Romans

by Charles H. Talbert

Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary. Smyth & Helwys, Macon, 2002.
360 pp. $50.00 (cloth). ISBN 1-57312-081-2.

CHARLES TALBERT’S COMMENTARY on Romans is the fifth addition to the new Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary series. The basic format in this series consists of a commentary on the text (multifaceted exegetical analyses); sidebars supplementing the text (a plethora of material including outlines of literary structure, definitions, maps, historical information, history of interpretation, art, music, and photographs); and a consideration of the connections and implications the biblical text has for contemporary Christian life and ministry. Included is a CD-Rom (in an Adobe Acrobat format) that contains the entire commentary in an indexed and searchable format with hyperlinks. All of these elements combine to make this one of the most userfriendly, stimulating series on the market.

This particular commentary is no exception. On the one hand, Talbert is recognized as one of the most prominent New Testament scholars on the North American scene over the past three decades. He brings his expertise on Paul and the ancient world to bear in his analysis of the letter, its literary dynamics, and its theological claims. On the other hand, the reader is treated to an array of insights ranging from Luther to Barth, from African- American art to Rembrandt, from Vaughan’s Easter Hymn to a John Donne sonnet. The commentary demonstrates on page after page the relevance and resilience Paul’s letter has had throughout the centuries.

With regard to Romans itself, Talbert begins by laying out the historical context (and audiences) Paul is addressing and Paul’s goals in writing this particular letter. Talbert sees Romans as “an occasional letter but with universal applicability” (p. 12) in which Paul is seeking to bring theological and communal unity to a community divided particularly along Jewish Christian and Gentile Christian lines. Somewhat problematic is the polemical edge Talbert (p. 16) identifies in the overarching purposes of Romans 1–8 (“the destruction of Jewish presumption and objections”), 9–11 (“overturning of Gentile pride”), 12–15 (“opposition to mutual arrogance”).While there are certainly polemical points throughout Romans, Paul’s aims and tone are much more positive and edifying than Talbert states. Each of the letter’s sections ends not with dire warnings or polemics but with hymnic crescendos praising God for the ultimate, merciful goals of the divine plan and activity accomplished in Jesus Christ. Any commentary on Romans has to deal with some basic exegetical/interpretive issues such as an understanding of the righteousness of God as the letter’s theme (1:16–17), how phrases such as pistis Christou and hilasterion (3:21–26) should be understood, and how one should regard Paul’s comment that all Israel shall be saved (11:26). In each instance, Talbert seeks to lay out the issues and options at hand and then presents his perspectives in cogent, understandable ways. Thus he argues that God’s righteousness is to be understood in terms of God’s covenantal faithfulness and pistis Christou is to be regarded as a subjective genitive referring to the faithfulness of Christ; hilasterion more than likely is a noun referring to the mercy seat; and all Israel will be saved because all Israel will come to believe in Christ.While not everyone will agree with Talbert’s readings, he does seek to play fair by taking seriously the alternatives and by drawing on material beyond Romans to ascertain how such terms or concepts were used in the ancient world and how the letter’s audience would thus be expected to understand them. At times, however, these attempts to marshal evidence from beyond the New Testament present their own set of problems. There is no uniform attempt at dating such material, and evidence from a wide array of ancient sources (e.g., Second Temple Judaism; Josephus; Stoicism; Roman historians and rhetoricians; rabbinic Judaism) can be placed side by side without discerning differences in setting, date, milieu, content, purpose, or religious perspective. Thus occasionally the sheer weight of evidence substitutes for applicability and probability. Even worse, the amount of references in the body of the text can become tedious to sort through and at some points detracts from the otherwise lucid flow of the commentary.

