Readers Reply

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’Til Death Do Us Part

I’ll give up BR and Biblical Archaeology Review when they pry them out of my cold dead fingers.

Get a Job

“The ancient Israelites were not a people of the book. King David had no Bible. Neither did the prophets. The later tradition that Moses wrote the Bible is not even mentioned in the text,” Mary Joan Winn Leith recently wrote in BR (From Storm to Scroll, BR 18:04).

Ronald Hendel asks, “Does the story [the Exodus] contain real history? Very probably yes, although it’s not easy to pinpoint. The biblical account is a conflation of history and memory—a mixture of truth and fiction” (“Exodus: A Book of Memories,” BR 18:04).

What is the purpose of attacking the veracity of Scriptural statements in most of your articles? Why do you allow, no, select only authors who assume that the Bible is filled with more error than truth? If the Bible is so filled with error, why do you not find another occupation?

The Silent Ones

I can’t believe the number of inflammatory, angry letters you get! So much finger-pointing and one-upmanship! This is not the kind of Christianity I was taught to believe in when I was in Sunday school.

Don’t get discouraged! I’m sure there are many silent readers out here who appreciate your fine magazine.

Nabal

The Earthy Version

Great piece on Nabal (Peter J. Leithart, “David’s Threat to Nabal,” BR 18:05). I would love a complete earthy translation of the scriptures that would not “clean up” the original words but rather give their modern equivalents. When modern translators prudishly soften words, we are all being pissed on.

Covering His What?

Peter J. Leithart claims that the term “covering his feet” (1 Samuel 24:3, where it describes Saul’s activity in the cave at Ein Gedi) is a euphemism for defecating. How did he come to this conclusion?

Peter J. Leithart responds:

I could offer the typical academic dodge of “scholarly consensus,” but the best evidence for this interpretation of the phrase comes from Judges 3, the only other use of the phrase in the Hebrew Bible. There, Ehud skewers the Moabite king Eglon, and “filth/refuse comes out” (Judges 3:22). While Ehud makes his escape, Eglon’s men hesitate to enter the room, because they believe he is “covering his feet” (Judges 3:24). They smelled the filth, believed that Eglon was defecating, and refused to enter. If that fails to satisfy, there is always scholarly consensus to fall back on.

How Polite Was Paul?

I was not annoyed to learn that David was capable of using vulgar language when the occasion called for it—in fact, his humanness makes me feel a little better about myself. I’d like to extend the thought a bit with this question to Peter 004Leithart: In Philippians 3:8, the apostle Paul uses the Greek word skubalon to describe how little he cares for all the things he has given up for Christ. The King James Version politely translates the term as “dung.” I have long wondered, does that Greek word deserve such a polite translation? Or is it really vulgar and thus more accurately translated as, well, you know …

Peter J. Leithart responds:

I agree with Ray White’s suggestion on Philippians 3:8 (cf. Sirach 27:4; Josephus, Jewish Wars 5.571), and will save him the trouble by saying that the only English word that captures the vulgarity of the Greek is “shit.” Contemplating our squeamish modern translations, I am reminded of C.S. Lewis’s complaint, in a discussion concerning a speech made by Reason in the medieval allegory “The Romance of the Rose,” about those who wish “to speak more cleanly than God.”

Song of Songs

The Dark Virgin

In the December issue of BR (Readers Reply, BR 18:06) the editors mention that they had searched in vain for a dark-skinned representation of the “black and beautiful” young woman of the Song of Songs.

I think we might consider many depictions of the Virgin of Guadalupe (the “dark Virgin”) as such a representation (above). In Catholic tradition the young woman of the Song of Songs is allegorically interpreted as the Virgin Mary. Her dark skin helped legitimate the specific worship of the Virgin of Guadalupe who appeared to the Aztecs as one of “their kind,” which continues to be an important aspect of her appeal and glory among Chicanos.

