This incredibly thoughtful guest contribution by Judy Yates Siker is part of an ongoing series I’m posting in honor of the tenth anniversary of the blog. All the guest posts in the series are by serious scholars who have provided us with us with guest posts before, over the years; one of the striking features of these posts, as a group, is just now different they are in perspective and insight.
I’ve known Judy well for thirty-three yeas, since she entered the UNC PhD program in New Testament Studies (in the field of Ancient Mediterranean Religions) 1989. While doing her degree and then afterwards Judy taught at an intriguing range of schools to very different groups of students: Meredith College; American Baptist Seminary of the West, Loyola Marymount University, and San Francisco Theological Seminary — where she eventually became Vice President.
All these years Judy has long been one of my closest and dearest friends. She is an ordained Presbyterian minister, active in church ministry now that she’s retired from teaching, and living in Raleigh with her husband Jeff (another contributor to the blog) — which means we see each other all the time and never enough.
Here is her new contribution.
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To Conversations and Charity
The 10-year Blogiversary! Kudos and WOW! Ten years is a long time to keep any project going and the fact that this project has been going, and going strong, for 10 years is a testament (no pun intended) to the dedication, creativity, and tenacity of Bart Ehrman. Not only has this blog piqued the interest of thousands of readers, but it has also generated over one million dollars for charity. It is seriously difficult to take in what this blog has meant to so many in its 10-year span. I don’t know how Bart cranks out a post every day, much less post after post of scintillating, thought-provoking, challenging ideas designed to keep all the readers engaged and intellectually stimulated. Congratulations!
It has been my privilege to be a guest blogger several times and I have really enjoyed the exchange of ideas, questions, and comments from thoughtful readers. My blog posts have addressed the question of how one can be both a critical scholar of the Bible and a believing Christian. As I tried to explain in previous posts, it is not the insurmountable contradiction that some would believe it to be.
Church was a constant in my first seventeen years. My family and our moderate protestant church provided a safe space for asking questions, exploring the biblical stories, and observing the impact of church on everyday life. For reasons unknown to myself or my family I never rebelled. While I did stand firm in the tradition, I also left for college with lots of questions. There I had my first introduction to a serious scholarly approach to the Bible and, unlike many of my classmates who found this approach distressing and dismissive of their beliefs, I was delighted to engage the questions and push the boundaries. Fast forward a number of years and I found myself continuing to hunger for more and more exploration of these fascinating (and, for me, sacred) texts, completing two master’s degrees and a Ph.D. I enjoyed a fulfilling career as New Testament and Christian Origins professor and, as an ordained minister of Word and Sacrament in PC(USA), was able to serve both the academy and the church for many years. And to the surprise and wonderment of many, my scholarly pursuit of the text and my Christian belief were never mutually exclusive.
One of the things I so admire about the Ehrman blog and about Bart himself is the openness to approaches from a variety of perspectives. Although Bart and a number of his readers do not accept the Bible as sacred text, there is an invitation in the discussions to engage in civil and scholarly discourse regardless of your faith stance. As I wrote in one of my posts, I continue to be perplexed when people adamantly argue that one cannot have both a scholarly understanding of the Bible and a belief in the Bible as sacred text. I have both. In fact, rather than the scholarly approach destroying my faith, it has enriched it. I must say that one important aspect of this duality is the willingness (and necessity) to live in the questions.
Through all the years of my study every exegetical move, every dissection of the text made me more and more intrigued with this body of writings that has not only survived these many centuries but has also survived all our pushing and probing, our analyses and dissections. In this study, and in my life of faith, not only have I learned to live the questions, but I have developed a tolerance for ambiguity, and I have come to understand the Bible as an imperfect collection of reflections of people of faith who over time have struggled to understand that which is greater than themselves. This I find to be a fascinating and illuminating idea. Acknowledging the humanity and the diversity of those responsible for the composition and compilation of the Bible and the development of early Christianity allows me to see the depth and breadth, the variety and idiosyncrasy of the parts, much like a beautiful tapestry. The Ehrman Blog invites every reader into an engaging and scholarly analysis of these parts and provides a platform for the civil exchange of ideas. In the brief remainder of this post, I would like to view this idea from one additional perspective, that of a lover of tapestry. Gentle reader, indulge me if you will.