Anyone who has ever sought to exegete Romans will at times disagree with Talbert’s exegetical decisions. That is a given, and that is why it is helpful to study a mammoth work like Romans with three or four commentaries at hand. The one aspect of this commentary that will prove to be consistently disappointing to some readers, however, is not the exegetical decisions it makes but the interpretive connections it offers. Generally the section on connections reflects a conservative (at times somewhat polemical) application of Romans for the contemporary church. The problem is not simply the conservative perspective itself, but that it sometimes serves as the major application of texts from Romans. Thus the main focus in the connections section for Rom 1:1–17 involves traditional language for God rather than the radical implications of inclusive justification. In discussing the implications of 1:18–32, unambiguous categories from the 1950 work of Chester Quimby are used to establish society’s attitudes toward sex. In 2:1–3:20, near-atheistic modern culture is a root problem of idolatry. A major focus of the hermeneutical implications of 5:1–11 is a complete rejection of feminist critiques of some atonement theologies with three quotations by William Barclay offered as the hermeneutical key to Paul’s thought. In considering the implications of Romans 9–11, the conclusion is drawn that for Christians not to evangelize non-Christians (including Jews) “is a demand for the sacrifice of something central to Christian identity” (p. 274). A rejection of egalitarianism in Christian communities is part of the connective focus for 15:14–16:27. Certainly the author of a commentary has every right to present his or her theological perspectives, and Talbert does so without compromising the exegetical integrity of the Romans text itself. Yet at times the implication that Romans has for life and mission in the twentieth-first century seems too narrowly drawn.

Because of the scope, power, and influence of Romans, it is also fairly common for commentaries on Paul’s epistle to reflect the doctrinal perspectives of their authors at various points, and Talbert’s Baptist stance comes through from time to time. For example, in analyzing Romans 6, he resorts to Galatians 3 to claim that baptism is “effective because of the initiates’ faith” (p. 166), even though the original audience of Romans did not have Galatians 3, and in Romans 6 baptism is effective because it is inclusion into Christ’s death apart from any direct mention of the initiates’ faith. The English Baptists are presented as the example for holding together individuation and participation in community (p. 179), and more than once Baptists are held up as the model of religious liberty including the separation of church and state (e.g., pp. 271, 322-23). This latter point may not ring true for contemporary readers who are concerned about potential threats to American civil liberties stemming from the political and legislative involvement in the Republican Party of the religious right, which includes significant figures from the independent Baptist tradition. No commentary on Romans can be regarded as “the” commentary on Romans. There are, however, some commentaries that deserve space on one’s desk when studying this landmark Christian document. Because of the intelligent, readable, and accessible analysis on the text of Romans itself, this new commentary deserves such space.

Richard P. Carlson
LUTHERAN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
GETTYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

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Conflict and Identity in Romans: The Social Setting of Paul’s Letter

by Philip F. Esler

Fortress, Minneapolis, 2003.
458 pp. $29.00. ISBN 0-8006-3435-7.

THIS BOOK IS NOT SO MUCH ANOTHER exegetical commentary on Romans as a complete reframing of the message and context of Paul’s letter. Simply stated, Esler’s thesis is that in Romans Paul is attempting to reshape the identity of the congregation in Rome in the wake of ethnic tensions between Judean and non-Judean Christ believers. Esler’s thoroughgoing argument draws on social identity theory, an awareness of the dynamics of ethnicity in antiquity, and, most importantly, a close reading of the text that is guided by a whole new set questions that are explored in terms of a pragmatic model of interpretation. Esler moves beyond an analysis of what Paul is attempting to say or communicate, to a consideration of what he is trying to do. And preeminently, what Paul is doing through this letter is exercising leadership by reinforcing the fundamental common identity his addressees shared in relation to God and Christ. Indeed, Esler avers that in writing Romans Paul was acting as an “entrepreneur of identity” (p. 109). At every point the rhetorical strategy of the letter is reconceived so as to challenge the reader to reckon with the social force of the ideas and language of Romans.

