On Originality

"Original.--Not that one is the first to see something new, but that one sees as new what is old, long familiar, seen and overlooked by everybody, is what distinguishes truly original minds. The first discoverer is ordinarily that wholly common creature, devoid of spirit and addicted to fantasy--accident." (Nietsche, Mixed Opinions and Maxims, #200; trans. Walter Kaufmann)

Seeing the God

I saw Deirdre Good posted the schedule for a conference I am participating in, called "Seeing the God," and so I thought I should note it here:

Co-sponsored by UTS History Department and Fordham Department of Theology

CONFERENCE SCHEDULE: SEEING THE GOD.

Union Theol. Seminary Room 207

THURSDAY MAY 12. 2011
10.00 Coffee and Cookies.
10.20 Welcome. Symposiarchs Profs. McGuckin & Pettis
10.30 Introduction Panel 1. Chair Prof. Jeff Pettis
10.40 —11.00 Seeing the god in Greco-Roman cult. J Pettis
11.00— 11.20 Seeing among the Philosophers. S. Trostyanskiy
11.20 —11.40 Seeing the divine in antique Judaism. J Calaway
11.40— 12.00 Seeing divine things in proto-Christian Literature.
J Pettis & J McGuckin.
12.00— 12.10 Seeing our way to a break
12.10 Introduction Panel 2. Chair Prof. McGuckin
12.15– 12.35 Vision in the Nag Hammadi Texts. C. Lilllie
12.30- 12.50 Holy vision in Syro-Christian texts. T French
12.50– 1.10 Seeing things invisible in Byzantium. J McGuckin
1.10 — 1.40 Open Panel Discussion.

I hope to see some NY people there. The conference is a synopsis of a book of collected essays being put together edited by John McGuckin and Jeff Pettis. I, as you can see, am covering divine visions in late antique Judaism (and, really, more late antique than antique). I just need to get away from grading papers and write my essay!

The Transfiguration of the Disciples in the Gospel of Philip

I am preparing a discussion of the concept of the "bridal chamber" in the Gospel of Philip for my class, Sexuality and Christianity. Along with this, I have been interested in how the concept of Jesus' body is articulated in the text, and in the process came across a gem of a line that I had not either noticed or just had not caught my attention before: that is, Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration was not actually transformed at all, but the disciples were.

In the Bentley Layton translation:

Jesus tricked everyone, for he did not appear as he was, but appeared in such a way that he could be seen. And he appeared to all of them--he [appeared] to [the] great as someone great, he appeared [to] the small as someone small, he [appeared] [to the] angels as an angel and to the human beings as a human being. For this reason he hid his discourse from everyone. Some saw him and thought they were seeing their own selves. But when he appeared to his disciples in glory upon the mountain he was not small, (for) he became great; or, rather, he made the disciples great so that they might be able to see that he was great. (57,28-58,8)

In this passage, Jesus rarely appears (if ever) in his true essence, which is inaccessible to most beings. He appears as like the one who sees him. He acts as an ultimate Rorschach--one sees themselves in him. He is almost a mirror, "they were seeing their own selves."

This is because, according to the Gospel of Philip, only like can see like:

People cannot see anything int he real realm unless they become it. In the realm of truth, it is not as human beings in the world who see sun without being sun and see the sky and so forth without being them. Rather, if you have seen anythings there, you become those things: if you have seen the spirit, you have become spirit; if you have seen the anointed (Christ), you have become the anointed (Christ); if you have seen the [father, you] will become the father. Thus [here] (in the world), you see everything and do not [see] your own self. But there, you see yourself; for you shall [become] what you see. (61,20-34)

Combining the two sayings: you are what you see, and see what you are. What you see in the realm of truth will be yourself. As such, the disciples could not see him in glory unless they too have been transformed to see it. They see it, and discover they too are great. Thus, according to the Gospel of Philip, Jesus does not change on the mountain; the disciples do. They finally see what was already always there.