A Flamenco Song of Songs

Yes, there is a portrayal of the black songstress of the Song of Songs. It was done by an artist many consider the supreme master of the 20th century and, perhaps, of the entire modernist period, Henri Matisse. He used a medium—painted, cut and pasted papers—that did not, until he employed them, hint at the possibility of great art.

Matisse first worked with cut paper in 1931–1932, when he used paper cut-outs to create mockups for the large murals he was preparing for the Barnes Foundation in Merrion, Pennsylvania. Throughout the 1930s and 1940s, Matisse continued using paper cut-outs to design art magazine covers, costumes and scenery for the theater, and stained glass windows for a Dominican chapel at Vence, France.

Now, Matisse was hardly religious, but his spirituality was in his art’s guiding metaphysics. One of Matisse’s models and an assistant on his cut-outs, Monique Bourgeois, served as his nurse following a surgical operation in 1941, and Matisse felt considerable gratitude 005toward her, as well as appreciation for her work as a model. In 1944 she entered a Dominican convent as Sister Jacques-Marie, taking the habit that September. In her new role she prodded Matisse to consider his soul and its only salvation through the church. She inspired the master to undertake a suite of stained glass windows for the Chapelle des Dominicaines at the foyer Lacordaire at Vence, a project planned using cut-out papers (Soeur Jacques-Marie, “Henri Matisse,” Grand Street 13:2 [Fall 1994], pp. 79–89).

In 1950, while he was still working at the chapel at Vence, Matisse started to use the cut-paper format for monumental conceptions. Among these was La Tristesse du Roi (The Sorrow of the King) (below), dated to 1952 and measuring 115 x 155 7/8 in. (292 x 396 cm). The piece was hardly ignored or unknown, but its subject matter has never been fully appraised.

As early as 1952, art historian Gaston Diehl hesitantly asked of this work: “Doit-on voir ici David et le roi Salomon?” (“Should one see here David and King Solomon?” [Diehl, Matisse, p. 147]). By 1961, Monroe Wheeler was confident enough of Diehl’s identification to suggest, “apparently this king is David, the harpist, rather than his son Solomon … on the right, a large archaic harp, black and white with golden strings … on the right miscellaneous small shapes suggestive of the harp music” (Monroe Wheeler, The Last Works of Henri Matisse [New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1961], p. 4).

The figure on the right, however, is not a harp player at all, nor is it David or Solomon. Rather, it is a woman. She has breasts, and she wears what appear to be a dress and a shawl. Her feet are extended, the toes pointing out as in a dance, which explains why the dress and the shawl flare away from her body. She is twirling, with her arms above her head to complete the pose of the dance. To her immediate left is a seated guitar player, his hands raised over his instrument; to the left of the guitarist, a seated man plays the tambourine, one of his hands raised in exclamation.

The guitar, harmonica and dancing black woman suggest this picture shows a party of gypsy musicians—Flamenco artists. Living in the south of France, Matisse must have been acquainted with Flamenco (Picasso was a fan), since Nice, Aix-en-Province, Sète and Arles were all centers of this Moorish art. Anyone with a passing familiarity of Flamenco will understand that the title of the picture, The Sadness of the King, does not refer to any of the participants in the scene but to what they are singing about.

Matisse had planned to illustrate the Song of Songs and this apparently is what he created: an illustration of the Song being sung. The woman on the right is black, as is the singer of the Song of Songs both physically and metaphorically.

The author of the book, nominally Solomon, has the persona of the song exclaim at the very outset, “I am black but beautiful, Oh you daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.” Matisse pruned away any metaphysical ephemera and reached for the book’s essence—a wrenching torch song, with its assertive lyrics intoned by the dancing black singer.

A report on woe and love written in the first person, the Song of Songs could well be sung like a blues or a flamenco lament. This book’s lusty, direct and melancholy personality might have especially attracted the essentially unbelieving and definitely unchurched Matisse. Of all biblical books this is the one that most readily and frankly accepts the full range of human nature; it is the scriptural text least concerned with the legal or ethical ramifications of action, with moral premises and their implications, or even, in the usual sense, with the exposition of narrative. Of all biblical texts, this one is in graphic harmony with the artist’s vital and unliturgical spirituality, a quality that Matisse displayed throughout his career.

