understood in the infinite dimension. The Bible gives the principle that if the man fails to do one of the commandments in the Law, then he has failed. There are many interpretations of this Law, but it only comes down to practical, ethical, and moral dimensions (...) because it solely focuses on the relevance of the present. The Bible states that the curse of the Law has been redeemed and fulfilled by Jesus Christ. After the resurrection, Jesus said that in the Torah, the Psalms and the Prophets written about Him. Thus Jesus gave a new concept of interpretation in understanding the Law. This principle is called the historical redemptive approach. The Bible states the culmination of completing all of Jesus' redemptive work is the time of the second coming in the realization of the new heaven and earth. Therefore, how to explain the relevance of the fifth Law in the context of eternity. This research focuses on the understanding of the Fifth Law in the eschatological dimension. (shrink)

The meaning of any given lexical item emerges from an analysis of its contextual usage, but with biblical languages, often a traditional gloss will be accepted as if it were the clear meaning of a lexical item. Lexicons and dictionaries rarely go all the way back to a fresh analysis of the actual usage of a lemma, so the traditional meaning is rarely reconsidered. Those learning biblical languages accept the lexicon’s judgement without stopping to reflect on how the lexicon reached (...) its conclusion. The acceptance of a traditional gloss as the meaning then gets assumed as more and more texts are read, reinforcing the assumption that the meaning is the gloss learned early on as the equivalent for that lexical item. This study focuses on the biblical Hebrew root בשׁל and the Greek verb ἕψω, both traditionally understood to denote the activity of preparing food by boiling in liquid. These lexemes appear in the Old Testament in some exegetically challenging texts, so clarifying the range of meaning may help to illuminate the interpretation of difficult passages. The full context of the usage of these lexical items in the Hebrew Bible and Septuagint is examined using cognitive semantics with the goal of identifying the semantic and pragmatic clues that point to the conceptual meaning evoked by these lexical items in biblical Hebrew and Greek.Contribution: The re-analysis of the data serves to re-evaluate traditional assumptions about the meanings of these words. Clarifying the meaning may illuminate some exegetical difficulties. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Adam Smith and the History of the Invisible HandPeter HarrisonFew phrases in the history of ideas have attracted as much attention as Smith’s “invisible hand,” and there is a large body of secondary literature devoted to it. In spite of this there is no consensus on what Smith might have intended when he used this expression, or on what role it played in Smith’s thought. Estimates of its significance (...) range from the laudatory—“one of the great ideas of history,” to the dismissive—“an ironic joke.”1 Commentators are also divided on whether Smith’s “invisible hand” has teleological or providential connotations, or whether it is simply a rhetorical device. John Kenneth Galbraith declared that we do a grave disservice to Smith if we insist on understanding his invisible hand as a kind of “spiritual force.”2 Spenser J. Pack maintained that the invisible hand was “a rhetorical device which Smith made up, and knew he made up” and certainly “not [End Page 29] a theological underpinning for Smith’s social and/or economic theory.”3 Others have adopted the opposite view. Jacob Viner contended that Smith’s economic theory becomes unintelligible if “the invisible hand” is evacuated of its theological significance.4 For David A. Martin, Smith’s use of the phrase pointed to the foundational role played by divine wisdom in Smith’s thought, while for Andy Denis, “the invisible hand concept in Smith was entirely and unambiguously theological.”5Surprisingly, given this situation, a systematic study of the uses of the expression before Smith has yet to be made.6 Indeed, it is not unusual to find claims that Smith invented the expression himself, or that it was primarily owing to his influence that the phrase first became widespread.7 Those who have made perfunctory efforts at a history of the phrase generally point to a few scattered literary references with a view either to judging them irrelevant to Smith’s oeuvre, or to suggesting that Smith’s (admittedly meagre) uses of the phrase are empty metaphors. This paper seeks to remedy this deficiency, offering a history of “the invisible hand” with a particular focus on the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. What clearly emerges from this survey is that the concept was relatively common by the time Smith came to use it. Moreover, while “invisible hand” was used in a variety of contexts, by far the most common involved reference to God’s [End Page 30] oversight of human history and to his control of the operations of nature. Almost certainly, then, when readers encountered the phrase in Smith, they would have understood it as referring to God’s unseen agency in political economy. Whether Smith was himself committed to such a view is more difficult to determine, but the history of the expression and the contexts in which it appears in Smith’s writings offer some support for providentialist readings.Hidden and Invisible HandsThe expression “invisible hand” was not commonly used before the seventeenth century. It does not occur in classical literature (although some have suggested that the phrase may be found in Ovid).8 Neither does it appear in the Hebrew Bible or the New Testament.9 The earliest reference that I have found occurs in a Greek liturgy which invokes God’s “invisible right hand which is full of blessing.”10 The liturgy was used by the Alexandrian Church and its origins date back (probably) to the second century. However, [End Page 31] the expression is relatively rare in subsequent patristic and medieval writings. In one of his Old Testament commentaries, Alexandrian Church father Origen (185–254 ce) attributed the Israelites’ defeat of the Amalekites, recorded in Exodus 17, to the agency of God’s hidden hand.11 Some later sources made reference to the work of a “hidden” or “invisible” hand of God in restoring individuals to health. Augustine of Hippo (354–430 ce) thus spoke of the hidden hand of God which heals and makes whole.12 A medieval source refers similarly to a wound being healed by the touch of an invisible hand.13 French Benedictine Petrus Cellensis (1115–83 ce) alluded to the action... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Origen and Prophecy: Fate, Authority, Allegory, and the Structure of Scripture by Claire HallMilanna FritzOrigen and Prophecy: Fate, Authority, Allegory, and the Structure of Scripture by Claire Hall (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2021), 195 pp.Origen's (AD 185–255) surviving corpus is studied by scholars across the disciplines of theology philosophy and classics. Drawing from each of these fields, in Origen and Prophecy, Clare Hall applies Origen's self-proposed tripartite exegesis (...) of Scripture, in which verses can be read at a "somatic, psychic, or pneumatic level," to his conceptualization of prophecy [End Page 293] (193). Hall's argument examines the "landscape of pagan, Jewish, and early Christian religiosity" and considers the "whole range of Origen's corpus" in relation to "wider structures and themes in his work" (4, 25). In doing so, Hall presents a compelling analysis embedding Origen's system of exegesis and theology of prophecy within the intellectual history of prophecy in the late classical and early Christian world.In her first few chapters, Hall explores Origen's definitions of prophecy in relation to its Jewish and Greco-Roman influences and his system of scriptural exegesis. Hall remains cognizant of terminology used by classical authors as she describes Origen's word choice, noting, for instance, that he varies his language most when the prophetic validity of the author is in question (9–12). She summarizes Greek, Roman, and Jewish conceptualizations of prophecy, then turns to Scripture and early Christian texts, all of which shape Origen's own "notions of wisdom, knowledge, and prophecy" (20, 29). Hall argues that Origen's On First Principles and homilies on Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers are underlaid by a coherent exegetical system. Further, she explains, Origen's Commentary on the Song of Songs applies this same system to other forms of knowledge, including prophecy, which has a future-telling sense, a moral sense, and a mystical and revelatory sense (27, 50, 39–45). In her analysis, Hall provides insight into the philosophical and theological foundations for the "revelatory potential of allegory" as understood by Origen and other early Christian authors and carefully distinguishes Origen's own beliefs from the tenets of Origenism (30–31). To strengthen her argument, Hall cites a plethora of secondary scholars on Origen, including Caroline Bammel, Gunnar af Hällström, Robert Hauck, and Ilaria Ramelli (18–25).In her next few chapters, Hall unfolds Origen's system of distinguishing between true and false prophets and his advocacy for the unity of prophecy within Scripture in his response to Marcionism (199, 149–52). Chief among Hall's insightful contributions, however, is her treatment of the complex interrelation of prophecy and human autonomy: within Origen's framework, how does providential foreknowledge permit human free choice? To approach an answer, Hall traces the emerging conception of free will as "freedom of decision" among Greek authors such as Aristotle, Chrysippus and the Stoics, the Platonists, the Epicureans, and Alexander of Aphrodisias, who, she argues, laid the groundwork for Origen's "innovative narrative understanding of free will" in the context of "epistemological considerations surrounding prophecy" (55–71, 75). These sections of her book present a striking glimpse into early Christian departure from the Greek classical tradition, and her exploration of Origen's defense of both free will and [End Page 294] divine foreknowledge opens the door to further research on his theology of conversion and the relation between grace and nature (75–85, 91).While the entirety of her work is thought-provoking, some elements of Hall's presentation of Origen's theology may be open to a critical response by patristic scholars. Throughout her work, Hall consistently characterizes Origen's spiritual readings of Scripture—and prophecy—in direct opposition to its literal readings. For instance, she writes that, for Origen, just as "some verses do not have a somatic reading and cannot be taken literally," some prophecies are intended to be read as "stumbling blocks or riddles for the exegete to ponder," rather than accurate or "coherent" predictions of the future (193, 53). Additionally, Hall ties Origen's insights on prophecy in the Old Testament to his depiction of Christ as the "ultimate content of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:1 & 2 Thessalonians by Douglas FarrowAnna Silvas1 & 2 Thessalonians by Douglas Farrow (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2020), xx + 336 pp.1 and 2 Thessalonians are probably the very first written testimonies of early Christianity. When Paul wrote 1 Thessalonians in AD 50, Our Lord Jesus Christ had "accomplished his exodus in Jerusalem" (see Luke 9:31) not twenty years before. Here we find the paradosis of (...) the Mystery of Christ among the Gentiles, the first articulations of Trinitarian faith (see 1 Thess 1:2-5), expressions of longing for the coming Parousia of Christ, warnings of a strange lawlessness already at work ripening towards a great apostasy and the coming of the "man of lawlessness."Douglas Farrow has pondered 1 and 2 Thessalonians for many years, attested by his numerous expositions and essays over three decades. He brings to his task a ready command of Greek, Hebrew, and Latin, and a vast reading of historical commentary and controversy, an intense personal and ecclesial faith, and a sense of historical, prophetic, and pastoral urgency.Throughout the book are excurses on themes opened up by the words and phrases of St Paul's text: Satan (82-86); the sexual body and virtue in sex, divorce, and remarriage (95-114); the remedial pains of purgatory (beginning in this life); the reality of final retribution, the finality of hell; the untenability of so-called "universalism" (131-41,178-84,192-96); the imminency and the delay of the Parousia (199-204); the apostasy / man of lawlessness / Antichrist; the temple in which the Antichrist seats himself (205-42); the mystery of lawlessness at work, especially in undermining the Church (245-61).In studying Paul's eschatological themes, Farrow necessarily ponders other scriptural texts leading in the same direction: Dani 7-12; Jesus's Olivet Discourse in its most extensive form at Matt 24:1-25:46 (though it really begins at 23:23); 2 Pet 2:1-5, 3:3-15; much of the Rev 6:1 through 19:21; [End Page 398] Deut 32:1-43 (Farrow says the Song of Moses encapsulates the whole of human history); Psalms 97 (LXX 96); 110 (LXX 109); Wis 4-5, 10-19; Sirach 50; Joel; Zech 8-14; Mai 3-4; 2 Mace 5-9; Isa 66:5,14-16; and so on. Farrow holds that Paul worked from knowledge of Jesus's apocalyptic teachings in aversion closest to Matthew's (138,142,184, 189, 205).Farrow takes companions in his exegesis: Irenaeus, Hippolytus, Cyril of Jerusalem, John Chrysostom, Augustine, Haimo, Anselm, Aquinas, and others. He knows Luther's hermeneutics and Calvinist disputes about supra- and infra-sessionism and double predestinationism. He consults more recent prophets, quoting at length from Newman's amazingly prescient 1838 discourses on the last times, Solovyovin 1899, and Fulton Sheen in 1948 and 1958. Another exegete is an artist: Luca Signorelli, whose Disputation of the Antichrist in Orvieto Cathedral Farrow refers to several times.Farrow shows his affinity with Irenaeus. That means cleaving to the visible and invisible truths of the Incarnation of God the Word, respecting concrete and embodied realities, keeping in view the transcendent goal ("The glory of God is a living man—and the life of man is in the vision of God"), instinctively flinching at gnosticizing tendencies—sophisticated re-interpretations of Scripture that elide the rule of faith and dissolve truth. It means a ruling sense of the Kingdom of God as an intervention from heaven rather than generating from man or from the earth. It means a spirit of obedience to the commandments, to the paradosis that descends to us from above in Christ, effected by the Spirit in the ecclesia, the company of brethren destined to "gather to Christ" at his coming (1 Thess 2:1), who practice that final gathering to Christ by participating in the Eucharist on the "Eighth Day," the Lord's Day.Farrow deplores the patchy reading of 1 and 2 Thessalonians in the lectionaries: "While 1 Thessalonians fares a little better, barely half of 2 Thessalonians is read in the Churches" (11). Missing is the eschatologically pivotal 2 Thess 2:3-15, where Paul, distinguishing... (shrink)

