The Rethinking of Mary Magdalene Gets Wider Acceptance

I have been listening to a fascinating interview between Diana Butler Bass and Elizabeth Schrader-Polczer.  Several years ago, Bass preached a sermon using Schrader-Polczer's work, which Bass points out is one of 3 of the most watched sermons of all time; the other two were Bishop Budde's sermon at the interfaith worship service after the second inauguration of Donald Trump and the sermon preached at the wedding of Prince Harry and Mary Markle.

In that sermon, Bass presented the work of Elizabeth Schrader-Polczer, who was then a PhD student at Duke.  She did research on the Lazarus text and noticed that the word Mary had been changed to Martha.  Why would someone do this?  And how can we be sure?  

Bass published her sermon here.  It's worth the read, and it's got a link to hear the sermon.  Bass makes the case that it was likely a 4th century change, a change to disempower Mary Magdalene.

In the interview I'm listening to today, Bass and Schrader-Polzer review those ideas.  It's an interesting window into how research on ancient texts is done, and how this work was done.  It's got great information about issues of gender, along with church history.

Here are some highlights:

--At minute 28, they talk about the canon--which books made it into the Bible, which did not, and why.  Schrader-Polzer posits that the approach to Mary Magdalene, the changes made in the Gospel of John, might have happened in the 2nd century so that the book would be seen as more acceptable, so that it would survive. 

--In the oldest artwork, whenever there's a Lazarus, there's only one sister.

--Throughout the interview, there's lots of great information about translations of the Bible and how we come to have the Bible that we do.

--It is fascinating to me that there are changes to Bible commentaries and forthcoming changes to translations, including the master text, the "Novum Testamentum Graece (Nestle-Aland). The 'Nestle-Aland,' or 'NA,' is the source from which almost all versions of the New Testament are translated into every language around the world" (quoted material from Bass' newsletter).  These changes happened because of Schrader-Polzer's work and Bass' promotion of this work.  I'm inspired that academic work can have this effect.

--Bass points out that this kind of revision to Bible scholarship, a major revision like Schrader-Polzer's, doesn't happen often and usually about once a generation.

--In the first century, the town of Magdala didn't exist (roughly minute 1:08).  So using Mary of Magdala would be a wrong translation.

--"Reframing ancient questions" vs. "opening new questions"--Bass uses this language about the way that the Catholic church might approach these developments.  She posits that this research is the reframing of ancient questions kind of development.

--Just after 1:18, Bass and Schrader-Polzer talk about the Gospel as a piece of story telling, a cohesive narrative, that is not the way that most people think about a Gospel:  approaching it the way a creative writer/teacher would see it.

More Thoughts on Tiredness and Home Repairs

We had good news at the fixer-upper house in Spartanburg yesterday.  The kitchen sink had very low pressure, but the rest of the house is fine.  The plumber who came out to make sure nothing was leaking said we could fix that ourselves by changing the faucet.

I was doubtful.  Based on what????  I have far less plumbing experience than the plumber.  Happily, we replaced the faucet, and lo and behold, good water pressure.

I dread plumbing fixes for all sorts of reasons, chief among them, of all the projects we do, plumbing is most likely not to come together the way it should.  There's often unexpected leaks and trying to do the same fix over and over again, along with much cursing and bad feelings.  The kitchen faucet project did not have any of these issues.

Then we moved on to the next project:  painting all the walls, except for the kitchen, which we will probably cover with beadboard.  If you haven't painted the walls of an older house, you may not know how much prepwork is required, primarily filling in the holes with "mud" and then sanding them smooth.  Yesterday we finished the sanding.

We won't be doing the painting until the rewiring is complete, and we've got the HVAC in.  It was good to sand without having an HVAC system running to suck dust into the system.  But the painting will go more smoothly with an HVAC system working.

We headed back to our Lutheridge house after getting the sanding done.  In some ways, it was a short day, with 4-5 hours of work.  But I was just as exhausted as if we'd been working double the time.

Here's where I might say, "But exhausted in a good way."  I'm not so sure.  I did an hour or two of sanding--and that wore me out.  Hmm.  It's work that I never do on a regular basis, so in some ways it makes sense that I'm tired.  But it's not like we had to build a wall first:  no heaving lifting.

I am trying just to accept my body where it is, day by day, instead of trying to understand so I can outsmart it.  I am trying to give my body good nourishment and exercise each day, and it's important to remember that rest is an important part of both good nourishment and exercise.  Some days, I'll need more sleep than other days--and if it means I'm falling asleep by 6 p.m., that can be just fine.

Happy Bloomsday!

I only care about Bloomsday as a sort of cosmic accident. When I got to grad school and pored over the list of classes I could take, I discovered that most of them were full. As a new grad student, I was last to register. And so I found myself in Tom Rice's class on James Joyce. What a life-changing experience that was.