Esler differentiates his approach from more traditional theological interpretations of Romans. He objects to a static notion of theology as a constellation of concepts or beliefs that are detached from the social realia and the politics of identity that shape everyday life. More than any of Paul’s letters, Romans has historically been read as a timeless theological treatise on the nature of the gospel. Since Paul Minear’s book, The Obedience of Faith (1971), scholarship has taken more seriously the local situation reflected in Romans 14–15, and since Munck, Stendahl and others, Romans 9–11 has been viewed as an integral part of the letter rather than as an excursus secondary in importance to the theological themes of Romans 1–8. One of the merits of this book is that by making social identity the thread running throughout the letter, Esler provides a reading of Romans 1–8 that is informed by and integrated with the practical concerns pertaining to the relationship between Judean and non-Judean Christ believers evident in 9–15. Although social context has been featured more prominently in more recent studies of Romans, Esler puts flesh and bones on the text, so to speak, and requires readers to imagine what was at stake for Christ believers in an ethnically diverse congregation negotiating multiple aspects of identity and complex interpersonal relationships in an agonistic world where people competed for honor and status.

The first third of the book is devoted to a discussion of identity and ethnicity from a theoretical perspective and to a consideration of the situation and purpose of Romans. Although there is much to learn about social identity theory in this part of the book, Esler’s emphasis on ethnicity as an integral aspect of cultural identity guides his reading of the letter. He maintains that the cultures of the Mediterranean world were essentially ethnic groups defined by their common heritage and customs, and that religion should be understood as a subset of a more encompassing communal identity. Judeans were an ethnic group with a history of hostility with Greeks, and this is reflected in the congregational setting implied in Romans. According to Esler, the community of Christ believers in Rome was ethnically diverse and, although it included Judeans, had developed a group identity that was distinct from the Judean community in Rome. He bases this claim on his assessment of the “architectural context” of Rome where the archeological evidence indicates that Judeans met in large public synagogues (proseuchai), while Christ believers met in domestic households. In response to this mixed congregation that included Judeans but was at some remove from the Judean community in Rome, Paul sought to recategorize Judeans and Greeks into a new group in Christ.

A few examples of how Esler sees the rhetoric and themes of the first chapters of Romans serving this purpose will have to suffice. In Rom 1:18–3:20, Paul aims to show that both Judeans and Greeks are equal with respect to their subjection to the power of sin, and thereby to undercut feelings of ethnic superiority on the part of each group (p. 144). Esler appeals to the Scriptures, especially Proverbs 10–15, and other Israelite texts to argue that righteousness, which features prominently in the first chapters of Romans, denoted Israel’s privileged identity and status as God’s people, and that Paul reappropriated it to cover Judeans and non-Judeans in the congregation of Christ followers (p. 168). In Romans 4 Abraham, the most important ethnic ancestor in Israelite cultural memory, is presented as the prototype of group identity not only for Judeans but also for all who have faith in Christ. In Romans 5–6, Paul sets out in some detail how “Jesus Christ is the founder of a new identity built on a transformed relationship with God that has past, present, and future dimensions” (p. 199). Esler emphasizes both acquisition of a new status with all its attending benefits as well as discontinuity with one’s old identity by virtue of dying with Christ in baptism.

In this work, Esler has himself “re-categorized” the Romans debate in a refreshing way that challenges interpreters to reckon with how this text speaks to real life issues in the congregation such as ethnic tensions, identity formation, and group dynamics. He observes, rightly in my view, that scholarship on Romans has been preoccupied with the cognitive aspects of Paul’s message, and so explicates the text in the light of the practical concerns facing an ethnically mixed community of Christ believers living in the capital of the Roman Empire. This book makes it difficult to read Romans without imaging real hearers in the congregation being addressed by the letter. For example, in taking issue with the widely held view that the audience was mainly non-Judean Christ followers, Esler pictures a scene in which Phoebe reads the letter before a group of Christ followers that probably included eminent Judeans such as Prisca and Aquilla, Andronicus and Junia, and others mentioned in Romans 16 (p. 119). I find it helpful to envisage Christ believers in Rome listening to Paul’s letter, and, ironically perhaps when I do this I find myself unconvinced by the scenario Esler suggests. He would have us believe that in the mid 50’s of the Common Era this congregation of Christ believers that included Judeans and non-Judeans was differentiated from Judaism. Do Paul and the other Judean believers no longer think of themselves as Judeans? Although the non-Judean Christ believers belong to a community that includes Judeans, reads Israelite scriptures, and lives in a covenantal relationship with the God of the Judeans, do they not think of themselves as living in relation to, if not a part of, Judean history, culture, and community?

