Woman and/in Parables (1): The Lost Coin book (Beavis, Matthews, Shelley, and Scheele)

 

More excerpts from chapter 7 of the revised and expanded edition of What are They Saying about the Parables? 

This post begins a series about studies that were added in the second edition of WATSA Parables? (for earlier contributions and more details about these new sections, see the book). 

This post examines three contributions in a collection of essays of feminist interpretations of parables about women, women’s work, and female imagery edited by Mary Ann Beavis, The Lost Coin.

The Lost Coin makes a significant contribution to understanding the roles women play in Jesus’ parables. For example, the chapter on the Persistent Widow (Luke 18:2–5) features three interpretations, one each by Mary W. Matthews, Carter Shelley, and Barbara Scheele (46–70). 

Matthews argues that the unrighteous, corrupt, shameless, and unjust judge does not symbolize God; instead he represents “structural injustice,” and the widow represents “Everychristian,” the fact that every Christian is called to be persistent, to keep “badgering” unjust authority—“to fight injustice to the best of your ability, no matter how overmatched you are”—until it relents (53). 

Shelley uses a feminist hermeneutic that deconstructs patriarchal, androcentric, and absolutist readings of the parable and replaces them with a reading of resistance like one she envisions Jesus performing. A resistant reader (1) names the text’s sexist subtext (the poor judge is nagged by a “harridan”) and instead envisions the widow as a person in need; (2) exposes the contradictions in the patriarchal reading (e.g. the idea that that poor judge has to capitulate to this nagging, powerful woman is replaced by the idea that the widow is powerless and deserves sympathy and support); (3) undermines the text’s pretensions to authority (e.g., the patriarchal society of men ruling over women is replaced by a world where God created men and women as equals and are in caring relationships with God and others); and (4) recognizes the text’s fake claim to universality (e.g., instead of men being created by God as superior to women, God is the champion of the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the alien; 56–57). In this reading, the parable teaches Jesus’ followers to pray for wisdom, guidance, and persistence, and to act by speaking and persisting for the cause of justice for all human beings, especially the powerless and the voiceless (61). 

Scheele reads the parable in the context of her attempts to obtain proper medical and educational care for her disabled brother, only to be defeated time and time again by those in “authority,” lawyers and caseworkers. The woman in this parable and the women in a scripture retreat group inspired her to bypass the caseworkers and go directly to specialists. She eventually (with the help of many others) was able to secure a treatment plan that the caseworkers begrudgingly and complainingly—like the judge in the parable—put into place (66–67). Thus, for Scheele, the God figure in this parable is not the judge; it is the widow, the one who seeks justice: “God, imaged as the female figure of Holy Wisdom, both prays and actively searches for people who will be faithful to the scriptural codes of justice” (68).

Next up: Elsa Tamez.

Mbengu Nyiawung and Masilamani Gnanavaram on the Good Samaritan Parable

More excerpts from chapter 7 of the revised and expanded edition of What are They Saying about the Parables? 

This post is about the contributions to our understanding of the parable of the Good Samaritan from Mbengu Nyiawung and Masilamani Gnanavaram. 

Mbengu Nyiawung builds upon Oakman’s arguments (see the previous post) about the “foolish Samaritan” by describing him as a risk-taking “Good Sama” who serves as a paradigm for socio-economic development in Africa. After placing the parable into its first-century Mediterranean perspective, Nyiawung delineates the avoidance of risk-taking by the priest and Levite in contrast to the “altruistic” risk-taking of the Samaritan in (a) time, (b) resources, (c) identity, (d) life, and (e) religious identity. Nyiawung then compares the robbed man to socio-economic development in contemporary Africa, whose “poverty, misery, and pain” to “external robbers” (“colonizers, superpowers, and other hostile powers,” 277) and “internal robbers” (e.g., some corrupt African elite). He concludes that the solution is not “sympathizers” but “doers”: African people who are proactive, altruistic, compassionate, and risk-taking (“Good Samas”; 280–87), people who ask, “To whom am I a neighbour?” (281–82). 

The parable of the Good Samaritan creates a reversal of expectations. In a similar way, once we read parables with (acquired) peasant eyes and hear them with peasant ears, our Western, post-enlightenment interpretations of them are often reversed. Thus it is no surprise that such “peasant readings” cohere with many biblical interpretations from a liberation perspective, as Masilamani Gnanavaram’s contextual interpretation of the Good Samaritan in light of “Dalit theology” in India illustrates. 

