I know nothing about women’s or gender studies. Having completed a degree at U of T in history and religion it is surprising to me that I have managed to almost entirely pass over these two areas of study. Even in upper year seminar courses issues relating to women and gender were almost always jammed together in one lecture-- the theme of the class inevitably being “the body.” In post-colonial theory seminars we always returned to the idea of the woman’s body as the stage for the East/West, private/public, spiritual/material debate of the early 20th century Indian nationalist movement. Beyond that I have no knowledge. What is interesting to me about this lack of knowledge is that it highlights a problem mentioned by Judith Bennett in Clark’s article: women’s studies is ghettoized. From my experience, if you don’t take a course specifically dedicated to this area of study, your knowledge of these topics with regard to whatever else you are studying will be cursory at best. This is unfortunate because I think that some of the theoretical constructs proposed by feminist theorists etc. can be especially useful to those of us interested in textual-criticism.
I am currently working on a translation of the Kamasutra for one of my classes and I have found Judith Butler’s definition of “sex” and “gender” to be particularly helpful in understanding Vatsyayana’s concept of gender as a continuum rather than a dichotomy. ‘Sex’ is the biological difference between men and women while ‘gender’ is the culturally inscribed identity upon biological sex. Butler refines this idea, arguing that gender is not only “a cultural inscription of meaning upon a pregiven sex (a juridical conception)” but that “gender must also designate the very apparatus of production whereby the sexes themselves are established.”[1] In essence what Butler means is that ‘sex’ as defined above is a culturally produced notion that is so pervasive that it appears natural. Sex, like the notion of property, masquerades as a natural fact when it is actually a cultural construct.
Understanding sex and gender to be culturally produced phenomena has helped me in analyzing Vatsyayana’s complex concept of gender. Vatsyayana, who views himself to be an objective observer of sexual phenomena, believes that he is simply providing a detailed account of all sexual practices when in truth he has actually constructed his own definition of gender and superimposed it on the various sexual practices that he describes in the text. In addition to heterosexual men and women, Vatsyayana introduces another category, the “third nature.” In the introduction to his chapter on oral sex he states that there are two types of persons of the “third nature,” one in the form of a woman and the other in the form of a man.[2] As the chapter unfolds we realize that this does not refer to the activities of both gays and lesbians. In fact, Vatsyayana has created a sliding scale of male homosexual behaviour, some acts apparently being more feminine than others. In his understanding, sex, gender, and sexual preference are conflated. These people, because of their sexual preferences, are neither man nor woman but exist in some other third category that has its own sub-categories, just as the categories of man and woman have their own sub-categories.
The grammar of this section also indicates this tension between the ‘third nature’ and femininity. He refers to people of the third nature as “she” so it is entirely possible to read this chapter as if it were actual women practicing these sexual acts. Perhaps this is simply linguistics, as the Sanskrit word for nature is feminine and so it makes sense to match it with a feminine pronoun, but perhaps his reasoning is deeper than that. Given the richness of Sanskrit vocabulary I refuse to believe that it was a coincidence that he chose a feminine word for nature. Any behaviour outside what he considers to be heterosexual male activity is pushed down the spectrum towards the feminine end. Unfortunately, he does not devote much attention to lesbian activity and so I am not able to compare his treatment of women who engage in sex with other women to see where they fall on his spectrum.
Through the use of Butler’s concept of sex and gender, I have been able to look at Vatsyayana’s text in a new light. Being attentive to how he conceives of gender, sex, and sexual preference adds a whole new dimension to the text itself. Seen in this light, I have developed a deeper appreciation for his work in that I can now see how some of his ideas were quite radical for the time.
[1] Judith Butler as qtd. in Boyarin, p. 117.