These are questions raised by Esler’s reading of Romans. They are questions that will never be answered definitively, at least not to everyone’s satisfaction, and yet not only are these questions raised by the text itself, they are, it seems to me, more interesting and timely questions than the more abstract theological debates about soteriology that have held sway in discussions of this great text for so long. Esler does not eschew theological interpretation, but insists on the inextricable connection between ideas and convictions, interpersonal relationships, and social context. It is a theology on the ground, so to speak, that asks how the rhetoric of a text like Romans shapes the identity and practices of hearers both ancient and modern. From the standpoint of our own global context in which questions of ethnicity, social identity, and religious belief are very much at the forefront, Esler has initiated a conversation with Paul’s letter to the Romans that is more pertinent than ever to the struggles of our own time, and for that we are all in his debt.

Raymond Pickett
LUTHERAN SEMINARY PROGRAM IN THE SOUTHWEST
AUSTIN, TEXAS

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II Corinthians: A Commentary

by Frank J. Matera

New Testament Library.Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2003.
332 pp. $39.95 (cloth). ISBN 0-664-22117-3.

MATERA HAS MADE AN IMPRESSIVE contribution to The New Testament Library series. This is a solid and well-reasoned reading of the letter, exegetically and theologically astute, and Matera proves himself a dependable guide through one of the more difficult pieces of the New Testament. Matera begins his commentary with a helpful overview of the letter as a whole, so that those who may not be reading the commentary from cover to cover can gain a sense of the whole in a brief seven-page summary. Here we also find a concise description of events which lie between 1 and 2 Corinthians: Timothy’s report to Paul that old problems of immorality and internal dissension continue in Corinth; Paul’s change in travel plans, his emergency visit to Corinth, and the insult he suffered from one of the members of the church; Paul’s harsh letter to them, their repentance, and Paul’s joy at the new report from Titus. It is unclear at which point in these events Paul learns about the intruding apostles. Matera’s introduction also has a helpful discussion of major theological themes in 2 Corinthians: (1) the God who raises the dead, (2) Christ, the agent of God’s salvation, (3) the Spirit of the Living God, (4) the ministry of the new covenant, (5) the community of the new covenant, and (6) the paradox of a gospel in which affliction leads to comfort and power is perfected in weakness (pp. 9-15). The commentary includes an eight-page bibliography, as well as helpful indices of ancient literature, modern authors, and subjects.

Matera argues for the literary unity of 2 Corinthians. Paul’s discussion of his apostolic ministry (2:14–7:4) is not a later interpolation that disrupts his report about Titus and the Corinthians (2:12–13 and 7:5–16), but is in fact Paul’s deliberate rhetorical strategy. In weaving the two discussions together in this way, Paul keeps the Corinthians’ attention by suspending his report about the very thing the Corinthians most want to hear: Titus’s report and Paul’s reaction. Secondly, Paul thus links his joy over God’s consolation regarding his relationship with the Corinthians to the general pattern in his whole ministry wherein God always comforts Paul in the midst of afflictions, which is precisely what the Corinthians have failed to appreciate (p. 171). Second Corinthians 6:14–7:1 is likewise not an interpolation, but an indication that a moral crisis in the Corinthian church similar to the situation reflected in 1 Corinthians continues. In that passage, the “unbelievers” from whom the Corinthians must separate themselves are not, as some claim, the intruding apostles, but unbelieving neighbors in general. Paul is not forbidding all daily contact with unbelievers, but insisting that the church maintain boundaries separating them from those activities that would lead to idolatry. Based on Paul’s renewed confidence in the Corinthians expressed in 2 Corinthians 1–7, Paul turns in ch. 8 to urge them to complete the collection.Matera argues that ch. 9 should not be read as a repetition of ch. 8, originally sent to a different audience. Rather, ch. 9 explains why the delegation mentioned in ch. 8 is necessary. Finally, having solidified his relationship with the Corinthian church and having dealt with the painful visit and his harsh letter, Paul turns in chs. 10–13 to address the remaining problems, which were hinted at in chs. 1–7: the intruding Super Apostles, and the continuing immorality within the church (p. 302). Thus, 2 Corinthians is not dealing with only one problem, but in fact with three: the fallout from Paul’s painful visit and harsh letter, continuing immorality within the church, and the intrusion of the Super Apostles. Given the multiple issues that Paul deals with in this letter, Matera does not find the shift in tone between chs. 9 and 10 to be so jarring as to justify the common theories of separate letters joined together at that point. In fact,Matera argues that chs. 2–7 provide the necessary theological foundation for Paul’s polemical argument in chs. 10–13 (p. 66).