Remembrance and Resting: For Alan Segal

This morning as I read Jim Davila’s blog, my heart sank. I saw that my advisor, friend, and colleague had passed away yesterday. I felt the wind being knocked out of me. Reading April DeConick’s moving blog post later, I felt appreciation and grief over the brilliant fragility of a life who was known to most of us as an important scholar, but who was also known as a father, husband, son, and friend.

April’s posting took me back to his last published book, Life after Death. She quotes the last full paragraph, but it was the penultimate paragraph that caught my eye:

Besides being intellectual adventurers, our ascending souls serving as symbols of our lives’ journey, we are all also martyrs as mortality eventually defeats us. Shakespeare tells us what our religious imagery tells us: the victories of our life outlives its difficulties. The effort to transcend ourselves is all. “The rest is silence.”

That his final published book was on Life after Death takes on an appropriateness that only retrospect could know. Alan’s latest book was about how the afterlife is a topography of society’s hopes, dreams, desires, as well as our fears. Often tales of ascents to heaven is a glimpse into that afterlife that has a social function to validate one’s beliefs in the afterlife.

Heaven is the mirror of our souls and our souls are the creators of the landscapes of heaven…. Humans have been traveling to heaven to see what was there before heaven was a place where the beatified and sanctified dead went. But that is no guarantee that they are true. (LAD 711)

In terms of the hereafter, Alan would say that we need a healthy dose of doubt, that faith without doubt is fanaticism. But he would also say that the very fact they are unverifiable and vibrant indicates their importance.

…the very speculation that an afterlife exists seems like a human need and an ideal—again, like love, beauty, or justice—that exists in our minds rather than in the world and gives meaning to our lives. Like beauty and justice, life after death is no les important for being unverifiable. (LAD 713)

“The rest is silence.” This is a phrase that has haunted me before. They are Hamlet’s final words. Much hinges on what we mean by “rest.” Rest as that which remains, or rest as repose, a silent repose—a repose of peace. I have heard that Alan died peacefully; I truly hope his rest was silence. Alan placed the importance on the effort to transcend ourselves. While this transcendence of self is often taken to be a continued personal existence after death—the unverifiable—it also occurs through memory. While Alan has now entered his Sabbath rest, the rest of us remember, and through that remembrance he continues.

Driving to the university today, my memory fragmented and the fragments raced and collided in a chaotic chorus, moving from memory to memory without any clear direction: the way he signed my copy of his life after death book, comments he has given about my work, the first words he ever said to me, advice about life, his exuberant love of tea, his equal love of electronics.

All these memories, superimposed upon one another, now formed a single mass, but had not so far coalesced that I could not discern between them--between my oldest, my instinctive memories, and those others, inspired more recently by a taste or "perfume," and finally those which were actually the memories of another person from whom I had acquired them at second hand--if not real fissures, real geological faults, at least that veining, that variegation of colouring, which in certain rocks, in certain blocks of marble, points to differences of origin, age, and formation. (Marcel Proust, Swann's Way, In Search of Lost Time; trans. Moncrieff, Kilmartin, and Enright)

My mind raced between personal anecdote to parties at conferences to visiting him this past fall in his home to his work and contributions. Today I have been telling stories to my colleagues and students—things you cannot get from his books.

There are too many things to talk about and think on. I met Alan in the fall of 2002. I was in my final year of undergrad at Illinois Wesleyan University and was visiting Columbia University because I was applying to be his student. I was his student from the following September to this past August. Seven years. Sevens years obsessed with Sabbaths. When I defended a dissertation on the relationship between the Sabbath and the Sanctuary in Jewish and Christian literature this past August, I became the last student he saw through to completion. As Alan’s health deteriorated in the past year and months, I had prepared myself for this possibility. Finality carries with it a responsibility of continued remembrance.

