Volume 1, Issue 1

This article reconsiders Northrop Frye’s classic study of the Bible and literature, The Great Code (1982), in order to question whether his application of that titular phrase might not significantly distort the meaning the phrase must have borne for its coiner, William Blake. My contention is that Blake’s engraving of the Laocoön , in which the “Great Code” aphorism appears, is itself a code of sorts, but not in Frye’s sense of a key to be used to unlock the meanings of works of art and literature – or to unlock anything else, for that matter. Nothing in the Laocoön , or in any of Blake’s other works, suggests that this was what Blake meant by “code.” Nor do any of the connotations the term bore in English usage in Blake’s time suggest such a meaning. My suggestion is that, far from promoting the Bible as a forward-functioning key by which to decipher the mythology of post-biblical literature, Blake’s Laocoön is a work fixated upon its own complex, synthesizing reception of the biblical and classical past, a tradition of strong creative misprisions about whose all-powerful influence Frye’s own work betrays an unmistakable anxiety in Harold Bloom’s sense of the phrase.

Jewish reception of scripture from Late Antiquity through recent centuries was largely defined by the rabbis of the first to sixth centuries, whose surviving literature is rich with scriptural readings. In certain matters, these readings were united by common assumptions or habits. For example, from the Mishnah (c. 200 CE) onward, the rabbis, who assumed scripture to be divinely inspired, were nevertheless willing to read against the simple meaning of scripture and to give their own agenda priority. Rabbinic readings also, universally, focused on the fine details of scripture’s formulation and almost never on units larger than a few words. At the same time, rabbinic documents reveal significant development in the rabbinic relationship to scripture, and it is fair to say that the rabbinic appropriation of scripture at the latest stage of the growth of classical rabbinic Judaism, in the Bavli, was assertive, even aggressive, and sometimes radical. In this piece, the author offers a survey of rabbinic scriptural readings from the earliest to the latest of the classical rabbinic documents, identifying some of the most significant developments in each sequential corpus.

This paper looks at recent allusions to the Babel story as they appear in conservative political and religious discourse to refer to same-sex marriage as a problem of sick egalitarianism and democracy. Liberalism, and a certain kind of democracy, is said to create an imposing and tyrannical neutrality, a neutrality that leads to stagnation and self indulgence, including same-sex relations. This constellation of discourse is explored in relation to the most prominent interpretation of Genesis 11, Josephus’ political retelling in Antiquities of the Jews . Josephus’ version voices fears about tyranny, collectivity, and too much pleasure – themes that are clearly echoed in contemporary references to Babel. The paper shows how the Babel story thus becomes a story about sick egalitarianism associated with same-sex relationships. Tracing this genealogy, the essay argues that such citations of Babel indicate that the fear of gay marriage may actually be a fear of too much democracy.

This article examines the place of sculpture in late antique Christianity. It shows how Christians regarded existing sculpture and proposes reasons why they produced their own. History tells us that Christians abandoned the production of sculpture by the 7th century. Scholars have proposed many theories about why this is so, from a decline in artistic ability to the use of two-dimensional painting to better convey certain conceptions about spirituality or to guard against the influence of pagan idolatry. This article argues that the latter theory should be reassessed with greater interpretive nuance. Rather than suggesting that one medium replaced another, we should instead allow each its unique niche and context within Christian cult practices. Ultimately, this article proposes that Christians also used statuettes in home shrines and participated in public pagan cults. Moreover, a few examples suggest they may even have produced statuettes of saints and of Christ for private veneration.

At the 2010 New Delhi Commonwealth Games, the English gold medalists heard the music from the anthem ‘Jerusalem’ as they collected their medals. Chosen by a popular vote for that occasion, Sir Hubert Parry’s musical setting of the poetic introduction to William Blake’s epic poem, Milton , continues to serve as the most powerful piece of sacred music lauding England as a chosen nation, as the blessed place where the young Jesus walked and the aged Joseph of Arimathea founded the oldest church in Western Europe; it presents ‘Albion’ as the one place on earth in which Jerusalem is to be built anew. Yet the biblical Joseph was far removed from the British Isles for over a thousand years, long being thought in the East to have died in his hometown. It was through five incidental side-effects of important moments in the Joseph tradition’s growth that the pious Jewish councillor who appears momentarily to bury Jesus before disappearing from Mark’s gospel was transposed into the wealthy tin merchant-cum-decurio, soldier/knight-cum-uncle of Jesus who is found within the legends of Glastonbury and who supports an English exceptionalism which continues to echo today throughout the postcolonial spaces of the remnants of the British Empire.

This article discusses key theoretical issues pertaining to the Bible’s cinematic reception history. It proposes the term “filmic exegesis” to describe a twofold process of interpretation, which involves both situated filmmakers (at the moment of production) and situated film-viewers (at moments of reception) as active readers of biblical texts. After tracing what has become the dominant scholarly narrative of the Bible’s history in cinema, three methodological points are considered: (1) the need for scholarship to reach beyond the hegemony of Hollywood, (2) the difficulty of establishing clear criteria to define what “counts” as biblical reception in film, and (3) the necessity of moving beyond descriptive cataloguing to critical analysis of the Bible’s filmic afterlives. Finally, this article confronts lingering academic skepticism toward the value of studying the Bible’s popular reception and explains why biblical scholars should bother with filmic exegesis.