The format of the commentary is itself a great help. Matera briefly discusses how each of the major units from his outline of 2 Corinthians functions within the whole argument, and then moves through each unit section by section. Each section begins with Matera’s translation of the Greek text. The translation is accompanied by a short set of notes on textual variants and matters of Greek grammar, with Greek words transliterated into English and usually given a very literal English translation. These notes seem intended for an audience with a basic knowledge of Greek and the major ancient manuscripts, but they will not lose readers in technical details. Matera then breaks each section down into smaller subunits, paying particular attention to frequent “ring patterns,” which give structure to the text, and then moves through his comments based on those sub-units. This approach results in remarkable and admirable clarity about the structure and the flow of Paul’s argumentation and is a major strength of this commentary.

Another significant strength of this commentary, and one that is all too rare, is Matera’s consistent self-restraint from making stronger claims than the text can actually support. For example, he refuses to identify the intruding apostles (other than to argue that there is no reason to identify them as “Judaizers,” p. 254), but instead focuses on the issues about them which Paul raises: that they have intruded on his missionary assignment, that they inappropriately demand financial support, and that their ministerial style denies Christ crucified (pp. 20-24). Likewise, after surveying the suggestions regarding Paul’s “thorn in the flesh,”Matera refrains from advocating for any of the options: “it is impossible to know for certain what Paul intended” (p. 284). Rather, he focuses on what Paul evidently thought central in this discussion: to inform the Corinthians that God allowed this “messenger of Satan” to torment Paul in order to keep him from being overcome with pride.

Matera keeps footnotes to a minimum. If you are looking for a commentary that will draw you deeply into scholarly debates and arguments against other books and articles, you will need to look elsewhere.Matera does, however, keep a helpful running conversation with several important commentators (principally Allo, Thrall, Furnish,Martin, and Lambrecht, along with John Chrysostom and John Calvin), and uses the footnotes to point readers to other important secondary texts. Matera’s bibliography is focused principally on works in English, with a scattering of French and German works. There is little reference made to ancient sources outside of the biblical material (the index lists 19 references to material from the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, Dead Sea Scrolls, and Josephus; the rest of non-Christian ancient literature is represented by a single passage from Plato).

There will, of course, be points of interpretation which any reader will want to debate with Matera. However, his careful and cautious handling of the text keeps those points to a minimum, and they are far outweighed by the clarity of this exposition. This solid study of 2 Corinthians will be particularly useful to pastors and theological students and should be counted among the finest commentaries available on 2 Corinthians.

Brian K. Peterson
LUTHERAN THEOLOGICAL SOUTHERN SEMINARY
COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA

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The Divine Symphony: The Bible’s Many Voices

by Israel Knohl

Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia. 2003.
208 pp. $30.00 (cloth). ISBN 0-8276-0761-X.

THIS LEARNED AND ACCESSIBLE BOOK has two main points: 1) that the Bible, like early Judaism, has a diversity of voices that should be celebrated rather than homogenized into each other; and 2) that the particular array of voices found in the Bible is continued into streams of later Judaism and Christianity.