Today I threw out my class notes and just talked about Alan’s contributions and thoughts and insights to my classes. I told my Bible class about why Ehud was Alan’s favorite Judge (hint: because both Ehud and Alan were left-handed; also because Alan found the story hilarious. He also found the Adam and Eve story to be very funny). I told my mysticism class about his thoughts on the relationship between ecstatic experiences and beliefs about the afterlife.

I read. My students heard Alan’s words through my lips. We read the passages quoted above. We read about Alan’s views of the relationship between Judaism and Christianity as twins born of the same mother:

The social order for Judaism and Christianity had both a divine and a human context. In both Judaism and Christianity, the Torah, the national constitution of Judea, was the basis of historical being. Both attempted to preserve it after the collapse of national unity. The fact that they chose such different ways reflected their different social origins in the Judean state and presaged their later roles in history. Their different histories do not alter the fact of their birth as twins in the last years of Judean statehood. They are both truly Rebecca’s children, but unlike Jacob and Esau, they have no need to dispute their birthright. It can belong to both of them together. (Rebecca's Children 181)

One of the things I most appreciated about Alan’s work and that I have tried to emulate is his disregard of scholarly and traditional boundaries. Whether between Jews and Christians and other groups in antiquity, heaven and earth, this life and the next, Alan’s work from his dissertation to his most recent research consistently sought out interrelationships between groups often through the socially, religiously, and psychologically fraught process of crossing over from one group to another through conversion, ascents to heaven, and that ultimate crossing into the afterlife. As academic mystagogue, he assisted me in that most mysterious liminal process of crossing from graduate student to professional scholar.

He expresses such crossings well in his final paragraph of Paul the Convert, whether between two different religious groups (Pharisaic Judaism to Christian Judaism), psychological transformation (in both ancient and modern senses), and the relationship between us as readers and the ancient lives we encounter:

Paul’s Christian career began with his ecstatic experience of the Lord. It was his vision that convinced him of the need for the transformation of all believers. He sought to realize that vision in his career as an apostle, understanding the meaning of being in Christ as his life unfolded. Though he used his intellectual gifts and his education as an orator and Pharisee, he did not have the confidence in reason that systematic theologians have attributed to him. He began his career because of an experience, a conversion. His mystical vision of metamorphosis left much unexplained. He began as a Pharisee and became a convert from Pharisaism. He spent the rest of his life trying to express what he converted to. He never gave it a single name. Whatever it was, he never felt that he had left Judaism. Like the early rabbis, Paul understood that God’s ways are mysterious, hence human understandings must always leave room for ambiguities. Paul and the rabbis understood as well as anyone before or after that the truths inherent in the biblical text are manifold, complex, and sometimes opposing. Scripture is a gem that gives off a different glint each time it is turned in the light of analysis. It is time for us to realize this. Perhaps no single point of view can do scripture justice. (283-4)

Alan was quite a polymath, bringing sociology, history, psychology, and literature to bear upon the questions he had about Jews and Christians in antiquity—such as in his Paul book. Although his writing could at times have a Proustian quality that refused to be succinct, he often wrote moving and beautiful prose. While many scholars have boring, unnecessary, and vacuous conclusions, his conclusions tended to expand one’s vista of thought and, in a line, nurture one’s reading emotionally and intellectually.

It was with deep grief that I read to my students Alan’s words about the afterlife at the time that he was himself passing into “the undiscover’d country, from whose bourn / no traveller returns.” Hamlet was right: it “puzzles the will.”

In my copy of Alan’s monumental book, Life after Death, he wrote while I was still in coursework: “If being a graduate student is like being in hell, then it’s good to remember there’s a heaven out there.” Doubt and hope do not have to be mutually exclusive; they can be symbiotic. While rationally we may doubt the afterlife and emotionally hope for it in some sort, we can know that Alan persists through his written works, through our memories, and through his family. Right now the grief is fresh. In time it will begin to fade only to flare up again from time to time. Now and then we will continue to share anecdotes, privately and publicly, as the neurons fire in our brains to bring them to light, taking new shape in our memories.

