Disappointment

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)

  Sister Catherine was my godmother, and at the Center each godparent played a special role in the life of his or her godchild. But because Sister Catherine seldom came to visit us behind the red fence, I missed out on much of that bonding. I accepted the fact that she must be too busy running the Center with Father to spend time with me, but I longed for that personal attention. So I was thrilled when one Saturday morning, Sister Catherine invited me, along with Mariam and Rene, the two oldest Little Sisters, to spend the day at her office. This meant a trip beyond the red fence, a rare treat. We played quietly while she worked, and as morning became early afternoon, I found myself getting hungry. Sister Catherine had not offered us lunch, and there was no food in sight. Maybe if I tell Sister Catherine I’m hungry, she’ll take us out to eat , I thought to myself. Excitement over the idea of an excursion into Harvard Square grew faster than my hunger. At the age of eight, I’d never been to a restaurant. The picture in my mind’s eye took shape—Sister Catherine would take me by the hand and off we’d go, down the stairs and out into the bright sunlight, up the street and into a restaurant, where we’d sit down and have a sandwich and a glass of milk. Gathering up my nerve, because I was not used to asking for a special favor like this one, I walked to the entrance to her office and said, “Sister Catherine, I’m hungry. Could I please have something to eat?” Her response came as a shock. Rising from her desk chair, she strode past me and into the living room where we’d been playing. “Very well, then,” she said in a stern, cold voice, her nearly six-foot frame towering over me. “If you’re hungry, you can head right back to St. Francis Xavier’s House. Come, the car is here.” We followed her down the stairs, where she instructed Brother David to take us back home. With neither a kiss, nor even a wave goodbye, we were ushered out. I sat in numb silence during the short car ride back to life behind the red fence, stunned by Sister Catherine’s reaction and devastated by the failure of my ploy. What did I do wrong? I wondered. Did she think I was complaining? Or did she see through me and could tell I was angling for an excursion into the “real world”? I beheld my godmother in a new light—no longer the charming, smiling, grandmotherly figure, but an enigma. It was a few months later when Sister Catherine made another appearance in St. Francis Xavier’s yard, this time with Father. I was wary. Father spoke. “Come,” he said, motioning to me, and to Mariam, Rene, Peter, and Leonard. Then, turning on his heel, he headed through the maze of houses to our enclosed parking lot.

• From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)

  24In the fall after I graduated from high school, my parents drove me to New Haven and moved me into my dorm on Old Campus, where all freshmen lived. I was in a fifth-floor walk-up in a quad with three other young women. I met my roommates, nice enough girls I would get along well with. My dad bought me a small blue love seat for the common room that he and another father hauled up those five flights. My mom made my bed with brand-new sheets and helped me unpack. We went out to dinner before they headed to Nebraska, where they were moving once again. It all seemed very normal. Before we parted, they wished me luck and encouraged me to work on my problem, my weight of course, and then I was on my own once more. I have no doubt my parents were afraid to leave me at another school. The last time they did that, I gained a massive amount of weight. I’m sure they were terrified of what would happen in college, of how much bigger I could get. They didn’t worry about drinking or drugs because they already knew my chosen vice. Still, they believed in the importance of education, and I think they hoped that I had some sense of self-preservation, that I would embrace the opportunity I was being given and would want to lose weight so I could be more like other girls, so I could be smaller and therefore better. Having attended boarding school, living on campus for the first two years, I didn’t have any of the typical growing pains associated with going to college. I knew how to take care of myself on a campus, or at least how to make it seem like I was taking care of myself. But I struggled, a lot more than I had in high school. I had acquaintances but no one with whom I felt I could be honest about myself. I was unraveling so much more because there was far less supervision. There were far more temptations and ways to spend my time. New Haven, Connecticut, is a very different city from Exeter, New Hampshire, much bigger, urban, with a diverse population. There was so much more food available to me, both on and off campus—I loved going to Atticus, part bookstore, part café, with delicious salads and sandwiches. I rarely went to class, and when I was in class, little made sense. A biology teacher informed us that it was his mission to weed out the wannabes from the students who were destined to become doctors. I was weeded out, quite efficiently, because the workload was outrageously demanding. There were labs and homework and lab reports to be written according to very strict guidelines. In Calculus III, the math was so complex, so esoteric, it was almost amusing. The professor may as well have been speaking another language.