Much past biblical scholarship has stressed a massive disjunction between the oldest religion of ancient Israel—depicted as non-Priestly—and the supposedly “legalistic” and “ritualistic” religion of later Judaism. Such older scholarship often depicted the “Priestly” elements of the Pentateuch (e.g. Leviticus) as a late “corruption” of the pure, moral religion of the prophets. In this book, Knohl builds on earlier work, including his influential dissertation (translated as The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995]), to rewrite this anti-Jewish history of Israelite religion. For him, one of the earliest strata of the Pentateuch is what he calls “Priestly Torah” materials (=PT), a set of scrolls by Jerusalem priests that contrast 1) God’s creation of an orderly moral world and choosing of Israel for special status in that world with 2) the revelation of God’s name as YHWH to Moses and YHWH’s founding in Israel of a “sanctuary of silence” presided over exclusively by Aaronide priests. The core of these Priestly Torah materials are to be found in Leviticus 1–16, but this stratum of scrolls includes a variety of other Priestly texts, such as Gen 1:1–2:3 and Numbers 28–29. Next, Knohl argues, eighth-century prophets such as Amos and Isaiah attacked ritualistic forms of faith distantly akin to that seen in the Priestly Torah, and this prompted the birth of a populist “Holiness School” (=HS) that links “holiness” with some of the moral qualities advocated in the prophets. The core of the Holiness school materials are to be found in the “Holiness Code” located by older scholarship in Leviticus 17–26, but Knohl understands these Holiness authors to be responsible for much other (formerly) Priestly material throughout the Pentateuch. Meanwhile, thanks to those Holiness authors, the Pentateuch also contains non-Priestly materials. As a result of their inclusion of diverse materials, the Torah at the heart of Judaism contains diverse voices. For example, the Priestly and Holiness concept of a transcendent God dwelling in the midst of the people is balanced by both the non-Priestly concept of an anthropomorphic God dwelling in a tent of meeting outside the camp and the Deuteronomic concept of a heavenly God making God’s “name” dwell in the temple sanctuary.

In sum, in contrast to the older picture of a move from a pure, non-legal form of religion in the early days to later, so-called “legalistic” or “ritualistic” Judaism, Knohl argues that Priestly ritual and purity concerns stood at the outset and throughout Israelite religion. Yet there was early diversity too, a diversity even within the Priestly tradition itself. Meanwhile, in an interesting echo of older scholarship, Knohl does recognize a strong continuity between rabbinic Judaism and one strain of biblical Priestly tradition (broadly conceived). For him, the populist transformation of priestly piety in the Holiness School materials is continued in Pharisaic Judaism and the rabbinic heirs of Pharisaic Judaism, particularly in the school of Hillel. Yet these HS voices must be distinguished from another strain of biblical Priestly tradition seen first in the Priestly Torah and continued among the Sadducees, Boethusians, and even the later rabbinic school of Shammai. Meanwhile, other strains of prophetic and Levitical (= Psalms for Knohl) biblical faith that identified the king with the high priest were continued in messianic forms of Judaism, particularly Christianity.

Thus, for Knohl, these and other forms of diversity lie at the heart of the biblical tradition and continue from there. Certain strains of Judaism, such as that represented by the Temple Scroll found at Qumran, attempted to harmonize those voices into one and present a monolithic picture. But those strains did not win out. Instead, the early communities that produced our Bible preserved its multiple voices. Quoting Jewish midrash, Knohl argues that the complex, transcendent voice of the one God is preserved in the “symphony” of different perspectives in the Pentateuch. Rather than trying to create an “artificial unity and harmony” we should let this symphony of biblical voices of the Bible and early Judaism help us recognize “that there is a place for, and significance to, the kind of debate in which the other view may also be a reflection of divine truth” (pp. 145-46).

Overall, this book provides an important Jewish balance to typical Christian treatments of the Old Testament. Though the book does not significantly engage much recent non- Jewish scholarship, Divine Symphony synthesizes a body of Jewish scholarship that is all too often ignored in non-Jewish discussions. In particular, it provides an accessible overview of the contours and implications of Knohl’s own work on the Pentateuch, work that has commanded the attention of many contemporary scholars.