Gnanavaram reads the parable through the “hermeneutical key” that God is the God of the oppressed and has a preferential option for the poor (59). Traditional historical-critical methods are inadequate, and the common Western interpretations that limit the message of the Good Samaritan to “love your neighbor” in the contexts of charity and philanthropy are misreadings of the parable. Especially in light of the inequitable distribution of natural resources, economic wealth, and opportunities, interpreters have to recognize the socio-cultural aspects inherent in the parable: The Good Samaritan should be read as a challenge to existing systems of domination and oppression, including the repentance of the oppressors, and as a model for identifying with the oppressed, liberating compassion and life-giving actions, and the need for the marginalized and oppressed to struggle together for liberation (80–82).

Sources:

Mbengu D. Nyiawung, “In Search of a Samaritan: The Risk-Taking Motif in Luke 10:30–35 as a Paradigm for African Socio-Economic Development,” Neotestamentica 52:2 (2018): 267–87. The article uses the “African Biblical Interpretation” method to initiate dialogues “between the text, the original audience and the original context” and “the context of the present-day audience” (268). 

Masilamani Gnanavaram, “‘Dalit Theology’ and the Parable of the Good Samaritan, JSNT 50 (1993): 59–83.

Monastery of Kaisariani (near Athens): Rich Fool fresco

The Rich Fool Fresco, Monastery of Kaisariani, Katholikon Narthex

The Monastery of Kaisariani, on the western slope of Mt. Hymettos near Athens, includes a Byzantine-era Katholikon (“main church”) built in the late eleventh century. The frescoes in the church and the narthex date from the sixteenth century, although in some ways they continue the iconographic program of the middle Byzantine period, such as portrayal of Christ the Pantocrator (“ruler of all” or “almighty”) in the great dome of the church (Forrest). In other ways, however, they diverge significantly (see below). 

An inscription on the west wall of the narthex states that those frescoes were painted in 1682 by Ioannis Ypatos. The seven parables portrayed in the narthex’s southern vault are the Rich Fool, next to the Rich Man and Lazarus, Sower, and Wicked Husbandmen parables on the west wall and the Prodigal Son, Good Samaritan, and the Pharisee and Tax Collector on the east wall. These parables are crowded into a small space with detailed and often graphic renderings of the events in the parables. The artwork is thus direct with simple but profuse brushstrokes, with the images painted on a black background, which makes the color contrasts and formal tones more striking, even with the simplicity of their composition and forms. Thus these 17th-century murals can be labelled as more “folk art” with an “anti-classical” tendency (Chatzidakis, 18–19). 

The Rich Fool Fresco's context in the Narthex

This fresco of the Rich Fool both reflects and diverges from the observations found in the “Painters Manual” of Dionysius of Fourna about conventional depictions of this parable. The manual cites Luke 12:16 about the land of a rich man producing plentifully and then advises that the illustration should also include the following: “Houses; a man wearing a red robe and a fur hat stands bewildered; before him is a heap of corn, and men pull down and rebuild granaries. He appears again lying on a golden bed, and demons surround him, taking away his soul with tridents.” 

The depiction of the parable in the church’s narthex generally follows that formula, portraying in representation the parable’s plot development: The inscription on the top left of the fresco cites Luke 12:16 about the land (chōra) producing abundantly. The rich man, dressed in red sits at a well-appointed table relaxing, eating, and drinking (12:19). Behind him is a magnificent house; to the left are two workers collecting and displaying part of the abundant crop; at the bottom are three men sawing and working on the wood for his new barns. On the upper right an angel announces the man’s imminent death, holding a scroll that begins with the word “fool” (aphrōn; Luke 12:20). On the bottom right, the fresco depicts the man lying on his bed, and an angel holding down his head and stabbing him to death with a lance. The fresco thus explicitly portrays what the parable foretells—the “fools” death—and viewers are left to wonder: “The things you have prepared, whose will they be?” 

Sources:

Chatzidakis, Theano. The Monastery of Kaisariani. 

Forrest, L. W. The Monastery of Kaisariani: History and Architecture. Phd dissertation, Indiana University, 1991. 

The “Painter’s manual” of Dionysius of Fourna. Translated by Paul Hetherington.