• From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)

  As the cold winter weeks turned into spring, the novelty and excitement of the move from Cambridge to Still River began to wear off, and a new regimen, so different from life behind the red fence, revealed itself. Each day offered a few pieces of the jigsaw puzzle. Now, my first thought on waking was: What new rules will there be today? Sister Catherine was fully entrenched as the rule-maker, the de facto leader, and the chief disciplinarian at the Center. By springtime, birthday celebrations had been outlawed, supplanted by feast days. Father seemed thrilled by the idea. Rubbing his hands together, the gesture he used when he was agitated, he spoke from the altar. “Birthdays are worldly and of the devil. Who needs birthdays anyway?” he declared. “From now on, we’re going to celebrate only our feast days—no more birthdays.” For months I’d been dreaming about my tenth birthday, on August 16. The sun had a way of always shining on that day, and I’d been fantasizing about how magical it would be to spend the day playing in the fields. Now in a flash, my dream was dashed. Adding to the insult was the fact that the feast of my patron saint, Saint Anastasia, was celebrated on Christmas Day. No one will even think of me on Christmas , I thought, feeling cheated out of both a birthday and a feast day. * * * A few weeks after our move, Sister Catherine introduced the tea party. Was it a nostalgic throwback to the early days of the Center? Or was it perhaps a way for her to teach us old-fashioned manners? It was held each Thursday afternoon in the library, a large book-lined, wood-paneled room adjacent to Sister Catherine’s office. She herself played the role of hostess, sitting erect and cheerful at one end of the long library table, an elegant silver samovar set up in front of her. The Big Brothers and Sisters were invited, and the oldest of us children, wearing white gloves and having been instructed by Sister Catherine on the protocols, acted as servers. We were to be “seen but not heard,” she advised us as we took our seats silently on the brocade-covered, tall-backed, oak library chairs stationed along the side wall. That was until the adults entered, when we went into action. I could count on my parents to arrive early (and separately) and to stay until the very end. The moment they set foot in the library, I made a beeline for one of them. “Sister Elizabeth Ann, would you like some tea?” She answered with a smile, “Yes, please, dear.” “With milk or lemon?” Then I hurried over to Brother James Aloysius before anyone else could get to him. He would wink at me as I approached him, and he always said, “Thank you, my little princess,” as he selected cookies from the china platter I held with both hands. I felt like a princess serving my king.

• From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)

  So I journeyed from Philadelphia back to Boston and my parents’ home. Philadelphia had been an interesting and rewarding two-year experience, providing a giant step forward in my career, as I migrated from a statistician to a research analyst while simultaneously continuing my studies in economics at the Wharton School of Business. But my social life could best have been described as a dud. Center City Philadelphia in the 1970s was but a shadow of the vibrant, cosmopolitan, youthful metropolis of today. I’d had my fair share of romances, but each was fraught with unsustainability. Leaving Philadelphia was easy to do, but returning to my parents’ home had never been in my plan. I was on a journey and had no intention of letting my career get mired in my hometown. This was just a stop-off on my sojourn. I had hardly entered my parents’ house when my father, in a rather jovial manner, popped a question at me. “My little princess, how would you like a challenge?” I could see from the whimsical look on his face that what he had up his sleeve was well beyond the realm of my ability to guess. He explained that he had recently sold a Volvo to a woman whose name I had never heard, but which he knew well from his days as a young bachelor. Brenda Diana Duff Frazier Kelly Chatfield-Taylor (the last two surnames having been acquired through two unsuccessful marriages) had been debutante of the year in 1938, her picture on the cover of Life magazine. She was now living in Boston, my father explained, and needed someone to drive her to and from her daily sessions with a psychiatrist in Newton. “What?” I exclaimed. “I’m here to find a job in the investment business, not drive some old lady to her shrink.” “It’s just while you’re looking for a new job, princess,” he cajoled. He paused and then went on: “I told her you would call her this evening.” More to please my dad than to earn the five dollars an hour that Mrs. Taylor grudgingly agreed to pay me, and convincing myself that this position would be for a few weeks at most, I tiptoed my way into scenes of a life of both privilege and horror. The position of chauffeur lasted for less than a week, by which time it had morphed into a mélange of roles including gal Friday, confidante, friend, lunch companion, and chauffeur. Mrs. Taylor (as I addressed her) needed help to

• From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)

  I don’t know where I fit in with communities of fat people. I’m aware of and regularly read about the Health at Every Size movement and other fat acceptance communities. I admire their work and their messages, find that work a necessary corrective to our culture’s toxic attitudes toward women’s bodies and fat bodies. I want to be embraced by these communities and their positivity. I want to know how they do it, how they find peace and self-acceptance. I also want to lose weight. I know I am not healthy at this size (not because I am fat but because I have, for example, high blood pressure). More important, I am not happy at this size, though I am not suffering from the illusion that were I to wake up thin tomorrow, I would be happy and all my problems would be solved. All things considered, I have a reasonable amount of self-esteem. When I’m around the right people, I feel strong and powerful and sexy. I am not fearless the way people assume I am, but despite all my fears, I am willing to take chances and I like that too about myself. I hate how people treat and perceive me. I hate how I am extraordinarily visible but invisible. I hate not fitting in so many places where I want to be. I have it wired in my head that if I looked different this would change. Intellectually, I recognize the flaw in the logic, but emotionally, it’s not so easy to make sense. I want to have everything I need in my body and I don’t yet, but I will, I think. Or I will get closer. There are days when I am feeling braver. There are days when I am feeling, finally, like I can shed some of this protection I have amassed and be okay. I am not young but I am not old yet. I have a lot of life left, and my god, I want to do something different than what I have done for the last twenty years. I want to move freely. I want to be free.