That said, Knohl’s work and much of what he presupposes is still disputed and relatively untested. Because of the popular nature of this work, Knohl had to present as simple fact many ideas that require nuance and more argumentation. As indirectly reflected in the footnotes, the early dating of many Priestly materials is still controversial. Furthermore, many scholars do not find Knohl’s particular distinction of PT and HS materials within the Priestly materials compelling. Other elements in his book will prove controversial as well: the sharp contrast between the concepts of God and covenant in Priestly Torah’s depiction of pre-Mosaic and Mosaic periods of history, Knohl’s ongoing promotion of the idea that no words were spoken in early Jerusalemite temple ritual, the proposal that the “Tent of Meeting” in non-Priestly materials in Genesis–Numbers is the biblical precursor to the synagogal “house of prayer” (an institution not securely attested until the first century CE), the argument for different divine concepts in play in the story of Abraham’s (near) sacrifice of Isaac (Genesis 22:1–18), and the way Knohl uncritically depends on rabbinic testimony to describe the legal differences between different parties in Second Temple Judaism.

Yet read with appropriate caution, the value of this book does not depend on such details. For example, even if one does not agree with Knohl’s early dating of Priestly and Holiness materials, many of his more interesting points would still hold, such as his depiction of Holiness School materials (especially Leviticus 17–26) as a populist Priestly response to early prophecy and precursor to Pharisaic and Rabbinic Judaism. Most of all, this book is to be praised as an invigorating celebration of the different voices of the biblical tradition. Parts of it could be a useful focal point for a Bible study group, and the book as a whole is a worthy read for pastors interested in getting an updated view of an important stream of contemporary biblical scholarship.

David M. Carr
UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY IN NEW YORK
NEW YORK, NEW YORK

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Holy Ground: A Liturgical Cosmology

by Gordon W. Lathrop

Fortress,Minneapolis, 2003.
236 pp. $25.00. ISBN 0-8006-3590-6.

WRITING A SUMMARY OF ONE OF Gordon Lathrop’s books is akin to trying to translate poetry into journalistic language. One has to learn how to read Lathrop. His prose is dense with images, metaphors, and sometimes jarring juxtapositions. In a sense, Lathrop’s style of writing hints at what he expects liturgy to be and do.

Holy Ground is the third book in a trilogy that began with Holy Things: A Liturgical Theology and continued in Holy People: A Liturgical Ecclesiology. Theology is a familiar term, and so is ecclesiology, but what in the world is “cosmology”? A short definition might be that cosmology has to do with our orientation in the universe. It has to do with “primary values.” Lathrop’s argument is that the Christian liturgy can “orient us anew in relationship to the universe, can provide us with at least some public symbols that can enable public thought, can stand in helpful dialogue with yet other public symbols” (p. 15).

Those who are new to Lathrop’s works might ask what he means by “the liturgy.” He means the classical ordo, centered on Bath, Book, and Meal—the Word and the Sacraments, set out boldly in the center of the Christian meeting along with attentiveness to the poor, and in a context of song and prayer. How does the liturgy relate to cosmology? Baptism, for example, becomes “a constant criticism of all politics.” How? Because baptism is not an act to separate the pure from the impure, but rather an identification with the rejected Christ, who identifies with all the left out peoples of the world. Scripture serves a similar function. It is an “anti-narrative to our cultural narratives” (p. 17). The Eucharist uncovers lies that pass for truth in our culture; e.g., “that what we are is equal to what we own . . . that other people’s salaries or poverty are not connected to our habits of consumption” (p. 151).

