The Erotic Word: Sexuality, Spirituality, and the Bible

by David M. Carr

Oxford University Press, New York, 2003. 212 pp. $32.00 (cloth). ISBN 0-19-515652-8.

Readers will likely pause over the title of this book. Given Christianity’s long history of using the Bible to bifurcate the body and spirit, and heated ongoing debates in the churches over particular expressions of human sexuality, few of us readily associate our spirituality with our sexuality. But David M. Carr, Professor of Old Testament at Union Theological Seminary, New York, argues that we should. Carr’s premise is that sexuality and spirituality “are intricately interwoven, that when one is impoverished the other is warped, and that there is some kind of crucially important connection between the journey toward God and the journey toward coming to terms with our own sexual embodiment” (p. 10). He aims to demonstrate how the Bible, particularly the Old Testament, affirms this and summons us to a life of erotic passion (i.e., “core longing”) for God, others, and the earth (p. 3).

Stressing that there are multiple biblical perspectives on sexuality, Carr structures his analysis around three garden texts that correspond to the primary divisions of the Old Testament: Eden (Torah), Isaiah’s vineyard (Prophets), and the Song of Songs (Writings). He argues that the first garden story (Genesis 1-3) “evokes both the potential and the tragedy of erotic relationships” (p. 43). On the one hand, it describes humans as embodied creatures, physically connected to God (i.e., made in the divine image and enlivened by the divine breath), the earth (i.e., adam from adamah, made to till and keep it), and each other (i.e., “bone of my bone,” Gen 2:23). As such, our bodies are reflections of God, not spiritual obstacles to be overcome. On the other hand, Genesis 3 speaks to our struggle to live up to that potential. Having eaten of the tree of knowledge, humans are no longer “naked and unashamed.” Instead, we struggle with uncertainty and suffering, alienated from our bodies, God, and each other.

Carr next surveys the “rules” of biblical morality, including gender roles and laws concerning adultery, pre-marital sex, homosexuality, and prostitution. He concludes that the sexual rules of the Old Testament (and the New Testament) “revolve around sets of values that are alien to most people in modern, industrialized societies” (p. 54). This, of course, renders contemporary appeals for a return to “biblical family values” quite problematic.

Carr contends that many of these rules are evident in the prophetic marriage metaphor which depicts God as a passionate, jealous, vengeful husband and Israel as God’s frequently battered wife. Beginning with Isaiah’s vineyard (5:1-7) and referring briefly to selected texts from Hosea, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and II-Isaiah, Carr points out how the divine-human marriage metaphor superimposes divinity, power, maleness, and love: “God is the most manly man of all, while all men and women of Israel played the part of ‘woman’ in relation to him” (p. 77). Given the “gender terror” such a metaphor perpetuates, Carr asks if any good may be gleaned from it. He suggests that the metaphor (a) reminds us that our depictions of God are infected with patriarchy after Eden, (b) counters our tendency to romanticize eros, and (c) testifies to the destructiveness of idolatry, or love gone wrong.

Carr then turns to the garden of the Song of Songs. First, he considers how ancient love poetry from Mesopotamia and Egypt presents divergent visions of love and gender, and often interweaves human and divine elements, the sexual and the spiritual. Second, Carr examines the Song of Songs, pointing out that the book focuses on desire more than consummation, celebrates the lovers’ wildness, portrays them as melded with the natural world and translucent to the divine, and employs language from Israel’s sacred history to describe their erotic relationship (e.g., “bind me as a seal on your heart,” 8:6-7; cf. Deut 6:8). In light of this, Carr challenges the historical dichotomy between spiritual and sexual interpretations of the Song. He argues that the Song exemplifies a phenomenon called “cross over” that is manifest in many religious traditions; that is, it uses motifs of human love to describe divine-human love and vice versa. As such, the Song invites us “to reread our world as an erotic one overlaid with a series of transparencies . . . on one level, eros opens us to sensuous connection with another person, a poem, a piece of nature, the world. Yet on another level, our eros opens us to experiencing God loving us in and through those things” (p. 149).

