Brief Update: Courses

For those of you who read my blog posts, I figured I’d post a brief update.

I just started Fall Quarter. Coursework is Attic Greek, Intermediate Hebrew, and Intermediate Akkadian. Attic Greek is elementary. So, there is nothing particularly unique. Intermediate Hebrew is “Biblical Hebrew boot camp.” It includes 3 days per week of working through various texts in class, 1 day of historical grammar, and 1 day of rapid reading. In Intermediate Akkadian, we are reading Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian letters. I’m a little nervous. Even so, I look forward to it.

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Polytheism, Monotheism, and “a Canaanite Psalm”: A Note on Psalm 29

Recently, I’ve been doing quite a bit of work on Psalm 29. For those who are not familiar with scholarship about it, many scholars believe it was originally a Canaanite hymn. Sometime in history, Judeans or Israelites tooks the hymn. They turned it into a hymn about Yahweh. So, often times, it is used when addressing issues of monotheism vs. polytheism.

I’ve noticed, though, a major issue with all of the monotheism vs. polytheism discussion. No Judean or Israelite would have thought, “this is a monotheistic (or polytheistic) text.” In other words, we are using our own categories. Typically, categories are useful because they help us to understand the information. In this case, however, it seems that the categories of “monotheism” vs. “polytheism” may hinder our abilities to understand what is going on in Psalm 29.

For example, by justifiably connecting Psalm 29 to Ugaritic literature, some may claim it it reflects its polytheistic background. In the Psalm, then, we see a movement towards monotheism, people would claim. Unfortunately, we seem to miss to point by saying “movement towards monotheism.” What is imperative is that we try to understand what the text is saying in its historical context. By speaking of some sort of monotheism, we are unable to describe Psalm 29 with great precision. Therefore, it is pertinent that we work to describe Psalm 29 based on where it is, not based on where it is going.

Furthermore, there is the issue of context. Because of its similarities to Ugaritic literature, many scholars work with it in light of Canaanite religion and culture. The reality, though, is that Judah and Israel were influenced by a variety of imperial foreign cultures, such as the Egyptians, Neo-Assyrians, and Neo-Babylonians. Therefore, it would be fruitful to look beyond Psalm 29 as a Canaanite Psalm. For we have no certainty in dating Psalm 29 (i.e. no manuscript evidence; only shared cultural traditions). While it may reflect Canaanite traditions, Judean scribes came into contact with far more than just Canaanite people. They would have come into contact with Neo-Babylonian, Neo-Assyrian, and Egyptian scribes. Consequently, we should be attentive to those potential influences within Psalm 29. This is what I am working on with regard to Psalm 29.

Context, Silence, and Academics

From about 8:30 AM to at least 6:00 PM, I spend my days in Swift Hall at the University of Chicago. More often than not, there is noise. Regardless of where I go, there is noise. It is never ending, constant noise. My mind filters out the noise and keeps working. When people leave the halls and classrooms, though, there is silence. The context which held the noise is now void of sound. The only sound is me walking through the halls.

Today, as I walked through silent halls, I heard the walls speak (metaphorically, of course). What I mean is that I focused on the small things. I noticed the cracks in the walls. I noticed the little holes in door frame. I observed each and every dent and scratch on the floor. In essence, I paid attention to my context. The only reason I could do so what because of the silence which covered Swift Hall.

Now, besides giving me spiritual clarity on the reality of life and importance of our world, this experience gave me clarity on why I study Hebrew Bible and Near Eastern literature. The Hebrew Bible, like anything else in this world which can be seen, cries to be seen, heard, and understood. It, just like the Mahabharata, a Trader Joe’s sign, and and a tree on the sidewalk, wants to be seen. As people, it is up to us to stop and listen. It is up to us to see what makes the content and shapes the world. How does each individual crack, hole in the wall, smear of dirt, and door handle shape how we see the world?

Everything cries out in a harmonious voice. And, like any good choir, you can’t easily tell how the voices and sounds are working together. In regard the Hebrew Bible and other ancient literature, this is what I want to find. I want to pay attention to how the letters work together to communicate something to people. What are they trying to say and why are they trying to say?

Anyway, this has been a non-conventional post. I hope you, as I do, pay attention to the world around you. At bottom, I think that academics should pursue this. We don’t do “academic study” of texts. We should yearn to listen to every way in which the text or object speaks to us. We should yearn to hear how it works in harmony with other texts or objects to shape the reality that we see.

On the Mahābhārata: Internal, Ancient Pantheon Conflicts

12burningforestThis weekend, I started analyzing the narrative about the burning of the Khandava Forest. One thing which came to the surface was how I should understand the conflict between the gods and team Arjuna-Krsna. In the case of this passage within the Mahābhārata, the conflict is seemingly Arjuna, Krsna, and Agni (Fire) against Indra and the gods. Yet, when we consider the textual and oral context of the Mahābhārata, another important factor comes into play.

By the period in which the Mahābhārata was being compiled, the Rigveda was an normative text. Predating the Mahābhārata, the Rigveda is a series of poems composed c. 1500 BCE. In it, one of the predominant gods is Agni. Agni is also the Fire god present in the burning of the Khandava forest. This is important because in a few of the English translations of the Rigveda which I have quickly examined, the first hymn in the first book is about Agni, the god of Fire. And because the Mahābhārata was composed in a period when Vedic traditions from the Rigveda were known, it is reasonable to suggest that Fire (Agni) in the Mahābhārata evoked memory of a very ancient deity.

Likewise, Indra is one of the most important figures in the Rigveda. During the Vedic period, he was one of the main gods. Thus, we may assume that any mentions of Indra evoked memory of a deity who was known to be very ancient.

According to Britannica, Agni was second only to Indra. In light of this information, it offers an interesting perspective from which to read the burning of the Khandava forest. It draws emphasis away from conflict between team Krsna-Arjuna and team Indra. It re-focuses emphasis upon the ancient, internal conflict between Agni (Fire) and Indra, important members of the ancient pantheon as presented in the Rigveda.

After I tease out my analysis of the narrative structure, I hope to consider how this approach to the text may be fruitful.

*These thoughts are in no way meant to be complete. This blog is merely an extension of my brain. Writing these on a public sphere is a chance for me to draft and test my ideas before further exploring them. Also, please forgive the lack of proper citations. Feel free to check the entry for Agni on Encyclopedia Britannica or the dating for the composition of the Rigveda.

Just Another Day Learning Akkadian

This is a snippet from my translation of an Akkadian marriage contract.

“If Bashtum has said to Rimum, her husband, “You are not my husband,” they will throw Bashtum into the river.” – Marriage contract written in Akkadian
 
If Rimum does the same, he only pays silver. This is institutionalized sexism in its truest form.