• From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)

  One day I went to a department store and got my makeup done. I thought I looked pretty. I wanted to look pretty for this person. I bought a bunch of makeup so I could be a better girl. I went to their house to surprise them and they looked me up and down and told me what else I could do to be more tolerable, more presentable to them. I stood there on the front porch, wanting my body to collapse in on itself. I had been so excited, so happy I had made myself pretty, and it wasn’t good enough. I certainly didn’t try that again. I went home with all my expensive makeup and my pretty face and then I cried that makeup off. The makeup is still in a yellow bag in my closet. Sometimes, I take it out and look at it but I don’t dare use it. When I get my makeup done for television appearances while I am promoting a book or when I am asked to comment on pop culture or the political climate, I feel like I’m wearing a mask I have no right to wear. The makeup feels far thicker than it really is. I feel like people are staring at me, laughing at me for daring to think I could do anything to make myself more presentable. And I remember how I felt the one time I tried to look pretty for someone, how it wasn’t enough. The first chance I get, I scrub the makeup off. I choose to live in my own skin. I was never going to be good enough, but I tried so hard. I tried to make myself better. I tried to make myself acceptable to someone who would never find me acceptable but kept me around for reasons I cannot begin to make sense of. I stayed because they confirmed every terrible thing I already knew about myself. I stayed because I thought no one else would possibly tolerate someone as worthless as me. I stayed through infidelity and disrespect. I stayed until they no longer wanted me around. I would like to think at some point I would have left, but we always want to think the best of ourselves, don’t we? But I am a lucky girl. I think most of my sad stories are behind me. There are things I will no longer tolerate. Being alone sucks, but I would rather be alone than be with someone who makes me feel that terrible. I am realizing I am not worthless. Knowing that feels good. My sad stories will always be there. I am going to keep telling them even though I hate having the stories to tell. These sad stories will always weigh on me, though that burden lessens the more I realize who I am and what I am worth.

• From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)

  By the time I had to decide where to attend college, I knew I had to do whatever I could to make my parents happy, to make up for being who I was, for being a disappointment. I dutifully applied to colleges, mostly Ivy League schools and New York University. I got in everywhere except Brown University, a slight I have (clearly) never forgotten. I got my acceptance from Yale in the post office at school, surrounded by other seniors who were equally eager to find out what their futures might hold. I opened the envelope and allowed myself a flush of pride. A young white man standing near me, the kind of guy who played lacrosse, had not been accepted to the school of his choice. He looked at me with plain disgust. “Affirmative action,” he sneered, unable to swallow the bitter truth that I, a black girl, had achieved something he could not. If I had to go to college, and as a Haitian daughter, I had to go to college, I wanted to attend NYU, which had an incredible theater program. Unfortunately, my parents were adamant that it would be too distracting for me to go to college in New York City. And majoring in theater was too unrealistic, too fanciful. The final nail in the coffin of my yearning was their worry that the city was too dangerous, a concern that frustrated me, immeasurably, because I knew where danger really lurked—in the woods behind well-manicured exclusive suburban neighborhoods, at the hands of good boys from good families. As much as I wanted to attend NYU, what I wanted even more was a break, a chance for all the noise in my head to quiet. I asked my parents if I could take a year off, because I knew I didn’t have it in me to keep up appearances for much longer. I was a mess, barely holding it together, but my request was refused. Taking a year off between high school and college was not what good girls did. It never crossed my mind that I had a choice in the matter once I was told no. I ended up choosing Yale because they had an incredible theater program and I wanted to work at the Yale Dramat like Jodie Foster had. New Haven was an hour from New York City, so I could spend the weekends in the city, I told myself. It is, of course, a bit strange to feel put upon about having to attend an Ivy League school, one of the best universities in the world, but I was a moody teenager in addition to carrying my secret, my trauma. I was in no position to face my privilege or how I took that privilege for granted.