[2] Doniger and Sarkar, p. 65.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Text, Context, and the Reader
Clark opens her chapter on “Texts and Contexts” by quoting Hayden White, who formulates the problematic on text in context in recent theory:
“Where is this context which literary historian used to invoke as a matter of course to “explain” the distinctive features of the poetic text and to anchor it in an ambience more solid than words?...The text-context relationship, once an unexamined presupposition of historical investigation, has become a problem.”[1]
This problem of text and context has become a critical issue for me in the last few weeks. Like White signaling a new consciousness amongst historians of the problematic of text and context in 1982, I too am moving away from a precritical state. What is the relationship between text and context? What is text? What is context? What used to be such simple ideas ‘text’, a manuscript, and ‘context’, the time, location, date etc. in which the text was written, have now become extremely messy concepts for me. However, in the midst of all this confusion and despair regarding these questions with regard to my own project, Babak mentioned in class the idea that context can be viewed as fluid. This idea has got me thinking not only about the definitions of text and context but about the relationship that exists between the two.
Clark cites Gerard Genette’s notion of ‘transtextuality’. Genette argues that all texts exist in relation to other texts; they imitate and transform each other and new meanings are fashioned out of old ideas.[2] This idea is echoed in the works of Jacques Derrida, who argues that no text exists untouched by another text.[3] ‘Text’ in this understanding is like a knot of threads in a larger net(work) of texts/ideas/thoughts. A text cannot be viewed as a standalone document; rather, it is a weaving of various threads from a host of different sources. Given this definition of ‘text’, it is easy to see how authorial intention is thrown out the window. With so many different threads cropping up within one text it is impossible to discern what the author intended. The text, then, to those who subscribe to this view, takes on a power of its own separate from its author within this network of ideas. It becomes ‘productive’.[4]
This idea of the text being ‘productive’ is confusing to me. Is it what the reader brings to the text through a certain mode of reading that makes the text ‘productive’? Meaning, every reader will take away something new and different and so in this way the text can be seen as ‘producing’ some new thread in the larger web? Wouldn’t that really be ‘provoking’ the creation of a new thread in the mind of the scholar reading the text? Surely the text is not ‘producing’ anything of its own, or is it? Clark cites John Mowitt who argues that ‘text’ is a name for what “a certain model of reading produces when it approaches texts (in the precritical sense) as though the discourses which comprise them obstruct as much as facilitate expression.”[5] Does Mowitt mean to say that we are so influenced by our own intellectual baggage that we are handicapped in terms of understanding all that the text has to offer? In the end are we forced into the position of the strong textualist?
Mowitt’s comment also made me reconsider the relationship of text, context, and the reader. In the quote I cited above he argues that ‘text’ is the name for what a certain model or reading produces when it approaches texts in the precritical sense, which I understand to be documents. The reader, who necessarily has a context by the sheer fact of their physical existence in the world, creates a ‘text’ out of a document by approaching it through a certain methodology. A collision of reader, context, and document creates ‘text’. If this is the case then text and context are constantly reproduced for every reader and every reading. Text and context are inextricably linked to one another, the instrument of this link being the reader. There is a limit to the number of interpretations that might be produced, the limit being set by the limitations of the language of the document. Some interpretations must be better than others. The whole idea though is that there is room for multiple interpretations. This concept is interesting to me because it allows for the scholar to approach and re-approach a document each time gaining fresh insight. We are forced into the position of the strong textualist but we have the opportunity to overcome some of our limitations by being able to re-approach the text as our context changes to learn something new.
[1] Clark, p 130.
[2] p. 132.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Mowitt as qtd. in Clark, p. 132.
This problem of text and context has become a critical issue for me in the last few weeks. Like White signaling a new consciousness amongst historians of the problematic of text and context in 1982, I too am moving away from a precritical state. What is the relationship between text and context? What is text? What is context? What used to be such simple ideas ‘text’, a manuscript, and ‘context’, the time, location, date etc. in which the text was written, have now become extremely messy concepts for me. However, in the midst of all this confusion and despair regarding these questions with regard to my own project, Babak mentioned in class the idea that context can be viewed as fluid. This idea has got me thinking not only about the definitions of text and context but about the relationship that exists between the two.