Did Rossetti Know?

In the foreground of Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s painting of the bride is an African woman (above). Was Rossetti perhaps aware of the discrepancy between his painting, which shows a very fair woman of the Song, and the scripture, and compensated for it by including this figure?

Thank you all for the suggestions. We should also add to the list Israeli artist Abel Pann’s 1950 pastel of Shulamit (above).—Ed.

Reading Torah

Torah! Torah! Torah!

What would academics do without the word “hegemony”? In “Unwrapping the Torah,” BR 18:05, Tikva Frymer-Kensky brandishes the term so often that one might think it a kind of shibboleth. What war are we fighting that needs such passwords?

Still Reading Torah

The article “Unwrapping the Torah,” BR 18:05, by Tikva Frymer-Kensky reveals more about the author’s sectarian and academic bias than it does about the role of Torah for Jews. Her basic premise is wrong. The Torah is actively and widely interpreted and reinterpreted by Jews on a continuing basis. The Torah reading of the week is the subject of interpretation in most Orthodox and many Conservative and Reform synagogues. The rabbi or congregant may give his own interpretation using one or more or none of the many rabbinical commentaries (including Rashi) that interpret the Bible. My son studied at Ner Israel Yeshiva (second oldest in the U.S.A.). He and his fellow students studied the Torah weekly along with the Talmud. The Shulcan Aruch (a medieval code of law considered authoritative for Ashkenazi Jews) lists weekly Torah study as mandatory.

Orthodox or traditional Judaism recognizes the Oral Law as equal to the Written Law of Torah and believes the Oral Law was given by God to Moses on Mount Sinai along with the Torah. This Oral Law was passed from Moses to Joshua to the Judges and so on in an unbroken chain and eventually to the rabbis that compiled the Talmud. Halakhah (religious law) is considered to be derived from both the Oral as well as the Written Law. Thus it is ridiculous for Frymer-Kensky to say the Torah is “in captivity” because a new interpretation of the Torah not using rabbinic tradition would not be valid. That is a Reconstructionist or Reform or academic philosophy. Certainly Frymer-Kensky is entitled to her religious views, but this attitude completely disregards the basic tenets of traditional rabbinic Judaism.

This article is basically a sectarian polemic and is neither a serious academic article nor fair unbiased popular 006journalism. Would you publish an article pointing out how Christian theology is in error because it is based on misreading, mistranslation and incorrect interpretation of the Hebrew Bible? This would be considered rude, polarizing and bad for circulation. So too an article such as this that demeans the central religious belief system of traditional (Orthodox, Sephardic, Chasidic) Judaism.

The Bible serves as the starting point for three major religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) and all their many sects and branches. These scriptures can be and are interpreted in many different ways by each and every group according to their own traditions. Disagreement and argument over differing interpretations is perfectly legitimate. However, for one group to criticize and belittle another group’s traditions is bigotry even if it is one branch of Judaism criticizing another branch.

Mr. Feingold asks, Would you publish an article pointing out how Christian theology is in error because it is based on misreading, mistranslation and incorrect interpretation of the Hebrew Bible? We recommend that he read Rolf Rendtorff’s article in this issue.—Ed.

Mishnah and Gemara

What am I missing? In “Unwrapping the Torah,” BR 18:05, Tikva Frymer-Kensky writes, “But children would ‘graduate’ from the Bible to higher forms of Jewish learning. By the time they were eight or ten, they would be studying the Mishnah, a Jewish law book that was produced around 200 C.E. When older they would enter the world of Talmud study.” A photo caption to the same article states: “Although the Torah is a central symbol of Israel’s long relationship with God, Frymer-Kensky suggests that it has traditionally been regarded as an entry-level text in Judaism. Children read and learn it as part of their early Jewish education, but those who continue their studies are encouraged to tackle the later books of interpretation—like the Mishnah (the collection of rabbinic law) and Talmud (the commentary on the Mishnah).”