• From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)

  Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation88 Ecclesiastes ‹ Throughout Proverbs, we have the sense that people can take steps that will lead to a better and more satisfying life. But our second book, Ecclesiastes, challenges that approach. The writer of Ecclesiastes is a person who has been successful and achieved a good life yet finds it meaningless. The book is a stark and disturbing reflection on the emptiness of success. ‹ Ecclesiastes 1:2 states the theme: “Vanity of vanities, says the T eacher, all is vanity.” That word vanity is the traditional translation, but it is actually better to translate that key word as “pointless” or “meaningless.” The Hebrew word is hebel, which refers to vapor or breath. Life is like a puff of smoke that the wind blows away into nothingness. ‹ The book of Proverbs tells us to work hard to get ahead, but Ecclesiastes asks, “What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun?” The writer says that each generation is born, then dies and is forgotten. Verse 14 reads, “I’ve looked at everything that’s done under the sun, and I can see it’s all pointless. It’s chasing after wind.” ‹ In chapter 2, the author recalls that he spent his life doing the things he liked. He built houses and planted vineyards; he had livestock and gold. But in the end, he found that all his success was pointless because nothing lasts. All our striving adds up to nothing but a castle made of sand that is washed away by time. ‹ If everything is transient, and no successes have ultimate meaning, then how do we face life each day? Ecclesiastes responds with two points. ● One is an attitude of acceptance that we belong to the ongoing cycle of life and death. This is reflected in the most famous part of the book (Eccles. 3): “T o everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” The writer describes the endless cycle of life that God has created. God’s work will endure; ours will not. And accepting our own transience is essential. ● The second point is that even if we can’t find ultimate meaning in things, we can have moments of satisfaction. Ecclesiastes 5:18 says, “It is fitting to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun, in the few days God gives us, for this is our lot.” This theme of finding

• From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)

  232 LECTURE 35 Letters for Sojourners A common thread connects the letters of the New T estament known as Hebrews, James, and 1 Peter: They portray their readers as sojourners or resident aliens. Written not by Paul but by other early Christian writers, these letters address people who have a sense of dislocation—people who live in society but are not fully integrated into it. This social dislocation largely stemmed from religious beliefs that differed from Judaism and from Roman religious practices. The letters we’ll consider here speak to that issue in different ways. The letter to the Hebrews calls on early Christians to keep the faith. The letter of James emphasizes integrity, and 1 Peter asks what belonging really means. Letter to the Hebrews ‹ Somewhat surprisingly, Hebrews lacks the usual features of a letter. Instead of a greeting, for example, it begins, “At many times and in many ways, God spoke in the past to our ancestors through the prophets. But now in these last days God has spoken to us by a Son.” Scholars often refer to Hebrews as a speech because its introduction sounds like a piece of oratory. ‹ The writer never tells us his name, but at points in the speech, he tells us something about his readers. In chapter 2, he recalls that initially receiving the Christian message was a spiritual highpoint for these readers. The power of God and the Spirit of God seemed vivid. But after the initial highpoint, they experienced harassment. They were verbally abused and occasionally imprisoned. Yet they rallied and supported one another—at least for a time. ‹ Then, the sense of solidarity faded. The early Christians became discouraged, and some began to drift away. They initially found the Christian message to be inspiring, but soon, they felt marginalized in their own society. In their experience, this was not a new age of peace and harmony. It might be better to let go of the faith altogether.

• From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)

  Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation 78 ●Although Solomon’s words may call for devotion to God, his actions contradict that. His public prayer expresses lofty ideals, but his personal life turns religious commitment into doing whatever is needed to placate members of his household. A Legacy of Contradictions ‹As Solomon’s life draws to a close, he leaves a legacy of contradictions. And this leads us to a haunting question: How will the next generation deal with the contradictions it inherits? ‹In chapter 12, the writer of 1 Kings takes us to a critical moment when Solomon’s son Rehoboam must determine the wisest course of action as he begins to rule. The people come to Rehoboam and plead with him, asking that he ease up on the use of forced labor and heavy taxation. ‹The older members of the court think the wisest course of action is to become a leader who serves the people well. From their perspective, wisdom means that a leader governs graciously and fairly. When we think back to the story of Solomon, that is the kind of wisdom he once prayed for. But the younger members of the court say the opposite; they think wisdom calls for forcefulness. In their eyes, Solomon achieved greatness by subjugating the people, not by serving them. ‹Solomon’s son chooses to continue the brutal side of his father’s legacy. He identifies leadership with subjugation rather than service. And it shatters the country. In 922 B.C., the people in the northern half of the country reject the harsh policies of Rehoboam and break away to form their own kingdom. They also establish their own sanctuaries. And as in the time before David reunited the nation, the people of the north call themselves Israel. Only the people of the south remain loyal to Solomon’s son and continue to worship in the temple in Jerusalem; as in the past, they call themselves Judah. Lecture 11—Solomon, a Study in Contradictions 79 Suggested Reading Brueggemann, Solomon: Israel’s Icon of Human Achievement. Weitzman, Solomon: The Lure of Wisdom. Questions to Consider 1. A theme in the story of Solomon is the importance is wisdom. According to 1 Kings, which of Solomon’s achievements exemplify wisdom? What distinguishes wisdom from cunning or shrewdness? 2. Solomon is remembered as the builder of the temple in Jerusalem. According to 1 Kings, what was the significance of the temple for ancient Israel?