Clark cites Gerard Genette’s notion of ‘transtextuality’. Genette argues that all texts exist in relation to other texts; they imitate and transform each other and new meanings are fashioned out of old ideas.[2] This idea is echoed in the works of Jacques Derrida, who argues that no text exists untouched by another text.[3] ‘Text’ in this understanding is like a knot of threads in a larger net(work) of texts/ideas/thoughts. A text cannot be viewed as a standalone document; rather, it is a weaving of various threads from a host of different sources. Given this definition of ‘text’, it is easy to see how authorial intention is thrown out the window. With so many different threads cropping up within one text it is impossible to discern what the author intended. The text, then, to those who subscribe to this view, takes on a power of its own separate from its author within this network of ideas. It becomes ‘productive’.[4]
This idea of the text being ‘productive’ is confusing to me. Is it what the reader brings to the text through a certain mode of reading that makes the text ‘productive’? Meaning, every reader will take away something new and different and so in this way the text can be seen as ‘producing’ some new thread in the larger web? Wouldn’t that really be ‘provoking’ the creation of a new thread in the mind of the scholar reading the text? Surely the text is not ‘producing’ anything of its own, or is it? Clark cites John Mowitt who argues that ‘text’ is a name for what “a certain model of reading produces when it approaches texts (in the precritical sense) as though the discourses which comprise them obstruct as much as facilitate expression.”[5] Does Mowitt mean to say that we are so influenced by our own intellectual baggage that we are handicapped in terms of understanding all that the text has to offer? In the end are we forced into the position of the strong textualist?
Mowitt’s comment also made me reconsider the relationship of text, context, and the reader. In the quote I cited above he argues that ‘text’ is the name for what a certain model or reading produces when it approaches texts in the precritical sense, which I understand to be documents. The reader, who necessarily has a context by the sheer fact of their physical existence in the world, creates a ‘text’ out of a document by approaching it through a certain methodology. A collision of reader, context, and document creates ‘text’. If this is the case then text and context are constantly reproduced for every reader and every reading. Text and context are inextricably linked to one another, the instrument of this link being the reader. There is a limit to the number of interpretations that might be produced, the limit being set by the limitations of the language of the document. Some interpretations must be better than others. The whole idea though is that there is room for multiple interpretations. This concept is interesting to me because it allows for the scholar to approach and re-approach a document each time gaining fresh insight. We are forced into the position of the strong textualist but we have the opportunity to overcome some of our limitations by being able to re-approach the text as our context changes to learn something new.
[1] Clark, p 130.
[2] p. 132.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Mowitt as qtd. in Clark, p. 132.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Please Critique This!
For my Master’s research project I will translate and analyze two texts: the Prithvīrajavijaya , composed by Jayanaka approximately in 1191 CE and the Hammiramahkavya composed by Nayachandra Suri in 1496 CE. Both poems chronicle the history of the Chauhan Rajput princes and their battles against the Turko-Persian slave armies between the 12th and 14th centuries. I will use a combination of literary and historical methods of analysis to investigate how the medieval Rajasthani elite perceived these Turko-Persian invaders and by extension how they perceived the categories of “Muslim” and “Islam.” Though several cantos of the Prithvīrajavijaya manuscript have been destroyed, the Hammiramahakavya manuscript is complete and includes many of the same stories as the Prithvirajavijaya. By analyzing the texts together, I will be able to “fill in the gaps” of the Prithvirajavijaya as well as compare and contrast elements of each text to discern whether the opinions regarding the Turko-Persians expressed by the authors were merely their personal views or more enduring opinions held by generations of the public elite.
As Brajadulal Chattopadhyaya argues, until recently scholarship on Muslims and Islam in India has been dominated by Orientalist modes of understanding, which tend toward homogenizing difference into such opposing monolithic categories as indigenous/other, masculine/feminine, and Hindu/Muslim. The goal of my Master’s research project is to identify and remove these problematic orientalist interpretive lenses through which the source materials have been viewed in the past and look at them again from a fresh perspective, with the recognition that my own work is limited by a particular frame of reference, to develop a fuller understanding of how the Rajputs perceived the Turko-Persians. By examining the literary techniques employed by the authors to describe the Turko-Persians I will be able to gain some insight as to how religio-cultural difference was perceived by the Rajput elite. Did they identify the Turko-Persians as “Muslim” and therefore entirely alien as some scholars have presupposed in their work or did they have a more specific or refined method of conveying the perceived differences and similarities between themselves and the Turko-Persians?