Finally, Carr argues that certain New Testament texts continue and develop the erotic visions of the Old Testament, including Jesus’ use of Genesis 1-2 to speak about marriage (Mark 10:2-9; Matt 19:3-9), Jesus as the “true vine” (John 15:1-6), and Mary Magdalene’s encounter with the resurrected Jesus at the garden tomb (John 20:11-18).

Carr succeeds in offering readers a timely, thought-provoking study of ways that the Bible entwines human sexuality and spirituality. He moves adeptly between the biblical text, relevant ancient Near Eastern resources, and contemporary issues, offering his insights with clarity and urgency. There is some unevenness to the book. Whereas Carr treats Genesis 1-3 and the Song of Songs in some detail, his reading of the prophetic material is comparatively cursory; indeed, he devotes only three pages total to Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and II-Isaiah. Also, Carr defines eros in his introduction (p. 9), but never explicitly defines key terms for his analysis such as gender, sex, sexuality, or spirituality. This can cause considerable confusion. For example, he often uses the terms “sex” and “sexuality” interchangeably (e.g., p. 6).

On a minor note, Carr construes the account of Adam and Eve’s eating from the tree of knowledge as an “ancient human decision to grow up” (pp. 46-47). This implies that life in Eden prior to that decisioni was characterized by immaturity (“childlike existence,” p. 46), a view I find difficult to support with the text.

This book makes a strong contribution on an important topic. Carr’s engaging analysis will no doubt pique readers’ interests to learn more.

Christine Roy Yoder
Columbia Theological Seminary
Decatur, Georgia

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The Acts of the Apostles

by Beverly Roberts Gaventa

Abingdon New Testament Commentaries. Abingdon, Nashville, 2003. 392 pp. $28.00.
ISBN 0-687-05821-X.

One searches for an appropriate metaphor to describe the scholarly activity focused on Luke–Acts over the past forty years. Two important summary studies describe the intense interest in Luke-Acts as a “storm center” (W. C. van Unnik, “Luke–Acts: A Storm Center in Contemporary Scholarship,” Studies in Luke–Acts [Nashville: Abingdon, 1966] 15–32) and “shifting sands” (Charles H. Talbert, “Shifting Sands: The Recent Study of the Gospel of Luke,” Interpretation, 30 (1976) 381–95). One could also imagine the sheer volume of this scholarly interest as an explosion, though an explosion sustained and controlled through such venues as the ongoing study groups sponsored by the Society of Biblical Literature. Beverly Roberts Gaventa’s recent contribution to studies in Luke’s second volume brings together much of the best contemporary (and classic) research on Luke-Acts. The commentary reflects both the quantity and quality of contemporary research on the book of Acts (the bibliography is impressive; one could add Daniel Marguerat’s recent book The First Christian Historian: Writing the “Acts of the Apostles” [Cambridge University Press, 2002], probably published after her commentary went to press).

The series for which this commentary is written—the Abingdon New Testament Commentaries—is intended for theological students, and also “for students in upper-level college or university settings, as well as for pastors and other church leaders” (p. 15). Commentaries in this series are to “take full account of the most important current scholarship and secondary literature. . . . [They are] to analyze the literary, socio-historical, theological, and ethical dimensions of the biblical texts themselves” (p. 15). It is clear that Gaventa meets these and all the other criteria established by the editors of this series. Her commentary is clearly written, lucid, concise, and, where needed, appropriately expansive in exploring important issues of language, text, and context.

The preface offers typical thanks to all who contributed in making this work possible. However, the second sentence of the commentary is curious. Gaventa writes that the Acts of the Apostles has been introduced to many readers “as a history of the earliest Christian communities, beginning in Rome and concluding in Jerusalem. . . .” (p. 17; my emphasis). This may reflect a reading of Acts that eludes this reader.

