Hate It When That Happens

The driver very politely suggested that I feel free to take my time, but I—always eager to keep things moving along, hating to make others wait for me—decided to just shut down the PowerBook as fast as I could. But for some reason iCab decided to hang in its shutdown procedure, and when I force-quit it, the force-quit froze the whole system. Great. In my haste to speed things along, I obliged myself to reboot and sit through the whole startup process.

Well, that would take too long, so I forced a premature shutdown, and dashed for the cab. I figured I’m a clever guy; I’d boot on the way to O’Hare, survey any damage, fix it with one of the several utilities I always bring along, and be on my merry way.

Except that the forced shutdown had mangled a file in the startup sequence, so that I couldn’t get the thing to boot into my carefully-evolved, customized system. I could boot from a generic CDROM system disk, but not from my own dear hard drive. I tried everything. I always carry DiskWarrior; that did its job, but didn’t fix the probelm. I ran TechTools; that showed no problem. I ran Disk First Aid; nope. All of this took agreat deal more time and perssperation than in this description, of course. I was pretty panicky. Then I looked more carefully at the system-install CD I’d brought, and it was for OS 9.0, the generation before my familiar system (9.1)—so that the older system wouldn’t simply install over the top of the former, newer system. So I had to run a clean install, and now have my PowerBook back in shape, browsing, although without the full, personal effect.

Now it’s getting late (I think—we’re in Indiana, though, so who knows what time zone it is), I forgot the shampoo, I nearly trashed my computer in my haste to not inconvenience a taxi driver, I’m miles from the woman I love, and beginning tomorrow I’ll be talking about how to teach better a course I may not teach again because Seabury’s switching over to adjunct teachers for language classes. Pretty clever.
Permalink -Main Page-
      ( 9:19 AM )  

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press, . . . ."

My fellow Americans—
As one corporation after another admits deceptive accounting practices, and as the burden of these lies fall disproportionately on working people, we all have begun to expect more clear and simple, straightforward business practices of our corporations. We expect them to do what’s right, rather than merely scooping upbaskets of cash without regard to ethics or consequences.
As we change our assumptions about what to expect from business leaders, Vice President Cheney and I find ourselves in the embarrassing position of having participated in some of the excesses of the recent corporate frenzy. Our firms have been cleared of criminal wrong-doing, but we realize that Halliburton Corp. and Harkin Energy took part in a culture of corporate misdirection. We wish we hadn’t done that; it would be encouraging if we could stand before you and say that we were utterly pure, untouched by any involvement in uncertain corporate practices.
We were involved in some practices that we now see as ill-advised. Many of our friends and associates profited greatly from such practices. We want the American people to know that recent events have brought us to understand the grave errors that our corporate culture has promulgated, and we want to bring those practices to a stop, for the benefit of the US economy, the world economy, and especially of the hard-working citizens of the United States.

Linking Blogs

Hermeneuts Ahoy!

Okay, I’ve had enough of feeling blocked about this stupid essay. The sure-fire way for me to feel motivated to write, as you all know, is for me to say something here, and to need to respond to your comments and criticisms. So I’m sketching the premise of my essay for you now, so that you can needle me and make me write it out. Please don’t try to set me straight; it’s too late for that. Understanding that this is the essay I’m going to write, do please point out dimensions of the argument I may have overlooked, slighted, assumed-but-not-argued, or just plain not foreseen.

Okay: the premise is that especially in biblical studies, the predominant hermeneutical tradition has come to hold that there is one meaning to a text, that this meaning corresponds in some deep way to the author’s intention in composing the text, that (again, in the field of biblical studies) this finds confirmation in the importance of God’s unambiguous communication with humankind (the Reformed doctrine of the perspicuity of Scripture as the leading case in point), and that here philosophy (E D Hirsch and Jurgen Habermas are the lead roles) and theology (God’s clear communication, and the unity of God as reflected in the unity of meaning, and even the Holy Trinity reflected in the communicative participants of author, audience, and text) converge to assert the singleness of textual meaning. I’m calling this integral hermeneutics, to point toward the integration and singleness of text and meaning.

Some folks argue that a plurality of meanings is a Good Thing, and that integral hermeneutics promotes an unreasonable suppression of interpretive variety. Innumerable arguments avail against this position, and it’s not very interesting. I’ll call it pluralistic hermeneutics, and let’s not talk about it much.