The rest is silence.

Alan F. Segal

Jim Davila has reported that my advisor, Alan Segal, passed away yesterday.

April DeConick has a very beautiful remembrance of him here.

I will write more later, but for now my thoughts are with his family and the many friends who knew him.

The Multiplicity of Sexuality in the Bible

Jennifer Wright Knust has an op-ed piece on the belief blogs of cnn.com concerning the multiple, mixed, and contradictory messages the Bible has about sexuality. Check it out here.

Reading Time Regained

I have been spending my two snow days finishing up the seven-volume novel by Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time. It all only took me a few months short of two years to read. And it is finished. Here is a snippet I read today in the last volume, Time Regained:

In reality every reader is, while he is reading, a reader of his own self. The writer's work is merely a kind of optical instrument which he offers to the reader to enable him to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have perceived in himself. And the recognition by the reader in his own self of what the book says is the proof of its veracity, the contrary also being true, at least to a certain extent, for the difference between the two texts may sometimes be imputed less to the author than to the reader. (trans. Mayor, Kilmartin, and Enright)

Peeing on Professorial Doors

Ok...I started laughing out loud when I saw this: Professor pees on another professor's door. Nothing like inner-departmental politics.

Moses on the Mount: Visions of the "Pattern" of the Tabernacle

Here's an announcement for a public presentation I will be giving next week at Illinois Wesleyan University. If there is anyone within driving distance who can make it, we'll have a good time!

Monday, Jan. 31, 4 p.m., CLA 205 -- Visiting Assistant Professor of Religion Jared Calaway will present the Religion Department Colloquium, "Moses on the Mount: Visions of the 'Pattern' of the Tabernacle in Jewish and Christian Literature."

Gilgamesh on Stage

The earliest epic is now on stage at Bushwick Starr Theater in Brooklyn, NY:

The wooden staircase you climb to get to the Bushwick Starr theater has more character than some entire plays. You're rewarded for the climb—through January 30, anyway—with a strenuous, rewarding journey through the ancient Sumerian-Akkadian Epic of Gilgamesh, one of the earliest works of literature in history. Sumerian legends told of a semi-divine hero-king, Gilgamesh, who tyrannized his subjects in the city of Uruk until they pleaded with the gods for help. In response they created Enkidu, a primitive man of great strength who lived in the forest with the beasts until being seduced by a temple harlot into coming to Uruk to be a companion to Gilgamesh.

A different actor plays Gilgamesh in each "tablet," all ably, while Enkidu remains in the sure hands of the very physical actor who goes by the name of Eugene the Poogene. Cherrye J. Davis is notably authoritative as the jealous goddess Ishtar, and KT Peterson has a fabulous time with the role of Shamhat the temple priestess/prostitute. But the whole ensemble is strong, and despite Eugene's frequent key presence and consistent physicality—he even switches to another role late in the proceedings—and the numerous scenes with just a couple of characters, the whole thing has the flow of an ensemble piece.

Obituary for Robert Markus

The Guardian has an obituary for the eminent scholar of medieval Europe, Robert Markus, who, along with his intellectual sparring partner Peter Brown, established the idea of Late Antiquity as a period of intellectual and social effervescence.

Robert Markus, who has died of cancer at the age of 86, was among the finest historians of his generation. He helped establish the idea of Late Antiquity as a distinct and exceptionally creative period of European history, bridging the fall of the western Roman Empire and the early Middle Ages. He stressed the importance of Christianity's beliefs, but always had an eye to the material and social structures in which it was practised.

Ancient Codices Online: Aleppo

While prepping for my lecture on textual transmission and scribal practices, I came across a website that I had never seen before today.

I generally use the Codex Sinaiticus online to illustrate a few points (it is a fairly good hand, but still shows evidence of accidental scribal error; its shows students that ancient scribes didn't use spaces; its Gospel of John lacks 7:53-8:12, etc.), but I was very happy to see that there is a website where one can view the manuscript of the Aleppo Codex, which, along with the Leningrad Codex, are the two most important Hebrew witnesses to the Hebrew Bible. So check out the Aleppo Codex here, and I will add it to my sidebar.

