Occupy Rome: A Bibliography

I recently completed a series of Blog posts( here, here, here, here, here, and here) taken from a paper I wrote for one of my Graduate classes. The paper sought offer a reading of the synoptic gospels, the letters of Paul, and the Book of Revelation as an eco-political critique of the Roman Empire. I utilized a plethora of sources which I thought I’d share here should any of you be interested.

Alberti, Marina, et al. “Integrating Humans Into Ecology: Opportunities And Challenges For Studying Urban Ecosystems.”Bioscience 53.12 (2003): 1169-1179. Academic Search Premier. Web. 19 May 2015.

Bauckham, Richard. Living with Other Creatures: Green Exegesis and Theology. Waco: Baylor University Press, 2011. Print.

Bryant, Levi Paul. “Thinking at the Edge of Apocalypse.” Larval Subjects. Larval Subjects, 24 Jan. 2015. Web. 19 May 2015.

Boring, M. Eugene. Mark: A Commentary. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006. Print.

Carter, Warren. The Roman Empire and the New Testament: An Essential Guide. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2006. Print.

Crossan, John Dominic. God and Empire: Jesus against Rome, Then and Now. New York: HarperCollins, 2009. Print.

Crossan, John Dominic, and Jonathan L. Reed. In Search of Paul: How Jesus’ Apostle Opposed Rome’s Empire with God’s Kingdom. New York: HarperCollins, 2005. Print.

Hawkin, David J. “The Critique of Ideology in the Book of Revelation and its Implications for Ecology.” Ecotheology: Journal Of Religion, Nature & The Environment 8.2 (2003): 161-172.Academic Search Premier. Web. 19 May 2015.

Holifield, Ryan. “Actor-Network Theory As A Critical Approach To Environmental Justice: A Case Against Synthesis With Urban Political Ecology.” Antipode 41.4 (2009): 637-658. Academic Search Premier. Web. 19 May 2015.

Horsley, Richard A. Jesus and the Politics of Roman Palestine. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2014. Print.

Hughes, Donald J. Pan’s Travail: Environmental Problems of the Ancient Greeks and Romans. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1994. Print.

Jennings, Theodore W. Outlaw Justice: The Messianic Politics of Paul. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2013. Print.

Jensen, Robert. “Get Apocalyptic: Why Radical is the New Normal.” Yes Magazine. Yes Magazine, 24 May 2013. Web. 19 May 2015.

Kohls, Randall L. “The Gospel Begins in the Wilderness: An Examination of Mark 1.1-15.” International Congregational Journal10.1 (2011): 61-73. Academic Search Premier. Web. 19 May 2015.

Mann, Michael. The Sources of Social Power: A History of Power from the Beginning to AD 1760. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Print.

Marx, Karl. “A Criticism of the Hegelian Philosophy of Right.” Selected Essays. Amazon Digital Services, 2006. Kindle Edition.

—. Capital: A Critique of Political Economy (Das Capital). Amazon Digital Services, 2011. Kindle Edition.

New Revised Standard Version. New York: HarperCollins, 2009. Print.

Rossing, Barbara R. The Choice Between Two Cities. Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1999. Print.

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Occupy Rome: Politics, Ecology, and the New Testament Critique of Empire Part VI

This is the sixth and final installment in a series of exerts from a paper I wrote which attempts to offer a reading of several New Testament texts as an eco-political critique of the Roman Empire. You can find the first here, the second here, the third here, the fourth here, and the fifth here.

