Darrell J. Pursiful

Ronald Helfrich has written an intriguing essay comparing and contrasting Biblical Studies with Buffy Studies: “Note to Self, Religion Freaky”: When Buffy Met Biblical Studies.

I’ll admit I know very little about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I am quite familiar with the kinds of “crystal ball textualism” Helfrich describes. Unfortunately, I cannot agree with him that the field of Biblical Studies is as immune to this tendency and he seems to think.

This is a fascinating essay about hermeneutics, among other things. I commend it to you.

Rogueclassicism has suggested a few. Here are my favorites:

Jim Davila has the goods on a new book exploring angelic speculation and veneration in Roman religion:

NEW BOOK: Rangar Cline, Ancient Angels: Conceptualizing Angeloi in the Roman Empire (Brill, March 2011).

Although angels are typically associated with Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, Ancient Angels demonstrates that angels (angeloi) were also a prominent feature of non-Abrahamic religions in the Roman era. Following an interdisciplinary approach, the study uses literary, inscriptional, and archaeological evidence to examine Roman conceptions of angels, how residents of the empire venerated angels, and how Christian authorities responded to this potentially heterodox aspect of Roman religion. The book brings together the evidence for popular beliefs about angels in Roman religion, demonstrating the widespread nature of speculation about, and veneration of, angels in the Roman Empire

All those years of verb conjugations…et pour rien?

Sarkozy admits French language a hoax after Wikileaks exposé.

Zut alors!

(H/T: Language Log)

The Granny Woman trudges up the muddy road
that leads to the head of the holler
where her patient, impatient, awaits her ministration.

An anxious father greets her at the door.
She makes her way to the back room
where sisters and female cousins
are whispering courage to the woman
doubled over on the lumpy, white-metal bed.

She washes her hands in a basin
and opens up her bag,
rummaging for just the right instrument.
A knife slipped under the mattress
will draw away the pain,
the stabbing fiery declamation
that new life is on its way.
The sharpness of the blade
matches the sharpness of the labor—
and, God willing, intimidates it into silence.

Now the Granny Woman begins quietly
to sing,
to chant,
to cast her spell.

Who knows how long it will take?
It doesn’t matter:
Granny is here.
Granny is here.

She and everyone have entered the sacred moment.
They will stay there as long as it takes.

I missed this when it first came out in 2009. Anthropologists have constructed a “genetic” tree noting the developments and variations in the story of “Little Red Riding Hood.”

Contrary to the view that the tale originated in France shortly before Charles Perrault produced the first written version in the 17th century, Dr Tehrani found that the varients shared a common ancestor dating back more than 2,600 years.

He said: “Over time these folk tales have been subtly changed and have evolved just like an biological organism. Because many of them were not written down until much later, they have been misremembered or reinvented through hundreds of generations.

“By looking at how these folk tales have spread and changed it tells us something about human psychology and what sort of things we find memorable.

“The oldest tale we found was an Aesopic fable that dated from about the sixth century BC, so the last common ancestor of all these tales certainly predated this. We are looking at a very ancient tale that evolved over time.”

The next post in my study of Israel’s wise women will deal with traditions surrounding death and mourning, and in particular with ancient Hebrew folk beliefs and practices. I was therefore interested to find this post on “Folk Beliefs about Death” in my feed reader this morning. I link to it neither to endorse nor to condemn, but simply to raise our awareness of the ways we humans try to make sense of the mystery of death.

Here is a more authentic rendition of the Late Bronze Age hymn to Nikkal I mentioned last May. (H/T: Jim West)

“Magi, I believe you had better start explaining yourself,” Principal Towne said almost in a whisper, his lips barely moving.

“Of course, Principal,” said Mr. Corntassel. “You see—and I know you disapprove of gambling, Athansius, but please hear me out—Jacob and I had placed a small wager on the outcome of Saturday’s Quodpot game. The winner would cover three lessons with the loser’s most incorrigible, most exasperating class. Well, though they distinguished themselves by their superb flying and their unparalleled sportsmanship, Proudfeather lost.”

“We all know that!” Mr. Malleus spat.

“And I agreed that I would teach three lessons to the class of Mr. Malleus’s choosing.” Now all eyes fell upon Will, Kate, and Dana. “Second-year Proudfeathers and Fairgarlands. The very definition of ‘incorrigible’ and ‘exasperating,’ wouldn’t you say?”

Madame Glapion joined in Mr. Corntassel’s grin. Mr. Malleus and Principal Towne remained grim-faced. Neville just stood there, mouth agape.

“Then I realized that neither of us had clearly stated when these lessons were to take place. So I figured, No time like the present!”

“So are you saying, Magi, that you put these children up to breaking into Mr. Malleus’s office?” said Principal Towne, his volume rising ever so slightly.

“Not at all, Athanasius. I’m saying that, like all forms of magic, Defense against the Dark Arts involves a bit of detective work. You see something suspicious—a prematurely exploding Quod, for example—what do you make of it? Is it worth investigating or not?

“Magi, you didn’t sabotage that Quod? Someone could have been hurt!”

“Now, now, Justine, I’d never do anything of the sort. I was still hoping for a Proudfeather comeback! You always get an unpredictable Quod now and then. We all know that. But you should have heard the Proudfeather fans walking back to the dormitories. They were convinced someone was up to no good. I thought, ‘Here’s a teachable moment if there ever was one.’ A defective Quod by itself is an accident. But add some strange noises in the Proudfeather common room, a scrap of parchment with a coded message falling into the hands of an overly suspicious Fairgarland—” (Dana blushed at this statement) “—a mysterious cloaked figure prowling the grounds…”

“I never heard anything about a stranger on campus!” Mr. Malleus interjected.