When I was a child I loved when my Nana Olson came for a visit. She lived far away in Minnesota and it was a special treat to have her with us in North Carolina. When she came she often stayed several months. She was a delight to have around and she taught me many things, needlework being high on the list. We always found a way to spend some time together with needle and thread. I loved then, and I love today, to get lost in the colors and textures and patterns of needlework.
If you’ve ever done needlework or taken time to really look at it, it is interesting to note how different it looks depending on your perspective. If you simply stand back and look at the front of a tapestry you may be captured by the intricate design, the impeccable detail. If you get very close to the work and look at one small section, you may be able to see the color and texture of the threads– but it is much more difficult to see the pattern. And if you turn it over—well, often it appears to be no more than a chaotic tangling of different colored threads with no apparent pattern at all.
This is not, I would argue, unlike our approach to the early Christian writings. Our perspective surely impacts what we see. Each reader approaches the blog’s topic of the day from his/her own perspective (and the readership represents great diversity). With each new entry Bart invites us into an analysis of some aspect of this world of early Christianity. As I note the comments and questions of readers it seems to me that as we approach each reading, we are often so busy with the process of weaving our own stories (defending our own views) and the focus can be so concentrated on making the outcome of the picture to our liking ― that we’re not paying attention to the details on the other side.
However we view this tapestry, this world of the text and lives of early Christians, it is fascinating to explore the back and Bart invites us to do just that, to turn it over, take a new look, to get lost in the colors and textures and patterns. He informs us of the knots, the imperfections, the bumps, the smears of color. At times it looks and feels random and chaotic. Yet every knot, every bump, every stitch plays an integral part in these aspects of our human history. And as if this weren’t enough, it is important to recognize that in post after post and lecture upon lecture Bart succeeds not only in expanding our vision beyond educated analyses of the past events but also calls us to live responsibly and generously in the present.
As the Ehrman blog celebrates its 10th Blogiversary, Bart and those who work tirelessly to keep it going are to be congratulated for providing an amazing intellectual space for the civil exchange of ideas that have been woven together with the threads of various hues, colored by different theological, political, and scholarly perspectives, woven in such a way to create a tapestry for the common good. Here’s to the next ten years of conversation and charity.
“I must say that one important aspect of this duality is the willingness (and necessity) to live in the questions.”
Love this and your idea that we are often only looking at one side of creation. It helps to remind ourselves that in a world that sometimes feels like a dark room, the light switch may be just on the other side of the wall.
So glad this resonated with you. I must say (to stay within my metaphor) that I have often learned much more from the “chaotic tangling of different colored threads” than the readily apparent patterns.
Amen! (…in a secular sort of way. 🙂 )
Thanks. I’ll take a good “amen”… secular or not! 🙂
This is beautiful. Thank you!
Thank you for taking the time to read it. Always a privilege and a pleasure to engage Bart’s readers.
May I ask a great scholar and Presbyterian about Ephesians 1:3-4. How do scholars who are believers deal today with the elect and predestination? (As a fallen away Episcopalian, I was pretty sure we were the elect!).
The answer to your question is as wide-ranging as the number of Presbyterian denominations and, even more specifically, as wide-ranging as the number of scholars who are believers. The concepts of election and predestination have tripped up many a believer or seeker, but I think that the heart of the matter is the idea that God’s intention (if I may be so presumptuous) is to bring all humans into loving relationships. The writer of Ephesians clearly sees this being played out through a relationship with Jesus, the Christ. My own personal understanding of being drawn into the love of God draws a much wider circle.
Judy, I can still somewhat enjoy the church service EXCEPT for the part where I have to declare “I believe … (the apostles creed) …”, which I manifestly do not. Can you please share how you deal with this awkwardness? I’ve tried mumbling, crossing my fingers, and remaining silent. I believe that Jesus was crucified, died and perhaps was buried, but that’s about it.
Thanks.
