Amazing book. Wonderful to read (if somewhat over-flowery at points). This does what any great book should do: causes you to think of something in a w...moreAmazing book. Wonderful to read (if somewhat over-flowery at points). This does what any great book should do: causes you to think of something in a whole new way, sheds further light on the text, and creates new pathways of meaning from which to take extensive journeys. I particularly liked its discussions of contrastive dialogue, narrative analogy, word-choice, Leitworter, and ambiguity. I particularly agree with him when it comes to the "historical" process (trying to peer back behind the text to reconstruct its history) that we are on far more stable and certain ground when we are dealing with questions of the text before us instead of the hypothetical elements of a past we have no direct access to.
I do have some serious issues with it, however. I will limit these observations to three (though there are many more).
First, if Alter was reacting against a sort of "tyranny" of "excavative" work on the text, he has done what many others do who are taking an opposing stance - he takes it too far. As one example, he ends up saying that Esther "demonstrates God's providential power in history with a schematic neatness" despite the fact that God is entirely absent in the text and contributes nothing to the story, which is why all the Greek versions added "providential power" into it and probably why not one scrap of it was found among the Dead Sea Scrolls (it has nothing to say about God). It is only through Alter's harmonizing narratology that something so specifically about what happens when God is ABSENT can be made to speak about God's presence.
Second, what Alter does is really nothing more than an expanded form of Redaction Criticism, which existed long before him. And yet he makes no mention of it. I was doing Redaction Criticism before I read this and much of what he says, I was already doing.
Third--and this is perhaps the most important point of criticism--what Alter is doing (in the way that makes his method unique) is NEW. He admits this outright when he says that not even the Midrashists conceived of his narratology. Alter is reading the text in a way that NO ANCIENT JEW would have. Now, this doesn't necessarily mean that reading it in that way is flagrantly anti-scriptural. But we do need to acknowledge that if we are going to do such a thing--if we are going to look at something from the past in a way that no ancient person who produced it, who guarded it, who interpreted it, and who depended on it for their very souls would have done--that it probably isn't going to fit very easily into the Modern frame we are forcing it into.(less)
This book is so good...so profound...so penetrating. It is as if Barton knew everything I have been chewing on for five or six years, anticipated the ...moreThis book is so good...so profound...so penetrating. It is as if Barton knew everything I have been chewing on for five or six years, anticipated the questions, answers, problems, and solutions, gathered it all together, and lucidly arranged it all in a veritable tour de force. There is really nothing I can say about what Barton has done well in this book that will do anything but subtract from his genius. So instead, this review will focus on the two negative criticisms I have that prevent me from awarding the book a five-star rating. If my criticisms are harsh, it is only because I am so enamored of the job Barton has done and feel like the star player has momentarily let the team down.
- a particular choice of terminology or definition -
Barton unnecessarily obfuscates his discussion by using Positivitic terms like “objective,” “value-neutral,” “detached,” or “without distortion” in non-Positivistic ways (and also attributes his highly questionable definitions to the Positivists themselves).
For instance, when Barton says “objective,” he means something like “refusing to simply read one's own ideas into the text” or “having a sense of detachment from the text.” In other words, to be “objective” for Barton is to say “what I think and what the text says are probably a little different.” Talk about a ludicrous definition. As if scholars using the term “objective” meant to differentiate their work from those who had no concept of a distance between themselves and the text. Who exactly were those people? Even the Surrealists of the Post-Modern movement had an awareness of something real beyond the subjective self—the “Sur” real. Even the most conservative interpreters understand that the text has a meaning that exists outside themselves (which Barton admits outright on p. 172). Few are the extremists who have ever thought or said “there is no way of encountering the text other than one already totally colored by one's own presuppositions,” who seem to be Barton's talking partners (p. 49). If that is what is “not objective,” then Barton's definition would be perfectly reasonable. But in my estimation, it is a mammoth caricature of those who are “not objective” and those who saw themselves as being “objective” in opposition to them.
When Barton says “value-neutral” or “detached,” he doesn't mean “without bias or prejudice,” which would be its plain sense, Positivist definition. Rather, he means something like “allowing one's perspective to be questioned.” If someone is unwilling to question their perspective, they are not value-neutral or detached, but who are those who have been totally unwilling to question their perspective? The problem wasn't that nobody thought “maybe I should allow what I think the text means to be questioned.” The problem was that certain folk were okay with allowing what they thought the text should mean to come before attempting an understanding of the text (this is Barton's own argument here). Biblical critics were reacting to the later situation, not the former. So what's the point of the weird definitions? “Value-neutral” and “detached” are words that simply should no longer be used.