My research will contribute directly to a newly developing sub-field in South Asian religion focusing on the dialogue between Sanskrit and Persianate cultures in the medieval period. In the past, Persian literature was used as the primary source material for this particular region and time period in Indian history. My research is unique in that I will be looking at the same historical moment from the perspective of Sanskrit scholars in the royal courts of north India, filling a critical gap in present scholarship in the sub-field. In a larger socio-political sense, this research is deeply relevant today as it examines this initial interaction, what colonialists' and communalists' have identified as the start of the "Muslim" period of Indian history, and in doing so conceivably provide some new findings to challenge the received history as a clash between two monolithic religious groups. By challenging the received history perhaps I will be able to offer a counter-argument to the communalist belief that India is essentially one land peopled by two nations.
My undergraduate degree in the study of religion and history has given me a solid foundation from which I can begin to undertake this project. I have taken several courses in Sanskrit at the undergraduate level and have taken private classes over the course of five months from Dr. Sucheta Paranjpe of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, Pune, India. In addition, I have begun learning German and Hindi for the purpose of reading secondary source materials and additional commentaries to the texts that I will be translating. After completing my Master’s I would like to pursue a Ph.D. in the study of religion in South Asia and teach at a Canadian university.
As Brajadulal Chattopadhyaya argues, until recently scholarship on Muslims and Islam in India has been dominated by Orientalist modes of understanding, which tend toward homogenizing difference into such opposing monolithic categories as indigenous/other, masculine/feminine, and Hindu/Muslim. The goal of my Master’s research project is to identify and remove these problematic orientalist interpretive lenses through which the source materials have been viewed in the past and look at them again from a fresh perspective, with the recognition that my own work is limited by a particular frame of reference, to develop a fuller understanding of how the Rajputs perceived the Turko-Persians. By examining the literary techniques employed by the authors to describe the Turko-Persians I will be able to gain some insight as to how religio-cultural difference was perceived by the Rajput elite. Did they identify the Turko-Persians as “Muslim” and therefore entirely alien as some scholars have presupposed in their work or did they have a more specific or refined method of conveying the perceived differences and similarities between themselves and the Turko-Persians?
My research will contribute directly to a newly developing sub-field in South Asian religion focusing on the dialogue between Sanskrit and Persianate cultures in the medieval period. In the past, Persian literature was used as the primary source material for this particular region and time period in Indian history. My research is unique in that I will be looking at the same historical moment from the perspective of Sanskrit scholars in the royal courts of north India, filling a critical gap in present scholarship in the sub-field. In a larger socio-political sense, this research is deeply relevant today as it examines this initial interaction, what colonialists' and communalists' have identified as the start of the "Muslim" period of Indian history, and in doing so conceivably provide some new findings to challenge the received history as a clash between two monolithic religious groups. By challenging the received history perhaps I will be able to offer a counter-argument to the communalist belief that India is essentially one land peopled by two nations.
