Professor Noll, please loan your Bible to Richard Dawkins

Part 2 of Thoughts on Biblical Scholarship.

for Part 1: go here.

In Part 1 of this series that comments on some recent online posts and articles by K.L. Noll, Philip R. Davies, and Hector Avalos I wrote that attention to the question of who the proper audience for secular biblical studies is important.  In this part, I will look at Noll’s paper which describes the sharp difference between biblical studies that seek to defend faith and the secular study of religion that attempts to advance knowledge about whys and hows of human religiosity throughout history. Although I still have some serious reservations about some aspects of his paper, my initial reaction has softened considerably. His paper raises some important questions about the audience of biblical scholarship.

Knoll ably describes the fundamental distinction between the academic discipline of religious studies and explanations of religious ideas and practices that are generated by a religion itself. His primary example is that of ritual which is susceptible to a variety of explanations by the religion scholar who see in ritual the creation of identity boundaries, the maintenance of an orthodoxy or other factors.  A theologian of that tradition, however, is more likely to appeal to a realm of symbolic significance and efficacy irreducible to other factors. Other members of the faith may not even care or know about the theologian’s explanations. In any case, the religion scholar tries to see the tradition from the outside. As Noll puts it the religion researcher is like a biologist dissecting a frog while the theologian is accorded the status of the poor specimen.

Noll agrees with the noted atheist activist and scientist Richard Dawkins that theology is essentially “talk about nothing” since it cannot advance knowledge since theology’s primary topic, deities, do not have any empirically demonstrable reality. “The god of the Bible is the sum total of the words in the text and has no independent existence”. With this in mind, Noll writes that academic theologians bear the ethical responsibility to own up to their faith communities that theology “must position itself apart from those academic disciplines that try to advance knowledge, such as history, anthropology, religious study, and (perhaps especially) the natural sciences.”

In my view, Noll draws too sharp of a distinction between people engaged in the academic study of religion and theology. Certainly, many people are engaged in both discourses at different times and their contributions to academics can be outstanding (as Noll no doubt would agree). Moreover, at some levels, theological research can further the cause of secular study of religion as theology does not always (or even most of the time) restrict itself to dealing with truths or ideas outside of the realm or history or human construction. This raises another issue that I have with Noll’s paper. He is aware that theologians are often well trained in disciplines identical or comparable to religion scholars. He writes:

“The best theologians are scholars who have immersed themselves in many of the same academic disciplines favored by religion researchers. Like good religion research, good theology is generated by the application of sound reasoning to empirical evidence.”

I question Noll’s judgment on “good” theology. If theology and the study of religion are two different things, it does not seem fair to me to judge “good theology” as that which most closely matches “good” secular scholarship. Religious studies as a discipline should not make such evaluations of the content of religions. What makes a “good” frog? One that reminds the biologist of herself? Theological work can be compatible with (at least in some respects) and contribute to secular scholarship, but that does not make “good” theology.

How any theologian of any tradition might understand the relationship between “eternal” truths and the vagaries of history and human thought need not be explored here. At issue is the fact that often “eternal” truths unduly influence the results of research dealing with a religion as a product of human culture and history. Thus, religious ideas are often dressed up as the results of academic research. It could be as blatant as the instances Noll points to, such as adducing “proof” of the pseudoscience of intelligent design, speaking of the historicity of Moses or Jesus beyond what the evidence will allow, or that implying that people have obligations toward a deity. On this last point, consider how many otherwise academic commentaries on the prophetic literature of the Bible make moralizing statements directed at the book’s audience or uncritically adopt the Bible’s position on the moral state of ancient Israel. It could be far more subtle or covert, however.

It has been frequently noted how many scholars used to regard the Judaism of the Persian period with its accent on obedience to the Law as a degradation of the earlier “Israelite” faith based on the ideals of prophetic revelation. The influence of Protestant theological values here is obvious. Thankfully, academe has gotten over that. In decades past, considerable effort within the guild of biblical studies has been expended on defining “myth” in a way that would specifically exclude the biblical materials. Theological conceptions about the uniqueness of the ancient Israelite religion led to the sharp line drawn between the purportedly linear, “historical” mind of the Israelites vis-a-vis the “cyclical, mythical” mindset of the Canaanites, Babylonians et. al.. A number of theologians have regarded “myth” as a hopelessly inadequate genre through which convey the religious truths of the ancient people of Israel. This thinking, too, is passing but vestiges of it remain among some theologians who also work as biblical scholars.  The secular study of the Hebrew Bible has been negatively affected by these theological attitudes as they have found their way into numerous university libraries and those unwary of its theological bias import it into their otherwise non-theologically oriented work.