In the same issue, in his article on “Christian and Jewish Views of the Holy Land,” BR 18:05, author Aaron Demsky describes the Palestinian Talmud as “a commentary on the Mishnah, the earliest rabbinic law code.”

While I’m not Jewish (I’m a Protestant Christian interested in comparative religions), I’ve always thought that the Gemara was the section of the Jewish Talmud consisting of the commentary on the Mishnah, and that the Palestinian and Babylonian Talmuds contain both the Mishnah and the Gemara. Have I misled my readers in our church newspaper or are the authors misleading your readers in implying that the Mishnah is separate from the Talmud?

Yes, the Talmud contains both the Mishnah, which is a law code and the core text of rabbinic Judaism, and the Gemara, which contains discussion and elaboration on the Mishnah. And yes, there are two Talmuds: the Babylonian Talmud, which contains the Mishnah and the discussions of the rabbis in academies of Babylon, and the Jerusalem Talmud, which contains the Mishnah and the discussions of the rabbis in Jerusalem 008and Palestine. The Babylonian Talmud is the larger of the two and is considered more authoritative because the bulk of the Jewish community moved to Babylon after the failure of the two Jewish revolts against Rome in 70 and 135 C.E.

But, the Mishnah was compiled before the Talmud, and as our authors demonstrate, even today, scholars and lay people commonly refer to the Mishnah, the law code, as if it were a separate, self-contained book. Talmud, then, is used loosely to refer to the later commentary on the Mishnah.—Ed.

Faces of Jesus

Adapting Pagan Images

As a retired professor of art history specializing in medieval and Byzantine art, I found Robin Jensen’s article on “The Two Faces of Jesus,” BR 18:05, interesting and very informative.

The adaptation of pagan classical imagery for Christian purposes is one of the most intriguing yet understandable developments in Christian art. Professor Jensen has included in her discussion the famous and often reproduced ceiling mosaic (photo above) from Tomb M under St. Peter’s in the Vatican. The vine of Dionysus (reinterpreted as the vine of Christ, John 15:1–8) surrounds the image of Christ as sun god riding in a chariot drawn (originally) by four white horses. I would like to add an important literary reference to explain the use of this image in a Christian context. It is by Clement of Alexandria (c. 150–215 C.E.), an influential Christian philosopher who tried to reconcile Platonism and Christianity. In his Exhortations to the Greeks (chapter 11) he wrote, “Let us get a vision of the true God, first raising to Him this voice of praise, ‘Hail, O Light’; for he who rides over the universe, ‘the sun of righteousness’ visits mankind impartially, imitating His Father, who ‘causes His sun to rise upon all men’ … He it was who changed the setting into a rising and crucified death into life.”

One other curious example of a pagan motif transformed into a Christian symbol that Clement discusses is Orpheus. After mentioning Orpheus as a deceiver influenced by demons (again, chapter 11), he writes, “But far different is my minstrel (Christ), for He has come to bring to a speedy end the bitter slavery of the demons that lord it over us … He at least is the only one who ever tamed the most intractable of all wild beasts—man: for he 050tamed birds, that is, flighty men; reptiles, that is, crafty men; lions, that is, passionate men; swine, that is, pleasure-loving men; wolves, that is, rapacious men.”

Your readers will be interested in adding Clement to a list of references if they wish to pursue this subject further.

Hendel

What About the Hyksos?

As a new reader of BR, I looked forward to reading Ronald Hendel’s article “Exodus: A Book of Memories,” BR 18:04. But I was disappointed to find only a piece that ignored the obvious. In article after Exodus article, I find writers ignoring the apparent similarities between the biblical Exodus of Semites from Egypt and the mass exodus of Semitic Hyksos from Egypt in 1567 B.C.E.