The Decalogue is the ten commandments which are a covenant between God and His people. Written on two tablets of stone, this Decalogue is apodictive (unconditional command and prohibition). It expresses the love between God and His people and between members of the people. This article shows that in the Pentateuch there are two versions of the Decalogue (Ex. 20:1-17 and Deut. 5:6-21) with some differences between them. Deuteronomy 5:6-21 contains additions to Exodus 20:1-17. Ex. 20:1-17 was spoken by (...) God himself to the Israelites at Mount Sinai; Deut. 5:6-21 by Moses in the plains of Moab when quoting Ex. 20:1-17. The commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy in Ex. 20:8-11 is motivated by God’s rest on the seventh day of creation; in Deut. 5:12-15 it is motivated by Israel’s liberation from slavery in the land of Egypt. Ex. 20:13-17 contains fi ve social commandments in no apparent order; Deut. 5:17-21 contains six social commandments inparallel arrangement. The Decalogue, as a law does not guarantee its implementation. And the Israelites repeatedly violated or disobeyed the law. Therefore, God Himself takes the initiative and intervenes toensure its implementation. After the destruction of the city of Jerusalem as an outward sign of the end of the Old Covenant, the prophet Jeremiah prophesied the New Covenant at the initiative of God to bewritten in the hearts, so that previously impossible loyalty would now become a reality (Jer. 31:31-34). Thus, the New Covenant is not different from the Sinai Covenant, but rather a renewal of YHWH’s faithfulnesswhich is rebuilt and deepened continuously so that it becomes a “covenant without end” (Lam. 3:22-23). Abstrak Dekalog adalah sepuluh fi rman yang merupakan pernjanjian antara Allah dengan umat-Nya, tertulis dalam dua loh batu. Dekalog yang bersifat apodiktif (perintah dan larangan tanpa syarat) mengungkapkankasih antara Allah dengan umat-Nya dan antarumat Allah. Artikel ini menunjukkan bahwa dalam Pentateukh terdapat dua versi Dekalog (Kel. 20:1-17 dan Ul. 5:6-21) dengan beberapa perbedaan. Ul. 5:6-21 memuat beberapa tambahan yang tidak terdapat dalam Kel. 20:1-17. Kel. 20:1-17 diucapkan sendiri oleh YHWH kepada bangsa Israel di gunung Sinai; Ul. 5:6-21 diucapkan oleh Musa di dataran Moab dengan mengutip isi Kel. 20:1-17. Perintah kuduskanlah hari Sabat dalam Kel. 20:8-11 bermotifkan istirahat Allah pada hari ketujuh saat penciptaan; dalam Ul. 5:12-15 bermotifkan pembebasan bangsa Israel dari perbudakan di tanah Mesir. Kel. 20:13-17 memuat lima perintah sosial tanpa urutan yang jelas; Ul. 5:17-21 memuat enam perintah sosial yang disusun paralel. Dekalog sebagai undang-undang tidak menjamin pelaksanaannya. Berulangkali bangsa Israel telah melanggar atau tidak setia pada penjanjian tersebut. Maka, Allah sendiri yang berinisiatif dan campur tangan demi terjaminnya pelaksanaan perjanjian-Nya. Sesudah penghancuran kota Yerusalem sebagai tanda lahiriah berakhirnya Perjanjian Lama, Nabi Yeremia menubuatkan Perjanjian Yang Baru atas prakarsa Allah yang akan ditulis dalam hati manusia, sehingga kesetiaan yang tadinya mustahil akan menjadi kenyataan (Yer. 31:31-34). Dengan demikian Perjanjian Yang Baru itu tidak berbeda dengan Perjanjian Sinai, tetapi lebih berupa pembaruan kesetiaan YHWH yang dibangun kembali dan diperdalam terus-menerus sehingga menjadi “perjanjian yang tak berkesudahan” (Rat. 3:22-23). (shrink)