• From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)

  Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation148 164 B.C., three years after Judah’s return, the restored sanctuary was ready for dedication. The festivities lasted for eight days, and the celebration was known as Hanukkah (Hebrew: “dedication”). In later times, people began telling the story of the lamp oil that miraculously lasted for eight days on the first Hanukkah, but that’s not part of the narrative in 1 Maccabees. ‹ The Maccabean resistance movement eventually forced the Seleucids to halt their attempt at suppressing Jewish practice. In chapter 5, the Maccabees achieve a series of military victories that extend their influence over much of the country. Then, in chapter 6, the success of the Maccabees is contrasted with the failure of Antiochus, who tries to plunder other cities but cannot do so. According to the author of 1 Maccabees, Antiochus becomes sick with disappointment and dies full of regret. His successors agree to lift the ban on Jewish religious practice in the interest of peace. Judah Maccabee would earn his nickname by “hammering” the Seleucid armies with his victories on the battlefield.

• From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)

  Lecture 13—Biblical Wisdom Literature 89 enjoyment in the moment appears at key points throughout the book, and the writer considers those moments to be genuine gifts from God. ‹ But interpreters of Ecclesiastes wonder where that leaves us. There are some who think the idea of finding joy in the moment is genuinely hopeful. They emphasize that finding satisfaction in the ordinary things of life really is a gift of God, and it makes life meaningful. But others see this as a kind of resignation. If you can enjoy things for a moment, that’s good, because life has nothing more to offer. Job ‹ As we saw, the book of Proverbs teaches us that actions have consequences, which seems to mean that people who suffer must have done something wrong. But the book of Job challenges that line of thinking in ways that make it one of the most provocative books in the Bible. ‹ The opening scene of Job describes a world in which things make sense. We learn that Job is a good and deeply religious man, who has a good and prosperous life. But then, his world comes crashing down as Satan convinces God that he should test Job’s character. Satan insists that if Job lost his family, wealth, or health, he would curse God to his face. ‹ God allows Satan to test Job with a series of tragic events. Job loses his livestock, his servants, his children, and his health. His wife tells him that he might as well curse God and die, because at least that would end his suffering. But Job continues to bear up and does not curse God. ‹ At this point, three of Job’s friends show up, and for seven days, they sit with Job in silence because his suffering is so great. Finally, the debates begin as Job’s friends try to make sense of what has happened. ● The three friends operate with a worldview in which actions have consequences and God is just and fair. T o make Job’s suffering fit into that worldview, they argue that he must have done something to deserve it. ● But Job’s worldview centers on his experience of tragedy. He sees no correlation between actions and consequences. A person can do what is right

• From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)

  Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation78 ● Although Solomon’s words may call for devotion to God, his actions contradict that. His public prayer expresses lofty ideals, but his personal life turns religious commitment into doing whatever is needed to placate members of his household. A Legacy of Contradictions ‹ As Solomon’s life draws to a close, he leaves a legacy of contradictions. And this leads us to a haunting question: How will the next generation deal with the contradictions it inherits? ‹ In chapter 12, the writer of 1 Kings takes us to a critical moment when Solomon’s son Rehoboam must determine the wisest course of action as he begins to rule. The people come to Rehoboam and plead with him, asking that he ease up on the use of forced labor and heavy taxation. ‹ The older members of the court think the wisest course of action is to become a leader who serves the people well. From their perspective, wisdom means that a leader governs graciously and fairly. When we think back to the story of Solomon, that is the kind of wisdom he once prayed for. But the younger members of the court say the opposite; they think wisdom calls for forcefulness. In their eyes, Solomon achieved greatness by subjugating the people, not by serving them. ‹ Solomon’s son chooses to continue the brutal side of his father’s legacy. He identifies leadership with subjugation rather than service. And it shatters the country. In 922 B.C., the people in the northern half of the country reject the harsh policies of Rehoboam and break away to form their own kingdom. They also establish their own sanctuaries. And as in the time before David reunited the nation, the people of the north call themselves Israel. Only the people of the south remain loyal to Solomon’s son and continue to worship in the temple in Jerusalem; as in the past, they call themselves Judah. Lecture 11—Solomon, a Study in Contradictions 79 Suggested Reading Brueggemann, Solomon: Israel’s Icon of Human Achievement. Weitzman, Solomon: The Lure of Wisdom. Questions to Consider 1. A theme in the story of Solomon is the importance is wisdom. According to 1 Kings, which of Solomon’s achievements exemplify wisdom? What distinguishes wisdom from cunning or shrewdness? 2. Solomon is remembered as the builder of the temple in Jerusalem. According to 1 Kings, what was the significance of the temple for ancient Israel?