“I made sure the intruder was only seen by second-year Proudfeathers and Fairgarlands. It’s their lesson, after all. I, uh, arranged for her to be seen departing from certain rooms a few moments after you did, Jacob, or else to skulk around outside your office when I knew the right students would be passing by.”

“Her?” Mr. Malleus started.

“By the way, Athanasius, my sister is in town and we’d like you to be our guest Christmas Eve if you don’t have other plans.” Mr. Corntassel paused to reclaim his line of thought. “They’d have never come to you, Jacob, they figured you were in on it!.”

“And we fell for it,” Will said, dejected.

“You pieced together the clues I left you, Will, and you did so correctly to the best of your knowledge. None of your classmates did, though they had the same opportunities—I’d take that into consideration when grading this assignment, Jacob.” He turned back to the three. “Your only fault was in failing to inform a teacher. Confronting Dark wizardry is something best left to adults.” Mr. Corntassel turned to Neville. “Where do these children get the idea that they’re up to fighting monsters?”

Mr. Corntassel crossed his arms. “And that, my friends, was lesson one: Adequate Defense against the Dark Arts requires strong allies. Don’t go it alone if you can help it—especially when you’re only twelve years old!”

By now Madame Glapion was mesmerized. “And lesson two?”

“Lesson two, it turns out, involved only Kate, Dana, and Will, as they were the ones who put my clues together. They can write up a summary of their experience to share with the rest of the class in January. Twelve inches of parchment should do—and, Jacob, I’ll be happy to attend that day’s class and help with the debriefing.

“The second lesson is: Know what you’re getting into. You see, Athanasius, I planted clues pointing to something fishy in Mr. Malleus’s office, but I never gave any hints about what it might be.

“Now, the proper thing to do in a situation like that is to continue to gather information. Research. Books! I’m sure Mr. Malleus has mentioned the concept. You might have discovered some simple techniques of Dark Detection to try. Or perhaps dig deeper into my clues, eliminate possibilities that didn’t match the data. You might have done any number of things. Many of them would have won my praise. Unfortunately, you chose to dive in unprepared. Jacob, I would suggest you take that into consideration as well when grading this assignment.

“I was there at lunch this afternoon when the three of you made plans to investigate Mr. Malleus’s office during the Christmas Banquet. So, as soon as I knew he had finished his day’s work, I hurried down to the root cellar, collected my boggart, and left him here. Oh, and Kate’s Unlocking Charm worked because I didn’t replace all the protective charms on the door when I was finished.”

Principal Towne wore a look of pure bewilderment, half amused and half dismayed.

“Mr. Corntassel,” Kate began, “When we were in Mr. Malleus’s office…. Well, there are an awful lot of Dark Detectors in there. There were a couple of Sneakoscopes and a Secrecy Sensor and a couple of other things I didn’t recognize.”

“Yes?”

“Well, none of them were going off. Wouldn’t they… I mean, how did you….?

“My question exactly, Corntassel,” Mr. Malleus said. “They’d have gone off the minute you picked the lock.”

“And I’m sure I would have, Jacob, if I had done the slightest thing to set them off.”

“If? What do you—?”

“Well, I wasn’t doing anything untrustworthy, was I? I owed you a debt and I was paying it—and promptly at that! What could be more trustworthy? My motivations in entering your office were purely aboveboard. I wasn’t hiding behind Occlumency or any other form of concealment. I wasn’t even invisible. I just opened the door, let in the boggart, and closed it back again. I wasn’t going to steal anything” Mr. Corntassel looked perfectly satisfied with himself. “I was giving you a present—which I had decided to give you days ago.”

Mr. Corntassel winked at Neville and then addressed Principal Towne. “I assure you, sir, that nothing underhanded has taken place here tonight, and I call as witnesses the silence of Mr. Malleus’s own Dark Detectors. But I thought it best for you to hear this story as soon as possible, Principal, before any unfounded rumors get started. I also thought it best for Justine to be here in her capacity as Miss Good’s Head of House.”

“Much obliged,” said Madame Glapion. “But if you don’t mind: You said the bet involved teaching three lessons….?”

“So I did, Justine. Thank you for reminding me.” He glanced at the grandfather clock near the end of the hall. “Jacob, you might want to find a good vantage point to see the covered walkway between the Great Hall and the Proudfeather and Fairgarland dormitories.”

“Yes?” Mr. Malleus said apprehensively.

“In another twenty minutes or so the first- and second-years will have to be in their dorms for curfew. On their way to bed I’m afraid they’re going to have a run-in with a haint—It’s not a very big one, Jacob, so don’t give me that worried expression. I found it tussling with the boggart in the root cellar. You can have it if you want. I just thought you’d like to see how your students handle it.”

Neville and the other teachers returned to the Great Hall in time for dessert. Mr. Malleus joined them some time later, still glaring at Mr. Corntassel. He didn’t say another word to anyone the entire evening and excused himself from the feast at the soonest opportunity. Everyone else seemed to enjoy themselves—even Principal Towne. But the highlight of the evening was when Rufus the ghost floated to the center of the Great Hall and danced the minuet with Annabelle, a pretty young ghost in a flapper dress.

At midnight the rest of the students were run out and the few teachers who had stayed up with them made their way to bed. The hunting trophies had long since drifted off to sleep, and the red-and-green flames in the fireplaces were almost extinguished.

Neville pulled his robes close around his body and lumbered to his guest cottage. Arriving, he magicked fire in this own fireplace and eased himself into an overstuffed chair. After a moment’s thought he grabbed a lap desk and piece of parchment from a side table along with a fresh eagle-feather quill.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

I wonder if you’ve ever given any thought to a more experiential approach to education at Hogwarts….