 

Parables and Their Social Contexts: Douglas Oakman and the Good Samaritan Parable

 

More excerpts from chapter 7 of the revised and expanded edition of What are They Saying about the Parables? This one is about Doug Oakman's contributions to our understanding of the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Oakman argues that in the face of the exploitative urban elite, the concentration of land holdings in the hands of a few, rising debt, and other destabilizing forces, Jesus responded by calling for a reversal of the centralization of political power and economic goods. In addition, Jesus advocated exchanges built on “general reciprocity”—giving without expecting anything in return (e.g., the remission of debts). Such general reciprocity fosters unity and propitiates potential enemies, but for Jesus it also fosters the reestablishment of kinship among all peoples. Love for enemies is a corollary of this general reciprocity, which profoundly expresses human dependence on God’s graciousness and willingness to provide for material human needs. 

Oakman also explores how the parable of the Good Samaritan epitomizes this love for one’s enemies. Because peasants were compelled to give up a precious amount of their hard-earned sustenance to outsiders, the common orientation of peasants was to distrust strangers—especially those who dealt in commerce. Outsiders were seen as possible threats to their existence or livelihood, and a cultural chasm existed between city dwellers (where landowners tended to live) and peasant villagers. 

The parable presupposes typical peasant valuations of the characters but does not simply identify with their interests. Peasant sympathies, Oakman argues, would have been with the bandits of this parable. Yet Jesus abhors the violence of the bandits while accepting some of the basic goals of banditry—justice and securing subsistence for the poor. In addition, most modern interpreters ignore the indications in the parable that the Samaritan was a trader—a profession despised by peasants. For Jewish peasants, the Samaritan is a cultural enemy (Samaritan), an evil man (a trader), and a fool. The Samaritan was foolish because he treated the injured man graciously as if he were a family member and was naive about the situation at the inn: Because inns were notoriously synonymous with crime and evil deeds, for this gullible Samaritan to trust the injured man to the care of such an evil place—and to give the innkeeper a blank check—was a folly that could prove deadly to the injured person. 

Oakman concludes that Jesus fully expected peasants to laugh all the way through this story. But Jesus compares the enormity of God’s generosity to the actions of a hated foreigner of despised social occupation, and, in fact, God’s mercy even reaches the point of danger and folly. God’s kingdom is found in the most unlikely, even immoral, places. And God, like the Samaritan, is indebted to pay whatever may be required. As Oakman reiterates in another work, the parable subverts traditional village morality and opens new possibilities: general reciprocity as characteristic of the kingdom of God and as a radical protest against the exploitative agrarian situation in early Roman Palestine. 

These arguments can be found in: Douglas E. Oakman, “Was Jesus a Peasant?: Implications for Reading the Samaritan Story (Luke 10:30–35),” BTB 22 (1992): 117–25.

"The Reception History of the Letter of James" in The Oxford Handbook of Hebrews and the Catholic Epistles

Delighted that my chapter, "The Reception History of the Letter of James," was just published in The Oxford Handbook of Hebrews and the Catholic Epistles. Congratulations and thanks to Patrick Gray, the volume's editor.

Parables and Their Social Contexts: "Peasant" Readings/Hearings (Douglas Oakman)

 

More excerpts from chapter 7 of the revised and expanded edition of What are They Saying about the Parables? 

Ancient Economies: 

"Peasant" Readings/Hearings of the Parables 

Douglas Oakman argues that Jesus’ words and actions articulate a coherent response to first-century economic realities. In antiquity, economic exchanges within and between villages were based on reciprocity (exchange by gift or barter). The larger “political economy,” however, was characterized by redistribution—the extraction of a percentage of local production from the powerless to the powerful (e.g., taxes, tithes, or rents). The exploitative political-economic system instituted throughout the Roman Empire, including under the Herods, redistributed wealth from the non-elites to the elites, impoverished the (rural) peasant population, and that heightened tensions between elites and nonelites. Peasants (an apparently anachronistic term that Oakman argues is accurate) provided the labor and generated the wealth on which agrarian societies were based, but because peasants were left struggling to maintain their lives at a subsistence level, they were often forced to curtail consumption or enter into a hopeless, downward spiral of debt. One rationale for this deprivation (besides greed) was that if the vast majority of the agrarian population (i.e., those not in the major cities) were kept struggling to survive, they would not have the strength or resources to mount a revolt against the rulers. Such oppression disturbed the reciprocal economic relations within villages and promoted what Oakman calls a “survivalist mentality” (78–80) because of the narrow margin between subsistence and starvation. 