The Decalogue or 10 Words is a text from the Torah of Moses that presents two versions of the same Sabbath commandment. One in the book of Exodus 20: 8-11 and another in Deuteronomy 5: 12-15. The first begins the commandment with the verb: make memory and the second, with the verb: save. In the first version, the commandment is connected to the memory of the Creation, while the second makes memory of the Liberation. This article sets out to (...) deal comprehensively with the first version of the seventh-day commandment. In it the word shabbat appears in the feminine as an element of fecundity linked to the theological concept of Creation. The shabbat is an invitation to cease and rest to behold the Creator with family and creatures. It is a commandment-word whose experience results in blessing, sanctity, encounter and dance. It is a commandment-word-teaching that instructs the human being to become aware of his responsibility to be created to care for the neighbor and the world: our Common House to the end of history where all Creation tends to Shabbat Eternal in which the Creator / Liberator / Rabbi / Gracious God will be "all in all" in the Spirit through his Son: the Lord of the Shabbat and time in which "all Israel shall be Saved ". (shrink)

Book Reviewed in this article Metaphysik. Eine methodisch‐systematische Grundlegung. By Emerich Coreth, S. J. Pp. 672, Innsbruck, Vienna and Munich, Tyrolia‐Verlag, 1961, 190 A. Schill., 33 DM.Frederick C. Copleston La preuve de l'Absolu chez Bradley. Analyse et Critique de la Méthode. By J. DE Marneffe. Pp. vii, 127, Paris, Beauchesne, 1961, no price given.Frederick C. Copleston Ancient Israel. Its Life and Institutions. By Roland DE Vaux, O. P. Translated by John McHugh. Pp. xxiii, 592, London, Darton, Longman & Todd, 1961, (...) 55s.Edmund F. Sutcliffe Exodus: a Commentary. By Martin Noth. Pp. 583, London, SCM Press, 1962, 40s.Edmund F. Sutcliffe Rédemption Sacrificielle: une enquête exégétique. By Léopold Sabourin, S. J. Pp. 492, Paris‐Bruges, Desclée de Brouwer, 1961, 280 Belg. Frs.Francis Clark The Jews and the Gospel. By Gregory Baum. Pp. viii, 288, London, Bloomsbury Publishing Co., 1961, 27s. 6d.John Bligh Message évangélique et Culture hellénistique aux IIe et IIIe siècles. By Jean Daniélou. Pp. 486, Tournai, Desclée, 1961, 200 Belg. Fr. Early Christianity and Greek Paideia. By Werner Jaeger. Pp. 156, Belknapp Press : Cambridge, Mass.; London: Oxford University Press, 1962, 21s.Maurice Bévenot Primauté Pontificale et Prérogatives Épiscopales;‘Potestas Ordinaria’au Concile du Vatican. By Gustave Thils. Pp. 104, Louvain, 1961, no price given.Maurice Bévenot L'Abbé Louis Bautain. By Paul Poupard. Pp. x, 404, Paris‐Tournai, Desclée 1961, no price given.Joseph Lebacqz The Christian Churches of the East. By Donald Attwater. Volume I: Pp. xiv, 232, London, Thomas More Books, 1961, 35s.; Volume II: Pp. xii, 260, London, Geoffrey Chapman, 1961, 30s.C. J. L. NapierLondon, N. 14 Beichte und Psychoanalyse. By Andreas Snoeck, S. J. Pp. 168, Frankfurt am Main, Verlag Josef Knecht, 1960, 6.80 DM.Philip Loretz Der Arzt in der Technischen Welt. Edited by Gottfried Roth and Wolfgang Müller Hartburg. Pp. 394, Salzburg, Otto Müller Verlag, 1961, 150 A. Schill.Philip Loretz The Novitiate. By Louis Colin, C. SS. R. Translated by Una Morrissey. Pp. xiii, 447, Tenbury Wells, Fowler Wright Books, 1962, 30s.V. Paul Brassell Deliverance to the Captives. By Karl Barth. Translated by Marguerite Wieser. Pp. 160, London, SCM Press, 1961, 12s. 6d. To Live Is Christ. By R. W. Gleason, S. J. Pp. xii, 180, New York, Sheed & Ward, 1961, $3.00. Le Mystère de la Charité. By Joseph‐Marie Perrin, O. P. Pp. 552,, Paris‐Bruges, Desclée de Brouwer, 1960, 210 Belg. Frs. Histoire de l'Homme, Mystère de Dieu. By Benoict Pruche, O. P. Pp. 452, Paris‐Bruges, Desclée de Brouwer, 1961, 240 Belg. Frs.B. R. Brinkman. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:ICONOCLASM in the OLD AND NEW TESTAMENTS Peter Goldman Westminster State College ofSalt Lake City Acentral problem for any monotheistic religion is distinguishing worship of the one true God from idolatry in all its forms. René Girard's pioneering interpretation ofthe Judeo-Christian scriptures clarifies this distinction by recourse to an ethical conception ofthe sacrificial: False religion or idolatry is essentially sacrificial, while the Judeo-Christian tradition opposes the sacrificial in all (...) its myriad forms. As Girard explains, the Passion narrative makes clear that the sacrificial or scapegoat victim, Christ, is innocent. The violence inflicted upon Christ is human, not divine. The Gospels thus reveal the violence that hides behind the sacred. Religious practices that further sacrificial violence are idolatrous, worshiping violence in the guise ofthe sacred.1 The ethical simplicity of the Girardian distinction between true faith and idolatry is complicated, however, by the issue of representation. According to the Old Testament, the one true God cannot be represented by images or figures of any kind, while idols typically take figurai form. From a biblical perspective, therefore, the question ofform is central to an understanding of idolatry. The Old Testament ban on images has never been investigated from a Girardian perspective. In this essay I apply Rene Girard's anthropological insights to the subject oficonoclasm in the Old and New Testaments. More specifically I address the second command-ment, the famous ban on "graven images," and the problem of representing God. From the per- ' For a fuller treatment ofGirard's interpretation ofChristianity in relation to the sacrificial, see his Things Hidden since the Foundation ofthe World 84Peter Goldman spective ofGirard's "fundamental anthropology" there are two basic issues in this regard. The first is the ethical function of the ban on images; how does the second commandment function ethically to preserve the human community in the Bible? Second, is the ban on images sacrificial as understood in Girardian terms? Or is it anti-sacrificial and therefore ethically progressive? The second commandment reads: "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth : Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God" (KJV, Exod. 20.4-5). At first glance, this commandment might appear as an expression ofthe most primitive form ofreligious taboo. A specific cultural activity is arbitrarily forbidden under threat of punishment. The taboo on images, unlike the law against murder for example, has no obvious moral dimension. Images of any kind must be violently expelled —sacrificed, as it were—for no immediate reason. According to the second commandment, any attempt to represent God or his creation by images is a profane violation of his "jealous" nature; the second commandment therefore often finds expression in the violent destruction ofsocalled idolatrous images. Acts oficonoclasm directed againstthe images of foreign gods are quite common in the Old Testament. Nevertheless, I argue here thatthe second commandment is in practical terms ethically progressive and anti-sacrificial. It actually questions and underminesthe whole sacred-profane dichotomy. Indeed, the ban on images is ultimately a secularizing influence crucial for the development of modernity. I also address the Christian acceptance of divine images, which has often been understood as a reversal of the Judaic ban on figurai representations. In the interpretation of iconoclasm that I am proposing here, however, the image ofChrist on the cross can be seen as a logical development of the second commandment rather than its contradiction. I. The second commandment in context In the Old Testament, the giving of the second commandment is associated with the Exodus from Egypt and the Hebrew rejection of Egyptian religion and culture. In Herbert Schneidau's book Sacred Discontent, he argues persuasively that Hebrew monotheism is first of all a reaction against pagan polytheism. Schneidau writes, "The JudeoChristian tradition defines itselfas opposed to a pagan world which it sees Iconoclasm in the Old and New Testaments85 as essentialIy mythological"(12). Further, "TheHebrews habitually defined themselves negatively, by their differences from their neighbors" (51). Schneidau explains: We find... (shrink)