While Paul’s political thought countered the systems and structures of Rome through the subversive re-appropriation of imperial language and the insurrectionary ekklesia, the book of Revelation offers a direct critique of Rome’ exploitative excesses in politics, economics, and ecology (Rev. 13 & 17). “The Book of Revelation,” explains John Dominic Crossan, “is, first of all, a linked and interwoven attack on the empire of Rome, the city of Rome, and the emperor of Rome” (218). Revelation as an eco-political critique of imperial ideology may seem to be a strange assertion, especially given the enigmatic and highly symbolic orientation of the book. The reputation that Revelation has garnered as a text most predominately concerned the apocalyptic end of the world has become deeply ingrained in modern culture and society. Yet, it must be clearly understood that the Greek word apocalypsis, from which the word apocalypse is derived, translates to quite literally mean a ‘revelation’ (i.e The Book of Revelation), “a lifting of the veil,” according to Robert Jensen, “a disclosure of something hidden, a coming to clarity” (Jensen). Similarly, David J. Hawkin writes that Revelation is “about ‘revealing’ the true state of affairs about the present,” unmasking “those unconscious motives which bind a society to its cultural aspirations and theoretical arguments” (163). Revelation, then, is most accurately understood not as a prediction of the end but rather, an unmasking of the social realities of the present time and context in which it was written.

As an agrarian empire and a military superpower, Rome was not only exceedingly exploitative to people but also, equally abusive to nature and the environment. Richard Horsley highlights that when Rome conquered an area “Roman armies devastated the countryside, destroyed villages, slaughtered or enslaved the people, and crucified those who resisted” (31). In many cases, Roman legions would salt the fields of conquered territories to deliberately insure that “nothing would grow there again” (Hawkin, 170). Even when not at war Rome was environmentally destructive in its endeavors. John Dominic Crossan points out that the Roman built roads perfectly “expressed the Roman outlook on the world,” as the roads “did not meander along the contours of geography, but…cut across…natural obstacles” (187). Literally, anything that stood within the way of Roman expansion, including nature, was forced into submission through the expression of brutal might.

Even Roman commerce and industry were thoroughly unsustainable. Rome consumed agricultural commodities and natural resources as greedily as it conquered territories and expanded its borders (Rev. 18:12-13). David J. Hawkin notes that “Countless species of animals were wiped out” due to Rome’s prolific consumption of animal derived luxury items such as Ivory, pelts, skins, and feathers, as well as the vast amounts of animals slaughtered only for the purposes of entertainment in sport hunts and in amphitheater fights (170). Likewise, given that the primary Roman means for fueling its operations was wood, Rome would often deforest its conquered territories (Hawkin, 169). As Hawkin depicts, “Whole forests disappeared…large areas were devastated by mining, the air was polluted and the water made unsafe for drinking” (170). Donald Hughes concurs; pointing out that Rome “inflicted scars on the landscape that can still be seen, from the quarries of Pentelicus to the mining pits of Spain” (112).  Revelation is, then, rife with symbols and references to Rome and its ecologically destructive practices.

Revelation’s descriptions of the Four Horseman are clear references to Rome. The white horse, the rider to whom “a crown was given” and who “went forth conquering,” (Rev. 6:2) represents, what would seem to be, the impermeable and insatiable power of Rome (Hawkin, 164). The red horse whose rider had been “given a great sword” and who took “peace from the earth” (Rev. 6:4) alludes to the Pax Romana (Hawkin, 164), that is, ‘peace’ achieved through brutal militaristic conquest. The black horse rider held “a pair of balances in his hand” (Rev. 6:5), an image indicative of Rome’s immense wealth disparity and economic imbalance (Hawkin, 164-165). Finally, the pale horse whose rider had been given power “over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with the sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth” (Rev. 6:8) is the “ecological catastrophe” brought about through the mismanagement and exploitative practices of the Roman Empire (Hawkin, 165). The writer of Revelation makes clear that famine, war, and death are all consequences of the misappropriation of Roman conquest.