New Year's Birth

"To be born again...first you have to die.... To land upon the bosomy earth, first one needs to fly." (Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses)

A Useful Tannenbaum

Evidently, an artist is seeking recycled Christmas trees in London in order to turn them into wood three-legged stools. See here. It is a good idea, but they are being sold for $621 a piece. Frankly, I think I could make my own Christmas stool.

To Ascend in Flame: To See God and Live 2

Yesterday I wrote a post on seeing God and living, even though none should be able to see God (at least face to face) and live. Yet there are many passages in which Jacob, Moses, elders, Hagar, and Manoah and his wife all see God and live and comment upon the fact in astonishment. I had left the discussion of Manoah and his wife until this time because it is quite an extensive, quite astonishing, and under-studied passage.

Some initial issues of note: this is one of two passages in which a woman is the primary recipient of the vision of the LORD/Angel of the LORD. It is a special birth narrative comparable to the one of Abram/Sarai, Hannah, perhaps Hagar, and one in which, like Hannah, I think makes an impression on the Jesus birth narratives with the angel's visitations to Mary and then Joseph. But there is so much more to this passage.

Quoting from the RSV:

And there was a certain man of Zorah, of the tribe of Danites, whose name was Manoah; and his wife was barren and had no children. And the angel of the LORD appeared to the woman and said to her, "Behold you are barren and have no children; but you shall conceive and bear a son. Therefore beware, and drink no wine or strong drink, and eat nothing unclean, for lo, you shall conceive and bear a son. No razor shall come upon his head, for the boy shall be a Nazirite to God from birth; and he shall begin to deliver Israel from the hand of the Philistines. (Judges 13:2-5)

For most, the interest of the passage is for the miracle of the birth of Samson, the promised Nazirite. It is for this reason, in fact, that she is commanded not to drink wine or "strong drink," which, as a recent archaeological article argues, just means beer, rather than any birth defects that we, as moderns, associate with drinking alcoholic beverages while pregnant. There is a gendered aspect to this passage. The story starts out with a discussion of Manoah--the male is the named marker. His wife remains unnamed throughout the entire story, yet she is the one who is vouchsafed the initial vision. This is what differentiates this birth narrative from, for example, Sarai's--when the three men come to Abram and Sarai and she laughs--or even Hannah's, in which the communication is decidedly one way--Hannah prays to God, but God does not answer, unless Eli's answer counts as such. And this is what makes this miraculous birth story much closer to the ones in the Gospels. Of course, the Gospel of Luke's Magnificat is based upon Hannah's prayer, but it is in response to a vision from an angel (here Gabriel) giving the message of a miraculous birth: "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus" (Luke 1:30-31). In Luke, she sees the vision rather than Joseph. In Matthew, however, Mary is just stated to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit and Joseph receives a vision only when he is about to separate from her privately (Matt. 1:18-25). So Mary gets the vision in Luke; Joseph in Matthew. This makes our passage in Judges a little more unique, since both Manoah and his wife receive a vision successively (you can only do this with the gospels by harmonization). Nonetheless, in these two stories we get a vision of an angel giving a message of the miraculous birth, a quite stunning vision, as Manoah's wife says:

Then the woman came and told her husband, "A man of God came to me, and his countenance was like the countenance of the angel of God, very terrible; I did not ask him whence he was, and he did not tell me his name..." (Judges. 13:6-7)

In what follows she repeats the message of the angel to her husband. This passage resembles Genesis 32 in some ways. The figure seen is a "man" of God (Gen. 32:24), its uses "God' rather than "LORD/YHWH" in the dialogue, and there is the issue of the unknown name (Gen. 32:29). Moreover, the "man of God" looks like an "angel of God"; that is, the appearance was terrible. If Ezekiel 1 is any indication with the living creatures/cherubim, these would be frightening. This tradition persists, since the Angel Gabriel has to tell Mary not to be afraid (Luke 1:30), as well as Zechariah (1:12-13) and the shepherds (2:9-10). Angels are supposed to be glorious, frightening, and "terrible." She also did not ask "whence he was," where he came from. Does she doubt the angel's origin with God? He looks like a messenger of God...but was he...

