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Barton Readingbibleliterature 1987
Barton Readingbibleliterature 1987
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Literature and Theology
admits of no compromise.
Starting with these two preliminary observations, I now want to suggest
that some very tangled questions arise as soon as we try to combine them.
11
Neither a biblical nor a literary critic is faced with any great problems if he
opts for the non-historical approach, and seeks to explicate a text by
examining its internal relations and structures. Historical criticism, however,
needs to deal with a problem which is not readily apparent, but which
appears as soon as we tease out the implications of the preliminary
observations above. The historical critic is presumably committed to taking
into account not only the words of a writer, but also his underlying
assumptions and beliefs. Unlike the non-historical, 'synchronic' or 'text
immanent' reading, historical criticism is not concerned merely with the
surface of the text, but with the historical conditions under which its author
wrote, including (among other things) the conventions of literature that
were available to him and under whose constraints he operated. It is for this
reason that critics are not content to specify the genre of an old text by
reference to modern genres, but take trouble to reconstruct and understand
the genres that were actually available when the text studied was being
written. One cannot understand Homer historically without some knowl
edge of the existence of epic as a genre; and since epic no longer exists as a
live option in modern literature, this inevitably entails a good deal of work
in the history of literature as a necessary preparation for understanding
Homer. In the same way, historical biblical critics would claim that we can
understand Proverbs only if we have some knowledge of the conventions of
ancient wisdom literature, another genre or set of genres that has more or
less ceased to exist. So much is reasonably obvious, and indeed it is attention
to historical questions of this kind that marks off proper historical criticism
from the casual, uninformed reading of texts that so easily leads to shallow
and anachronistic literary judgments.
Now among the conventions of literature within which any author of the
past worked, and which we try with great effort to reconstruct as a
precondition of understanding ancient literature, will be some kind of
consensus, however inarticulate, about what sort of thing literature is, what
it is to be a writer, and what kind of meaning literary works are supposed to
have: in short, some sort of theory of literature or theory of art. As I argued
in the first preliminary point above, the theory and practice of literature are
intimately interlinked, and part of the mental furniture of any writer—
which as historical critics we are obliged to attend to—is some notion of
hi
People in the Middle Ages treated books rather as musical scores are treated
today. The normal thing to do with a written literary text, that is, was to
perform it, by reading or chanting it aloud. Reading was a kind of performance.
Even the solitary reader most often read aloud, or at least muttered, the words
of his text—performing it to himself, as it were—and most reading was not
solitary. The performance of a text was most often a social occasion.3
Now this sense that the literary work exists in its performance, rather than
having its being on the written or printed page, has possible consequences
for the location of literary meaning. Meaning is not so squarely in the hands
of the author in an age which 'performs' its literature as it is in our entirely
bookish literary culture.
IV
The most obvious case in the Old Testament of texts which either had no
authors, in the ordinary sense, or whose authors were largely reworking
traditional material and writing to a formula, is the Psalms. Andrew Louth,
in his book Discerning the Mystery, rightly identifies the psalter as a problem
for traditional, author-centred historical criticism. He writes:
What is the meaning of these poems that we recite, and continue to recite after
three thousand years or so? Is it what the original writer intended, or what
whoever it was who introduced the psalm into the worship of the Temple
thought, or what? Clearly too restrictive an understanding of the meaning of a
psalm will make nonsense of the recitation of the psalms and deny the basis of
the spiritual experience of generations of Christians ... The tendency of the
historical-critical method has been to concentrate on originality and regard
what is not original as secondary; but if we see here a process of inspired
utterance and reflection on—comment on—inspired utterance within the
tradition, itself regarded as inspired, then we have a more complicated but, I
suggest, truer picture ... The art of understanding is more complicated, and
richer, than an attempt to isolate the earliest fragments and to seek to understand
them in a conjectured 'original' context: we hear the voice and the echoes and
the re-echoes, and it is as we hear that harmony that we come to understanding.6
The completed D-corpus was never intended to be a literary work, laid by, like
Hilkiah's book of the law, to be found during Temple renovations. It was
intended and used for liturgical proclamation.8
One does not need to subscribe to Goulder's own liturgical theory of the
origins of these two narrative works to see that he has put his finger on a real
difficulty in what may be called the consensus view of the redaction of
biblical 'historiography'. The redaction-critical interest in the motives and
intentions of the editors has, in fact, pushed to one side a question that earlier
form- and traditio-historical criticism had paid more attention to: the
question of the intended use of lengthy narrative material in ancient Israel.
Scholars sometimes speak of the D history's having been 'published' during
the Exile: but in what sense published? Even if we do not adopt a theory of
liturgical origins for it, we can scarcely think of it as a literary history for
circulation among the literate élite, or for deposit in a public library. When
we ask what the redactor is trying to convey, what view of Israel's history he
would like his readers to accept, we need to be clear what kind of social
setting we are presupposing. In what contexts in Israel during the exilic age
could one encounter such a work as the D history and be either convinced or
unconvinced by its lines of argument? Form critics have written much about
the Sitz im Leben of the einfache Formen of which much of the Old Testament
is supposed to be composed; but what was the Sitz im Leben of long
And Burrow quotes the classic statement of this position from Sir Philip
Sidney's Apology for Poetry (1595): "Now for the poet, he nothing affirms,
and therefore never lieth." This second idea is in origin Aristotelian: in the
Poetics we find: "You might put the works of Herodotus into verse, and it
would still be a species of history"—that is, not poetry.
As Burrow shows, this concept of 'literature' is hardly to be found in the
Middle Ages in England. Eloquence does not entail Activity; high style is
rhetoric rather than 'art'; the poet is under no self-denying ordinance which
binds him, as a poet, to refrain from affirming. There are indeed works, such
as Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which are plainly literature in our sense,
and where "final moral judgements are uttered, not by their author, but by
Gawain, Bertilak, and the Round Table; and, since their judgements
disagree, the ultimate effect is pleasingly oblique and non-affirmative".13
But there are many other works which clearly observe no convention of
Activity : we find, says Burrow, "sermons in verse, instructions for parish
priests in verse, courtesy books and chronicles in verse, even poems on
alchemy stained with chemicals".14 In practice most of such material is
excluded from what is studied under the heading 'Middle English
Literature'. But there is a great deal of medieval writing that occupies a sort
of middle ground; which we certainly want to claim for 'literature', yet
which has as its aim a direct, rather than an oblique, relation to truth,
especially theological or moral truth. A good example is Pearl, where, says
Burrow, "even the most literary of readers has to recognize ... that one of
the immediate objects of the poem is theological truth".15 An even better
example, if we move outside England, is Dante's Divine Comedy. The
Comedy contains lengthy passage of philosophical and theological exposi
II
Once again I do not think it requires much imagination to see that the
student of the Bible faces problems similar to those encountered in the study
III. CONCLUSIONS
REFERENCES