Several of the stories from Dubliners show up in anthologies, even first year literature anthologies, so I might have eventually discovered them in my teaching life that was to come. But would I have ever had the patience to wade through Ulysses all by myself? Absolutely not.

Bloomsday celebrates the day, June 16, on which all the action in Ulysses takes place. The book covers almost every kind of action that can take place in a human day: we see Leopold Bloom in the bathroom, we see Stephen Dedalus pick his nose, we see Leopold Bloom masturbate . . . and we finally get to the masterful final chapter, where Molly Bloom muses on the physicality of being a woman.

As with many books, whose scandalous reputations preceded them, I read and read and waited for the scandalous stuff. As a post-modern reader, I was most scandalized by how difficult it was. It's hard to imagine that such a book would be published today.

But what a glorious book it is. What fun Joyce has, as he writes in different styles and plays with words. What a treat for English majors like me, who delighted in chasing down all the allusions.

I went on to write my M.A. thesis on Joyce, trying to prove that he wasn't as anti-woman as his reputation painted him to be. Since then, other scholars have done a more thorough job than I did. But I'm still proud of that thesis. I learned a lot by writing it. At the time, it was the longest thing I had ever written--in the neighborhood of 50 pages. A few years later, I'd be writing 150 pages as I tackled my dissertation--on domestic violence in the Gothic. By the time I'd written my thesis, I had said all I had to say on Joyce.

So, happy Bloomsday.  Those of us who were born later than Joyce, who haven't read much of the work that came before Joyce, probably aren't aware of what a radical experiment he presented.  A work that takes place in just one day?  Revolutionary!  I could argue that Virginia Woolf did it more artistically with Mrs. Dalloway, but before the Modernists, most people would have thought of just one day as not worthy of documenting.  And Joyce's interior monologues capture like no other work what it's like to be inside a brain, to listen to thoughts without the scaffolding of traditional narrative.

I have read Ulysses several times, and I confess, I likely will never read it again.  But I'm grateful to have done it, grateful that it exists, grateful that I had guides to show me of its mastery.

Sermon Revisions, Poem Revisions

It's been a good week-end, with our attention shifting from home repairs to church work.  I usually have a rough draft of my sermon written by Friday, but not last week.  So my main writing task on Saturday was sermon writing.  Happily, by the time I sat down to write, I had already plotted it out in my head.

You can read my sermon in yesterday's blog post at my theology blog.

It's always interesting to see how the sermon changes from rough draft to preaching manuscript to actual delivery.  For example, I will occasionally reference the youth sermon, but since I don't write it in advance, it won't be in the written versions.

We're a small church, and occasionally in the summer, when families are on vacation, we have no youth, so there's no youth sermon.  When I announced that there would be no youth sermon, I asked the congregation to think about what had brought them joy in their own youth.  I referenced a popsicle in the park event that one of the members had made the subject of a Facebook post.  The recording of the sermon referenced that popsicle event; the manuscript does not.

You can view yesterday's sermon here, on my YouTube channel.

I've been trying to read my sermon less, which in some ways is good, primarily in the more lively energy.  But I don't like that I get tongue-tied, and I worry about my sermons getting longer.  I try to limit my discursive comments so that they don't become a wandering tangent where I can't easily get back.  I want a sermon to be 9-12 minutes, so if I'm going to continue this experiment in not looking at the manuscript as much, maybe the manuscript needs to be shorter.  

Now it's time to shift my attention back to poetry writing.  My various writing projects do feed each other, while at the same time demanding time, which requires constant balancing.  Last week, I returned to a May rough draft of a poem, "A Song Both Familiar and Strange."  In the poem, I connect my visit to my friend who had a catastrophic stroke which means she now lives in the skilled nursing unit to Julian of Norwich.  I did some serious revising, moving stanzas, taking out material.  I think it's done, but before I started last week's revisions, I thought it was done.  

Last week's earlier draft ended with this stanza, which I worried ended the poem on too melancholy a note:

By your bedside, as you sip
tea through a straw, I think
of Julian of Norwich
who insisted that all manner
of things shall be well.
I wish that I could share
the convictions of Julian,
but in the presence
of your shrinking
body and mangled speech,
my doubts blossom
into an orchard of hazelnut trees.

Now that stanza is in the middle of the poem.  Here's the last stanza:

Like a medieval priest
chanting words in a strange
language, I read scraps
of Julian’s work, her odd
metaphors for the Divine
filling the space between us.
You listen and sing
a song both familiar and strange.

Last week I even made some poetry submissions.  In some ways, it's easier in the summer when many journals aren't taking submissions.  In September, when most journals are "open," and most for a very short time, I find it overwhelming.