A distinct group of biblical critics argue that textual neither integral hermeneutics nor pluralist hermeneutics suffices for understanding the practice of textual interpretation. The integral approach presumes that the “meaning” dimension of a text really exists, and can intelligibly be discussed, even when it’s systemically unavailable. Moreover, if there is meaning of a text, we’re at a loss to determine what it might be, since few people seem to agree on the meaning of precisely the texts about which we get most het up. Even such presumably helpful guides as “scholarly consensus” change from decade to decade (if not from year to year).

Instead of integral hermeneutics emphasizing the singularity of meaning, these scholars attend to differences among eeven the wisest, most learned, holiest of interpreters. These advocates of differential hermeneutics maintain that “meaning” need not be defined in terms of authorial intention (or perhaps more precisely, “not in the intention of the historical agent(s) whom we belive to be the authors”). On this account, the meaning of a text is radically underdetermined: from the roots up, the text holds back the information about “an author’s intention” that might justify the integral position. Texts present their interpreters with nothing but face value; from this face, interpreters propose varying expansions, illuminations, enhancements, clarifications—but these belong not to the meaning of the text, but to the interpreter’s imagined sense of what the text means.

Thus the interpretive variety that continually inhabits the field of interpretation isn’t a gilt-edged insight surrounded by numerous more-or-less misguided errors from which the truth can’t readily be distinguished (a necessary conclusion from the premises of integral hermeneutics). Instead, the differences among interpreters reflect differing assessments of what might count as a legitimate interpretation, what the pertinent elements of evidence might be, what contemporary cultural influences are so proper as to seem natural, and which confuse contemporary concerns for the concerns of the interpreter. This third approach to interpretation takes difference in interpretation as its primary datum, and works from there to construct a coherent approach to interpretation. Hence, I’m calling it “differential hermeneutics,” and the work of the essay is to give some sense of the strengths and weaknesses of integral and differential hermeneutics relative to one another.

In the context of this essay (a volume of essays on interpretation and ethics), I intend to foreground the ethical foundations of the two approaches. For instance, integral hermeneutics concentrates on the ethical obligation to attend to the author’s intention, and on the necessity of ascertaining the meaning of the text in order to adjudicate claims about the text and its importance in ascertaining how best to understand the Bible. This orientation produces a fairly clear and intuitive theory of biblical interpretation, but one with a variety of practical drawbacks that generate constant controversy. On the other hand, integral hermeneutics stumbles when it comes to explaining why, if there’s a single definable meaning to every text, ver seem to get there. Wouldn’t we be so close to having figured out what all those biblical texts mean, at this point, to make biblical scholarship pretty much redundant? Or at least, wouldn’t one expect biblical scholars to be somewhere near agreement on the meanings of their texts?

But take two of the most eminent scholars on the Sermon on the Mount/Plain (“Mount” in Matthew, “Plain” in Luke), the late W. D. Davies and the local Hans Dieter Betz. Here are two of the most learned men on the planet, authors of lengthy and dense tomes on the Sermon, and as far as I know they exemplify what is best about Christianity. But the two men take markedly divergent approaches to the Sermon (I’ll spare everyone a catalog of the differences.) . Both can’t be “right”; if one is right, the other has made a significant mistake in evaluating the meaning of the Sermon. But how are we common readers to know which of these scholarly giants gets the Sermon right? These men draw on erudition that I’ll never come close to; if we follow the integral approach to hermeneutics, I’m left to make my best estimate of which position to adopt. I’ll think hard about it, and weigh the scholars’ arguments, but in the end my allegiance to one or the other will be less-well-grounded than either of the scholars’ dissent fromthe other. That’s not clear enough, I think. I mean, Betz disagrees with Davies with reasons stronger than those I can muster for supporting Davies; I just don’t know the material as well as Betz does. But I still think Davies is righter.)

Then add someone like D. A. Carson to the mix: likewise very intelligent, but with a perspective on the text that diverges sharply from Betz or Davies. Who has the presumption to claim that she or he knows the text well enough to adjudicate a three-way head-off of these top scholars? Few of us, if any, is in a postion to determine which of these interpreters is right (in an integratl-hermeneutical sort of way); but we have a great deal at stake in knowing whose interpretation to follow.

The ethics of integral hermeneutics have been ably laid out by Hirsch and Habermas (throw in the speech-act philosophers for good measure). Granted that meaning inheres to a text, then doing anything other than following the meaning of the text entails departing from what the text means (he said redundantly). We owe it to the authors whom we interpret, to one another (as we inhabit a world of mutual interpretation), and to God (who as Author of all things pretty much gets the decisive call on what everything means) to reserve the terminology of “meaning” for that which is proper to meaning: the integral coinherence of the authorially-intended import with the text.