One theological enterprise that is not fading out is the efforts to continually reinterpret the Bible so that it remains relevant to the modern world. Hector Avalos (The End of Biblical Studies) has argued that virtually all aspects of modern biblical research plays a role in this academically illegitimate end.  Although I think he is overstating his case to some degree, his book is a valuable critique of the state of biblical research (more on this in Part 3).

Numerous otherwise academic books on the Bible or the ancient worship of Yahweh make theologically loaded statements that would never find their counterpart in a similar studies on ancient worship of Indra or Zeus, let alone Baal or Marduk. As Noll observes, many religious studies faculty are theologians who do not see the tension between confessional work and their role in secular universities. I should add, however, that the difficulty does not arise solely in the fields of Christian or Biblical studies or even Jewish studies (in which many positions are open only to Jews). A number of scholars of Buddhism, for example, are practicing Buddhists. On occasion the distinction between an academic lecture and a Dharma talk can be a bit blurry at times. This problem for academic Buddhology is insignificant compared to that in Biblical Studies, however.

Probably the majority of biblical scholarship is conducted in institutions with a religious identity although, to be fair, many of the scholars involved do enjoy great levels of academic freedom and do work that is unimpeachable by staunch secularists. Still, there is a pronounced “theology friendly” attitude that, in my opinion, seriously compromises the integrity of the secular discipline by all too readily allowing a slide into confessional stances on the Bible’s integrity or the nature of ancient Israelite religion.

Noll charges theologians with the task to inform their believing audiences that the truth claims of their faith “Ain’t necessarily so”, at least as far as academic research can demonstrate. On the one hand, I think Noll overstates his case here and I certainly would not ask a theologian to admit that “the god described in this sacred text is fictional, and any resemblance to an actual god is purely coincidental”. Yet, Noll’s self-professed status of being “professional agnostic” represents a sound attitude that believing biblical scholars should adopt in their professional capacity as members of the academy (accepting that ideals are impossible to attain). To do less would be ignore the boundaries of the academy and theology. The situation is different for atheists as the distinction between believing in no gods and simply admitting great uncertainty that such entities exist does not bear the same kind of influence on one’s work. Indeed, many Christians study the ancient Norse or Greek religions without trying to adopt the position that they simply do not know whether Odin or Athena actually exist. They are quite certain, however, that they do not and this does no harm to the quality of their work. Atheists professing an agnostic stance in their religious studies work often do so, I think, for so as not to alienate themselves too much from believing colleagues or students.  In terms of classroom dynamics, this is a useful diplomatic move, but in exclusively professional encounters, its utility is far less obvious to me.

As I observed above, however, Noll also lays at the feet of “theology” the rise of intelligent design pseudoscience. If theologians are supposed to be wary of such anti-intellectualism that arises on their watch, I think that, mutatis mutandis, secular religion scholars are in a similar situation. In my view, religion scholars employed in public institutions have a public duty to educate beyond the confines of the class room. I think this duty arises particularly strongly when people seek to make political or ideological capital (even for causes we approve of) out of misrepresentations of religion or any one religion in particular.

Noll cites the noted atheist activist and scientist Richard Dawkins as one of the more outspoken academics who have called theology’s bluff by saying that it is “talk about nothing”. Noll’s references to Dawkins has a certain mischievous air to it but I think he over-estimates Dawkins’ reputation, writing that religion scholars would not be dismissive of him, whereas theologians would be.

Dawkins is not a biblical or religion scholar nor a philosopher and yet his book, The God Delusion, is widely read by hundreds of thousands of people as a serious study on the folly of religion by someone who is thought to know what he is talking about. My reading of The God Delusion was a study in heightened, but mixed emotions. On the one hand, I have considerable sympathy for his campaign to end religious privilege and deferment and to challenge the absurd claims of creationists whose pontifications about the nature of world remind me very strongly of cargo cults. On the other hand, his knowledge of religion and religious studies is sorely lacking.  He also makes some silly comments about the Bible that a first year biblical studies student could refute with ease. I am hoping to offer some discussions of Dawkins’ treatment of the Bible, in the future but I think it would be fair for me here to at least summarize some of these issues.

Dawkins is aware than not all Christians are fundamentalists, yet he still lumps them all together, claiming that the liberals and moderates are simply enabling the more anti-intellectual elements within the tradition. This is a a strawman and a very unfortunate one. It polarizes the issue far more than is necessary and denigrates the efforts of many Christians to limit the influence of fundamentalism and anti-intellectualism.

If Dawkins misrepresents the religious camp, he also misrepresents the Religious Studies camp. His errors in this regard are so glaring that I am surprised that Noll bothered to mention Dawkins at all. Dawkins’ work should motivate the religion researcher to champion Religious Studies courses as mandatory for high school and university students. And Oxford dons.

