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Comments, Please: Teaching the Psalms

Posted on by Brooke

I’m off at faculty retreat for a couple of days, and will be keeping my posts short. So, comments, please: What would you try to emphasize when teaching the Psalms? If there were just a few points that your students or audience will walk away with, what do you want those to be?

Comments, Please: Professors and Students as Facebook Friends

Posted on by Brooke

I’m working up a post on students and professors being friends on Facebook, but in truth, it’s wandering, and I’m just too darned tired to shape it up this morning for publishing.

So help me out in the meantime: what are your convictions about Facebook “friending” between students and professors? I’m talking about adult students here: higher education. As a bit of a preview: I suggest that one’s answer to this questions depends on what you think Facebook is for, and that the answer to that question is user-specific.

Comments on students and profs being Facebook “friends”?

Why We Teach: Mammoth Teeth and “Over-Education”

Posted on by Brooke

Have you heard the one yet about the groundskeeper and the mammoth tooth? (h/t to P.Z. Myers.) A terrific example of the small, unpredictable wonders made possible when learners are encouraged to view the world with an eye that is curious, well-informed, and trained in critical habits.

Responding to the possible counter-moral that good education mightn’t lead to prestigious employment, one commenter at Pharyngula objects that high school science isn’t simply for producing a generation of professional scientists. It is, rather, primarily:

…intended to try and make students better equi[p]ped to solve problems by thinking through them systematically (and to give them some useful/interesting facts in the process). In this case it seems to have worked.

In other words, this “over-educated” groundskeeper isn’t only spotting mammoth teeth, he is presumably turning his alert attention and high-school-trained critical faculties to the whole range of his personal, political, professional, recreation, perhaps spiritual, life. At least, on a good day.

I don’t make my seminary classes intentionally unpleasant, but I do make them as rigorous as possible, because a part of my dream for the church is that, with each graduating class, we turn out a platoon of “over-educated” leaders who are, effectively, little time bombs of alert attention and critical faculties, waiting to be tripped off by whatever mammoth teeth come their way on a good day.

How about you? Do you find yourself using your education for more than filling your job description? How so? If you teach, do you educate or “over educate”? Do you know any other mammoth-teeth stories?

All the Great Old Testament Stories in Ten Minutes?

Posted on by Brooke

How much would you love to see it done, as a video response to All the Great Operas in Ten Minutes?



I really love Kim Thompson’s video: it’s casual, it moves rapidly, it sparks a desire to see the full-length operas, and it challenges the misconception that opera is dull. I love the chiming bell after each segment when the selling points for a given opera are shown: prostitution! brawls! stabbing of animals!

If it were me, I would choose well-known Hebrew Bible narratives, but take the opportunity to show that they are not what you think. For example, that in the “walls of Jericho” story, the Canaanites do not have a misplaced faith in their mighty wall: they all know that they’re dead meat, having utter faith in the ability of the God of Israel to bulldoze their city. Or how patient, silent Job spends hundreds of words describing God as an amoral monster. Or how Eve never tricks Adam into eating anything.

Can you imagine getting Job down to one minute or less? And imagine the paper cutouts!

Another approach would be to narrow the scope in some way: All the Great Women of the Hebrew Bible in Ten Minutes, perhaps. Or, the Deuteronomistic History in Ten Minutes.

I can easily imagine a homework or extra credit assignment here. What would you do—or ask your students to do—with All the Great Old Testament Stories in Ten Minutes?

Denial’s End

Posted on by Brooke

Okay, I’ll come out and say it: the academic year is on us. Charles’ excitement about things (“…I have the privilege of teaching some amazing classes”) seems to me an opportunity for all of us to finally let go of our denial and talk optimistically about the elephant in the room. (“Not everybody gets to have one, you know. Think of all the fertilizer for the garden!”)

This term, as a sabbatical replacement, I get to serve as director of one of our academic programs: with advisees, and everything! What interests me most about it so far is, that it draws me into closer contact not only with the students but also with the other faculty. The life of us “contingent faculty” types sits on a spectrum from isolation to collaboration, and tends to be weighted toward the former. The ability to spend more time on campus means, for me, the opportunity to become better acquainted with peers whom I already vaguely know to be some interesting people.

Courses:

  • Introduction to the Old Testament: many changes this term, mostly toward online collaboration; also, I am offering my lectures only as podcasts to be viewed at home, not during sessions.

  • Elementary Hebrew I: continuing with an initial ten hours of purely oral/aural exercises (no aleph-bet). I have ideas for something that seems fun to me, but I’m not talking about it yet in case I don’t quite manage it.

  • Colloquium for Masters of Theological Studies: where new MTS students get oriented to the degree program and veterans write and present their thesis proposals. This is a new one for me.