The commentary proper begins with a thirty-five-page introduction that focuses on narrative aspects of Acts, including a review of Luke’s cast of characters (God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Church and its people—Peter, James, Paul, and others should be remembered as witnesses and apostles rather than leaders and heroes), and the various “locations” of Acts (historical, canonical, and ecclesial). The final two sections of the introduction include a literary map for the journey through Acts, a brief review of some Lukan literary features (repetition, speeches, stories, the “we” passages, and genre possibilities), and an orientation to the commentary. In her overview of Acts, Gaventa suggests a bimodal structure. Following the Prologue (1:1–2:47), Part I focuses primarily on the Jerusalem Christian community, with the climax occurring at 10:1–11:18 (the conversions of Cornelius and Peter; 3:1–15:35). In Part II (15:36–28:31), the focus shifts to Paul and his mission, leading to a second high point at chapter 26 (Paul’s speech to the Roman court at Caesarea). The narratives that follow each of these two parts are denouement, as Luke leads the reader to the close of each section.

Unlike many commentaries that primarily take a historical approach to the book of Acts, Gaventa’s emphasis lies elsewhere. As she says, her approach “is not ahistorical, and certainly not anti-historical” (p. 59). While the events, actions, behaviors, and speeches that occur on the human plane are important to Luke, Gaventa reminds us that the Evangelist is more concerned to convey the story of God’s actions through the characters in Acts. The divine necessity (dei) and plan (boule3) undergird the entire narrative from the original apostles of Jesus gathered together in a rented upper room in Jerusalem to Paul who talks with any who care to hear the gospel in his rented room in Rome. Gaventa provides constant and careful reflection on Luke’s theological agenda, making a significant contribution to the growing collection of contemporary commentaries on Acts.

A pattern pervades this commentary. The book of Acts is divided into eight major sections, and each is introduced with a brief overview. Subunits are likewise introduced, followed by a detailed analysis of the text, and completed by a reflection on Luke’s theological contribution to the readers of his story—a neat three-part structure. Gaventa’s introductions are concise and clear and the analyses of the text are substantial and enlightening. Here she shows the stuff of a seasoned Bible scholar and teacher. Seminary students in particular will benefit from her occasional exegesis of the Greek text and her attention to textual variants. Her lucid explanations of the persistent problems with the texts and translations of Acts will appeal to specialists and general readers alike. Gaventa often provides her own translations of the text that illuminate the nuances of Luke’s language. She offers a particularly nice translation of Acts 20:20–21 that brings out the significant pairs in Paul’s farewell address to the Ephesian elders (p. 286). Paul has been

proclaiming . . . to you and teaching you
publicly and at home
to Jews and to Greeks
repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus

This is an elegant summary of Paul’s witness.

Finally, Gaventa’s theological reflections flow naturally from her analysis of the text. However, while one recognizes and appreciates the need for a commentary that emphasizes the theological perspective of Luke, it would be nice, on occasion, to see a bit more attention to the human plane—Luke’s world. One wonders, for example, what someone in the late first century might have thought about Luke’s use of the phrase “Lord and Messiah” as applied to Jesus (2:36; p. 79). While it is true that Luke gives little indication what content the titles of Jesus carries (see the long list in Acts 3:12–26, beginning and ending with “servant” [pais]), he does appear to use them purposefully. While we might not know what Luke intended with these titles, we can consider what impact they might have had on those who heard them in the context of the early Roman Empire. Fortunately Gaventa returns to the potential political impact of Luke’s christological titles later in the commentary (pp. 171, 174).

While Gaventa assists the reader as she travels with Luke’s narrative among the urban centers of the Empire, a few more details about the cities visited by the apostles would be helpful in thinking about the social contexts of their ministry. Additional attention to political and social contexts might help “flesh out” Luke’s theology—a theology that seems deeply rooted in this world, the world of the Roman Empire. Jesus as Lord and Messiah had (and has) serious implications and consequences for those who live under his lordship and messiahship.

Nevertheless, there are plenty of commentaries available to deal with the horizontal plane of the Acts of the Apostles. This is one that takes seriously the vertical dimension of Luke’s narrative. Thankfully, Gaventa has brought it to light.

Paul W. Walaskay
Union-PSCE
Richmond, Virginia

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