A peasant’s view of “the good life” revolved around three interrelated values: a reverent attitude toward the land, strenuous agricultural work as good (but commerce as bad), and productive industry as a virtue (whereas elites such as Roman senators would consider such labor shameful). Jesus created his parables within the context of these peasant realities (100–102). Yet Jesus—because he was an artisan (a building laborer who worked with both wood and stone)—also had social contacts and familiarity with the social circumstances of the wealthy. Many parables thus demonstrate detailed knowledge of large estates, behavior of slaves and overseers, and other economic aspects of the elite. 

The parable of the Sower, for example, agrees with the peasant view of the primary producer in an immediate relationship with God. The sower is not negligent, as some modern interpreters suggest; instead God provides the harvest in spite of all the natural, inimical forces that threaten the crop. But through this parable Jesus critiques the peasant values of frugality and strenuous labor by declaring that God will provide the harvest (107–9). The providence of God is also clearly seen in the parable of the Weeds among the Wheat (Matt 13:24–30), which invites nonelites to stop “hoeing” and to wait for the imminent reign of God (129). This advice, once again, undermines the values of Jesus’ peasant audience, which focuses on frugality and hard work. 

In the face of the exploitative urban elite, the concentration of land holdings in the hands of a few, rising debt, and other destabilizing forces, Jesus responded by calling for a reversal of the centralization of political power and economic goods. In addition, Jesus advocated exchanges built on “general reciprocity”—giving without expecting anything in return (e.g., the remission of debts; 168). Such general reciprocity fosters unity and propitiates potential enemies, but for Jesus it also fosters the reestablishment of kinship among all peoples. Love for enemies is a corollary of this general reciprocity, which profoundly expresses human dependence on God’s graciousness and willingness to provide for material human needs.

Next up: Doug Oakman's important and innovative reading of the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Parables and their Social Contexts: John H. Elliott and the "Evil Eye"

    

More from chapter 7 of the revised and expanded version of What are They Saying about the Parables? 

This post talks about one of the many contributions of John (Jack) H. Elliott, who was one of the pioneers of the renaissance of the social-scientific method starting in the late 1970s. 

Elliott’s analysis of the “Evil Eye” in the parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard provides a different interpretation from that of William Herzog (see March 25, 2024, post below). Belief in the Evil Eye includes the notion that certain individuals had the power to injure another person just by a glance. Because the foremost malevolent emotion associated with the Evil Eye was envy, Elliott believes that the parable contrasts divine compassion with invidious human comparison: An Evil Eye accusation (20:15) is employed to denounce envy as incompatible with life in the kingdom of heaven (52–53). 

Elliott states that the landowner appropriately contrasts his goodness with the evil of his accusers and deservedly shames them by exposing their “Evil-Eyed envy” (60–61). Such envy manifests a failure to comprehend God’s benefactions, an unwillingness to renounce “business as usual,” and a refusal to rejoice in the blessings of others. Thus, for Elliott, the householder represents God: The story illustrates the unlimited favor of God, condemns Evil Eye envy as incompatible with social life as governed by the rule of God, and affirms Jesus’ solidarity with the poor and undeserving (61–62). 

The analyses by Herzog and Elliott appear incompatible, and Herzog’s interpretation seems closer to demonstrating Jesus’ solidarity with the poor. In my view, however, the differences primarily stem from the ideological perspective taken on a social-scientific level: Elliott’s analysis is closer to an “emic” perspective—an interpretation that centers more on the viewpoint, categories of thought, and explanations of the group being studied. Herzog’s interpretation, on the other hand, even though it evaluates the first-century social contexts, comes from a more “etic” perspective—the perspective and classifying systems of an external investigator. 

Elliott focuses on the pervasive notion of the Evil Eye and its implications for the story, especially in its Matthean context (i.e., he follows Matthew’s interpretation of the parable). Herzog, on the other hand, openly declares his etic agenda. He believes that it is important to minimize interpreters’ anachronizing tendencies, but it is also crucial to acknowledge that every interpretation “modernizes Jesus.” Such modernizing is not only unavoidable but is necessary to make Jesus’ teachings understandable and relevant to modern persons. 

Thus Herzog, in contrast, uses Paulo Freire’s “pedagogy of the oppressed” to assert that the “social construction of reality” of peasants is dependent on the elites in their society. In other words, peasants internalize the world as understood by their oppressors because the elite deposit their worldview in the peasants’ minds and hearts (e.g., through dominant language patterns). It takes a new vocabulary and “outside teachers” for peasants to realize their situation and to facilitate building a new social construction of reality (19–21). For Herzog, Jesus served as this type of “outside facilitator” because his parables were designed to stimulate social analysis and to expose the contradictions between the actual situation of their hearers and the Torah of God’s justice (28).