“Historians of religion,” he claims, posit a progression from “primitive tribal animism” through polytheism to the western monotheisms (The God Delusion, Mariner Edition, 2008, p. 52). Dawkins rightly decries the “monotheistic chauvinism” that this perceived progression has instilled in some writers but does not seem aware that the very idea of such a progression is hardly current in Religious Studies.

In dismissing the need to deal with the complexities of polytheism he writes, “Life is too short to bother with the distinction between one figment of the imagination and many” (The God Delusion, p. 56). With this, Dawkins tries to cut to the basic underlying theism behind all religions that he sees as the main target of his work. Dawkins seems aware of the wealth of “anthropologically informed” studies of religion that have been produced, but for him they only offer a voyeuristic look into the “richness of human gullibility” (The God Delusion, p. 57). Dawkins presents the outlines of an evolutionary theory for the origins of religion. It may be right at least in part, but there are tens of thousands of years between such an origin and where we are today. Dawkins runs roughshod over the intervening millennia, paying scant attention to the intertwining of religion with virtually all other aspects of human society and culture. One does not really know religion merely by knowing one part of its causes.

The strong reification of religion in The God Delusion as a knowable, quantifiable, and bordered entity that can be isolated from the rest of human experience is unlikely to convince the majority of religious studies professors. The boundaries of what is, and is not, religion are fluid, porous, and shifting. Little attention is paid in The God Delusion to how people identify ethnic, political, philosophical or other boundaries through virtually identical means as they mark religious groups: sharing stories of origins, the production of totemic icons and other symbolic edifices around themselves (notice the big red “A” symbol on many atheist’s websites and T-shirts). Sometimes these edifices take on transhistorical, almost transcendent qualities. The atheistic Soviet state became the realization of a “sacred” history of eternal class struggle. In a sense, the state became the surrogate god as it embodied all the ideals of life and was the ultimate authority. There is no clear boundary between “religion” and “politics” or many other aspects of human life. The delusion of “gods” is insufficient criteria.

Had Dawkins taken the phenomenon of religion and the variety of religions more seriously he could better demonstrated how religion is a human phenomenon and better located the origin of the tribalism, violence oppression, bigotry and war that people are so capable perpetrating on one another.  On the latter issue, the blame does lay on religion itself.

Far more importantly for the present purposes, he could have saved Religious Studies scholars the pain of having so many students take “World Religions 101” who have enough years left in them to learn the distinction “between one figment of the imagination and many” but only want to study the “richness of human gullibility.”

Dawkins also needs an education in biblical scholarship. He is perceptive enough to note the strong resemblance between the story of the angels at Lot’s house in Sodom (Genesis 19) and that of the Levite’s concubine in Judges 19. But what does Dawkins make of it?

“The story of the Levite’s concubine is so similar to that of Lot, one can’t help wondering whether a fragment of manuscript became accidentally misplaced in some long-forgotten scriptorium” (The God Delusion, pp. 273-74).

I don’t know any biblical scholar who would take this claim seriously, but many of Dawkins’ readers trust that he did his homework and studied what biblical scholars have to say about these passages’ interrelationship. The result is sometimes the presence in Old Testmaent 101 of some one who wants confirmation that the Bible “is the superstitious scribblings of bronze-age goat herders, mined from previous scribblings of even less developed goat-herders”, as “rlogan” posted on the Freethought Rationalism Discussion Board (formerly, the Internet Infidels Discussion Board, Jan 30, 2009). The Bronze Age Goat Herders syndrome is quite popular among atheists. I have no idea why so many think the Bible is a product of the Bronze Age and what these atheists have against goat herders. The S.B.L. and the goat herders union really should address these issues.

More seriously, archaeologists have been attempting to to combat the sometimes ridiculous ideas about their profession and the human past that find their way into popular culture. The portrayal of religion in popular culture or by vocal ideological groups should be met with a similar joint effort by the Religious Studies academy when those portrayals are plainly false and misleading.

I do not wish to draw together to closely Dawkins’ fight against religious hegemony in society and the futility of theistic belief with Noll’s views on the independence of the secular study of religion. There are, of course, numerous points of contact but also many differences. Above all, Noll is not asking people to consider abandoning their faith. Both, however, see the academic pursuit of knowledge as fundamentally different from the pursuit of theological insights, and I would have to agree wholeheartedly. But Dawkins’ struggle, or at least the way he frames it, is hardly one that the scholar of religion can fully embrace without some compromise of academic integrity. The fight for the non believing religion or biblical scholar, then, is not only one of independence from the “theologians” but of relevance in the eyes of the public at large (not to mention the rest of the humanities and social sciences).

Part 3. (Coming soon)