  • Literature of Ancient Israel: this is actually at another school, Loyola University Chicago’s Institute of Pastoral Studies. It is geared towards laypeople, and meets only once a week at night. Last year’s students were a delight.


The truth will set you free: shake off your denial and come clean. If you are teaching, then what are you teaching? If you are a student, what are you taking? In either case, what are you (or what could you be) excited about in this coming academic term?

SBL Mid-Atlantic Region Call for Papers

Posted on by Brooke

It’s a call for papers!

The Mid-Atlantic Region of the Society of Biblical Literature will have their annual meeting March 11-12, 2010, in New Brunswick NJ.

Any member of SBL may propose a paper, regardless of their region.

That’s not even all the good news: the annual meeting will include a plenary address by Benjamin Sommer, professor in Bible and Ancient Semitic Languages at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. Dr. Kenton Sparks (Biblical Studies, Eastern University) will give the presidential address.

Social Learning Tools: Bringing it Together on NetVibes

Posted on by Brooke

My last two posts showed how students’ course-related blogging can be gathered and shared by Yahoo Pipes, and how their course-related social bookmarking can be gathered and shared by Diigo. Today, I conclude by showing how these and other online student works can be “fed” to a central location using NetVibes.

NetVibes is an aggregating page, as is Google Reader or Bloglines. NetVibes allows the user to create public pages (visible to anyone) as well as private pages (visible only to the user). Within a page, the user may create multiple tabs to organize her feeds. Michael Wesch, who teaches anthropology at KSU, has an active NetVibes public page.() Here is the “Welcome” tab of my own public page in progress.

For a given course, I create one or more tabs: here is the tab for my course IPS-417. Remember the Yahoo Pipe that I talked about a few days back, the one that gathers course-related blogs entries from all of the students’ different blogs? With NetVibes, I have created a widget that shows the results of that Yahoo Pipe: you can see it in the upper left of my IPS-417 course tab (it’s named, “Blogging”). And remember that the students will all belong to a Diigo group that shares its course-related bookmarks with one another? I also have a NetVibes widget showing those Diigo bookmarks: it’s in the lower left of that IPS-417 course tab.

Since this is all done simply by gathering RSS feeds, it is easy to add other useful feeds to a NetVibes course tab. So, that IPS-417 tab that we’re looking at also has feeds from Twitter and from the course WetPaint Wiki. On Twitter, I will encourage students to use the hashtag #ips417 for their course-related tweets; using RSS, my NetVibes widget gathers those tweets (and only those tweets) into a single feed. Similarly, any changes made to our course wiki are “fed” to a widget in our NetVibes tab. This not only helps the students keep abreast of changes, it also helps me easily track which students are contributing and how much.

It’s all funneling: taking the things our students are doing all over the web, and directing them where they can be shared and assessed in one place. As Wesch has said, we are training “the machine” to bring the information to us. For me, this means that I am free to dissolve (or at least make permeable) the “firmaments” that enclose our CMS (Blackboard) and our classroom itself, allowing student collaboration to find a place in the overlapping spheres of public discourse that they are already using (or at least could be using).

Are your students (or you yourself, as a student) already collaborating online? Do you have other strategies for encouraging and managing online collaboration? What do you think of the possibilities, for bad or for good?

Notes:
I encourage educators and students alike to view Wesch’s hour-long address, “A Portal to Media Literacy.”

Social Learning Tools: Bookmarking with Diigo

Posted on by Brooke

Last post, I showed how Yahoo Pipes will (among other things) collect posts from different bloggers when the titles or tags of their posts share a given keyword. So, students can have their own blogs, on which they write whatever they want—but when they write course-related posts, these all can be aggregated together and sorted in real time by a Yahoo Pipe.

This post, I look at how Diigo does the same thing with the students’ bookmarking of web sites and articles.

Most of us are familiar with the idea of “bookmarking” a web site or article. Normally, users have used their browsers (Internet Explorer, Firefox, Safari) to bookmark web pages; you can probably see the menu item “Bookmarks” at the top of your window right now. The problem is, you may use multiple computers, or change browsers, such that your bookmarks become unavailable you. And in any case, you cannot easily share them with others. Also, though browser bookmarks can be sorted and “tagged” with categories, it’s not really easily done.

Some readers may be using Delicious, an early social bookmarking site and still a great choice. With Delicious, your bookmarks are on a web site, available to you (and anybody else) wherever you are. You have a chance to tag bookmarks with categories when you make them. Your bookmarks are public: other users might, for instance, do a search for a given tag, like “Bible”; if you have bookmarks using that tag, they will appear in that user’s search. You can even have  “network” of friends whose bookmarks you watch.

