Today’s class sparked many thoughts for me. Ilana Pardes’ discussion of the birth of Israel, as we discussed in class, attempted to view the Bible without any preconceptions of its meaning, purpose, or direction. Rather, she viewed it as a piece of literature. As a result, I was reminded of a course I took in high school, “The Bible as/in Literature.” This was a course taught in the English department and taken by students from various backgrounds. We studied the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible as well as the New Testament. But rather than learning the Bible’s Stories as factual or as God’s message to humans (this was, after all, public school), we looked at God as a character, sought meaning through literary devices like symbolism and metaphors, and, most importantly, studied the purpose of each story (for instance, what lesson was its writer attempting to impart?). This fascinating course was made all the more so when one studied the attitudes of its students, both before and after the course. For many, it confirmed their belief that religion is “made-up” for the purpose of giving people a point of reference, or to explain extraordinary phenomenon that can otherwise be explained by science. However, for many, the course served to reinforce their religious beliefs. This is somewhat surprising, because the course would seem to prove the Bible as a means to establish a secure and uniform culture, rather than to teach religion. I think that this results from the sense of community that many religions rely on. By learning about a common history and sharing knowledge of something with others (in this case, Bible stories), one is drawn into a community who shares such understandings. For many of the students, learning about the Bible as a young adult served to reinvigorate beliefs that they learned as children. When I finished reading the Pardes piece, I wrote a note to myself: “how do conservative Jews feel about such a reading of the Bible?” This question was actually rhetorical, my point being that I am sure that conservative Jews would not like such a reading. However, upon reflecting about my experiences in high school, I think that this question is a lot more complicated than I initially thought.
I was also very interested by Professor Staub’s question regarding our view of Ancient Israeli culture as being factual or as an imagined culture. Last year, I took “Nationalism, Consumerism, and Gender” with Professor Sweeney. In this course, we discussed the creation of national identities, and many academics suggested the idea of a common history or common origin was a common characteristic of nations. Many characteristics or practices that we assume to be indigenous to a given culture have actually developed from something from very different over time. Others have been consciously created in order to promote a sense of unity. My favorite example is kilts, which most of us understand as a traditional article of Scottish clothing. In reality, the kilt only became a national icon in the nineteenth century. It was worn in the sixteenth century by men and boys in the Highlands, but was popularized following Scottish Diaspora in the early nineteenth century as a symbol of national identity. Kilts serve as an example of how objects or practices that we understand as meaning something today may have had a very different meaning in the past. Although I am not familiar enough with the research performed by scholars to judge the validity of our current understanding of Ancient Israeli culture, my education has taught me to be wary of accepting our common perceptions as truth.
I also just wanted to mention The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant, an interesting novel that reexamines the story of Jacob and the life of his daughter Dinah, as well as those of Leah, Rachel, Zilpah and Bilhah. Although I read it years ago and cannot remember many details, I think it is an interesting example of how people can have different understandings of Biblical texts.
