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.
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3 comments:
Amy,
I see that you raise several important points in your blog. One issue, in particular, caught my immediate attention. Primarily, I take issue with your pessimism about “[h]ow might we even come to know the “context of their [the religious texts’] usage” when the bulk of our information regarding the use of scripture and its historical context is coming from the text itself?” I do agree that it is very, very difficult to recreate the context in which texts were written (especially if all we have are the texts themselves). However, is it impossible to know anything about the historical context out of which a given text arose? I don’t believe so; however, much of what we will assume about the historical context of such a text will be highly conjectural and open to revision. Moreover, there are times (as you pointed out in your blog) when we do have other archaeological findings from a given religious community at our disposal. Consider, for example, the 7th century BCE Israelite blessing that was found written on a small silver scroll, which Van Voorst mentions (9). Even from taking very ‘small steps’ in discerning the significance of this blessing in the context in which it was used, we can derive that this it was important enough to be written on silver, which would seem to imply that it played an important role for its possessor. Another example is the Dead Sea Scrolls. Clearly, the scrolls themselves were important enough to the important Qumran community to be preserved in caves. Moreover, in this particular instance, we also have several other archaeological materials from that community which we can work from (such as coinage, etc.). Hence, I do believe that we can (at least in part) recreate the context in which some religious texts or scriptures arose out of; of course, these reconstructions will always be rather conjectural. On the other hand, to further complicate the task of recreating a given religious context, we might consider that any given reconstruction of the context out of which a text emerged is a fairly solidified snapshot of the community. However, religious communities are constantly evolving; thus, changes in any community’s relationship to a given text can (in theory) change from one moment to the next; therefore, we cannot assume that as the text developed that the community’s relationship to that text was a static one.
Regards,
Andrew
Hi Amy,
I agree with you in many ways about the seeming impossibility of setting texts in their context of usage. Even though we may have archeological evidence as well, I am not sure such evidence would allow us to gain a more penetrating insight into the particular texts in question (a point which u mentioned). After all, those pieces of archeological evidence, be they inscriptions, artwork, etc. also need to be interpreted within context, the very context we are trying to capture! How exactly would we go about trying to understand this external evidence in order to gain a better understanding of religious texts? For example, a coin or piece of jewellery with an inscription from a religious text may mean that this text was particularly important, since it was preserved in some material form. But beyond this, we may know very little if anything about the actual significance or meaning of the text. Was it inscribed on personal ornaments as a form of protection granted to the wearer? Or was it actually a curse, in which case the ornament was not worn by the maker but given, with obvious malicious intent, to her or his enemy? We may come to know that a particular text or object is important, in so far as it is preserved, but beyond this, I am not sure what we would learn about the particular meaning of these objects. I agree for the most part that preservation can indeed be a reliable indicator of importance, but I am not sure how much we are actually “setting in context” if all we know is that text X or object Y were important to such and such group of people. In my opinion, this is a very superficial understanding of context, since this idea of the importance of texts and objects could be said of any community or tradition, the practice of ascribing importance not being a unique nor rare human tendency. It does not say much to state that the Mayans found a text particularly important, due to their carving it along the inner walls of a massive pyramid if we don’t actually know what these texts meant to them. Without knowing the peculiarities of a particular people’s (or tradition’s) understanding of their own texts, we have no way of distinguishing one civilization from another. In such a way, it would seem that we have one overarching context that is simply assumed to describe all civilizations and peoples, because we have not understood what makes them different. Thus, I agree with you regarding the difficulties in gaining an effective understanding of context.
Hi Amy,
I’m interested in the issue you raise near the end of your post: the movement towards exhibiting greater sympathy in the study and classification of other religions, the traditional categories of the non-Christian and non-Western.
At the very end of your post, you comment: “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.” But I’d like to ask: whence arises this movement towards greater sympathy? Why does this discourse, which is in bed with the entire discourse of political correctness, pluralism and the like, become prominent in modernity?
I wonder to what extent it arises as a sub-discourse or narrative of the larger discourse of liberalism and so part of its ‘ruse’. I developed an argument a while back that the movement of liberalism is two-fold. It presents and plays out the well-known surface, ‘legal’ discourse of inalienable human rights and the relevant corollaries like freedom and equality, while simultaneously divesting human beings of the power by which we can struggle for and attain genuine power, that is, political power or life, what Aristotle called politikon zōion or ‘political animality’, what makes us human. By so doing, by replacing ‘pre-politics’ political animality with ‘legal right’, liberalism divests human beings of their ability to resists and reciprocate the domination of governmental power in any actual and so subversive way. Basically, the juridical and politics replaces the political. This in a nutshell is what I’ve termed ‘the ruse of liberalism’.
So to what extent is the movement towards greater sympathy in the discipline of religious studies a ruse, part of the presentation or play of liberalism? And if this is the case, what does the sub-text or underlying movement, the one hidden from plain sight, reveal about the sympathetic movement of the discipline of religious studies?
babak
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