Diigo, another social bookmarking site, takes the “social” in “social bookmarking” at least one step further. It does all the things that Delicious does, but Diigo also allows you to join with other users into groups. So, for example, I have created groups for each of my introductory courses on Hebrew Bible.

Let’s imagine that you are a student in the course. I have invited you to join our Diigo group, and you respond by opening a Diigo account and joining the group. Now, you begin bookmarking and tagging web pages that are of interest to you. Many of these will not be related to our course: sports columns, videos of kittens falling asleep, favorite political blogs. But often, you will come upon course-related web pages that you want to share with the class. Creating (and tagging) a bookmark for that web page to your Diigo account, you will also save it to our group. Then, every other student will see the bookmark when they look at our group’s bookmarks.

Tagging is a part of how we members of a Diigo group make our bookmarks useful to one another. By tagging our bookmarks with categories (like “humor”; “politics”; “archaeology” “LGBT”; or whatever), we establish a cloud of tags that describe the kinds of topics and concerns that animate our shared bookmarks. One of us might, or example, search for all of our group’s bookmarks tagged with the category “LGBT” to find all bookmarked pages that concern the Hebrew Bible and lesbians, gays, bisexuals, and transexuals.

We saw before that Yahoo Pipes allows students to have their own blogs, with posts on own varied interests; when they do post course-related content, a well-made Yahoo Pipe will gather and sort those posts into a single place. Diigo, then, does the same thing with bookmarks. Students have their own Diigo accounts, where they can bookmark whatever they like to their hearts’ content. But when they create a bookmark that is related to our course, they simply save it to our group, and everyone in the course benefits.

To see an example of Diigo groups in education, see the bookmarks of Michael Wesch’s KSU course in Cultural Ethnography.

Are you already using social bookmarking in your teaching and learning? What other applications do you see? Do you think social bookmarking might find a place in other venues of adult education?

Social Learning Tools: Yahoo Pipes

Posted on by Brooke

It is an inverse proportion: as online collaboration becomes more authentic, it becomes less manageable. If I restrict my students’ collaboration to the “shell” of the Course Management System (for us, Blackboard), then we can all keep track of our activity, but that activity feels constricted, artifical, and forced. But if I were to encourage students to collaborate on our subject matter using tools outside the CMS—third party blog sites, Twitter, Delicious, Diigo, Wetpaint wikis—then everything is going on all over the place, and how in the world can we keep track of each other for collaboration and assessment?

Today, I look at Yahoo Pipes. In a later post, I’ll tack on public aggregation sites like NetVibes.

Yahoo Pipes’ slogan is, “Rewire the Web,” and that is exactly what it allows you to do. I’ll show an example that I think my readers can appreciate, then show its application to my fall courses. (I discovered Yahoo Pipes while persuing Michael Wesch’s website for his Digital Ethnography course).

Many bibliobloggers have been posting sporadically on the upcoming annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. I want to be sure that I don’t miss any posts on SBL. So, I have created a Yahoo Pipe that:


  • collects RSS feeds from each of the blogs in my blogroll;

  • filters the posts, permitting only those that use the text string “SBL” in the title or as a category/tag;

  • sorts the results, listing them with the most recent on top;

  • makes that list available. Here, you can see the results of my “SBL Blogging” pipe. (Tip: click the tab “list” instead of “image” for a clearer presentation; I don’t know why the less visually clear “image” mode is the default.)


What about application to my classroom?

Let’s imagine that instead of a couple of dozen bibliobloggers, I have forty M.Div students blogging about everything under the sun. Instead of collecting posts about SBL, I want to collect only their posts that pertain to our course, “Introduction to Old Testament.” No problem: I simply tell the students that, when they write a post for our course, they should tag it with our course number (“gets11500”). I will have created a Yahoo Pipe that collects their RSS feeds and selects for posts tagged with that tag. Presto: all my students’ posts pertaining to our course are collected in one place for collaboration and assessment.

This is just a fraction of what Yahoo Pipes is capable of, but this one application makes a huge difference to what I can offer my students. By folding their course blogging into the rest of the blogging that they may already be doing, they are folding their thinking about the subject matter into the rest of the thinking they are already doing: such integration and synthesis is among my educational goals for the course.

Notice that you can “clone” a Pipe that interests you, creating a copy that you look at “under the hood,” seeing how it’s built and modifying it as you please.

How might you “rewire the web,” and why?

Comment Thread: What Are You So Excited About?

Posted on by Brooke

My wife has a broken wrist, I’m limping around with plantar fasciitis, and my syllabi and rubrics stubbornly refuse to write themselves. So, let’s keep things simple this morning, and have us an open thread: What are you excited about?