Manoah then entreats God:

O LORD, I pray thee, let the man of God whom thou didst send come again to us, and teach us what we are to do with the boy that will be born. (Judges 13:8)

Manoah's petition is successful; God listens to him. Once again, Manoah's wife is the contact person, however. So, while Manoah can successfully speak to God, God sends his messenger to Manoah's wife.: "and the angel of God came again to the woman as she sat in the field; but Manoah her husband was not with her. And the woman ran in haste and told her husband, 'Behold, the man who came to me the other day has appeared to me.'" (Judges. 13:9-10).

Subsequently, the Manoah comes to the man/angel of God and questions him of how to take care of the boy. The angel/man simply answers: "Of all that I said to the woman let her beware..." and then he repeats what he said to her. The man/angel basically says that his message to Manoah's wife was sufficient. Manoah, it seems, either was looking for more information, or wanted to hear for himself.

The next part is particularly interesting. Manoah asks the "angel of the LORD" to stay and they will prepare a kid for him, offering hospitality. The angel refuses to eat with Manoah and his wife, but instead tells them to offer a burnt offering to the LORD (Judges. 13:15-16). The parenthetical remark is what is initially startling: "For Manoah did not know that he was the angel of the LORD." This presumably explains why the angel refuses to eat with the humans, although this is no obstacle in Gen. 18:1-8. So this raises a question of whom Manoah thought this figure whom his wife described as a "man of God" like the "angel of God" because his appearance was "terrible." Perhaps a lesser angel? Perhaps just a striking prophetic human? Some sort of intermediate being? By using so many terms, this passage perhaps creates a bit of confusion: man, man of God, angel of God, angel of the LORD are all applied to this figure. Why were they willing to follow this figure's orders if they did not know "whence he was" and who he was? Any supernal being will do? There is a similar human/divine slippage also present in the Jacob passage in which the "man" becomes revealed as God. Or perhaps an unfolding revelation of identity.

Much like the Jacob passage, the issue of the name comes up once again:

And Manoah said to the angel of the LORD, "What is your name, so that, when your words come true, we may honor you?" And the angel of the LORD said to him, 'Why do you ask my name, seeing it is wonderful?'" (Judges 13:18)

In both Gen. 32 and here, the man/angel/god(?) refuses to give the name. Here the reason is given that it is wonderful. It is over-awing. It also reveals a bit of Manoah's cautiousness toward the figure: the proof of the pudding is in the eating. He wants to know the name (who is this figure, and where does he come from?) so that after these things come true they can honor him (as man, as angel, as god?). If/when these things come to pass--proving the prophecy/revelation true--they will honor him. There is a tinge of doubt in the conditional.

The next part is quite astonishing. Manoah sets up the altar and takes the kid with a cereal offering. He offers it to the LORD, "to him who works wonders.":

And when the flame went up toward heaven from the altar, the angel of the LORD ascended in the flame of the altar, while Manoah and his wife looked on; and they fell on their faces to the ground. (Judges 13:20)

The angel of God/the LORD uses the flame of the burnt offering as a transportation device--he ascends through the flame of the offering. I cannot think of another biblical source in which an angel ascends through the flames of an offering. If there is a source, I would be happy to hear of it. And this is the proof that Manoah needs. For the first time in the passage, they both fall to the ground with their faces to the ground in a position of reverence. Due to this fiery ascent, they seem to have figured out the whence and who of the angel, and do not need to wait for the birth for proof to honor this figure who is now clearly not a man.