continent. 2.1 (2012): 29–35. Translated by Vincent W.J. van Gerven Oei from Jeroen Mettes. "Politieke Poëzie: Enige aantekeningen, Poëtica bij N30 (versie 2006)." In Weerstandbeleid: Nieuwe kritiek . Amsterdam: De wereldbibliotheek, 2011. Published with permission of Uitgeverij Wereldbibliotheek, Amsterdam. L’égalité veut d’autres lois . —Eugène Pottier The modern poem does not have form but consistency (that is sensed), no content but a problem (that is developed). Consistency + problem = composition. The problem of modern poetry is capitalism. Capitalism—which has no (...) image: the unrepresentable Idea of “everything.” The problem is that a poem cannot be justified. There is no excuse for it. Political poetry— pure poetry—has to be problematic, though not in a mannerist way. Yes, its problem is first its own problem—poetry’s existence in the same world as the newspaper—but therefore also always everybody’s problem (the problem of any world at all). The cult of the sublime points at a suspect desire for transcendence, nostalgia for paradise lost (the womb?). Melancholia of the post-. But a problem neither sorrows nor mourns, it is alive, and the fact that it is alive is the problem—the problem for death (rigidity, the status quo). Our symbols and ideologies do not hide any god: symbolic = state; imaginary = human; real = money. Problem: the possibility of communal speech (poetry) in the absence of a “we.” Or: what is a “we” that is not a collective subject (or in any case is not a volonté générale )? What is a universal history that is not a History? This work was started in the shade of the anti-globalization protests at the end of November 1999. I considered N30 to be the closure of the nineties, of my adolescence, and of the a seemingly total extinction of social desire. From the beginning I was skeptical about the alterglobalization movement as the avant-garde of a new politics, but something was happening . Maybe this event did not show that, as the slogan would have it, “another world” is possible, but for me it indicated that such possibility was at least still possible. That naked possibility is carrying forward. And if the fundamental tone of this work sounds more desperate than utopian, this is not caused by the catastrophic sequence that since 1999 has plunged us ever deeper into the right-wing nightmare—a nightmare that this work also gives an account for—but because my hope as yet remains empty. Composition . Composition is no design, but the production of an autonomous block of affects (i.e. a POEM), rhythmically subtracted from the language of a community. A poem does something. Is something. New Sentence . Choosing the non sequitur as compositional unit has the advantage that an abstract composition is subjected to the stress of concrete, social references. Where there is a sentence, there is always a world. (This does not hold necessarily for words on their own.) And where sentences collide, something akin to a textual civil war takes place. It is not about “undermining” whatever, or de-scribing the raging global civil war, but about writing social (or even: ontological) antagonism -- including all its catastrophic and utopian possibilities. Minor resistance. Why would poetry be the no protest zone par excellence? It is nothing but protest, not simply qua “content,” but in its most fundamental essence: rhythm. Rhythm is resistance against language, time, and space, and the basis of (what we will continue to call) autonomy. Rhythm starts with the anti-rhythmic caesura as Hölderlin remarked about Sophocles, a disruption of the quotidian drone. The destruction of everything that is dead inside of us. The noise of the avant-garde has never been the representation of the noise of (post)modernity (from the television or shopping mall), but the sober noise of the systematic exchange of an unbearable worldview. The poet does not describe, but looks for a way out: There is a Grain of Sand in Lambeth that Satan cannot find Nor can his Watch Fiends find it, tis translucent & has many Angles But he who finds it will find Oothoons palace, for within Opening into Beulah every angle is a lovely heaven William Blake was not mad. And there has always been only one poetry: the poetry of paradise. The principle is that there is something in art (the essentially creative element) that is disgusted by that which, unlike art, does not aim for the supreme. Wonder is not supreme, tranquility is not supreme, beauty is not supreme. Even amusement is not supreme! The supreme is supremely open, “das Einfache,/ Das Schwer zu machen ist” 1 : paradise. That is abstract. Literally. For me it is not about a concrete imagination, an idyll or utopia. There is no doubt a need for that, but it is not so much the supposed lack of imagination or ideals (human rights are ideals), but a fundamental lack of desire (human rights are no desires) that we suffer from, and from which we do not need to remove Nietzsche’s label of “nihilism.” “We.” George Oppen: “ Of Being Numerous asks the question whether or not we can deal with humanity as something which actually exists.” What is less actual than humanity? Nowadays it appears as a lifeless ideology of cynical power politics. Or as what makes one think. It is a shame to be human. The event is the caesura that defines rhythm. Writing toward the event is not the description of the event, but marking an abstract and intense space in which the event may unfold and keep itself. It is a task. “Remember that thou blesseth the day on which I seized thee, because such is thy obligation.” The event is a contraction (or a series of contractions) with its own rhythm and unique qualities. It is more than an explosion or demonstration. But at the same time less. The endless repetition of images and stories in the media points to a fear for the indeterminate and indeterminable void of the event. In the end there is nothing to see. We do not live in disaster’s shade or miracle’s light, but rather in the rhythm, which is contracted time, having little to do with omnipresent representations. For this book I did not intend a rhythm of evental representations (a narrative rhythm), but a rhythm which would be an event itself , because it draws the border between artwork and history. My desire for a direct engagement with the “extra-textual reality” has nothing to do with the representation of “rumor in the streets.” (What has less street cred than representation?) Naturally, a poem is no historical event and does not change anything. But a poem is a part of history that wants to be repeated forever, constructed in such a way that it is worthy of repetition. It is a part of desire (composition) made consistent (durable). The “historical event” flares up and burns down, and has to burn down to be effective. The leftovers are images and stories (representations), History—no event. The artwork—that is the ambition— remains event (though monumental and inefficient/inoperable). (No wonder that a historical singularity, a revolution, reminds us of a work of art; the resurrection yearns for a judgment, an affirmation; everything depends on it.) Hence the title does not summarize the book, let alone contract its “content” into a quasi-transcendental signifier. The title is juxtaposed to the book, like everything else inside the book, and in that relation it precisely forms a part of it. The ideal work is an open whole, lacking nothing but to which everything may be added. I have been interested in this “everything,” the world, or as I said above: capitalism. “Everything” is not the space for “wonder”—a code word, a shibboleth for petty bourgeois imagination (I recognize myself in the strangest things, a speaking dog, a canal, a pond standing straight—oh my god). No. The world is a social world, not YOUR world, poet. Power is number one. I will call “Dutch,” or “shitty,” whatever denies this power. That hurts, but this pain is an expression of the desire in the world to write another world, or as Blanchot says, “the other of all worlds” 2 : the world. Not as what “is there,” but rather as that which urges for an escape from what “is.” This is a testament of how radical reality has become, for me—or rather, a writing body—in a having-been-written. I am not interested in the problem of “meaning” as misunderstood by literary scholarsi: “order” in “chaos,” “symbolization.” Bullshit. What is there, hop, hope, now: the meaning of the taste in my mouth. Bullshit. I am not interested in the frustration of interpretation; I am writing for readers who do not want to interpret. I do not know how many “professional readers” will hear the music of a paragraph like: Sun. Sushi. Volvo. I hope more than I would think. There is a suggestion (or rather, an actual production) of speed and infinitive owing to the absence of plosives, i.e. articulations such as /k/, /t/, or /p/. Can you hear the slick suaveness? Driving car dark, vocal chiaroscuro of the word “sushi.” The unstressed /i/ stands in the middle of dark vowels and thus acquires its own special out of focus , like a momentary flash or brilliance—an obscure light. It is not about recognizing a story, but about avoiding any story whatsoever: the car disappears in the glow, cars and raw fish have nothing in common except their articulation in a language that brings them together, blurring them. A world appears in its disappearance. For a moment, light is a metaphor for language, though it cannot be reduced to tenor. It is not necessary to be a linguist or philosopher to hear this—a “difficult” poem all too often becomes an allegory of its own impenetrable being-language. The only demand: leave your hermeneutical fetish at home. This was no interpretation. Most shit has been stolen etcetera. That is no longer interesting. You cannot shoot the body with information and let your lawyers reclaim the bullets. So every sentence has been stolen. Also the ones “out” “of” “my” “head.” Why would I be allowed to steal from myself and not from others? Man takes what he needs to move forward. Whatever he encounters, finds in front of him, “occurs” to him. The writer as text editor, or singing pirate. Nothing new here. Important difference with for example Sybren Polet’s 4 montage technique: anti-thematicism. Most of the time ferocious citation from whatever I was reading, listening to, ended up in, and so on. I wrote chapter 12 on my laptop while watching CNN. On the air instead of en plein air . I often employed search engines to generate material. Chapter 20 offers the purest example of this. Often I stop recognizing a particular citation after some time. It is not uncommon for a stolen sentence to conform itself to the paragraph in which it finds itself. Sometimes I nearly arbitrarily replace words. Arbitrariness as a guarantee for absolute democracy. It is a poetics of the non sequitur : a conclusion that does not follow from the premises, the strange element in the discourse. A discourse of strangers. No logical, narrative, thematic unity. There is unity in speed/flight. It has to be read linearly, but not necessarily (not preferably) from beginning to end. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, but this line precedes every point. The middle, the acceleration, comes first. A point occurs where two lines cross. It has been written from up close, at the level of the tension between sentences. Nothing to be seen from a distance: no form except the exchange of form, no geometrical or mythical meaning. You have to get in, “groping toward a continuous present, a using everything a beginning again and again” (Stein). 5 In Dutch, experimental poetry has been mainly dense: a small rectangular form filled with a maximum amount of poetic possibility. But at the moment the poem starts to relax, the anecdotical content seems to increase. This is what is called “epic”: long, narrative. I believe that an epic is more than that, in fact something completely different. An epic is “a poem including history,” 6 a long poem tied up with the life of community, that as a whole does not need to be narrative. The American poets of the twentieth century (Pound, Williams, Zukofsky, Oppen, Olson, Silliman) have put the epic back on the map by interpreting the poem itself as a map, and writing it as navigation. They have invented the experimental epic, a genre that has generated little original following in “our” poetry. N30 is the middle part—“always start in the middle”—of a trilogy, the contours of which remain as of yet unclear, although each episode investigates one of the three “ecstasies of time”—past, present, future—concerning society X. N30 concerns itself with the PRESENT: not with the description of actual facts but of the rhythm and the intense depth in which facts appear to us. Where are we? We are camping in the desert. Sometimes we are looking at the stars. As opposed to maximum density and minimal tension (a characteristic of most (post-)experimental lyricism), I have sought a minimal density and maximum tension in this book, considered as a long non-narrative prose poem. On the one hand, the minimal density is obtained by the inherent formlessness of prose, on the other hand by the conscious refusal of any active (formal, non-rhythmic) synthesis: the poem tells nothing, shows nothing, has no theme. I did not seek maximum tension either by loading the quotidian with epiphanic radioactivity (“wonder,” confirmation from above), or by means of the intensity of the linguistic structure. I want an abstract tension, but social in its abstraction, in other words, not neutralized by and subjected to Form. Instead of form (transcendent): composition (immanent). The concept is series. Ideal: every unit is necessary for the efficacy of the others and the whole, their relation is purely linear, i.e. non-hierarchic, non-syllogistic, non-discursive, non-narrative. Sentence related to sentence like paragraph to paragraph and chapter to chapter; the whole means nothing and represents nothing. Inside the sentence: syntax (Chomsky’s tree, a type of parallel circuit), outside: parataxis (coordination, an asyntactic line through language and world). I consider duration—the energy of duration (rhythm)—to be the fundament of a poem, the temporal inclination to delimit a “space.” Being as consistency, its consistency. A spatial part of time is not merely a metaphor for an inevitable trajectory, an inescapable time, something like “our time.” Not merely—because rhythm comes from language and is not projected onto it; the poem derives from the world like a scent and a color and a life from a flower. A series, a sequence: nothing potential, but truly infinite—the movement of an infinitude. The infinite series = everything minus totality. That means that there is no container—no Form, no Self, no Image, no Structure, not even a Fragment—just “the prose of the world.” No representation, but also no staging of the impossibility of representation (the postmodern sublime). These are no fragments, no image of a fragmented world or personality, no cautious incantations around the Void. It does not exist. It is a movement. Buying bread, a flock of birds, a bomb falling—they do not depict or represent anything, not literally, not metaphorically. There is an Idea, which is however nothing more than a rhythm, in the same way that capitalism is nothing more than a pure function. Parataxis: the white space between two sentences stresses, which is nevertheless always there, also between words, even between letters: the out of focus of idle talk, the gutter, the irreducible Mallarméan mist which renders even the seemingly most transparent text legible. The white space suggests a neutral medium for free signification, a substance of language. A non sequitur is an element from a foreign discourse, which stresses the white space as space, and problematizes freedom for supra-sentential signification. I start by withdrawing material, leaving the initiative to the sentences. In general a word presupposes less often a discourse than a sentence. What discourse is presupposed by “dog”? We could think of several, but why would we? It is more probable that, when faced with the naked word, we think of its naked (dictionary) meaning, of its denotative signified. By means of two simple interventions we may also write the word as sentence: Dog. In no way this suggests the discourse from which this sentence originates, but in any case we’re presupposing one. This is shown by questions like: “Whose dog? Who’s a dog? What kind of dog?” Etc. (Sentences are question marks.) A sentence implies/is a microcosm—a subject, a verb, an object, and so on. Even an incomplete or ungrammatical sentence does so. My main fascination while writing this book is the worldly and social aspect of language, an aspect that often becomes invisible, or rather, transparent in narrativity—the stretching of sentences into stories. Narrativity organizes a new discourse and a new world, and places a sometimes all too dispersing relation of transparence in between. The conventional novel is the brothel of being. I do not intend to prohibit brothels, and I have certainly not intended to write an anti-novel (THIS IS A POEM), but I do consider narrativity (in general, in poetry, in the news, in daily life) to be ontologically secondary with regard to an immediate being in the world through sentences, also if the latter have been withdrawn from a narrative or otherwise externally structured discourse (which in that case would therefore be chronologically primary ). Naturally, two or more sentences are always in danger of telling stories or arguing, just like the world is always in danger of becoming an objective representation, facing us, strangers. That is why need to wage war—against representation and against the interface, against interaction. AGAINST THE “READER.” To the extent that a sentence is worldly, writing is a condensed global war, and in so far as there is ultimately only one world and one open continuum of languages, it is a global civil war. Nice subject for an epic. The elaboration of a singular problem—prose as the outside of poetry, the form of the novel as purely prosodic composition scheme—“expresses” the universal problem: capitalism as Idea of the world vs. poetry as language of an (im)possible community. The paragraphs are blocks of rhythmically contracted social material. By choosing the sentence as the basic compositional component, an abstract whole may contain social sounds, without telling a story or showing an image. Composition is subrepresentative —a rhythmic, passive synthesis, or rather: a synthesis of syntheses. I never write large blocks of prose in one sitting, because there is no obvious organizational vector —plot, theme, conscience—outside the inherent qualities of the material itself. Usually I write down one sentence, sometimes two, but rarely more than three. Those sentences are usually placed in the text which I am editing at the time. In fact, there is no original composition, new chapters split off from chapters which became too long during the editing process. (Revision mainly consists of adding and inserting, displacing and dividing; only during the last phase, when the text has gained enough consistency, there may be subtraction to tighten the composition; each chapter requires a season of daily revision). This constant revision, accompanied by a continuous influx of collective background noise (to speak with Van Bastelaere), 7 makes every chapter a block condensed (“historical” and “personal”) time. The block itself is a-personal and a-historic; it is ontologically autonomous. If there is such a thing as a spirit of the times, I do not try to offer an image of it, but rather to cancel something of it by erecting a monument of its own excrement within its own boundaries. Tuning and dis-tuning , “in de taal der neerslachtigen een eigen geluid doen klinken,” 8 in other words, desiring in an Elysian way. In this sense I have intended to be able to write a political poetry. The ultimate political poem is the epic, “the tale of the tribe.” I consider N30 to be a prolegomenon to a future epic (of which it in the end will form a part a structural moment, as introduction-in-the-middle), an extended pile on top of an epic as narrative, a question of the tribe and question of its history. I was burdened by too much satire, too much bullshit. But: satire willy-nilly = the only justifiable satire. Against the abstract universalism of the market (“globalism”): concrete disgust, a positive way of saying “No.” Moreover, disgust is a specifically total attitude, which ultimately concerns the world as a whole. I hate this or that, but I am disgusted by EVERYTHING (when I am disgusted), and so it appears that satire is in fact related to the epic, in so far as it concerns society, the cosmos, history. Maybe it is no coincidence that the Dutch literary canon knows no great poet of disgust; what could be more fearful to us than society, the cosmos, and history? The T-tendency (T from Tollens 9 ) clearly points into the direction of the small, friendly, ironic, melancholic, acquiescent, wondrous, and so on. The anti-political, anti-cosmic, anti-historical. (Why am I so philosophical? To scare away the Dutchies.) And most of all: the “poetical” (the pseudo-mysticism from the backyard). Yes, the N in N30 also stands for the Netherlands (just like 30 indicates the number of chapters). I was not in Seattle, I do not live in Iraq. But is not the whole world bleeding to death on Dutch paving stones? Let’s hope that we mowed away something with this total satire, also “in myself.” The arrogant stupidity that definitely thinks to know the essence of freedom (the free development of esthetic needs inside the void), that cannot take anything serious, only believes in the disciplined bestiality of the individual (“norms and values”) and the mere functioning of a social factory which finds no justification whatsoever outside its functioning (“get to work”)… Who knows. A certain aimed destruction leaves grooves and craters, mapping out a next adventure. Pound’s periplum : sailing while mapping the coasts. Immanent orientation. The terrain changes with the map, history changes with the poem. Maps never merely organize the chaos, transcendent schemes imposed on a formless Ding-an-sich . They organize from within, surfing. But they are most of all routes back into the chaos or forward to paradise (final identity of chaos and paradise; Schlegel: “ Nur diejenige Verworrenheit ist ein Chaos aus der eine Welt entspringen kann ”10). A poem is not only a piece of history, it is also a flight from history. Maps give chaos to the form of reality , open escape routes, break through representations, make us shivery and dazed. Paradise is immanent to a fleeting desire. History is the history of labor—this is Adam’s curse—and the poet works too: For to articulate sweet sounds together Is to work harder than all these, and yet Be thought an idler by the noisy set Of bankers, school masters, and clergymen The martyrs call the world 11 But: the poet works in paradise. The paradox of the artwork, the work that is no work, the piece of history that cannot be reduced to History—this is explained by The Space of Literature , a virtual space, an autonomous rhythm, not outside, but in the midst of the noise, a piece of paradise in hell, a postcard from the vale of tears addressed to paradise, to X. Political poetry means: a poetry that dares to think about itself, about its language and about its world and about the problematic relation between both, which is this relation as problem. A poetry that thinks at all, articulates its problem. It has nothing to do with journalism or morality or debate, let alone the law or the state. It has nothing to do with “criticism” if this means the replacement of incorrect representations by other, more correct representations. It has something to do with ethics in the sense of learning to live. It has something to do with the community and the language of the community (whichever that may be) and the role of the poet regarding the community. It concerns justice without judgement or measure. In the end the just word is just a word , to paraphrase Godard: it is from a future that is unimaginable. It Is no rational engagement, but an aversion against everything that obstructs life, and love for everything what is worthy of having been loved. The world is engaged with me, not the other way round. First Exodus, then Sinai. A desire does not start with an agenda. To answer the question whether I am really so naive as to want to change the world: “We only want the world.” Justice is the world appealing to us to liberate it from all possible chains, from each organization and inequality, to be it, smooth, equal, under a clear sky—a desert and a people in a desert. That moment between Egypt and the Law. It is not a revolution, but the sky above the revolution. Poetry = the science of escape. There is no art that we already know. The weakness of modernistic epic poetry seems to me to be the unwillingness to completely abandon narrative as a structural principle, in favor of a composition “around” or from an event. The China Cantos and Adams Cantos are the low point, and the Pisan Cantos the high point of Pound’s poetry. Two types of research: archival representation of the past vs. ontology of the present (which virtually presupposes the entire history). Presupposing an event means that it is impossible for the poet to stage his own absence, but in no way makes the work personal. An event is the unknown, the new invading into the business as usual, so also the personal. The question heading this research is not: “Who am I?” but “What is happening?” The book is as little illegible as Mondrian’s work is invisible. Form is of interest only to the extent that it empowers liberation. Ron Silliman So no formalism, but what it means to live in this world and to have a future in it. I want something that holds together that’s not smooth. Bruce Andrews The past above, the future below and the present pouring down: the roar, the roar of the present, a speech— William Carlos Williams If my confreres wanted to write a work with all history in its maw, I wished, from the beginning to start all over again, attempting to know nothing but a will to create, and matter at hand. Ronald Johnson NOTES 1) “The easy thing/ that is difficult to make.” Bertold Brecht, Lob des Kommunismus . (All footnotes are the translator’s) 2) Maurice Blanchot, The Space of Literature , trans. Ann Smock. Lincoln/London: University of Nebraska Press (1989), 75. 3) Mettes uses the word “Neerlandicus,” which refers to scholars of Dutch language and literature. 4) Dutch poet. 5) Gertrude Stein. “Composition as Explanation.” A Stein Reader . Ed. Ulla E. Dydo. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press (1993), 495-503. 6) Ezra Pound. 7) Flemish poet. 8) “Resounding an original sound in the language of the despondent.” A. Roland Holst, De afspraak . 9) Dutch poet. 10) “Only such a confusion is a chaos which can give rise to a world.” 11) W.B. Yeats, “Adam’s Curse.&rdquo. (shrink)