Me, I’m very excited about the rubrics I’m putting together for my fall assignments. I think students are going to respond well to the clarity of expectations you get with a good page of rubrics. More detail on that in a later post.

What’s got you jazzed this morning? In your research, in your teaching, in your recreational life? Have you had a breakthrough at work lately? Lowered your golf handicap? Taught your daughter to snap her fingers? Finish grading a summer course?

Tell us briefly in the comments: What are you so excited about?

Backwards through the Hebrew Bible

Posted on by Brooke

It started as a joke.

Every year, while I take my introductory students through the Torah and the Former Prophets, I find myself saying to my TA, “If only they had already done the Writings. If they had read Job and Ecclesiastes and the Complaint Psalms, they would have such broader expectations about the Bible. They wouldn’t be so prone to expect only a series of flat morality tales with easy closure and platitudinous ‘messages’: ‘Be like Abraham’; ‘Don’t be like Canaanites.’ If only they’d already done the Writings!”

By last year, I wasn’t joking.

So this year, we are doing the Writings first, then Latter Prophets, then Former Prophets, then Torah. This means that we’ll be doing history backwards: they’ll get the post-exilic period (Writings), then the 8th century to the early post-exilic years (Latter Prophets), then the “settlement” through the monarchies with review of exile (Former Prophets), then the pre-“settlement” period with review of the monarchies and exile (Torah).

What advantages do I imagine?

  • Beginning with the Writings, they will get to become accustomed to literary criticism without too much intrusion of adjusting to historical inquiry.

  • Their first readings will demonstrate that the Bible revels in dissonance and ambiguity, what Brueggemann once called “testimony and counter-testimony.” The obvious ambiguities in the Writings will prepare them for the subtler ambiguities of the more historical-seeming books of the Former Prophets and Torah.

  • Working through history backwards might be a nice opportunity: with each period, they’ll already know where things are going. And, each period will raise questions about how it got to be the way it was: learning the post-exilic period will raise questions about the late Judean monarchy and the Babylonian exile; reading the 8th century forward will raise questions about the early Judean monarchy and the northern kingdom of Israel; reading the “settlement” and monarchies will get them prepared for the long journey of the Torah toward Mt. Nebo.

  • By the time we get to Wellhausen’s documentary hypothesis (with which we usually slap them upside the head in the first week of the term), we will 1) have had time to establish trust between the instructor and the students, and among the students; and 2) already have learned about P and D (which is where Wellhausen himself started anyway, and concerning which there remains the most certainty even now).


Of course, revising the syllabus is quite simply killing me.

What do you think? Ever heard of anyone doing something similar? Any suggestions on how to make the most of such an experiment? Any concerns to raise before the starting gun goes off around Labor Day?

Changing the Rules: Being Religious at Work & Play

Posted on by Brooke

This post leads up to a link: this link. But it’s a short lead-up, so go ahead and read me first!

Once, my young son went off to my sister’s for a couple of days and a night. They played some baseball, some tag, some handful of your usual backyard games. When I picked him up, my sister’s children said to me, “Hey, we figured out what the ‘J’ stands for in his name” (J is his middle initial.) I gamely asked, “What does it stand for?”

“Je-changin’ the rules!” they cried, cracking up together.

Every child goes through it, and it’s tempting for everyone. When the game doesn’t seem to be going our way, we want to change the rules in our favor. Eventually, we learn that when we give in and try to change the rules, we aren’t playing tag, or baseball, or much of anything anymore: nothing is getting done except us rehearsing our tired, unchanging, irrelevant apologetics. We are rightly told by others to play ball or go home: everyone else trying to get something done, and done well.

This lesson is good practice, because not every activity with rules is a game. People who are “je-changin’” the rules in the workplace aren’t called “bad sports.” They are called “corner-cutters,” “scammers,” or “perjurers,” the “recently fired.” Depending on the consequences, they may be called “manslaughterers,” or “perpetrators of negligent homicide”: that well-meaning fool with the bewildered look on his face getting dragged off at the end of Law and Order, his wake of surviving victims sobbing helplessly on the edge of the screen.

James McGrath has a good post on the impulse—common among Christian newcomers to religious studies but also considered by some to be found in higher places—to be “je-changin’ the rules” in the workplaces of scientific and historical inquiry. “Christian baseball”? By all means, have a look.

[A little later: Art has a related discussion going on: does “theology” fail to be ethical in a way that “religious studies” succeeds?]