Steve
I appreciate your honesty and your integrity about issues within the worship context. I understand the “awkwardness.” Each of us who identifies as a believer has a unique relationship with that which we call “God,” and the idea that any one service or one creed or one declaration could fully or accurately express our relationship seems unlikely. Yet we do benefit from community. I would argue that within any one worship service no two congregants mean exactly the same thing even when reciting the same words. This is not an easy conversation to have with many so I appreciate your raising this here. I think we tend to be so afraid we may come across as blasphemous that we forget that all of the words we have created to express our worship are just that–words. And none of them can fully or adequately express that which brought us into, or keeps us in, relationship with God and one another.
Thank you for sharing this.
I am very interested in what this sophisticated faith looks like; based on your 2019 post, I’m vaguely reminded of Loisy.
I suppose my question is What does one with a sophisticated fatih believe, and on what basis?
For example, would one believe in the historical, bodily resurrection of Jesus?
If so, on what basis? (I recall, for example, that R.E. Brown takes the position, essentially, that there is no historically reliable evidence for the resurrection, but Jesus’s resurrection is still certain as a matter of faith. But I’ve never understood what his certain faith was rooted in.)
If not, what does being a woman of faith mean to you? What is left of Christianity as a religion–aside from an interesting tradition of philosophy and art–without its historical claims?
Thank you for your questions. I can only answer for myself because I think there is no one answer to your first several question; the answers would be as wide-ranging as the believers. I can say that for me there is much more to Christianity than “an interesting tradition of philosophy and art” even if one does not take all of the historical claims literally. There is much truth beyond historical facts and/or accuracy. In fact, as I have come to understand the biblical text more and more deeply the less and less I am inclined to cling to it word by word. The writers were ordinary folks who were struggling to grasp in words that which cannot be captured in words. But, as I like to say, all they had were words. And so for me being a woman of faith means honoring their efforts to capture this esoteric relationship of human and Other in a way that helps me as I try to do the same, both in words and in actions.
Bart, since in all of the synoptic gospels Jesus claims to be the Son of Man, and Son of Man is a divine, heavenly being, would it not be accurate to say that in all the gospels, Jesus claims to be divine, not just in John?
A beautiful use of metaphor.
Thank you kindly.
Hello Judy. From reading this post, it sounds to me as though your interest in the Bible is more scholarly and academic, with a healthy dose of curiosity, rather than strictly theological. It sounds, dare I say it, like a postmodern approach, where you celebrate the fact that the Bible, read from start to finish, is like a running debate, which not only gives many perspectives and many opinions, but is also very multi layered, and affords you the chance to study the big picture(s), or zero in on many many finer details.
I’d be curious to know your position on a supernatural deity, belief in literal miracles etc. – if I may be so bold as to ask.
Thank you.
Your question about my belief in a supernatural deity or literal miracles is certainly one that would take far more room than available here but let me say that I do believe that there is a power far beyond my imagining or ability to comprehend and that there are things that happen in our lives that cannot be contributed to what we know from laws of nature. (This does not lead directly to accepting “literally” every story that is related in our biblical text… and that’s a discussion for another day.)
Let me also say that my first engagement with the Bible was definitely theological, not scholarly or academic. My paternal grandmother taught me– without ever saying a word– that the Bible was a book to be explored. Her dog-eared, highlighted Bible was by her side every night as she rested from a long day’s work and turned to that which gave her the strength to face the next day. Over time I came to love the stories and the power of the text in my own life, and it was an amazing bonus to reach college and discover just how deeply I could delve into this collections of writings.
Thank you Judy. I appreciate your thoughtful reply.
Being married to a needlepoint stitcher who has stitched a Baltimore Album Quilt that hung for a time in a museum in Baltimore, I love the front and back and perspective needlepoint analogy, although I find it more difficult than you to deal with all of the critical, historical issues in Christianity. Thanks for the blog. Ron
Always a pleasure to contribute to this blog. I am glad the tapestry analogy resonated with you. It does indeed have its limitations for dealing with the issues in the biblical text and Christianity but I find it a helpful point of entry.
P.S. My wife and I once drove from Durham to Atlanta to see a needlepoint exhibit where a Chinese woman had the same needlepoint on the back as she had on the front of her work. Now, that would be nice for those of us who struggle so much with the historical criticism. Ron
Now that would be worth the drive!
And while I understand your wish, wouldn’t you agree that there is much to be gained in the struggle?
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