• From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)

  232 LECTURE 35 Letters for Sojourners A common thread connects the letters of the New Testament known as Hebrews, James, and 1 Peter: They portray their readers as sojourners or resident aliens. Written not by Paul but by other early Christian writers, these letters address people who have a sense of dislocation—people who live in society but are not fully integrated into it. This social dislocation largely stemmed from religious beliefs that differed from Judaism and from Roman religious practices. The letters we’ll consider here speak to that issue in different ways. The letter to the Hebrews calls on early Christians to keep the faith. The letter of James emphasizes integrity, and 1 Peter asks what belonging really means. Letter to the Hebrews ‹Somewhat surprisingly, Hebrews lacks the usual features of a letter. Instead of a greeting, for example, it begins, “At many times and in many ways, God spoke in the past to our ancestors through the prophets. But now in these last days God has spoken to us by a Son.” Scholars often refer to Hebrews as a speech because its introduction sounds like a piece of oratory. ‹The writer never tells us his name, but at points in the speech, he tells us something about his readers. In chapter 2, he recalls that initially receiving the Christian message was a spiritual highpoint for these readers. The power of God and the Spirit of God seemed vivid. But after the initial highpoint, they experienced harassment. They were verbally abused and occasionally imprisoned. Yet they rallied and supported one another—at least for a time. ‹Then, the sense of solidarity faded. The early Christians became discouraged, and some began to drift away. They initially found the Christian message to be inspiring, but soon, they felt marginalized in their own society. In their experience, this was not a new age of peace and harmony. It might be better to let go of the faith altogether.

• From Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation (2016)

  Lecture 35—Letters for Sojourners 235 up at the door. One is well dressed in fine clothes with fancy jewelry. The other is poor and dirty and wearing shabby clothes. How should the visitors be treated? ● This simple question points to a clash in value systems. Social convention would say that wealth usually warrants privilege. The wealthy person should be invited to take a comfortable seat at the gathering, while the person in rags would stand by the door or sit on the floor. ● But James asks how that common practice fits the fundamental conviction of loving one’s neighbor as oneself. He insists that in God’s eyes, the poor person has value. The writer goes on to say that there is nothing inherently virtuous about being wealthy. ● James highlights the difference between the two systems of value. On the one hand, social convention assumes that the wealthy are worthy of higher honor than the poor. On the other hand, the command to love one’s neighbor eliminates the idea that a person’s value can be equated with social class. James challenges readers to put their belief into practice, even when it runs counter to social conventions. Doing so is what integrity requires. ‹ At this point, the writer of James takes issue with a certain understanding of Paul’s ideas. ● In the letter to the Galatians, Paul argued that people are set in right relationship with God by faith, not by doing what the law requires. He used the example of Abraham as a person of faith. ● James assumes that some readers thought Paul’s message was that all that counts is having the right beliefs—actions are not important. James makes a sharp critique of that idea, arguing that faith without works is dead. You can have all the right beliefs about God, but if belief does not lead to action, then it is lifeless. James uses Abraham as a clear example of someone who put faith into practice. ‹ Both James and Paul insist that faith rightly takes the form of action, and both agree that saying one thing and doing something else shows a lack of integrity. But there is also tension between these writers because their concerns are not exactly the same. T o read Paul’s emphasis on the relational aspect of faith alongside James’s emphasis on the ethical implications helps ensure that we keep both dimensions in mind. Reading Biblical Literature: Genesis to Revelation236 In the 16th century, Martin Luther believed that James lacked substance, while Paul was the superior theologian; others have tried to even out this claim.

• From The Bible: A Biography (2007)

  (Rashi thought that Isaiah had referred to his own wife.) In his exposition of the Servant Songs, Andrew did not even bother to mention Christ, but accepted the Jewish view that the servant symbolized the people of Israel. Instead of seeing the figure in Ezekiel’s vision that was ‘like a son of man’ as a prediction of Jesus, Andrew simply wanted to know what this imagery had meant to Ezekiel and the exiles. He decided that because the ‘son of man’ was the only human element in a very weird and frightening theophany, the exiles would have been reassured that God was interested in their own predicament. Andrew and his Jewish friends had taken a first step towards modern historical criticism of the Bible, but Andrew, a morose, uncharismatic man, had few followers in his own day. During the twelfth century, the men of the hour were the philosophers, who were beginning to develop a new kind of rationalistic theology in which they used reason to sustain their faith and clarify what had hitherto been deemed ineffable. Anselm of Bec (1033–1109), who would become Archbishop of Canterbury in 1189, thought that it was possible to prove anything. 16 As a monk, lectio divina was essential to his spiritual life but he wrote no commentaries on scripture and seldom quoted the Bible in his theological writing. But religion, like poetry or art, requires an intuitive rather than a purely rational approach and Anselm’s theology shows its limitations. In his treatise Cur Deus Homo, for example, he attempted a logical account of the Incarnation that bore no relation at all to scripture: any biblical quotations simply carried the argument along. The Greek Orthodox had also produced a theology that was independent of scripture, but Anselm’s forensic explanation of the incarnation lacks the spiritual insight of Maximus. He argued that the sin of Adam required atonement; because God was just, a human being must atone; but because the fault was so serious, only God could make reparation. Therefore God had to become man. 17 Anselm makes God weigh the matter up as if he were a mere human being. It is not surprising that at this time the Greek Orthodox feared that Latin theology was too anthropomorphic. Anselm’s theory of the atonement, however, became normative in the West, while the Greek Orthodox continued to prefer Maximus’s interpretation. The French philosopher Peter Abelard (1079–1142) developed a different account of the redemption, which again owed little to scripture but came closer to the spirit of the fathers.