Beginning Blogging in Biblical Studies: Suggestions

Posted on by Brooke

Among the collaborative projects I’m assigning my introductory students this fall is blogging. (They’ll also participate in a course wiki, and do in-class collaborative work). Blogging will be mandatory, and graded. Besides a rubric for the assignment, I also wish to give them suggestions about academic blogging: what makes blogging appropriate for biblical studies and for an introductory course in Hebrew Bible?

This is my first draft. What suggestions can you offer for improvement?

Suggestions for Beginning Blogging in Biblical Studies. There is overlap between these suggestions, and the divisions are somewhat artificial. But, for the student who is still trying to learn to keep her writing within the bounds of “biblical studies,” they offer some guidelines to help stay on track.


  • Summary: Summarize some resource: a chapter from the textbook; a lecture or part of a lecture; a hypothesis concerning some topic. A summary should have balance: its proportions should reflect those of its source. A summary should have a neutral point of view: it is not a review or a critique. Reading your summary, the author of the source would agree that you depict her work accurately and in terms she recognizes as her own.

  • Integration: Try to integrate some new piece of knowledge with concepts you already feel you control. For example, maybe you’ve just learned about the literary genre “saga,” and you want to integrate it into what you already know about form criticism. Often, you will modify what you already think you know in order to integrate new data.

  • Synthesis: There are two or more things that you’ve learned separately, and you are trying to bring them into a single coherent picture. What does X have to do with Y? Or X and Y with Z? What does the Judean “royal theology” have to do with post-exilic messianic expectations, and what (if anything) do the two have to do with apocalyptic? What do the “complaint psalms” have to do with the “dissenting wisdom” of Ecclesiastes, and what (if anything) do the two have to do with hypothetical Israelite scribal schools? This sort of work might be tentative, provisional, even speculative, but it should be clear about its line of reasoning and where its warrants are grounded in concrete evidence.

  • Assessment: Here, you assess a piece of work in light of our own norms and methods of critical inquiry as they take shape in our course over the term. Suppose you’ve read an outsider’s blog entry or seen a YouTube video, and that work makes claims about the Bible or about the Bible’s historical context. Would that work pass muster in our class? Why or why not? Could its conclusions be sustained with moderate revisions to its arguments, or is it hopelessly wrong in its factual accuracy or lines of reasoning? (Your assessment should include an element of summary, according to our canons for summary described above.)

  • Reflection: Here, you bring some aspect of your recent learning into conversation with your own habitual worldview or ways of talking about things. Treat it very much like “integration” above. Keep a profession tone. Avoid stream of consciousness, spiritual autobiography, and inappropriate self-disclosure. This mode should not dominate your blogging, but in proportion it can resolve tensions, enhance collaboration, and spark fresh ideas for you and others.


O readers: What sorts of additions might you make to these suggestions? What revisions, whether for clarity or otherwise? What sorts of blogging would you like your introductory students to be able to do?

Barack Hussein Obama Anti-Christ Video Debunked. Sigh.

Posted on by Brooke

Debunking dishonest Bible-woo is tiresome (but not hard: this post took me less than 75 minutes from conception to Publish), but has to be done. Let's be clear: the maker of this video starts with the conclusion he wishes to reach (that the President is the “antichrist” [whatever that is, which is a topic for another day]). He then commits whatever sleight-of-hand and misdirection is necessary to work backward from that conclusion to an impressive-sounding biblical basis. We'll link the video, then take it step by step.

[Update, 2011/01/18: the original poster has removed the video. You can still find a version of it here, with some attempts at bolstering the video’s claims.]

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXMAnlMmEPw]

“I will report the facts.” Nearly of these “facts” are false:

“Jesus spoke these words originally in Aramaic…” This is not known. It may be that Jesus preached both in Aramaic and in the Greek of the New Testament. If he did preach in Aramaic, there is no reason to be optimistic about our ability to retrovert the Greek of the gospels into that alleged Aramaic original. Imagine giving an English translation of Don Qixote to twelve English-speaking scholars who had never heard Spanish spoken by a native, and having them all retrovert the English translation to the original Spanish. Know how many completely different “originals” you’d get? That’s right: twelve.

“…which is the oldest form of Hebrew.” No, it isn’t. Aramaic doesn’t precede Hebrew. They are sibling languages, with significant differences in vocabulary, morphology, and grammar. So, speaking in Hebrew is not “much the same way” as the way Jesus would have spoken Aramaic.

“…from the heights, or from the heavens.” Nice try: the speaker has substituted “heights” (in order to get to bamah, the word he wants to use) for “heavens” (shamayim, a word he wants to get away from because shamayim sounds nothing like “Barack Obama”). The argument from this point is not based on Jesus’ words (in any language), but on a paraphrase that the speaker finds convenient.

(We could stop here: Now that we see that the groundwork comprises crippling falsehoods, it is clear that anything built on it is pointless. We’ll continue anyway, just for the exercise.)