Situated in the larger collection of Psalms 51-72, also known as the second Davidic Psalter, the smaller group of Psalms 65-68 is found. This smaller collection of psalms can be classified mostly as psalms of praise and thanksgiving. The relation and compositional work in this cluster of psalms become apparent on many points in the pious expressions between groups and persons at prayer, especially in the universal praise of God, and in the imagery referring to the exodus, the Jerusalem (...) cult and blessing. Such piety becomes most discernible in the imagery and expressions in Psalm 66. The psalm's two main sections may be described as praise, with verses 1-12 being praise by the group or the 'we', and verses 13-20 being praise by the individual or the 'I'. Personal or individual piety and private piety are expressed by the desire of the 'we' and the 'I', and the experienced immediacy to God by transposing the past into the present through the memory of the exodus narrative, the Jerusalem cultic imagery and the use of body imagery. In this research article, an understanding of piety in Psalm 66 in terms of the memory of past events and body imagery is discussed from a perspective of space and appropriated for a time of pandemic where normal or traditional ecclesiological formal practices cannot take place. CONTRIBUTION: This article makes an interdisciplinary contribution based on knowledge from the Psalms in the Old Testament, social anthropology, literary spatial theories and practical theological perspectives on the church in order to contribute to the relevance and practice of theology today, during a time of turmoil and a global pandemic. (shrink)