• From The Bible: A Biography (2007)

  He wanted to find an entirely new significance in the ancient oracle that would bring comfort to the Jews who were anxiously awaiting the outcome of the Maccabean wars. This would become typical of Jewish exegesis. Instead of looking back to uncover its historical meaning, the interpreter would make the text speak to the present and the future. In order to seek out the hidden message in Jeremiah, Daniel put himself through a rigorous ascetic programme: ‘I turned my face to the Lord God begging for time to pray and to plead with fasting, sackcloth and ashes.’ 35 On another occasion, he said, ‘I ate no rich food, touched no meat or wine, and did not anoint myself, until these three weeks were over’. 36 As a result of these spiritual disciplines, he became the recipient of a divine inspiration: Gabriel, the angel of revelation, flew towards him and enabled him to discover a new meaning in the problematic passage. Torah study was becoming a prophetic discipline. The exegete now prepared himself to approach these ancient documents by purifying rituals, as if he were about to enter a holy place, putting himself into an alternative mental state that gave him fresh insight. The second-century author deliberately described Daniel’s enlightenment in a way that recalled the visionary experiences of Isaiah and Ezekiel. 37 But where Isaiah had received his prophetic initiation in the temple, Daniel found his in the sacred text. He did not have to eat the scroll like Ezekiel; instead he lived with the words of scripture constantly in his mind, interiorizing them, and found himself transformed – ‘purged, purified and made white’. 38 Finally the second-century author made Daniel predict the successful outcome of the Maccabean war by finding an entirely novel message in Jeremiah’s words. In riddling, enigmatic verse, Gabriel indicated that whether it took ‘seventy weeks’ or ‘seventy years’, the Maccabees would win through! The text had proved its holiness and divine origin by speaking directly to circumstances that the original author could not have foreseen. 39 Sadly, the Hasmonean dynasty founded by the Maccabees was a huge disappointment. The kings were cruel and corrupt; they were not descendants of David; and, to the horror of the more pious Jews, they violated the sanctity of the temple by assuming the office of High Priest, even though they were not of priestly descent. Outraged by this sacrilege, the historical imagination of the Jewish people projected itself into the future. At the end of the second century there was an explosion of apocalyptic piety. In new texts, Jews described eschatological visions in which God intervened powerfully in human affairs, smashed the present corrupt order and inaugurated an age of justice and purity. As they struggled to find a solution, the people of Judah split into myriad sects, each insisting that it alone was the true Israel.

• From The Bible: A Biography (2007)

  Torah study was becoming a prophetic discipline. The exegete now prepared himself to approach these ancient documents by purifying rituals, as if he were about to enter a holy place, putting himself into an alternative mental state that gave him fresh insight. The second-century author deliberately described Daniel’s enlightenment in a way that recalled the visionary experiences of Isaiah and Ezekiel.37 But where Isaiah had received his prophetic initiation in the temple, Daniel found his in the sacred text. He did not have to eat the scroll like Ezekiel; instead he lived with the words of scripture constantly in his mind, interiorizing them, and found himself transformed – ‘purged, purified and made white’.38 Finally the second-century author made Daniel predict the successful outcome of the Maccabean war by finding an entirely novel message in Jeremiah’s words. In riddling, enigmatic verse, Gabriel indicated that whether it took ‘seventy weeks’ or ‘seventy years’, the Maccabees would win through! The text had proved its holiness and divine origin by speaking directly to circumstances that the original author could not have foreseen.39 Sadly, the Hasmonean dynasty founded by the Maccabees was a huge disappointment. The kings were cruel and corrupt; they were not descendants of David; and, to the horror of the more pious Jews, they violated the sanctity of the temple by assuming the office of High Priest, even though they were not of priestly descent. Outraged by this sacrilege, the historical imagination of the Jewish people projected itself into the future. At the end of the second century there was an explosion of apocalyptic piety. In new texts, Jews described eschatological visions in which God intervened powerfully in human affairs, smashed the present corrupt order and inaugurated an age of justice and purity. As they struggled to find a solution, the people of Judah split into myriad sects, each insisting that it alone was the true Israel.40 This was, however, an extraordinarily creative period. The canon of the Bible had not yet been finalized. There was still no authoritative scripture and no orthodoxy and few of the sects felt bound to conform to traditional readings of the Law and the Prophets. Some even felt at liberty to write entirely new scriptures. The diversity of the Late Second Temple period was revealed when the library of the Qumran community was discovered in 1942.