“…from Strong’s Hebrew Dictionary.” As Bryan mentioned on Facebook, When someone grounds their argument in the use of Strong’s concordance/dictionary, they are saying, “I do not know any Hebrew. Do not trust anything I say on the topic.” Strong’s is a tool designed for people who do not know Hebrew.

Baraq is the Hebrew word for lightning: this is a fact. It has nothing to do with the name of our President, but baraq does mean “lightning.” Barack, our President’s name, is Swahili, and related to Hebrew Berekh, “to bless.” (Think of the better known form, Barukh, “blessed.”) In other words, why would a speaker of Hebrew (or Aramaic, or Greek) would use the word “lightning” to evoke the Swahili (or Arabic) name, Barak = “blessed/blessing”?

Isaiah 14: No mention of Satan here: Isaiah is plainly talking about the king of Babylon, whom he compares to the mythic “Daystar, son of Dawn.” He says so [ref. added: Isa 14:4]. But, the Jesus of the gospel Luke may be evoking Isaiah when he says that he “saw Satan falling as lightning from the heavens,” so I’ll give this a pass.

Isa 14:14: “I will ascend above the heights of the clouds.” That’s right: the word “heights” (which, you’ll recall, Jesus does not use anyway) is not associated with the falling of the Daystar, but with his (planned but not certainly achieved) ascent. Also, the “heights” are plural: the phrase is bamotê-ʿab, “the heights of the cloud.” Hear it? Not bamah, but bamotê.

“Some scholars use the O [to transliterate the conjunction waw].” No, they don’t, because it is never, never pronounced “O.” The prefixed conjunction we- or wa- becomes u- in biblical Hebrew when it precedes a bilabial consonant (b, m, p) or any consonant followed by the shewa, or half vowel (Cĕ-; think of the first vowel in a casual pronunciation of “America” or “aloof”). It is never o-. Sorry, but never.

“…or, ‘lightning from the heights.’” Okay, in the second place, the conjunction never means “from.” Hebrew (or Aramaic) has a preposition for that. The phrase baraq u-bamah (not o-bamah) will mean, “lightning and a height” (whatever the heck that is; also remember that baraq has nothing to do with “Barack”). The phrase will never, never mean “lightning from the heights.” Sorry, but never. (And in the first place, remember, Jesus never even said, “lightning from the heights.” He said, “lightning from the heavens,” which is why all this stuff about “heights” is pointless.)

Conclusion: if a Jewish rabbi today, influenced by Isaiah, were to say the words of Jesus in Luke 10:18 (seriously: why would our rabbi do this?), he would not say, “Barakh Obama.” He would not even say, baraq u-bama. Or baraq u-bamoth (lightning and heights). If he means to use Jesus’ words, he would not even say, baraq min-habbamoth (lightning from the heights). I suppose he might (might) say, baraq min-hashamayim (lightning from the heavens). So now you know why our secret Muslim president’s Arabic Kenyan birth certificate remains hidden in a clandestine madrassah in the Lincoln Bedroom: because on it, you will indeed find the true name of the antichrist…

(oh, wait, neither Isaiah, Luke, or even Revelation [or Daniel, if you care] use the word “antichrist”: it is used in the letters of John as a generic term for “unbelievers”)

…Baraq Min-Hashamayim.

If you want to see some other debunking, go see Mark Chu-Carroll at Good Math Bad Math, Michael Heiser at PaleoBabble, Bryan at Hevel, and James McGrath at Exploring Our Matrix. Each of them adds some additional arguments that I don't make here.

Alone or Collaborating: How Do You Like to Work?

Posted on by Brooke

A day or two back, New Kid was writing about working with others and working alone. (This is only a partial quote: I recommend you read her whole post if you’re interested.)

Something valuable I realized, I think, was that I do like working with people, more than I realized. I think I used to underestimate how social teaching really is; academia values research more highly, and research (in the humanities) is a relatively isolated endeavor, and so I always thought of academics (and myself) preferring to work independently.…[B]ut [my history internship] became much MORE interesting when there were other interns around and I started to be able to discuss it with them.

Finishing my masters work (Master of Theological Studies), I was one of only two MTS students in a school full of M.Divs, and I was the only student working in Bible. I cross-registered at three other schools in order to meet my requirements and get with other Bible people, but around my own campus, I was alone in my endeavors.

So when I began looking over Ph.D. programs, having classmates was high on my list of priorities. Visiting one prestigious campus, I met a young man who was the only biblical-studies Ph.D. student in residence. For his part, he was as happy as could be: he had the profs to himself, and they had quickly begun to act toward him as toward a junior colleague. But for my part, I had been lone-wolfing it for a couple of years already. When I began at Princeton Theological Seminary, I entered with a class of eight (four each in OT and NT), and was happy almost to hysterical giggling to have colleagues in my field.