As a new reader, you might enjoy the discussion of this very topic in “Israel in Egypt,” chapter 2 of Ancient Israel, edited by BR’s editor Hershel Shanks and published by the Biblical Archaeology Society.—Ed.

No Myth

I would like to suggest an additional reason to understand Moses as a historical, not a fictional, person: According to the Book of Numbers 20:8–11, God instructs Moses to command a rock to pour out water in front of the entire nation of Israel. Moses hits the rock with his cane instead.

God’s reaction is severe: “Because you did not trust me enough to demonstrate my holiness to the people of Israel, you will not lead them into the land I am giving them” (Numbers 20:12). God is true to his word: He shows the dying Moses the land of Israel, and tells him: “I have now allowed you to see it, but you will not enter the land” (Deuteronomy 34:4).

This is not the stuff myths are made of. Moses, the greatest leader in the history of the nation of Israel, guide of military victories, and, by the Bible’s own account, a righteous man, dies before finishing his mission. The punishment is so harsh compared with the crime that it makes God appear petty. Rather than read this as myth, it seems more likely that the historical Moses died before reaching the Promised Land and that the biblical author had to come up with a way to explain it.

The Sharpest Knife

Ronald S. Hendel (in his column “That Old Time Religion,” BR 18:05) suggests that the use of flint knives in circumcision results from the Stone Age origin of the rite. Does Mr. Hendel know that the flint knife is extremely sharp? In fact, it is probably sharper than anything else available to Bronze Age people. When properly made, a flint knife is sharper than most modern knives and is still used in some surgery.

Ronald S. Hendel responds:

You are entirely correct. I’m told that the flint knives of the Early Bronze Age were particularly well made and sharp, and this is the period of our oldest evidence for circumcision (from human statuettes). I’m assuming that the practice predates our earliest attestation, but it is just a guess to push it back to the Neolithic, since we have no evidence from this era.

On another topic, my thanks to Jerome Shipman, a loyal BR reader from Potomac, Maryland, for pointing out to me that Thomas Mann’s majestic multivolume work, Joseph and His Brothers, is a tetralogy and not a trilogy, as I mistakenly said in the same column. Mea culpa.

Creation Mosaics

Was the Biblical Earth Flat?

Unlike Molly Meinhardt in “Seven Luminous Days,” BR 18:04, I don’t find anything difficult to comprehend about Genesis 1:6, “Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” To an intelligent ancient who did not understand the diffusion of blue sunlight by atmospheric oxygen and the hydrologic cycle, the blueness of the sky and ocean, and the falling of rain from the sky, would indicate that the sky is indeed composed of water, but must somehow be a separate mass from the ocean below. In my 052mind, the more profound question is: Did the early Hebrews come to believe that the earth was a sphere?

J. Edward Wright, of the Department of Near Eastern Studies at the University of Arizona, responds:

Mr. Ponder is correct; the people of the ancient Near East did believe that there was a vast body of water above the atmosphere, and this belief was based on the observations Mr. Ponder cites.

It appears, however, that “the early Hebrews” (if by this Mr. Ponder means the people of Israel and Judah prior to the conquests of Alexander the Great) did not speculate on the sphericity of the earth. The peoples of the ancient Near East and Mediterranean Basin imagined the earth in a variety of ways, but the most common image is that the earth was a flat landmass completely surrounded by water. The ancient Israelites and Judeans shared this image. Greek scholars seem to have been the first to posit the sphericity of the earth. Although some ancient sources attribute the origin of this idea to Pythagorus (sixth century B.C.E.) or Parmenides (fifth century B.C.E.), the only extant source to defend the spherical earth model is Aristotle’s four-volume treatise entitled “On the Heavens” (fourth century B.C.E.). Aristotle used arguments based on philosophy, philology, science and observational astronomy to support his thesis. The biblical authors and editors, however, have left no traces of any familiarity with the spherical earth model.

’Til Death Do Us Part
I’ll give up BR and Biblical Archaeology Review when they pry them out of my cold dead fingers.