Miles on Benedict’s Book
An intriguing comment on one of the posts below mentions Jack Miles’ review of Jesus of Nazareth in the current Commonweal.
I thought a wider discussion of the piece might be useful.
For myself, a number of points in the review puzzle me.
Firstly, and sensibilities may differ here, I found a strain of editorializing that does little to illuminate the actual contents of the book. The procedures of the CDF are evoked to suggest the heavy hand of the Inquisitor under the velvet glove of the inquirer.
Secondly, one receives the impression that Benedict is critiqued for not writing the book that Miles himself would have/has written. Thus the lament that the book “contains not the slightest trace of autobiography.” Simply put: why should it?
More substantively, Miles critiques Benedict for finding the phrase “Jesus poem” ambiguous (Miles’ own word is “anathema”). Thus supposedly slighting the literary genre that is the Gospel of John. He cites Benedict’s passing allusion to the exegete Ingo Broer, but does not engage Benedict’s more sustained discussion and criticism of Martin Hengel (a scholar the Pope clearly respects).
In the course of this discussion Benedict is clearly not taking a naively fundamentalist approach to the Fourth Gospel. Indeed, the Pope writes:
If “historical” is understood to mean that the discourses of Jesus transmitted to us have to be something like a recorded transcript in order to be acknowledged as “historically” authentic, then the discourses of John’s Gospel are not “historical.” But the fact that they make no claim to literal accuracy of this sort by no means implies that they are merely “Jesus poems” that the members of the Johannine school gradually put together, claiming to be acting under the guidance of the Paraclete. What the Gospel is really claiming is that it has correctly rendered the substance of the discourses, of Jesus’ self-attestation in the great Jerusalem disputes, so that the readers really do encounter the decisive content of this message and, therein, the authentic figure of Jesus (p. 229).
Now, one may not find this position completely adequate. But it at least shows more fully the intent and nuance of the author. (For both appreciation and critique see the incisive review by the New Testament scholar Richard Hays in First Things [August/September 2007]).
A final puzzle. On p. 20 of his review Miles writes that Ratzinger “pointedly” never calls the Gospel of John, “The Fourth Gospel.” When I first read this I was unsure of the import of the observation. I became even more befuddled when I found that, from pages 220-238 of the book, Benedict uses the term, “the Fourth Gospel,” six times.
Obviously, Jack Miles is a talented writer; but I confess to being left disappointed in this review.
I would point out (as Miles does) that the pope calls the book “my personal search ‘for the face of the Lord.’” (Benedict also says in the preface, “I came to this book about Jesus . . . after a long interior journey.”) I have only just begun reading the book, so I haven’t yet formed any opinions, but I don’t think it is at all strange to expect to find out something about Benedict’s personal life and how he arrived at his understanding of Jesus. It is fascinating to me that John Paul II believed that the Virgin Mary saved his life after the assassination attempt. I confess that if I finish reading Benedict’s book and don’t find out anything about his personal beliefs (as opposed to his scholarly convictions), I will be somewhat disappointed.
Let me offer a brief reply in, I hope, the spirit of Fr. Imbelli’s thoughtful reservations.
Regarding the relevance of even mentioning the procedures of the CDF in reviewing a book on the Gospel, I would note that the Pope’s early statement, “Everyone is free, then, to contradict me,” would be superfluous for anyone but him. To pass over that matter in silence would be like ignoring the proverbial 900-lb. gorilla in the room. It is, in fact, unprecedented to read such a sentence from a Pope, isn’t it? About that, I’m pretty sure, Fr. Imbelli and I agree. We disagree only about the extent to which he really means it.
Why should the book contain any autobiography? I agree that none need be expected of a book on the Gospel; but if a given book promises to share the story of a personal quest, and this one does, then expectations change. The matter grows in importance because few will buy this book out of curiosity about its subject. They will buy it out of curiosity about its author.
Regarding “Jesus poem” and the passage that Fr. Imbelli quotes, I would say, first, that in the first sentence of the quoted passage, the Pope is demolishing a straw man. Those who believe that many events recounted in the Gospels did not happen do not demand “a recorded transcript” before they will believe that they did. The deeper question is whether the Paraclete can speak through a poet as well as through a historian. In other words, if given events were made up, why might the Gospel not be religiously authentic anyway? This is the possibility that Ingo Broer entertains and the Pope dismisses. I do concede to Fr. Imbelli that a fuller exposition of this dispute, including the Pope’s discussion of Martin Hengel, would have been interesting and may even have been essential. Readers will note, though, that the review was already of unprecedented length for Commonweal.
Regarding “Fourth Gospel” vs. “Gospel of John,” I should perhaps first say that I myself prefer “Gospel of John” or, even better, “Gospel According to John” and almost never use the designation “Fourth Gospel.” I noticed that the Pope usually does as I do, but I stand corrected regarding those times when he does not.
Jack Miles
Jack,
Thanks for your thoughtful response.
It is most appreciated.
It would be interesting to discuss further your question: “whether the Paraclete can speak through a poet as well as through a historian.”
I would venture to affirm that he [ekeinos!] can. The question in this instance, perhaps, is whether the Johannine school embraces both.
Pace e bene.
I confess that if I finish reading Benedict’s book and don’t find out anything about his personal beliefs (as opposed to his scholarly convictions), I will be somewhat disappointed.
There’s a difference between personal beliefs and scholarly convictions? What do you mean?