This makes it hard to explain interpretive difference without suggesting that ones interlocutors are ignorant, insane, perverse, or beclouded (while one is, oneself, blessedly innocent of those afflicitons). On the basis of integral hermeneutics, I have a hrad time explaining why so intelligent a man as Betz would disagree with Davies. I can suggest that he just doesn’t know the rabbinic material well enough, or that too much exposure to Greek magical papyri has addled his brain, or that (all appearances to the contrary) I’m smarter than he, or that his academic context(s) have (mis)led him to place a higher value on Greco-Roman gentile literary and historical models than to Palestinian-Judaic models. But all of these imply some weakness or deficiency on Betz’s part, somce deficiency that I (presumably) escape, so that I can diagnose it in others. If Betz unwittingly falls prey to one of these pitfalls, however, how am I to know that I too am not misled? Disagreements among leading scholars (and scholars over the ages, since no interpretive answer seems satisfactorily “timeless” ) constitutes one of the major strikes against integral hermeneutics.

Differential hermeneutics, on the other hand, takes as its point of departure the empirical fact of interpretive difference. We (for I identify myself as a proponent of differential hermeneutics) can explain respectfully and satisfactorily the disagreement between Betz and Davies: Betz knows the Greco-Roman material in and out, was trained to regard the Greco-Roman world as the primary cultural context for interpreting early Christianity, realizes that too few interpreters of the Sermon on the Mount are themselves thoroughly acquainted with the comparative material that Betz knows well. For these and numerous other reasons, the Greco-Roman hypothesis commends itself to Hans Dieter Betz. W. D. Davies, on the other hand was early on impressed by the “outsider” status of Nonconforming (non-Anglican) Welsh Christians, with whom his sympathy evidently identified the Judaism he knew and respected. He knew the Judaic sources in great depth, and studied under circumstances conducive to recognizing Judaic dimensions of early Chistian thought, and in his early work bhe provided a key provocation for Christian theologians to reassess their markedly negative, distorted assumptions about first-century Judaism. (And I, as a partisan of Davies, should own that I knew and respected him, that I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood and was utterly at a loss to imagine why anyone would hate my friends, and I have devoted some academic energy to rooting out the residual anti-Judaism in my students—often to little or no avail.)

So there are plenty of reasons for different interpreters to reach the divergent conclusions they do. Does that, then, make them both (or “all”) right?

As the Apostle says, “By no means!” Many criteria provide rich and resilient ground for mounting the case that one interpretation is better than another. The difficulty is that the importance of these criteria will always themselves be more or less controverted. Especially the relative priority of these criteria will generate dissent. (That ought not count against the strength of differential hermeneutics, though, since exactly the same condition pertains to integral hermeneutics.) Critical interpreters can readily assess and evaluate interpretations; they can even refer (casually) to some interpretations as “right” and others as “wrong,” though the force of these expressions will the more akin to “most convincing” and “quite dreadful” than to “corresponding to the author’s intention“ and “veeering away from the author’s intention.” Differential hermeneutics does not entail interpretive anarchy, but a discourse of intepretation whose bounds are set not with respect to an unattainable, perhaps illusory point of exact correctness, but by the common judgment of leading interpreters and of the constitutencies that support them.

Such a model might clarify the circumstances that elevate Prof. X as the greatest expert of his generation on the Sermon on the Mount, while she is never read at all at Y University (because her interpretive premises differ too sharply from those indigenous to that particular academy). Likewise, interpreters might more sympathetically study the work of medieval exegetes, or of cultures whose sense of “correct interpretation” differs from those of the dominant culture. Differential hermeneutics articulates the reasons that particular scholars often tend to derive interpretations that cohere wiht their denominational beliefs, or with their cultured disdain for Christian faith; these are not necessarily instances of pernicious bias, but may more charitably be explained as the outworking of an interlocked set of suppositions that impel the interpreter both to think a particular a/theological position most convincing, and to support a congruent exposition of the biblical text.