PTS had an exceedingly collegial student culture during my years, and I enjoyed a level of collegiality in my coursework that I think I pretty rare. This meant, too, that the shift to dissertation work, while not unanticipated, was fairly stark. My diss years were entirely post-student-housing, and (for me) pre-Facebook. So I finished my graduate work in Bible as I had begun, a lone combatant.

In all this back-and-forth, I’ve learned that my default preference is not to work alone, but rather with friends and peers. “Collegiality” is that space into which I can drop a half-baked idea to be hammered and exercised until it swims on its own or get sent back to the drawing board. If my colleagues are my PTS classmates, it’s great because we all share the same “shorthand” and can get down to business quickly. If my colleagues are not my PTS classmates, it’s great because we don’t share the same shorthand and I have to re-examine all my usual ways of talking about things.

Occasionally my work is briefly interrupted by an email from a colleague, saying, “I have to learn about X right away. Can you explain X, or tell me where I can find out about X quickly?” This is, hands down, one of my favorite experiences. I get briefly distracted from whatever is vexing me at the moment; I get a short, manageable research project to feel good about; and I get to do something for a friend. Seriously, it’s like a two-hour Christmas.

Sure, we have all had some ugly experiences with “group projects”: I myself have often muttered that a group moves at a rate inversely proportional to its size (Brooke’s Law of Movement). But, among graduate students and professionals you don’t have many slackers, just occasionally folks who are regrettably over-committed, and anyway the rest of the group have acquired the skills to work around such blockage.

What are your experiences with working alone or working with others? Do you prefer the long, solitary stretches of single-handed mental combat with your projects in research, writing, or teaching? How early or how late do you seek the input of your colleagues?

Promises to Keep

Posted on by Brooke

(Btw, you will have heard it elsewhere already, but Biblical Studies Carnival 44 has erected its tents and opened for admission over at Jim West’s place.)

Every now and then, in order to keep a post under a thousand words or so, I’ve thrown out a promise to flesh some idea out more fully in the future. Here, I’m going back to try to list some of those outstanding promises.


  • “Being a Student” series: I offered suggestions for students planning to ask for letters of reference, and said I would occasionally offer similar posts on “being a student.” I’ve done a bit, and may step up that series as we get into the academic year.

  • I haveseveraltimesusedtheterm “woo,” a term used by science bloggers and atheist bloggers to describe instances of pseudoscientific claims and arguments. At least once, I have promised to devote a post to justifying the term “Bible woo.” I keep deferring the post, because it calls for some fairly serious platform-building, including 1) distinguishing evidentiary “biblical studies” from devotional “Bible study”; 2) establishing how historical studies and literary criticism sit among the sciences; 3) figuring out how not to have to bring in an explanation of modernism and post-modernism if it can be avoided by any means; 4) distinguishing unsuccessful but methodologically sound “biblical studies” from fraudulently-conceived, pseudoscientific “Bible woo.”

  • In a related vein, I once suggested that the dichotomy “science v. religion” might profitably be swapped out for the distinction between “literal speech and figurative speech.” That is, if religious speech would try to be more clear about whether it means to be literal (and therefore falsifiable) or figurative (and therefore subject to the different critical canons of literary art), then much of the “science v. religion” conflict is sidestepped. My one post on the topic addressed a particular news item (Obama’s nomination of Francis Collins as Director of National Institutes of Health). I would like to write a follow-up post that fills in the argument that I started there.

  • These two are promises I’ve made to myself in the form of drafts or outlines: I would like to write a post about how we users decide what new technologies or platforms are for (“What is Twitter For?”); and I would like to further promote awareness of iTunes U and YouTube/Edu by featuring particular items from time to time.

  • As SBL gets closer and my fall teaching progresses, I will be testing out ideas about my paper topic: How strategies in distance learning contribute to the brick-and-mortar classroom.


By writing this post, I don’t mean that I’m going to drop everything until every item is neatly scratched off with a fine point pen. In fact, August (with class preparation amping up into high gear) might not even be the most fruitful time for the careful thinking that these plans ask for. But, it puts my loose ends of yarn into one basket here at my elbow.

What of these plans, if anything, would you like to see taking shape first? What other kinds of posts would you like to see more of?

A Game: “Roman Candle”

Posted on by Brooke

I made up this teaching game while washing dishes one night. Tell me what you think, and what happens if you use in in class.