The angel of the LORD appeared no more to Manoah and to his wife. Then Manoah knew that he was the angel of the LORD. And Manoah said to his wife, "We shall surely die, for we have seen God." But his wife said to him, "If the LORD had meant to kill us, he would not have accepted the burnt offering and a cereal offering at our hands, or shown us all these things, or now announced to us such things as these." (Judges 13:21-23)

There is a certain irony in the passage. As long as Manoah doubts and they both do not quite know the identity of the figure, the figure stays. When they intuit that it is the (angel of the) LORD or God (made clear through the fantastic fire-traveling trick), they no longer see the figure. Manoah then picks up the tradition of not being able to see God and live (as seen with Jacob, Moses, Hagar, and most recently with Gideon), but his wife reassures that is not the case. If God was going to kill them, it would cancel the message given. So God has to make exceptions to the rule for the case of revelation (one can't reveal something to someone for a particular purpose and kill them before fulfilling that purpose, even give the fact that one should not be able to see God and live). And, what is more, it is just bad manners: God accepted their offerings, it would be rude to kill them after that.

In all, Manoah's wife is the primary recipient of a vision of God/angel of God/angel of the LORD/ the LORD (they are equivalent in the passage) and the primary interpreter of that message. Manoah himself is there to seek reassurance from the figure (who tells him basically to listen to what he already told his wife), offer some hospitality, and set up the offering, which turns out to be the angel of God/the LORD's transportation home. He offers some doubt as well--as to the figure's identity and, once the identity is intuited, of whether they will live. It is here that his wife, the original recipient of the message, offers reassurance, since the message needs to be fulfilled.

All in all, Manoah and his wife are privileged company because they saw a vision of God (or angel of God). While God often pops in and out in Genesis, God is much more distant in Judges. Only Manoah, his wife, and Gideon are vouchsafed with such a terrible vision.

To See God and Live

In Exod. 33:20, the LORD famously tells Moses, "you cannot see my face; for man shall not see me and live." Moses then is allowed to see God's backside (v. 23). One might compare Exod. 3:6 where Moses is afraid to look at God.

Recently I was asked if I would write up a little piece on seeing God in late antique Judaism. It is quite a broad topic, and, of course, should I take up the task I will be looking at some of the Hekhalot texts. But my mind also began buzzing about something else--I wonder how Rabbinic literature, particularly the Targumim and the Midrashim, handle these passages of seeing God and living or not living. That is, even though we have this passage of God telling Moses no one can see the LORD's face and live (although perhaps God's backside), there are plenty of passages where people do see God's face and live--even Moses himself.

God says he speaks to Moses face-to-face in Num. 12:8 (as opposed to everyone else to whom he speaks in dreams and through indirect means). Perhaps most famously, Jacob remarks after he wrestles with the mysterious "man," "For I have seen god face to face, and yet my life is preserved" (Gen. 32:30). Gideon is amazed that he continues to live after seeing the (Angel of the) LORD in Judges 6:22-23. These passages are aware of the rarity of being able to see God; they are both aware that one should die from seeing God; and in both cases they live.

These are all individual visions of God, but there is a collective vision in Exod. 24:11: "And he [the God of Israel] did not lay his hand on the chief men of the people of Israel; they beheld God, and at and drank." As one might suspect, much of this has been explained through source criticism (that is, the differences between LORD and Angel of the LORD, and especially the use of God versus LORD in this verse). Nonetheless, even this source, which does not mention death to those who see God in a pronounced way denotes the danger and exceptionality of the collective vision, since it notes that God did not lay his hand on them--God restrained the typical consequence of death.

