The Bible, a Troubling Text

SUGIRTHARAJAH, R.S., Troublesome Texts: The Bible in Colonial and Contemporary Culture (Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008).

The Bible IS a troublesome text. Its interpretation has been over the centuries the cause of major conflict. It has been used to promote slavery and patriarchalism. It has been the cutural symbol of empire, the basis of education systems in non-Christian developing regions. From it identity is claimed, and land disputes are fomented. Missionaries, by translating God as Ancestor, replaced tribal histories with an over-arching Biblicist ‘history’ in which Adam and Abraham are common ancestors, so biblical violence becomes an acceptable political model, and patriarchy-with-polygamy a legitimate social means of repressing women.

    This thought-provoking collection of conference papers asks uncomfortable questions about Biblical hermeneutics. In ‘Gautama and the Galilean’, Sugirtharajah uses his Sri Lankan background to explore how and why Victorian theologians constructed lives of Buddha and Jesus, revealing rampant racism. There is however another side to this: enough ‘Orientalists’ took the task seriously enough to contribute to the preservation of texts which has turned Buddhism from a local cult to a respected global world religion.
Buddhism was encountered as an indigenous religion separately in Nepal and in Sri Lanka, and gradually the similarities and differences between the two observed and the conclusion reached that these were two traditions of a single religion, which came to be named Hinayana (lesser vehicle) and Mahayana (greater vehicle). Hinayana (also referred to as Theravada) was regarded as purer than Mahayana, which was considered syncretistic with local pagan deities and spirits. Today, Mahayana belief and ritual would be treated philosophically and symbolically. The Dalai Lama (leader of Tibetan Mahayana Buddhism) is globally known and respected for his spiritual wisdom. Sugirtharajah notes that the reason for the study of Buddhism was to discredit it, and finds many quotations to support this. There is another side to the story and academic study of Pali texts began, albeit slowly. Lives of Jesus have abounded over the past two centuries, are mostly devotional in intent (some thrive on being controversial), and tell us more about the writer than about the historical Jesus. My view is that even the canonical gospels are fictional hagiography which owe more to the need to demonstrate fulfilment of scripture than to historical recollections. Unfortunately, fewer sayings of Jesus have survived than words of the Buddha.
Chapter 2 is on ‘Subjecting the Johannine Letters to Postcolonial Criticism’, concluding that the letters have a dogmatic, imperialistic tone demanding compliance, but that the new message being promulgated owes some informal debt to Buddhism. To ‘walk in the truth’ and ‘walk in love’ is likened to the Buddhism requirement to ‘walk by dhamma’, a praxis-centred practical religion by which ‘everyone who does justice is born again’ and ‘everyone who loves is born of God’ (3 Jn 4, 2 Jn 4-6, I Jn 2.29, 1 Jn 4.7). For the writer, actions not words indicate a person’s faith, salvation by works contrasting with Paul’s salvation by faith and God’s grace. Unfortunately, this worthy ideal is presented as a demand to be obeyed and not an aspiration to be taken to heart. Chapter 3 focuses on the Sermon on the Mount read in India as a basis for ethical spirituality, for example by Gandhi and Roy. He notes that after independence it was replaced by Leviticus 19-26, a ‘roadmap’ for state building, John’s Gospel (mystical), liberation theology and identity hermeneutics. Chapter 4 looks toward next steps: these are for interpreters to explore power-knowledge relevantly. It challenges the dominant hermeneutic by demanding emphases are shifted and silences are vocalised. Chapter 5 explores ideas of God after the tsunami of boxing day 2004, where images of all-powerful and compassionate deity is exploded. Chapter 6 focuses on the link between Bible interpretation and conflict, even violent conflict. Those who study and interpret the Bible from outside the powered elite risk scorn and gagging, even lynching. For Sri Lanka, this is a call for open and honest multi-faith dialogue. Chapter 7 looks at the Bible industry as a form of cultural imperialism, for repression towards a dominant view instead of being a sea of challenging and exploratory stories. Chapter 8, ‘Future Imperfect” calls for attitudes of exclusivity towards the Bible as word of God is replaced by a recognition that the Bible itself was (and is) a site of ideological battle, and has to sit beside the scriptures of other faiths as together charting the spiritual questings of humankind. Chapter 9 ends the compilation autobiographically of the writer’s journey and motivation, calling for creative and imaginative scholarship.

Round the World In 80 Faiths

At the point of writing, Peter Owen Jones is finishing his BBC series on marginal faith groups. In general I have welcomed his open-mindedness, an Anglican priest thrust into first hand experiences within the anthropology of religion. Above all he has been quick to recognise the imperialist nature of Christianity engaged on world domination, believing itself to be the only true faith. He apologises for this arrogance on several occasions.

Currently he is visiting El Tio, a devil-god deep in South American silver mines, a relic of the indigenous gods submerged by Catholicism. He handles poisonous snakes with American fundamentalist Christian snake-handles, following a quaint verse in Mark 16. He greatly disliked Voodoo blood sacrifice for its cruel waste of life, although most of the sacrificed flesh was apparently eaten (except for the kitten and puppy). He rejoices when a colonised indigenous faith fights back to form a rich syncretism. He tries to show such living rituals as culturally enriching and empowering.

Too many faiths are shown to cover here, so I am content to explore principles. The anthropologist loves diversity and is saddened when the traditional dies out and is replaced by a global impoverished culture, be it in literature, music or religion. Yet not all traditional beliefs have been helpful and can imprison a people in the past. British beliefs in ghosts, black demon dogs, and witches are not things I would wish preserved or restored, however children's novels such as Whitby Witches or The Ragwitch would wish. There is a balance between people valuing the best of the past (but not all of the past) and moving forward. I worry therefore that faiths such as those presented have become a museum of human delusion if taken literally. I understand that cultural identity is important, but underlying many customs are irrational beliefs, in spirits, demons, deities, fate and the afterlife. On the programme as I write, Catholics are blessing automobiles to bring good fortune. In many cases, what we see is the triumph of superstition over education. Religious people have no problem in believing the impossible or unlikely, and there is no sign globally of a rational coming of age. Owen Jones rejoices in the 'museum' but supports the rational. He said, 'No minister can get rid of my demons. I have to sort out my issues for myself'. Maybe the prisoners 're-directed' by Pentecostal needed to be shaken out of their destructive path and given a new direction. The issue is whether that dependent direction is best for them in the long run.

Do people need bizarre myths? Some are ancient and traditional, like the two former cannibal tribes putting aside enmity by exchanging children - fortunately now a symbolic exchange. Some are however very modern and very strange. All have in common the importance of ritual and performance. Ritual gives some social cohesion, the feeling of togetherness. That togetherness has a purpose. The ceremonials of Nuremberg in 1935-6 aimed to bind together the German people behind an all-powerful leader. Owen Jones shows how rituals can become personally intrusive, inviting psychic distress. Others brought him peace, the residence in a smoke-filled tent, and listening to the river with a shaman. Each of these cases showed that these apparently positive practices were condemned as diabolical, and their celebrants persecuted and killed. He ends in Turin with a ground living in religious harmony, drawing equal insight from all faiths - a marginal cult, but a spiritual high-spot.

So what is diabolical? The insistence that only we are right and others must be forced to agree with us? Or a treasuring of the voices of many people who live, believe and act in ways which enhance the well-being of the world as a community. I know my answer.