The name of the game is “Roman Candle.” Roman Candle is a fast-paced game of courage and skill, and is played for bragging rights (and probably a few participation points). The game can be used as a time-filler, lasting as few as five minutes, or as exam preparation with games lasting as many as 15-20 minutes. If possible, it should be introduced early in the term, so that the rules are learned and the game can be played on short notice or spontaneously.

The game begins when one student agrees to be the first Roman Candle. A second student volunteers to “light the fuse.” The fuse-lighter shouts out a figure or topic relating to a critical issue (“Priestly writer!” “Ezra!” “722 B.C.E.!” More challenging examples might be “Outline of Deuteronomy!” “The genre Novella!” “Double redaction of the DtrH!”). The Roman Candle then has sixty seconds to rattle off, as coherently as possible, as much information as she can on that figure or topic. For broader topics, the challenge will be to get as much out there as possible before running out of time (selecting priorities). For narrower topics, the challenge will be to fill the time with relevant connections to other figures or topics (creative synthesis).

Immediately after that Roman Candle is finished, her fuse-lighter becomes the next Roman Candle. So, it takes courage to be a fuse-lighter! The game goes on until the professor says that it is time to stop. The last fuse-lighter is now “on deck” to start whenever the class plays again.

If the Roman Candle has nothing to say on the figure or topic picked by the fuse-lighter, she may say, “Another!” The fuse-lighter will offer a second figure or topic. The Roman Candle may say “Another!” a second time, but then must choose from among the three topics at her disposal.

If the Roman Candle threatens to “sputter out” before her sixty seconds are up, any students may “lob crackers”: toss one- or two-word hints to help the Roman Candle keep it going.

If no student will volunteer to be a fuse-lighter, then the Roman Candle may select a topic or figure from a hat kept by the professor. Then, she may select for herself the next Roman Candle!

After the game, the professor should plan a few minutes to correct any misunderstandings and to take questions of clarification. For the purposes of this game, questions about the exam are not permitted (how many essays? how much are IDs worth?); for this game, all questions must be about the subject matter.

Suggestions for revision or for variants? Other teaching games?

Being a Student: Crazy, Mentoring, and Office Hours

Posted on by Brooke

Everyone who has taught first-year students in higher education knows it: besides teaching the subject matter of the course (“Introduction to X”), we are also triage nurses in the task of academic formation: writing skills, critical thinking, academic integrity, time management, methods in collaboration and mutual support, and so on. In short, being a student. All of this depends in part on soliciting the students’ trust so that they’ll hear our sage advice. Some of my recent reading has me considering all this under the umbrella of “mentorship.”

Sparked by a post about faculty mentoring in Inside Higher Ed, there has been a conversation in the academic blogs about mentoring in grad school. In the final link below, Dr. Crazy writes about her strategies for forcing students to accept mentoring.


  1. Historiann: Mentors and mentoring: whose responsibility?

  2. Sisyphus: Lessons for Girls: Don’t Just Ask, Insist on Help (even if it makes you feel weird)

  3. Dr. Crazy: How to Force Students to Let You Be Their Mentor


In a nutshell (and in my own words), Crazy wants to say two words to you, Ben. Just two words. Are you listening? “Office hours.” Face-time is the necessary-though-not-sufficient ground for a protegé/mentor relationship. This accords pretty well with my own experience, though “office” for many adjuncts will often and awkwardly mean the library, a quiet corner of cafeteria, or an unused classroom.

Like “extra credit,” the “office hours” strategy has a common drawback: the students who take advantage of it are almost always the ones who are already going to earn top marks in the course. So how does one draw in the students who need it most?

Crazy’s strategy is to frighten them early and often, while wearing a sandwich board sign saying, “This way to my office.” For example, she describes the tactic of responding to a written assignment with “see me” and holding back on other feedback until the students shows up to meet.

This probably sounds controlling to some, but in my experience, students who are struggling with the course really resist interaction with the prof: it’s just that natural, poisonous impulse to “get one’s act together” before meeting with the powerful authority figure. It often takes a trigger incident of some kind to prod the student out of the slow freeze of inchoate anxiety and into motion toward the office-hours sign-up sheet.

This term, I also have a plan for driving students to my door. I am starting our first-year students off a very short written assignment that a mean to be enjoyable and low-stakes (graded only as done/not done). After it’s finished, we will discuss it during a brief office appointment. If nothing else, it will help me learn their names, and it will show them the way to my office with a suggestion that I don’t mind company as long as an appointment is made in my available hours. As Crazy writes, students who have found the office once will tend to come back again.

If you are a student, what sorts of “carrots and sticks” drive you to a professor’s office? If you teach, do office hours have a role in your efforts to offer mentorship, and if so, what experience can you offer to other teachers or to students?