Home Renovation in Our 60's

We have been doing home repairs and remodeling all of our married lives.  It's interesting to think about how things have changed in the decades:

--We have so many more choices now.  Once we went to the big box store and chose from the 6-15 types of tile or flooring or other materials on display.  Now the displays are bigger, and one can easily special order from a variety of sources.

--Once my spouse could work 12 hour days; I have never been able to do that.  Now we are both tired and ready to call it a day after 5-8 hours.

--One of the most obvious reasons why we're ready to work more reasonable hours is that we don't have the physical stamina that we once did.  I am about to turn 61, and my spouse will be 62 in September.  Our 20-something selves could go and go, even as I wished we were doing something more fun.  We could get up day after day and do hard, physical labor.  Now we plan some rest days, in part because I have other work to do, in part because we need to recover.

--You would think that after doing this work for decades, we'd be better at communicating.  Actually we are better, in the ways of longly-wed couples who can recognize the dispute we're having.  It often boils down to me thinking we've made a decision and have a plan, and my spouse not seeing it that way or not remembering the details.

--My spouse still sees evidence of rack and ruin everywhere.  I am inclined to shrug and try to decide if it's worth fixing.  We've decided to have the house re-wired and to put in a new HVAC system.  I am less concerned with a crack in a wall or the ceiling.

--In part, I'm less concerned because we have more money to deal with issues.  We've also had much more problematic houses and had no trouble selling them, so I tend to avoid catastrophizing--which is strange, since my brain often goes to catastrophe in other areas.

All the Battles Worth Watching, One after Another

We spent a long chunk of time yesterday watching One Battle After Another.  It's a movie that's been out for awhile, but only recently free to stream on Amazon Prime.  I had forgotten how long it was, but happily, we started it in the late afternoon, not at 7:30 at night.

It wasn't until the later part of the movie, during one of the long (LONG) car chases that I became aware of how long it was taking to finish the movie.  It was compelling from the beginning until close to the end, compelling in ways that surprised me.

I was impressed with all the chunks of narrative that did manage to come together.  Paul Thomas Anderson deserved those Oscars for best director and best adapted screenplay.  There were moments when I did some math to try to figure out the revolutionary aspect of it all--if the daughter is 16 or 17, then the revolutionaries were active in 2008 or 2009?  The planting of bombs in government buildings and calling in bomb threats from a pay phone seemed so 1972 to me, but clearly, that timeline wouldn't work.  It was a nebulous revolutionary movement in the movie, so I was willing to suspend my initial disbelief.

There's another revolutionary movement in the movie, and it's the "Latino Harriet Tubman situation."  This movie has a lot to say about a great many issues, and one of the disadvantages of a vast movie is that some issues get short shrift.  I'd have liked more about all the Latino issues, especially the nods to the sanctuary movement that are hiding there in plain sight for those of us with eyes to see.  It's in the storylines about migration where we see revolutionaries who are working for social justice and working against a government that's against the flourishing of all people--unlike the other revolutionaries, the main characters who seem to be just blowing things up for the thrill of it all.

I try very hard not to fault movies or books or TV shows for not being the story that I wish they could have been.  In the end, I was happy to have a well-made movie to watch, a movie with much to mull over, a movie worth re-watching, as so few things are deserving of a second look these days.

Summer Reading Report Card

I am happy to report that I am managing to read this summer.  Once I took reading in the summer as a given--classes came to a close, and what else would one do?  Now I continue onward:  as one set of classes ends, I teach the next set.  But summer still feels spacious in a way that other seasons do not, in part because I'm working from home more, commuting less.

I would likely not have picked up Project Hail Mary, by Andy Weir, if a friend hadn't talked about how much she liked it; she read it after her grown up son raved about it.   After the movie came out a few months ago, she asked if I had read it, and after her recommendation, I added it to my ever growing list of books to read.

I read The Martian (I wrote about it in this blog post) and liked it well enough, but Weir hasn't been one of those writers whose work I seek out.  Project Hail Mary felt familiar yet different.  I liked the flashbacks better than the parts in the spaceship.  I found the premise intriguing, the in-depth mechanical explorations less so.  

After finishing Project Hail Mary, I was in the mood for something shorter.  Kevin Wilson's Now Is Not the Time to Panic fit the bill.  Wilson captures a different kind of summer from the one I am having, a teenager without a job kind of summer.  Wilson captures the mid-90's, captures what it was like to have artistic aspirations in a pre-World Wide Web age.  The parts of the book about the girl artist grown up were a bit less developed, but I wasn't as curious about her--should I have been?

When I was younger, in my middle school years, my goal was to read 100 books in the summer.  Often the local library had some kind of contest.  Of course, those were easier books which I could read in an afternoon.  When I was older, in high school, I was reading the books I felt I should read by the time I went off to college, along with pulpy romances and multigeneration family sagas.

Now I just want to be reading books that call to me when I'm doing other tasks.  These two books did just that.