Fr. Imbelli
I tend to agree that the review by Jack Miles was somewhat disappointing, but probably that was because I expected more. He did make some excellent points. Some other reviews I had read failed almost entirely to offer criticism. Why does Benedict so intimidate? As our Latinate Maid might say, “Vicarius, ut aiunt, Christi alter, alter est ipse Christus”.
I do share your approval of the review by Richard Hayes. It is the best I have seen so far. Although he ended on a positive note, as kindly reviewers are wont to do, I think the substance of his critique was this. Benedict sets out to repair the rupture that, as he sees it, exists between the Christ of faith and the historical Jesus, a rupture which he takes to undermine faith. He does not succeed. Rather he evades the very questions he needs to address, or when he does address them, is unconvincing. He would have done well not merely to have admired Raymond Brown, but to have read his work with some attention. He might have noted, among other things, that “Iscariot” can hardly, on both philological and historical grounds, be connected wit the “sicarii:.
Ampleforth,
I think I can say without presuming too much that John Paul II believed from his studies of the Catholic faith that the Virgin Mary is rightly given the titles Advocate, Intercessor, Co-Redemptrix, and Mediatrix of graces. I would call that scholarly conviction. But believing that Mary, in her capacity as Intercessor, saved his life after the assassination attempt could only be a personal belief.
As I said, I have only just begun Benedict’s book, and I am interested his conclusions about scholarly issues such as the Jesus of history and the Christ of faith. But I would also like to hear how his ideas about Jesus developed over the years and how he sees Jesus as an actual presence in his life.
1) Miles finds fault with Benedict for needlessly alienating his own potential allies. He is so “precritical” that even those sympathetic to his point of view will be unable to follow his example.
Miles writes: “To claim that unless God’s actions as reported in the Bible …are historical, they are theologically meaningless… is to make biblical interpretation a subject suitable only for those who approach history without any developed (‘ready-made’) philosophy and who are prepared, in addition, to break with science and modernity (the ‘so-called modern or scientific worldview’). Few, even among the many who freely grant a connection between history and theology, will want to meet these conditions.”
This sounds ominous indeed – - One must choose either Benedict’s way or the way of science and modernity.
But Miles seems to have forgotten that in his previous paragraph he gave a more complete account of Benedict’s criticism of recent Biblical studies.
“The exegete ‘should not approach the text with a ready-made philosophy, nor in accordance with the dictates of a so-called modern or scientific worldview, which determines in advance what may or may not be.’”
The last clause should have made it clear that Benedict is not rejecting science or modernity as such but only a restrictive method with narrow presuppositions. Contrary to Miles’ telling, Benedict’s point, in the essay from which this quote is drawn, is that Bultmann or Dibelius used questionable philosophical assumptions, under the guise of modernity, not that a Christian exegete is required to reject science or modernity.
2) On the other hand, Miles praises Benedict for venturing (too cautiously and perhaps unwittingly) into the realm of reader reception theory. If only the insights of Wolfgang Iser and Michel Foucault, or other post-modernists, had been more vigorously pursued, he suggests, the truly significant (though of course unhistorical) literary features of the Bible could be appreciated in a more profound way. But, to Miles’ disappointment, Benedict ignores such promising possibilities and becomes lost in the precritical shadows. It’s obvious that not only has Benedict failed the test of modernity but, as expected, he is completely unable to cope with post-modernity.
If I may adapt the review’s summary judgment of Benedict (Pope preaches to choir) to Miles himself, the distinguished professor of English and religious studies may be only articulating what many in his cultivated audience want to hear (and most felt they already knew).
I think virtually all exegetes agree that Benedict does not handle successfully the old chestnut of “the Jesus of History and the Christ of Faith”. Ingo Broer is largely right in saying that “John’s Gospel thus stands as a _literary_ work, which witnesses to faith and wishes to strengthen faith, before our eyes, and not as a historical account”. While there are no doubt elements of historical tradition in the Fourth Gospel it is clearly not in any normal sense of the word a historical account. It is a beautifully constructed diptych, and the discourses of Jesus are its core panels; they are compositions of the Johannine community, as can be seen by comparing them with 1 John. Benedict’s claim that they give an objective historical rendering of the controversy between Jesus and the Jews is very flimsy.
For those who haven’t gotten around to it, the Hays’ review at FT is really worth a read.
It’s critical while still seriously and fairly engaging the author’s arguments.
Hello Prof. Miles,
Thank you very much for adding your thoughts to this discussion.
One question:
“The deeper question is whether the Paraclete can speak through a poet as well as through a historian. In other words, if given events were made up, why might the Gospel not be religiously authentic anyway?”
I might suggest that it depends on the events in question.
I am not very troubled by the question of whether Jesus healed one or two blind men at Jericho, or whether one was named Bartimaeus or not; or whether he was coming or going. One can sense the possibility, contra (say) Karl Keating, that there might be a a little bit of theological and literary license in play by the Gospel author(s).
If it is an event with fundamental eschatological or other theological implications – like, say, the Resurrection – it would be reasonable to suggest that this calls “religious authenticity” into question.
A theology like that of Schleiermacher or Harnack might argue that it prescinds from such historical requirements, but then I think it hard to argue that even the most progressive magisterial pronouncements to date could be reasonably stretched to include such transcendent exegeses.
Not that I mean to argue that you are necessarily taking such a position.