My undergraduate degree in the study of religion and history has given me a solid foundation from which I can begin to undertake this project. I have taken several courses in Sanskrit at the undergraduate level and have taken private classes over the course of five months from Dr. Sucheta Paranjpe of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, Pune, India. In addition, I have begun learning German and Hindi for the purpose of reading secondary source materials and additional commentaries to the texts that I will be translating. After completing my Master’s I would like to pursue a Ph.D. in the study of religion in South Asia and teach at a Canadian university.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Van Voorst, Masuzawa, and Smith
In the introduction to Eastern Scripture among the World’s Religions, van Voorst proposes to provide the reader with a “wide range of scripture selections from the religions of Asia with introduction and annotations to set the readings in the context of their actual usage.”[1] He argues that the historical-critical method of examining scriptural texts provides great insight into religions, their philosophies and associated practices. Van Voorst lists many of the advantages of studying scripture, one key benefit being the “comprehensiveness” of these texts: they provide information on all major aspects of the religion.[2] Scriptures, he adds, are also considered to be authoritative: “because they are believed to come from God or the gods…and because they bear witness to an ultimate cosmic reality, the truth contained in the scriptures is recognized and lived out by the believers.”[3] While van Voorst acknowledges that every methodology is limited, including this one for several reasons, he clearly believes that this method is the best among those currently available.
On the surface I agree with van Voorst; the historical-critical method is one of, if not, the best method currently available to approach the study of scripture. By placing a text in its historical context we are able to gain a deeper insight into the text itself, whom it speaks to and any meaning or message it may be conveying. By comparing information gleaned from the text with other findings such as inscriptions, artwork, or contemporary texts, we might be able to learn something regarding the religion at that time. However, I disagree on the point about setting texts in the context of their actual usage. It seems to me an impossible task. How might we even come to know the “context of their usage” when the bulk of our information regarding the use of scripture and its historical context is coming from the text itself? Furthermore, I fail to understand how this might give us a thorough understanding of the state of the religion at the time of the writing of the text or otherwise. Van Voorst does note that the reception of scripture is not uniform across religions but he fails to mention that it is not uniform within a religion nor is its reception within that religion uniform over time.[4] In this way, studying scripture might be the best option in a field of few alternatives but we must be cognizant of the fact that it only provides us with a narrow view into a religion.
At the end of his article van Voorst mentions the importance of the second stage of research, in which scholars must attempt to read scripture “as much as possible as insiders, with the eyes minds, and hearts of those for whom these texts are much more than the object of scholarship.”[5] It would seem here that van Voorst is taking a certain sympathetic attitude towards the study of Asian religions. In her book The Invention of World Religions, Tomoko Masuzawa touches on this more recent trend within the academic community of having a sympathetic attitude towards the religions we study. Masuzawa cites Eric Sharpe’s championing of Frederick Denison Maurice over Charles Hardwick, both scholars of comparative religion, because Maurice took a more sympathetic approach. Maurice attempted to derive some “message” or relevant meaning from the various religions that he studied, whereas Hardwick, the more erudite of the two, used his study of other religions to bolster his opinion that Christianity was the superior world religion. Maurice also concluded that Christianity was indeed superior; however, he did make an effort to portray other religions in a more positive light. Sharpe praised Maurice over Hardwick for his attitude alone, regardless of the fact that Hardwick was a more thorough scholar. Sharpe is not alone in believing that it is important to adopt a sympathetic attitude when studying non-Christian religions, in fact, Masuzawa notes that it is commonly accepted amongst scholars of religion today.
In response to Sharpe’s preference, Masuzawa raises the question: “[I]n the end [is this] a religious judgment? A scientific judgment? Or neither?”[6] She continues, noting that this trend towards sympathy amongst scholars is widely held but does not appear to be predicated on anything.[7] It occurred to me that this tendency towards sympathy in the study of non-Christian religions might be reactionary. Scholars are moving away from the attitude of earlier generations of academics who used comparative religion to fortify their belief that Christianity was the preeminent world religion. Both Smith and Masuzawa demonstrate that the attitudes of academics shape the field that they study. These old colonial attitudes of us vs. them, West vs. East, true religion vs. heathenism, etc. defined the contours of the earlier four-part classification of ‘world religions’. My concern now is how this more recent trend towards sympathy is changing this system of classification and if we as scholars are at all sensitive and critical of these slow, subtle changes.
[1] Van Voorst, p. 3.
[2] Van Voorst, p. 12.
[3] Van Voorst, p. 11.
[4] Van Voorst, p. 13.
[5] Van Voorst, p. 16.
[6] Masuzawa, p. 96.