In the ancient world, precious stones (valuable stones and hard substances excluding gold, silver and copper) were distinguished in terms of appearance (beauty, colour), function (durability) and cost (rarity). As a result, there is considerable difficulty in determining how to correlate the inventory of lexical terms referring to precious stones in the ancient Near East with modern mineralogical identifications. In this article, the etymology and identification of precious stones in the Bible are revisited using editorial theory and complexity thinking. The (...) starting point for lexicographical identification is the breastpiece of the high priest (Ex 28:17–20; 39:10–14) with its 12 precious stones and the translation of the Hebrew terms in the Septuagint. In the light of the considerable writings in the Hellenistic world on precious stones, especially Pliny’s Naturalis Historia and Theophrastus’ On Stones, the Septuagint provides the key for the etymology and identification of the precious stones in both the Old Testament and the New Testament. Contribution: The Septuagint translation of the precious stones in the high priest’s breastpiece is the Rosetta Stone for the identification all of the precious stones in the Hebrew Bible and New Testament. The subsequent translations of the terms indicate changes or substitutions of referents and their meanings. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Dialogic and the Aesthetic:Some Reflections on Theatre as a Learning MediumAnthony Jackson (bio)A Doll's House will be as flat as ditchwater when A Midsummer Night's Dream will still be as fresh as paint; but it will have done more work in the world; and that is enough for the highest genius, which is always intensely utilitarian.— George Bernard Shaw, "The Problem Play"1People have tried for centuries to use (...) drama to change people's lives, to influence, to comment, to express themselves. It doesn't work. It might be nice if it worked, but it doesn't. The only thing dramatic form is good for is telling a story.—David Mamet, A Whore's Profession2These two assertions, some 100 years apart, were of course meant to be contentious—but they do point to one of the recurring questions about the role that theatrical art plays in modern Western culture and nicely encapsulate the contrasting claims made by practitioners and critics alike for the "work in the world" that drama can do. On the one hand, it is argued that what is conventionally thought of as great dramatic art—while it may be imaginatively rich, aesthetically compelling, and "timeless" in its appeal—will not achieve the social impact that plays such as A Doll's House have done. Such plays have a different function. They can be directly useful to us in the "real world" beyond the theatre walls, perhaps capable of influencing that world or at least influencing the way we think about and operate in the world—but they may not, consequently, have much shelf life. A Doll's House, of course, obstinately refuses to leave both shelf and stage but in this respect may be an exception that proves the rule; the vast majority of "interventionist" dramas rarely outlive their historical moment. (A play such as Spirochete, a [End Page 104] living newspaper written in 1938 in Chicago with the aim of heightening public awareness of the widespread—but barely discussed—problem of syphilis and of the cures available, undoubtedly did much effective work in the world but remains of and for its time.3 )On the other hand, playwright David Mamet casts buckets of cold water over the whole notion of "useful" dramatic art. Let us not delude ourselves, he argues, into thinking drama is good for anything else than telling a story—the value of good dramatic storytelling is important enough as it is. It serves the art form—and possibly those we wish to influence—badly if we insist on trying to change the world using drama as our lever. A genuine work of art, it is often said, cannot be didactic or "instrumental." The novel, play, or poem that sets out to convey information or to preach a message risks surrendering those very qualities we usually value in art—complexity, multilayered meanings, richness of imagination. Jonathan Levy, in his A Theatre of the Imagination, argues that "the impulse to create theatre for children is the impulse to give a gift, without strings. It is this impulse... we should... call upon when we find ourselves in the theatre tempted to teach."4 Further, "when art is used to teach, either the teaching or the art must suffer."5 The implication is clearly that teaching and dramatic art make awkward bedfellows. It has to be one or the other, not both. The late, much missed, Lowell Swortzell took a not dissimilar line in his provocative essay on theatre-in-education, "Trying to like TIE,"6 and many practitioners of children's and young people's theatre have likewise resisted having their work categorized as educational or in any way curriculum driven. The work must have its own justification, as art, as storytelling, offering young people an experience that may complement but that is fundamentally different from anything else they get in school. Even Augusto Boal has at times appeared to reinforce the dichotomy. Arguing for a theatre that can serve the immediate needs of the marginalized, the oppressed, and the disadvantaged, he has negotiated a challenging and productive path through the artistic and socially responsive implications of... (shrink)