And when Barton says “without distortion,” he doesn't mean that we are not influencing the meaning of the text at all as one would expect, but something along the lines of “even though understanding is a self-involving exercise, one should seek to not completely distort the message that the text can convey.” Again, who are the ones that this definition is opposing? Biblical critics weren't responding to those who had no sense of the distortion they could cause to a text, but to those who were willing to let their religious belief dictate what the text could mean instead of trying to let the text dictate what they believed. Biblical critics sought to do otherwise because they had respect for the biblical scrolls as literary texts (instead of treating them as an “inspired jumble”). Barton's re-defining of terms causes unnecessary confusion. Positivistic phrases like this are better left abandoned.
- failure to incorporate the reader -
Barton recognizes that meaning is determined in part by the reader. This is one of the four “coordinates” of literary understanding that he draws on as illustrated by M.H. Abrams (p. 75). He indirectly depends on this dynamic, for instance, when he refers to intuition as the primary way of undertaking the biblical-critical exercise, by saying that “scientific” or “method” is not the appropriate way to describe it, or by saying that what is involved is understanding instead of processing. Unfortunately, however, he constantly neglects to include this coordinate anywhere in his arguments.
For instance, Barton says biblical criticism “is precisely an attempt to avoid trying to master the text, but instead to allow it its own space, to make its own points in its own way, and to receive it without the distortion that is produced if we try to control it and twist it to our own ends” (p. 58, note 63). But he forgets to mention that we do control and twist the text by every act of understanding we undertake. If three people go into a room, come out, and someone asks them what they saw, they will each say they saw something different, or they will describe the same thing(s) differently. That isn't because there is nothing in the room to see and not because they are wrong about what they saw, but because all three interpretations are formed and constrained by those who make them. Barton knows this. But he doesn't seem willing to make that dimension clear.
He says on the same page “biblical criticism contains in essence three central features: (a) attention to semantics, . . . (b) awareness of genre, and (c) bracketing out questions of truth,” but leaves out (d) imposition of our own perception. Barton knows that our perception is part of the equation, which is why he calls so strongly for a struggle with and against it. So why is (d) missing? Why is he leaving out the fourth coordinate in literary competence?
Again, Barton says “what constitutes it as critical is that it asks about the sense the text makes if it is read without a constraining framework of expectations” (p. 108). But Barton knows that there is no such thing as interpretation without a framework of expectation. His own argument throughout the book is that biblical criticism developed because of a specific framework of expectation: biblical texts are literature and thus should be understood as literature. So why isn't his argument more nuanced? Why isn't he saying what either a Positivist or Romanticist would not?
Barton says “our aim as critics is not to translate the text . . . into our own terms, but to get inside it and understand it from within” (p. 113). And yet, it is only by the terms of the one who goes into the text that the text can be understood. All understanding is colored by our particular perceptions. This doesn't mean we can't say something true about the text, and it doesn't mean there is unlimited meaning, but it does acknowledge that the reader influences understanding. Barton could have said as much, but didn't.
Barton comes close to bringing this aspect into the conversation is when he notes “in postmodernist thinking, . . .it is believed that the very perception of meaning is entirely determined by where one is standing” (p. 162, note 43). But then he doesn't engage that line of thinking. Surely he doesn't believe one can step from where one isn't already standing. Surely he must realize the obvious link between his two-fold argument (A. most biblical scholars are people of faith and B. if anything, scholarship has been slanted in favor of faith perspectives) with the quote above. What people think influences how they think! One cannot think in a manner foreign to our own selves.
Only two sentences in the entire book gave me what I was hoping for. And so I end with that stunning revelation: “How can we be sure that our own concerns and preoccupations are not contaminating our reading of past texts? We cannot, but we can try” (p. 181).(less)
According to the conclusion, this is an introduction to textual criticism for the intermediate Hebrew student (pp. 168, 170). That seemed to fit the b...moreAccording to the conclusion, this is an introduction to textual criticism for the intermediate Hebrew student (pp. 168, 170). That seemed to fit the bill since I took only a year of Hebrew prior to picking this little thing up and I had few difficulties. In fact, thanks to a book that expands on Brotzman's simplified and summarized categories (The Masorah of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia by Kelley, Mynatt, and Crawford), I was not only flying through the various practical exercises with the BHS' critical apparatus, but augmenting it with a direct examination of the Masorah parva. Chapter five, however, an introduction to BHS, must have been geared toward beginners since any first-year Biblical Hebrew student will have (or should have!) already become familiar with its layout and contents.