Deuteronomy changes much of the language to speaking and hearing: "Did any people ever heard the voice of a god speaking out of the midst of the fire, as you have heard, and live?" (Deut. 4:33). Nonetheless, some visual language sneaks in: "The LORD spoke with you face to face at the mountain, out of the midst of the fire, while I stood between the LORD and you at the time, to declare to you the word of the LORD; for you were afraid because of the fire, and you did not go up into the mountain" (Deut. 5:4-5). This is an interesting passage because it seems at odds with itself. Part of what marked the Israelites as special in Deuteronomy 4 was that they HEARD God and still lived. Deuteronomy 5 takes us a step closer and then two steps back. They not only heard God and lived, but God spoke with them "face to face" as God speaks to Moses in Numbers 12. And just at the moment of potentially seeing God and living, the Deuteronomist moves away from these implications: they did not quite see God (or perhaps fully hear God), since Moses stood between them and the LORD, because they were afraid of the fire and did not go up the mountain.

I want to end this posting with a meditation on two more passages of seeing God and living. When I first started thinking about this project, I immediately had thought not of Moses, but of Hagar. I thought she might be an interesting figure to track down the history of interpretation, since she is one of the few women who sees the (Angel of the) LORD and lives and one of the few (perhaps the only?) foreigner who does (she's Egyptian). How do later interpreters handle her vision? Genesis 16 is a fascinating passage. I often assign it to students to do an in-depth literary analysis on it. She is fleeing Sarai and is in the wilderness where the Angel of the LORD appears to her. For my current purposes, the ensuing conversation is less important, but it ends as follows: "So she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, "Thou art a God of seeing"; for she said, "Have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?" Therefore the well was called Beer-lahai-roi; it lies between Kadesh and Bered" (Gen. 16:13-14). This passage has a few quite unique features. Firstly, Hagar names the LORD, "God of seeing." One might compare other passages, such as Moses (Exod. 3) or Jacob (Gen. 32) in which they request the name of the LORD, whereas Hagar names. Secondly, while other passages state or exclaim that one has seen (or heard) God and lived, here Hagar (perhaps...) questions this. Different translators have either placed this sentence in the indicative or the interrogative, and I would like to look at it more carefully to consider this (and perhaps this is something that might come up in Rabbinic interpretation of the verse). It is clearly a marked passage. Not only do we have the exceptional vision of the LORD or Angel of the LORD remarked upon (of course, the LORD/Angel of the LORD appears multiple other places, especially in Genesis, without comment of living/dying, such as with Abraham), but we have a foreign woman who sees and lives and questions this fact.

The most remarkable passage, in my opinion, however, of seeing the LORD and living has to be in Judges 13 when Manoah and his wife (otherwise known as Samson's parents) see and live. I had previously thought that Hagar was the only woman in the Hebrew Bible who sees God and lives (or at least remarks on the case of seeing God and living), but I was wrong. Manoah's wife--never named--does as well. She is the lead seer in this passage, and she takes charge. There are some similarities, I think, between this story and the Jesus birth story--both have an Angel of the LORD, both have the angel appear to both husband and wife, wife first, and both about the birth of a special child. It is a very extensive vision with several important elements. For this reason, I think it deserves a post of its own. So, be on the lookout for Manoah and his wife seeing the LORD and living.

Peter Schafer's Origins of Jewish Mysticism

After listening to a couple reviews by Jim Davila and Seth Sanders at the SBL of Peter Schafer's expensive and important new book on the Origins of Jewish Mysticism, I was happy to see that it is now coming out in paperback (in May) at a reasonable price. This book by the preeminent scholar of the Hekhalot literature will, to be sure, be a must-read for anyone interested in late-antique religion and the history of Jewish mysticism. I will be looking forward to getting my paperback copy.

Blake's Imagination

The Imagination is not a State: it is the Human Existence itself
Affection or Love becomes a State, when divided from Imagination
The Memory is a State always, & the Reason is a State
Created to be Annihilated & a new Ratio Created
Whatever can be Created can be Annihilated Forms cannot
The Oak is cut down by the Ax, the Lamb falls by the Knife
But their Forms Eternal Exist, For-ever. Amen Halle[l]ujah

William Blake, Milton: Book the Second, Plate 32 [35]