This essay focuses on Eric Santner’s psychoanalytic reinterpretation of the crucial symbol of Judaism – yetziat mitzrayim, the getting out of Egypt – as “the Exodus out of our own Egyptomania.” Formulated in his book on Rosenzweig and Freud, On the Psychotheology of Everyday Life, it appears in all Santner’s later works concerned with political theology, where “Egyptomania” stands for everything that overburdens human life with an excessive “signifying stress” or “ex-citation,” weighing it down with the impossible demands of (...) the ultimate metaphysical self-justification and the interpellating call to sublimity. Contrary to Hegel’s definition of Judaism as “the religion of the sublime,” Santner consequently champions the opposite view, according to which the Abrahamic revelation forms the first religion of radical desublimation that blocks the vertical transport into the extraordinary “beyond” and focuses instead on the immanent transcendence as the radical otherness of the neighbour/stranger in the world. The Exodus, therefore, is to be understood not as an exit out of the world, following the call of the otherworldly God, but precisely the other way round: as an exit of the Egyptomaniac metaphysical paralysis, where “Egypt” represents an impasse of the self-negating life which cannot tolerate its finite condition and invents a sublime alibi in a false promise of immortality. (shrink)

There is a shortage of clergy, at least in the Roman Catholic Church. Protestant churches in general are experiencing more of a distribution or placement challenge than a shortage. The two greatest hindrances to addressing the Protestant clergy distribution challenge are a lack of adequate compensation for clergy and the undesirable geographical location of a number of churches, as perceived by clergy. Influences such as secularisation, duality of vocation, time management, change in type of ministry, family issues, congregational and denominational (...) conflict, burnout, sexual misconduct, divorce or marital problems, and suicide, affect clergy. Studies on the shortage of clergy have been conducted mostly in the USA and Europe and not in South Africa. This article focuses on the research gap by means of a practical theological grounded theory exploration of the exodus of clergy. Grounded theory methodology is used to identify the reasons why clergy trained at a Bible college of a Protestant charismatic mega church leave full-time pastoral ministry. Findings correspond to previous studies with two reasons appearing more frequently than others: responding to a call and leadership related issues. Firstly, respondents differed in their replies with respect to reconciling their exit from full-time pastoral ministry with their call. The replies included not being called, a dual call, or called but left anyway. Secondly, respondents indicated that leadership influence was mostly negative with regard to affirming their call. (shrink)

THE EXODUS STORY HAS BEEN A SOURCE OF BOTH IDENTIFICATION AND conflict for American Jews and blacks. As a source of identification, blacks saw themselves as Hebrew slaves pitted against white Pharaohs, while blacks' plight resonated with Jewish immigrants. As a source of tension, the Exodus story obscured how Jews were caught between blackness and whiteness. Jews were neither Pharaohs nor slaves but instead functioned as agents of the ruling elites over blacks. Jewish vulnerability derives from potential abandonment (...) from below and above, a type of oppression not captured by the Exodus story. When Jews combat racism and forge black—Jewish alliances, they reduce their susceptibility to becoming isolated from potential allies. Combating racism thus is central to Jewish liberation. White Christians have an important role in preventing anti-Semitism from disrupting efforts to eliminate racism and build an effective black—Jewish coalition. (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Is Philosophy Part of Web Science?; Representations and the Web; Enactive Search; Cognitive Extension and Cognitive Intelligence; From the Extended Mind to the Web; and the Web as Collective Intelligence.

This article aims at accounting for the difference between human and animal from a tension between two movements: an archi-movement which defines the way of being of the world and is life itself, and an archi-event of separation of the world from itself that affects life and is the source of living beings. Animal can be characterized by the fact that, in spite of being separated from the archi-life movement, the power of this movement prevails on the archi-event. This means (...) that the animal can be defined by an intimacy with the world, to such an extent that his movements are deeply inscribed in the world. Animal relates with the world by drifting and gliding within it: its existence is exodus. On the contrary, the human relationship with the world is dominated by a separation from rather than a drift within it, to such an extent that the human’s distinguishing feature is the fact that it has no place in the world and is, in this sense, characterized by an exile from this world. (shrink)

Are country people destined to disappear in the near future as a result of the constant advance of technical and urban civilization? Having discovered that three-fourths of mankind are country people, American ethnologists and sociologists are studying their “urbanization” and their “industrialization” throughout the world in an effort to see to what extent there is compatibility—or incompatibility—between their traditional “cultures” and the demands of industrial production and of life in a mass society. European writers appear to be less perturbed by (...) this dilution of peasant civilizations through contamination from the cities. They are concerned rather with the gradual disappearance of country people themselves, drawn into the cities by the rural exodus. (shrink)

Christians read the Jewish Scriptures in the light of what God did in Jesus the Christ. This ACCS volume on Exodus through Deuteronomy bears ample witness to this new way of reading these ancient texts. Varied in texture and nuance, the interpretations included in this volume display a treasure house of ancient wisdom, speaking with eloquence and intellectual acumen to the church today.