Four things make this a good read for beginning/intermediate students: a brief analysis of the types of scribal errors encountered in biblical texts, a step-by-step guide to doing textual criticism, a hands-on examination of textual problems in Ruth and ways to work through them, and the Latin-to-English abbreviation list.
1. Scribal Errors (ch. 6). This is the meat and potatoes of textual criticism. Brotzman has laid out quickly and simply the various sorts of scribal errors and how we might identify them in a biblical text.
2. Step-by-step Guide (ch. 7). After helping us understand in the previous chapter how and why texts were altered, Brotzman proceeds to lay out a method for doing textual criticism that enables us to understand what may or may not be the better or more original reading.
3. Hands-on Examination (ch. 8). This is what makes Brotzman's book both special and practical. As we work through the various textual problems in Ruth utilizing BHS' critical apparatus, we see the previously mentioned scribal errors appear in the biblical text itself, watch the method applied again and again to each instance of textual difficulty, and gain insight into the particularities of BHS that might otherwise be difficult or confusing. What follows are some examples of that latter insight.
Although both Brotzman and BHS include a symbol list where LXX* is identified as the original Greek Septuagint, it wasn't until the hands-on examination that we were clued in on exactly how we knew that: it was the unanimous reading of all Greek witnesses (p. 134, n. 2).
Even though the purpose of the BHS critical apparatus is to clue us in to variants, it is an imperfect system. You can't always assume that just because BHS doesn't include a variant from the various Greek texts (for example) that there isn't one.
Sometimes there is no critical note in the text or in the apparatus for a verse, but there are still textual difficulties identified by the Masorah parva (p. 160). This means that the Masorah parva and the critical apparatus with its textual notes do not always work together. Both need to be consulted.
The critical apparatus references chapter and verse numbers in an odd manner. Instead of writing out 1 Ch 2:5, 9-15, it has 1 Ch 2,5.9-15 (p. 163-64).
4. Abbreviation List (appendix). Even though this is basically a spin-off from other such lists both within and without BHS, what I liked about this was not only the way it clarified definitions, but how it made common abbreviations instantly available while one already has BHS open. Given the choice between looking up the definition of an abbreviation in either BHS or Brotzman, losing one's place within that text, and then having to return and find it again, I am glad for the opportunity to leave my primary text, BHS, alone and go hunting elsewhere.
If the book's strengths reside in its second half, its weaknesses reside in the first. Chapters 1 through 4 are basically simplified summarizations of content and data available in very much the same layout and description elsewhere. Reading something like Wurthwein's Text of the Old Testament or Yeivin's Tiberian Masorah really makes most of what Brotzman says not only redundant, but obsolete. Those books are light-years better than Brotzman when it comes to either the quality of their shared content or the details. The one thing Brotzman provides on his own is a comparison of the sources he is summarizing. I believe that the biblical student will be better served by reading one or more of Brotzman's sources and skipping his first four chapters altogether.
The other major problem I have with the book is its uncritical confessional bias. As long as Brotzman is dealing with something other than textual criticism, he feels free to assume all sorts of things that would shame professionals in those fields. For instance, Brotzman has no problem talking about Moses as though Moses were a real, historical person whose very existence, not to mention what we might or might not know about such a person, were not in question and also takes for granted the historicity of the exodus account (p. 32-33). Did Brotzman really have to say something like "The existence of an alphabetic script greatly facilitated the recording of divine revelation in written form" (pp. 34-35)? What exactly does that mean? Does that mean only the Hebrew Bible was greatly facilitated by the formation of an alphabet? Does that mean only alphabetic texts that people believe are divine revelation were greatly facilitated by the alphabet? I thought the point was that the alphabet made the reading and writing of texts easier and the Old Testament took advantage of that historical shift. But, apparently, the divine realm has something to do with it. When Brotzman discusses possible dates for the biblical texts, he has no problem assuming the "traditional" view without substantiating that choice (see ch. 2). On p. 39, Brotzman is fine identifying the Pentateuch synchronically as a unified composition without giving a reason for that treatment. And last, but not least, Brotzman pretends to settle the question of whether we should rely on the Masoretic Text or something else by appealing to its "acceptance" as "standard" by 135 BC without saying who it was that accepted it as standard or why their acceptance should dictate our own (p. 44). I'm sure Brotzman would take issue with someone who decided to do textual criticism uncritically by preferring a variant in the LXX over the Masoretic because the LXX is the accepted divine scripture in their religion (see Eastern Orthodox). So why does he turn around and do the same sort of thing to those in other fields? I wanted to give this book two stars for its woeful disregard for professionalism, but the strength of the second half saves it from mediocrity.(less)
One of the many flavors of introductory biblical criticism books available. What I enjoyed about this book—and one of its particular aims—was its fres...moreOne of the many flavors of introductory biblical criticism books available. What I enjoyed about this book—and one of its particular aims—was its fresh, non-technical presentation of thoughts and ideas under consideration, casting new light on familiar concepts and grounding them in the everyday world, and how it made plain the many questions we oftentimes intuitively ask about the text, but aren't fully aware of doing. This book takes the common sense from which the sophistication of biblical criticism has been built and exposes it, which is truly delightful.