[7] Masuzawa, p. 97.
On the surface I agree with van Voorst; the historical-critical method is one of, if not, the best method currently available to approach the study of scripture. By placing a text in its historical context we are able to gain a deeper insight into the text itself, whom it speaks to and any meaning or message it may be conveying. By comparing information gleaned from the text with other findings such as inscriptions, artwork, or contemporary texts, we might be able to learn something regarding the religion at that time. However, I disagree on the point about setting texts in the context of their actual usage. It seems to me an impossible task. How might we even come to know the “context of their usage” when the bulk of our information regarding the use of scripture and its historical context is coming from the text itself? Furthermore, I fail to understand how this might give us a thorough understanding of the state of the religion at the time of the writing of the text or otherwise. Van Voorst does note that the reception of scripture is not uniform across religions but he fails to mention that it is not uniform within a religion nor is its reception within that religion uniform over time.[4] In this way, studying scripture might be the best option in a field of few alternatives but we must be cognizant of the fact that it only provides us with a narrow view into a religion.
At the end of his article van Voorst mentions the importance of the second stage of research, in which scholars must attempt to read scripture “as much as possible as insiders, with the eyes minds, and hearts of those for whom these texts are much more than the object of scholarship.”[5] It would seem here that van Voorst is taking a certain sympathetic attitude towards the study of Asian religions. In her book The Invention of World Religions, Tomoko Masuzawa touches on this more recent trend within the academic community of having a sympathetic attitude towards the religions we study. Masuzawa cites Eric Sharpe’s championing of Frederick Denison Maurice over Charles Hardwick, both scholars of comparative religion, because Maurice took a more sympathetic approach. Maurice attempted to derive some “message” or relevant meaning from the various religions that he studied, whereas Hardwick, the more erudite of the two, used his study of other religions to bolster his opinion that Christianity was the superior world religion. Maurice also concluded that Christianity was indeed superior; however, he did make an effort to portray other religions in a more positive light. Sharpe praised Maurice over Hardwick for his attitude alone, regardless of the fact that Hardwick was a more thorough scholar. Sharpe is not alone in believing that it is important to adopt a sympathetic attitude when studying non-Christian religions, in fact, Masuzawa notes that it is commonly accepted amongst scholars of religion today.
In response to Sharpe’s preference, Masuzawa raises the question: “[I]n the end [is this] a religious judgment? A scientific judgment? Or neither?”[6] She continues, noting that this trend towards sympathy amongst scholars is widely held but does not appear to be predicated on anything.[7] It occurred to me that this tendency towards sympathy in the study of non-Christian religions might be reactionary. Scholars are moving away from the attitude of earlier generations of academics who used comparative religion to fortify their belief that Christianity was the preeminent world religion. Both Smith and Masuzawa demonstrate that the attitudes of academics shape the field that they study. These old colonial attitudes of us vs. them, West vs. East, true religion vs. heathenism, etc. defined the contours of the earlier four-part classification of ‘world religions’. My concern now is how this more recent trend towards sympathy is changing this system of classification and if we as scholars are at all sensitive and critical of these slow, subtle changes.
[1] Van Voorst, p. 3.
[2] Van Voorst, p. 12.
[3] Van Voorst, p. 11.
[4] Van Voorst, p. 13.
[5] Van Voorst, p. 16.
[6] Masuzawa, p. 96.
[7] Masuzawa, p. 97.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Bynum, Huntington and the Text-Critical Method
As a medievalist, the bulk of Bynum’s work is based upon a critical engagement with late medieval religious texts. To provide a foundation for her research, she must utilize aspects of the text-critical method. For Bynum, the exercise of translating, dating, and ascribing texts is the starting point from which all other modes of inquiry can begin.[1] In describing the various essays in her collection, she both critiques the classic text-critical methodology and gives us a sense of her own specific hybrid. In contrast to those scholars who believe that by applying the text-critical method they can achieve a near-complete knowledge of the historical moment, Bynum argues that the historian’s task is one that “precludes wholeness.”[2] She argues that despite our best efforts we will never know what the author was trying to say: we can only read the text in context. The task then is to embrace the fragments we do uncover and to highlight recurrent themes present in the texts so that we might gain some small insight into the historical situation.