Resumen Tanto la migración como el exilio, al lado del extranjero y el extraño, han sido objeto de la investigación fenomenológica. En este estudio se da un pequeño paso con respecto a la fenomenología de la migración. En particular, se lleva a cabo una profundización en torno a un estrato fundante: el éxodo en sus intrincadas relaciones con estratos tales como la frontera y la diáspora. Así, centramos la atención en el éxodo como experiencia y en los estratos protofundadores de (...) la comprensión de la migración. Con esta mirada, se dan tres pasos, a saber, se caracteriza la relación existente entre 1. El éxodo y la constitución trascendental; se establece la interrelación entre 2. La frontera y la comunidad de pertenencia; y, finalmente, se mira cómo 3. La diáspora opera la constitución trascendental de la esperanza. A manera de 4. Conclusiones se vuelve la atención a la constitución trascendental como fundamento de la ética.Migration like exile, alongside the stranger and the stranger, have been the subject of phenomenological research. In this study a small step is taken regarding the phenomenology of migration. In particular, a deepening is carried out around a founding stratum: the exodus in its intricate relation- ships with strata such as the border and the diaspora. Thus, we focus attention on the exodus as experience and on the foundational layers of the understanding of migration. With this view, three steps are taken, namely, the relationship between the exodus and the transcendental constitution is characterized; the interrelation is established between 2. The border and the community of belonging; and, finally, we look at how 3. The diaspora operates the transcendental constitution of hope. By way of 4. Conclusions, attention is turned to the transcendental constitution as the foundation of ethics. (shrink)

The formulations of the argument for atheism from evil are quite formal in nature. One “solution” to the problem of evil would be to deny that evil exists. But Clive Staples Lewis, a philosopher, would have none of this. He believed that pain is intrinsically evil, and it is its evilness that ultimately gives rise to the problem of evil. Lewis' thoughts about pain and God's reason is the subject of this chapter. The chapter also discusses Lewis's treatment of the (...) problem of evil. Lewis held that the justification for allowing human beings to experience pain is ultimately connected to the good of perfect happiness, where the enjoyment of it can be had only if persons have the freedom to choose how they will become happy, to choose to die or not to die to self. Thus, Lewis articulated his theodicy in terms of the actual individual and his or her happiness. (shrink)

The advent of the Web is one of the defining technological events of the twentieth century, yet its impact on the fundamental questions of philosophy has not yet been explored, much less systematized. The Web, as today implemented on the foundations of the Internet, is broadly construed as the space of all items of interest identified by URIs. Originally a space of linked hypertext documents, today the Web is rapidly evolving as a universal platform for data and computation. Even swifter (...) is the Web‐driven transformation of many previously unquestioned philosophical concepts of privacy, belief, intelligence, cognition, and even embodiment in surprising ways. The ensuing essays in this collection hope to explore the philosophical foundation of the World Wide Web and open the debate on whether or not the changes caused by the Web to technology and society warrant the creation of a philosophy of the Web. (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction Salvaging Shadows The Meaning of Pragmatic Efficacy The Sources of Pragmatic Efficacy The Noble Lie Why Plato Wrote.

In this chapter, the authors begin with a brief history of the interpretations that have been given – from the middle of the 19th Century to the present day, to the phenomenon of déjà‐vu that psychological disorder leads us to believe that they have already experienced in an undetermined past the situation they are experiencing. In 1904 and 1906, psychologist Gérard Heymans wrote the reports of two investigations linking the déjà‐vu phenomenon to another psychic experience, also fleeting: “depersonalization”, a sudden (...) state that disappears just as suddenly, and in which everything we perceive seems foreign to us, including ourselves – we then have the feeling of not speaking or acting, but perceiving our actions and words as inactive spectators. If this necessary condition is met, we can speak of a successful inscription of the representation‐occurrence in its memory, whose representation in our model is then that of the specious present of the individual actor concerned. (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction The Politics of the 330s Who Was Fighting Whom? What Were Lycurgus and Demosthenes Fighting About? Why Fight over Plato? The End of the Culture War Conclusion.

This chapter contains sections titled: Philosophy in Politics The Case for Influence A Culture War.

This chapter contains sections titled: The Nature of Beauty Truth, Goodness, and Beauty Beauty and the Blues Notes.

This chapter contains sections titled: Emotional Trauma The Therapeutic Power of the Blues Three ‘Clinical’ Illustrations ‐ The Role of Lyrics Musical Characteristics of the Blues Concluding Remarks Notes.

This chapter contains sections titled: Notes.

Much has been written since Clive Staples Lewis' day about belief that God exists (belief in the existence of God). It would be many years before Lewis became a theist. But what he thought in 1918 indicates that he would first resolve the issue of supernaturalism as opposed to naturalism in terms of his own self, before becoming a theistic supernaturalist. The distinctions between naturalism, supernaturalism, and theistic supernaturalism are reflected in Lewis's frequent references to those who believed England and (...) Europe were reverting to paganism. Having claimed that God is like the author of a play rather than a character in it, Lewis acknowledged that some would raise an objection. This chapter discusses this objection in detail. It also discusses Lewis's argument for the existence of a Creator, whom we call “God”. The chapter further explains some points to note with regard to the argument. (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction The Politics of the 350s and 340s The Emergence of the Culture War, or the Man with the Good Memory.

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction The Seventh Letter on Writing The Seventh Letter on Ways of Life.

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction Against Writing The Hole in the Argument Spotting the Defense of Philosophical Writing A Sociology of Symbols The Psychological Power of Symbols.

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction Discovering a Defensible Kind of Philosophical Writing Imitators vs. Constitution‐Painters The Necessary and Sufficient Criterion of Philosophical Writing.

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction Plato's Choice Platonic Dialogues: A Multipurpose Genre The Republic as Theoretical Model Plato Politikos.

The prelims comprise: Half‐Title Page Wiley Series Page Title Page Copyright Page Dedication Page Table of Contents Acknowledgments Abbreviations.

The network is moving towards a global informational equilibrium that is irrevocable – if inter‐individual communication persists as the only driving force behind the network's evolution. On the basis of an example, this chapter compares the respective changes in the values of the main characteristic variables at the level of the network as a whole, and that of each cluster considered separately. Any local informational equilibrium achieved by a cluster is therefore fundamentally unstable, as it is constantly threatened by such (...) a phenomenon. It follows that the cumulative formation of local clusters of actors corresponding to a progressive regionalization of the effective space of the network is then erased as at least one category shared by all actors allows each of them to escape from the cluster in which they would otherwise remain enclosed. Maintaining separations between regions dividing the network space before the homogenization process ends means that it does not only have advantages. (shrink)

This chapter begins to construct our space–time model of the socio‐cognitive network of individual actors. To do this, it formulates a number of assumptions about the structure and evolution of this network. The chapter first proposes six hypotheses concerning the structure of the network. These hypotheses will clarify our formalization of the cognitive universes of individual actors. The chapter then introduces eight additional hypotheses concerning the evolution of the network. The evolution of the network results, on the one hand, from (...) communications between individual actors and, on the other hand, from these cognitive processes internal to the actors that constitute their categorization operations. This distinction between inter‐individual communication and intra‐individual categorization is analytical, because in reality any communication concretely established between real actors has an intentionality dimension that itself implies a part of cognition. (shrink)

The emphasis placed by H. Atlan, like G. Bateson, on the reception of messages during communication between subsystems leads to a conception of learning, and more generally of human memory, surprisingly close to that proposed by I. Rosenfield on the basis of the work of G. M. Edelman. The authors stressed the close and reciprocal link between the theory of functional localization and the conception of memory, which they have just seen, radically refuted by Rosenfield. The theory of functional localization (...) therefore considers as established the existence of a whole series of rigid relationships between specific locations in the brain and certain major functions performed by the body. Thus briefly summarized, the theory of neural Darwinism provides positive evidence in favor of the Rosenfield's theory of human memory. All these characteristics make the functioning of human memory an outstanding example of the natural complexity of a self‐organized system in the sense of Atlan. (shrink)

There are many approaches to human communication that deal with its multiple aspects at various levels of abstraction and delimit what has become the field of information and communication sciences. Telegraphic communication and orchestral communication are two terms introduced by Y. Winkin to contrast the Shannonian (“telegraphic”) and Batesonian (“orchestral”) theories of communication. The Batesonian theory of information, communication and learning remains qualitative. This chapter presents the pioneering model presented by the engineer Claude Shannon at the end of the 1940s (...) and that proposed by the anthropologist Gregory Bateson and his successors from the 1970s onwards. G. Bateson argues that any continuous learning process involves at least two levels: primary learning, where the subject receives simple information in a given context and responds conditionally to it, and deutero‐learning, where the subject shows an increasing ability to treat given contexts as if they were to be expected in their universe. (shrink)

An adequate interpretation of concept of the propensity to communicate will thus lead us to interpret in this concept a possible formalization of the notion of the specious present, introduced into the field of psychology by William James at the end of the 19th Century. In this chapter, the authors introduce some aspects of the concept of time that their model operates under. While situating the actors in relation to each other in the network space, their propensity to communicate also (...) indexes the future opportunities that are open to them by their past trajectories. The authors conclude with a discussion of a supposed “ancestrality's paradox”, according to which such a primacy would pay no heed to ignoring events located in a temporality prior to the appearance of any life on earth, and well before that of Homo habilis. (shrink)