When I read that it was going to have a two-testament approach, I was skeptical. Other such books that have attempted a more holistic, inclusive outlook (such as To Each Its Own Meaning by McKenzie and Haynes), have tended to draw from their pool of examples unevenly. It is certainly instructive, for instance, for a person in New Testament studies to see a certain methodology or concept applied to a Hebraic text (or vice versa), but to see this play out in one's specific field of study—especially when dealing with an introductory book—is a necessity. Although many of the examples given in this book are widely used, appearing in other forms of this literature, I was pleasantly surprised by the very balanced treatment of both testaments throughout. This increases its value to students of both fields. The only place where I felt more could have been provided was in the discussion of textual families, which focused almost exclusively on New Testament texts without revealing the hidden secret (at least to new exegetes) that the so-called Masoretic Text is really a family or type of text and not a single manuscript.
One book belonging to this type of literature is Reading the Old Testament by John Barton. I love that book. And this is certainly no match for Barton. But one thing Barton lacked was any historical treatment of the texts. This book includes a very welcome chapter on historical criticism including a brief introduction to Reception History. The latter proved worthwhile because it revealed to me a conundrum I experienced when talking about biblical interpretation with certain varieties of religious folk. I would say something about doing historical work with the text, and they would respond favorably, but interpret me to be speaking about interpretations of the text throughout history within the church (like what Augustine or Luther might have thought the text meant). Thanks to this book, I now understand them to be speaking of Reception History, a valuable tool of interpretation to be sure, but something entirely different.
Another welcome insight provided by this book occurred in the chapter on Grammatical Criticism, where it laid out various common pitfalls encountered by those attempting to gain an informed reading of the text through its grammar and syntax. I have a feeling that some of this is discussed in a book I've been meaning to read by James Barr called The Semantics of Biblical Language. This was incredibly revealing and even corrected a few mistakes that I, myself, have made in the past.
There are, however, a number of problems. Its treatment of what it calls “special focus” exegesis (like cultural, gender, sexual, economic, and other such perspectives) is appallingly brief. It lumps together the past thirty or forty years, which saw an explosion of new critical perspectives that radically changed the field of biblical studies, into one chapter. And that is the single shortest chapter in the book. What it does in that chapter, it does well, such as introducing us to Liberation Theology (and giving me my first glimpse at Queer Theory), but one would expect at least as much time and attention to this whole new arena as was given to the other in chapters 2-10. This is where a book like To Each Its Own Meaning outshines it, with individual chapters dedicated to things like Social-Scientific Criticism, Rhetorical Criticism and Intertextuality, Narrative Criticism, Reader-Response Criticism, and Feminist Criticism. This is a serious fault of the book. It is floating above a two-star rating only on the strength of its other parts. And, finally, I have mixed feelings about the Appendix—a section on computers and internet. The authors acknowledge how out-of-date it will likely be by the time it is published and that is certainly true at time of my reading. But I'm really not sure how helpful it is. Whatever generation is reading this book nowadays is pretty computer and internet savvy. If the Appendix tells them anything that would be useful to their studies, it is quite likely that they already know about it or have experience with it. Additionally, if they were going to go the route of exposing their readers in a general sense to different computer software useful in biblical studies, it would have been beneficial to include references to less known, but just as helpful and powerful alternatives that exist outside the proprietary world (like BibleTime, Xiphos, Alkitab, and PocketSword).(less)
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