Beyond forcing us to acknowledge the “partiality” of our findings, Bynum fleshes out her critique of the text-critical method by arguing that we must also recognize our own lack of objectivity. In Holy Feast, Holy Fast she notes that recent scholarship on medieval religion understands the renunciation of sex and money as the basic motif of medieval spirituality. This, she argues, is more indicative of the preoccupations of twentieth century thinkers than of those in the middle ages.[3] Food, she continues, was a far more pressing issue for the people of that time. She proffers the renunciation of food as an important alternative motif. What we can derive from Bynum’s assessment is that we must abandon this false sense of objectivity: we exist in a specific historical moment influenced by certain ideas and trends and so what we find in these texts is what is of significant interest to us. To a certain extent, we find what we are looking for.
To combat this academic ‘tunnel vision’, Bynum suggests a remedy: history in the comic mode. Comedy, she argues, incorporates many stories, reaches a conclusion only by chance, and “undergirds our sense of human limitation, even our cynicism about our motives and self-awareness.”[4] The comic stance allows the historian to be self-conscious, admit to the partiality of their findings and even to their errors. This way the book is left open. Historians are able to return to a text each time discovering new themes and enriching our understanding.
Bynum’s suggested methodological approach insinuates that the text-critical method alone is an inadequate methodology. In “Methodological Considerations,” Huntington also brings to light some of the limitations of the text-critical method. He argues that we think we have gained a full understanding of a certain point in time when we “place ourselves in the historical situation and seek to reconstruct the historical horizon.”[5] However, he continues, the act of locating a moment within its historical context creates a division: it becomes the object of our study, an “other.” This gesture of “alienation,” he argues, prohibits us from the possibility of extracting a truth from the historical situation that is meaningful to us.[6] The result is that our understanding is somewhat lacking. We are preventing ourselves from attaining some important insight that may be relevant to our current experience.
Like Bynum, Huntington also suggests an alternative methodological approach: the modern Buddhist mentality. Huntington argues that to really grasp Madhyamika philosophy and thereby possibly extract a truth applicable to ourselves it helps to read these texts through the lens of the ‘modern Buddhist mentality’. Huntington cites J.W. de Jong who argues that the historical method alone does not provide enough of a context to fully illuminate texts of a spiritual nature. The ‘historical dimension’ within the South Asian context, he continues, plays a lesser role than it does in the West. Furthermore, he argues that by attempting to interpret and understand Madhyamika philosophy as a body of answers to ontological and epistemological questions we have missed the point of the philosophy itself. [7] Concepts such as ‘emptiness’ cannot be understood through these methods alone: the very language and goals of the text-critical method prevents a full grasping of Madhyamika philosophy. For Huntington the “Buddhist mentality” as a critical lens through which to approach these texts allows the academic to understand the heart of the philosophy, making it an indispensable addition to the text-critical method.
Having been taught the text-critical method from very early on in my undergraduate career, I appreciate it for the benefits it offers. Yet like Bynum and Huntington I am also looking for something more, some additional tool or perspective that can help me gain fresh insight into the texts that I am translating. I value beyond a doubt the skills that I have acquired learning the text-critical method and I recognize that it would be impossible for me to conduct my research without them, but I see this method as a starting point, a foundation from which to build on. Which methodological approach comes next, I have yet to decide. One thing has been made clear though, as both Bynum and Huntington have addressed, is that it is vitally important as I begin work that I remain conscious of my complicity in the flow of history.
[1] Bynum, “In Praise of…,” p. 15.
[2] Bynum, “In Praise of…,” p. 14.
[3] Bynum, “Holy Feast,” p. 1.
[4] Bynum, “In Praise of…,” p. 24.
[5] Huntington, p. 13.