A recurrent theme of Lathrop’s liturgical theology is that of juxtaposition: one thing set next to another.Word set next to Sacrament, praise set next to lament, thanksgiving next to beseeching, speech next to silence, one reading next to another. Any one thing, in isolation, risks saying too much or too little. Each word or action in juxtaposition critiques the word or action with which it is paired. Lathrop uses the image of one symbol or symbolic action “breaking” another. This breaking opens the symbol rather than shuts it down prematurely. The liturgy, as Lathrop understands it, does not so much set forth a cosmology as critique conventional cosmologies. It orients us to the triune God, who is a model of community as opposed to self-sufficiency

Lathrop sees this “breaking” of symbols in the gospels themselves. In a fascinating exegetical move, he works with the story of blind Bartimaeus as reported in Mark 10:46–52. Timaeus is not a Jewish name. Lathrop sees the story as a response to and critique of Plato’s Timaeus. In Timaeus, Plato writes in praise of sight and deprecates blindness. In the Marcan account, Jesus gives sight to a blind man. In Timaeus, Plato portrays God as bringing order out of chaos, which is similar to themes in Mark’s Gospel. Lathrop’s point is that the gospel “breaks” the myth in order to open it up. Scripture may take worldviews (cosmologies) already in place and, rather than reject them, reinterpret them.

Of course, liturgy may not always serve to critique conventional views of how the world ought to work. It may reinforce rather than challenge. In a chapter titled, “On the Ritual Making of False Worlds,” Lathrop offers examples. Some liturgy supports hierarchy, and hierarchy “is at root, a cosmology” (p. 84). If a hierarchical view of church and world is most tempting to the Catholic tradition, although not exclusively, the “closed circle” is perhaps the greatest temptation for Protestants. By “closed circle,” Lathrop is referring to the Protestant yearning for congregations that are knowledgeable and committed, excluding persons of lesser faith. Lathrop takes a swipe at those who use the language of “resident aliens,” apparently sensing in them the temptation to close the circle (p. 190). I am not sure he is being fair. One theme that appears in all Lathrop’s books is openness, hospitality to the “other.” He quotes Duane Priebe: “Draw a line that includes us and excludes many others, and Jesus Christ is always on the other side of the line” (p. 64). And yet, at the same time, Lathrop makes a strong case for liturgy that has “ritual boundaries” (p. 193). “In a deep sense,” he says, “liturgy is not a democracy” (p. 193). As one who served for many years as a pastor, it is at this point that, while agreeing in principle, I see the greatest difficulty. The congregations I have served have scored relatively well on the scale of openness to the stranger, but the risk of such openness is that it becomes difficult to exclude whatever the stranger might choose to bring along. In other words, “ritual boundaries” and openness are in tension with one another (juxtaposition?), but it is exceedingly difficult to keep from tilting toward one end of the spectrum or the other.

One of the important concerns with which Lathrop deals is the issue of how human beings relate to our earthly home itself, and the creatures with whom we share it. In the catechesis that follows or precedes baptism, we learn that the world is created, that its creator is trustworthy, and that we stand within this world “in thanksgiving” (p. 107).

Although liturgy that sets Bath, Book, and Meal as the strong center of the Sunday meeting will critique conventional cosmologies, those critiques are subtle and not always obvious to the participants. Need exists for continuing catechesis, and for interpreting the liturgy’s critique in the course of biblical preaching. Lathrop offers examples in the form of three homilies based on texts from the lectionary. Although not the strongest part of the book, they testify to Lathrop’s essentially biblical frame of reference, and his conviction of the importance of preaching.

Holy Ground concludes with a reflection on the symbol of the tree as it has appeared here and there in human culture, and as it has been reinterpreted by the gospel as “tree of life.” Christ was crucified on a “tree.” Clearly, all “human hopes, all human cosmologies— and the actions they inspire—are not innocent” (p. 223). Yet, the image of the tree, with its negative as well as positive associations, can be transformed and “healed” and “turned to speak of God come among us, making our places of death and loss and sin and otherness and wilderness—the very places usually ignored or excluded in our patterns of order—into the place of life” (p. 223).

This book is a treasure to be mined and lingered over. As with the other two books in the trilogy, it is not possible simply to absorb them quickly. Layers of thought, observation, and insight interact with one another in ways that require extensive pondering. It is worth the trouble.

Ronald P. Byars
UNION-PSCE
RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

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