• From The Bible: A Biography (2007)

  42 The author of the epistle to the Hebrews, who was probably writing at about the same time, was even more radical. He was trying to console a community of Jewish Christians who were beginning to lose heart by arguing forcefully that Christ had superseded the Torah, was more exalted than Moses 43 and that the sacrificial cult had simply foreshadowed Jesus’s priestly act in giving his life for humanity. 44 In an extraordinary passage, the author saw the entire history of Israel as exemplifying the virtue of pistis, trust in ‘realities that at present remain unseen’. 45 Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel and the prophets had all exhibited this ‘faith’: that had been their greatest, indeed their sole achievement. 46 But, the author concluded, ‘they did not receive what was promised, since God made provision for us to have something better, and they were not to reach perfection except with us.’ 47 In this exegetical tour de force, the whole of Israelite history had been redefined, but in the process the old stories, which had been about far more than pistis, lost much of their rich complexity. Torah, temple and cult simply pointed to a future reality because God had always had something better in mind. Paul and the author of Hebrews showed future generations of Christians how to interpret the Hebrew Bible and make it their own. The other New Testament writers would develop this pesher and make it very difficult for Christians to see Jewish scripture as anything more than a prelude to Christianity. The Jesus movement was becoming controversial even before the disaster of 70. 48 Christians, like all the other Jewish groups, were shocked to the core when they saw Herod’s magnificent shrine reduced to a pile of burnt, stinking masonry. They may have dreamed of replacing Herod’s temple but nobody had envisaged life without a temple at all. But the Christians also saw its destruction as an apokalypsis, a ‘revelation’ or ‘unveiling’ of a reality that had been there all along but had not been seen clearly before – namely that Judaism was finished. The temple ruins symbolized its tragic demise and were a sign that the end was approaching. God would now pull down the rest of the defunct world order and establish the kingdom. The destruction of the first temple in 586 BCE had inspired an astonishing burst of creativity among the exiles in Babylon. The destruction of the second temple spurred a similar literary effort among the Christians. By the middle of the second century, nearly all the twenty-seven books of the New Testament had been completed. Communities were already quoting Paul’s letters as though they were scripture, 49 and readings from one of the biographies of Jesus that were in circulation had become customary during Sunday worship. The gospels attributed to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John would eventually be selected for the canon, but there were many others.

• From The Bible: A Biography (2007)

  The Golah, the community of returning exiles, were convinced that their revised religion was the only authentic version of Yahwism. But the Israelites who had not been deported to Babylonia, most of whom lived in the territories of the former northern kingdom, could not share this vision and would resent this exclusive attitude. The new temple, a rather modest shrine, finally completed in 520 BCE, made Yahwism a temple faith once again. But another spirituality began, very gradually, to develop alongside it. With the help of those Israelites who had remained in Babylonia, the Golah were about to transform their medley of texts into scripture. CHAPTER 2 ScriptureOnce the Judahites had completed their second temple on Mount Zion, they imagined that life would continue as before. But they were overcome by spiritual malaise. Many were disappointed with the new temple, which could not compete with the legendary splendour of Solomon’s shrine; the Golah had encountered stiff opposition from foreigners who had settled in Judah during the exiles’ absence in Babylonia; and they had received a less than cordial welcome from those Israelites who had not been deported by the Babylonians. The priests had become lazy and apathetic and provided no moral leadership.1 But at the beginning of the fourth century, in about 398 BCE, the Persian king dispatched Ezra, his minister for Jewish affairs, to Jerusalem with a mandate to enforce the torah of Moses as the law of the land.2 Ezra would make this set of hitherto miscellaneous teachings an absolute value, so that it became the Torah. The Persians were reviewing the legal systems of all their subjects to make sure that they were compatible with the security of the empire. An expert in Torah, Ezra had probably worked out a satisfactory modus vivendi between Mosaic law and Persian jurisprudence. When he arrived in Jerusalem, he was appalled by what he found. The people were not maintaining the holy separation from the goyim that P had prescribed: some had even taken foreign wives. For a whole day, the inhabitants of Jerusalem were dismayed to see the king’s envoy tear his garments and sit in the public street in the posture of deep mourning. Then Ezra summoned the entire Golah to a meeting. Anybody who refused to attend would be cast out of the community and have his property confiscated.