[6] Ibid. Bynum disagrees with the idea of looking back to historical texts to find answers to modern day questions. Why?
[7] Huntington, p. 15.
Beyond forcing us to acknowledge the “partiality” of our findings, Bynum fleshes out her critique of the text-critical method by arguing that we must also recognize our own lack of objectivity. In Holy Feast, Holy Fast she notes that recent scholarship on medieval religion understands the renunciation of sex and money as the basic motif of medieval spirituality. This, she argues, is more indicative of the preoccupations of twentieth century thinkers than of those in the middle ages.[3] Food, she continues, was a far more pressing issue for the people of that time. She proffers the renunciation of food as an important alternative motif. What we can derive from Bynum’s assessment is that we must abandon this false sense of objectivity: we exist in a specific historical moment influenced by certain ideas and trends and so what we find in these texts is what is of significant interest to us. To a certain extent, we find what we are looking for.
To combat this academic ‘tunnel vision’, Bynum suggests a remedy: history in the comic mode. Comedy, she argues, incorporates many stories, reaches a conclusion only by chance, and “undergirds our sense of human limitation, even our cynicism about our motives and self-awareness.”[4] The comic stance allows the historian to be self-conscious, admit to the partiality of their findings and even to their errors. This way the book is left open. Historians are able to return to a text each time discovering new themes and enriching our understanding.
Bynum’s suggested methodological approach insinuates that the text-critical method alone is an inadequate methodology. In “Methodological Considerations,” Huntington also brings to light some of the limitations of the text-critical method. He argues that we think we have gained a full understanding of a certain point in time when we “place ourselves in the historical situation and seek to reconstruct the historical horizon.”[5] However, he continues, the act of locating a moment within its historical context creates a division: it becomes the object of our study, an “other.” This gesture of “alienation,” he argues, prohibits us from the possibility of extracting a truth from the historical situation that is meaningful to us.[6] The result is that our understanding is somewhat lacking. We are preventing ourselves from attaining some important insight that may be relevant to our current experience.
Like Bynum, Huntington also suggests an alternative methodological approach: the modern Buddhist mentality. Huntington argues that to really grasp Madhyamika philosophy and thereby possibly extract a truth applicable to ourselves it helps to read these texts through the lens of the ‘modern Buddhist mentality’. Huntington cites J.W. de Jong who argues that the historical method alone does not provide enough of a context to fully illuminate texts of a spiritual nature. The ‘historical dimension’ within the South Asian context, he continues, plays a lesser role than it does in the West. Furthermore, he argues that by attempting to interpret and understand Madhyamika philosophy as a body of answers to ontological and epistemological questions we have missed the point of the philosophy itself. [7] Concepts such as ‘emptiness’ cannot be understood through these methods alone: the very language and goals of the text-critical method prevents a full grasping of Madhyamika philosophy. For Huntington the “Buddhist mentality” as a critical lens through which to approach these texts allows the academic to understand the heart of the philosophy, making it an indispensable addition to the text-critical method.
Having been taught the text-critical method from very early on in my undergraduate career, I appreciate it for the benefits it offers. Yet like Bynum and Huntington I am also looking for something more, some additional tool or perspective that can help me gain fresh insight into the texts that I am translating. I value beyond a doubt the skills that I have acquired learning the text-critical method and I recognize that it would be impossible for me to conduct my research without them, but I see this method as a starting point, a foundation from which to build on. Which methodological approach comes next, I have yet to decide. One thing has been made clear though, as both Bynum and Huntington have addressed, is that it is vitally important as I begin work that I remain conscious of my complicity in the flow of history.
[1] Bynum, “In Praise of…,” p. 15.
[2] Bynum, “In Praise of…,” p. 14.
[3] Bynum, “Holy Feast,” p. 1.
[4] Bynum, “In Praise of…,” p. 24.
[5] Huntington, p. 13.
[6] Ibid. Bynum disagrees with the idea of looking back to historical texts to find answers to modern day questions. Why?
[7] Huntington, p. 15.
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