Differential hermeneutics can invoke theological premises in support of its position as well as integral hermeneutics can. They can point to biblical hermeneutics in the early church, which tolerated a bounded diversity in interpretation. The patterns in the earliest biblical interpreters, for instance, suggest that practitioners regarded plurality in interpretation as an ordinary state of affairs. Augustine famously acknowledged (rough quotation), #8220What could God more graciously and abundantly have provided than that the same words might be interpreted in different ways, so long as they are concordant with the teaching of other passages of Scripture?” Indeed, the Judaic tradition—which no one ought to suppose light-hearted about the meaning of the Bible—has managed admirably to sustain disciplined discourses of biblical interpretation and of interpretive authority while at the same time accepting the persistence of difference in interpretation. Likewise, the Orthodox Christian churches have upheld the value of reading the Bible through the Church Fathers (a gesture quite contrary to modern Western Christians’ inclination to dismiss patristic exegesis in words close to Milton’s: #8220Whatsoever time or the heedless hand of blind chance hath drawn from of old to this present in her huge Dragnet, whether Fish or Seaweed, Shells or Shrubbs, unpicked, unchosen, those are the Fathers”). The strongest argument for integral hermeneutics comes not from an ecumenical consensus of theological thinkers, but from Western, mostly Protestant theologians. To an extent, then differential hermeneutics is more catholic and Orthodox, since it points to the unity of God in its faith that "right" interpretation is comprehended among many varying proposals in God's charitable grace (is God's unity in doubt?). Integral hermeneutics is more protestant in its focus on "correctness" which sometimes itself provokes schism (virtually necessarily when so much depends on getting Bible or doctrine or whatever right). Oddly, the position that aims at a universal hermeneutics for yielding an unambiguously singular meaning thereby ensures that its conclusions will be increasingly local.

I have to do some odds and ends, then go to sleep. Here are some other points I’d want to make, by title:

In a certain respect, these two aren't antithetical. The unity of meaning (on a differential account) lies entirely beyond the present order- but don't deny some sort of unity. Similarly, integralists don't deny plurality nor do they (usually--but sc. Southern Baptist seminaries) wish by main force to impose their interpretive conclusions.

Differential proposal does better at comprehending integral than theirs does ours.

Can integralists uphold their position without implicit eurocentric privilege? Can they account for divergence without implicit hermeneutical imperialism? Emphatic implications for mission: unity of presence of Christ lies in church (with all its varying interpretations) not in the text.

Please consider these thoughts frozen in incompleteness. I’m going to sleep before I fall face forward onto my desk..

Blogger was down (again) for a while this afternoon, so I coded most of this in by hand. Boy, I wish status.blogger.com were quicker to explain what’s going on and what the prospects might be. Movable Type, here we come.

Look Around

Small Pieces, Trampled Underfoot

On the other hand, the Post really does rubbish David’s book. The reviewer makes it out one of the most atrocious wastes of literary energy in human history. But really, it can’t be that bad; the reviewer must just be working out the opportunity to shoot cream pies at what he takes to be an easy target. The deprecatory remarks about Cluetrain suggest whence he was starting.

The reviewer says, “Weinberger has a little trouble connecting these airy generalizations to the specific details of life as it is lived online and off—in part because he doesn’t seem to have any real curiosity about how others make sense of their worlds.” Wasn’t DW’s “real curiosity about how others make sense of their worlds” one of the noteworthy features of the book? (It’s been a while since I read it, but I remember wishing David spent less time conversing with people about how they make sense of their worlds, and more time telling us what was going on inside his own head.)

And in the end, anyone who uses the “monkeys-at-typewriters” trope must her- or himself be pretty hard up for originality and literary judgment.

I didn’t see anything in the review to make me doubt the wisdom of making Small Pieces one of the required-prereading texts for the conference I’m convening in August, and early feedback confirms that decision. It’s too bad that the Post appears in a big, influential market; but (even discounting us punters) David has some pretty enthusiastic marks from some pretty knowledgable and well-placed reviewers in his right-hand column of links. In a battle of the Davids, I’m picking Weinberger over Futrelle any day.
Permalink -Main Page-
      ( 7:16 AM )  

Tip of the Hat

It’s an impressive instance of art reproducing mess, and what’s best of all is that (a) Dorothea can explain why things look the way they do, whereas when I edit my page I take a sort of “Let’s see what happens if I put this tag in” approach, and (b) now I can start introducing changes step by step, in an intelligible, controllable way. That, after all, is one of the tremendous virtues of CSS, as I understand it (and to appreciate the power of CSS you need only go to Mark Pilgrim’s site, or to one of the other sites that permits visitors to choose the layout and appearance of the page through alternative CSS calls). I’m sure glad I don’t have anything else to do this summer. . . .

Steve linked to Pete Townshend’s online tour diary, which threw me back to my undergraduate days when my roomates and I knew that Pete was articulating the Truth about life, the universe and everything—or at least, about adolescence, love, and the complications that surround growing up and not-growing-up. This was the pre-portable era, kiddies, and we would listen to Quadrophenia as loud as we could in our apartment, and in the car while driving to Popham Beach or Reid State Park, and remember what “I Am the Sea” or “Bellboy” sounded like. Call me an old geezer (I know my daughter does), but I like it better that way.
Permalink -Main Page-