Yet, the critique of Rome within the Book of Revelation is at its most critical, political, and ecological within the alternative it offers to Rome; New Jerusalem (Rev. 21:2). The New Jerusalem is the structural negation of Rome. One could propose that New Jerusalem is the ‘new creation’ eschatology of Jesus and Paul capitulated into state form. Barbara Rossing writes that “New Jerusalem is the antithesis of toxic…Rome’s imperialism, violence, unfettered commerce, and in justice” (144). The New Jerusalem arrives when “the old order of things has passed away” and all things are made new (Rev. 21:3-4). Among other things, in the New Jerusalem the corrupt and oppressive temple, loyal to Rome, has been done away with (Rev 21:22-27). In culmination of the eschatological ecology, Revelation harkens back to Genesis, describing the New Jerusalem as the complete restoration of Eden (Rev. 22:1-5). The “river of the water of life,” runs through the middle of the city, and unlike the polluted waters of the empire this river is clean, pure, and “clear as crystal” (Rev. 22:1-2). To either side of the river are trees bearing a multitude of plentiful fruit, always ripe and ready for harvest (Rev. 22:2). Both the water and the fruit are freely given to all who come (Rev. 22:17). Thus, David J. Hawkin concludes that the book of Revelation sees the redemption of human beings and the redemption of nature as inextricably linked” (163). Revelation is, then, the New Testament eco-political-critique of Empire at its most symbolic.

In the wilderness scenes of the Gospels one can see the initiation of a ‘new creation’ eschatological ecology. In Paul one can find a re-appropriation of Roman political language that subverts the normative structures of imperial application. In Paul one also witnesses the formation of socio-political collectives and assemblies (ekklesia) aimed at embodying the politics of the ‘new creation’ ecological eschatology through communal reciprocity. Finally, in Revelation one finds a direct, and highly symbolic, assault on the ideology of the Roman Empire with its political, economic, and ecological exploitation. Throughout the examination of the New Testament, particularly focusing in upon the Gospels, the letters of Paul, and the Book of Revelation, thematic threads of its political and ecological impetus have been made explicit, demonstrating through the anthropological, sociological, and ecological analysis of its context that the primary focus of the New Testament is as a first-century socio-political treatise critiquing the oppressive economics and ecology of Rome.

Occupy Rome: Politics, Ecology, and the New Testament Critique of Empire Part V

This is the fifth in a series of exerts from a paper I wrote which attempts to offer a reading of several New Testament texts as an eco-political critique of the Roman Empire. You can find the first here, the second here, the third here, and the fourth here.

Ekklesia, as John Dominic Crossan makes clear, is “the standard Pauline term for a Christian community” (165). Modern interpreters of the Bible have normally translated ekklesia as ‘church’ (Crossan, 165). However, translating ‘church’ from ekklesia is not only conceptually anachronistic, it is also a less than accurate description of what ekklesia meant in the first-century Greco-Roman world and what Paul, himself, had in mind. An ekklesia was not primarily a religious community, nor was its predominant focus of religious orientation. Ekklesia is yet another profoundly political term. “[T]he ekklsiaaterion,” Crossan continues, is “where the entire adult male citizenry joined in an assembly” (47). Thus, ekklesia, Crossan elaborates, “originally meant the citizens of a free Greek city officially assembled for self-governmental decisions” (165). An ekklesia was a “democratic deliberative body,” the collective assembly of a Greek city’s free-male citizens organized around political governance rather than religiosity (47). Yet, in Paul’s continued subversion of Roman imperial polity, the ekklesia created by Paul were representative of a political radicality. The ekklesia Paul championed were more radically democratic and radically egalitarian. In the Pauline ekklesia there was “neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, neither male nor female” (Gal. 3:28). In other words, the ekklesia of Christ followers severed all class divisions and antagonisms, offering a radical equality that broke down all barriers within the social (male/female), the political (slave/free), and the religious (Jew/Greek).

Paul seems to have understood that “Cities are…ecological entities, which have their own unique internal rules of behavior, growth, and evolution” and that “Like other ecosystems, cities are not the sum of their constituents” but are instead, “key examples of ermergent phenomena, in which each component contributes to but does not control the form and behavior of the whole” (Alberti et al. 1170). Thus, Paul’s goal, Warren Carter writes, was to create “rival assemblies,” rival ‘cities’, or rival ekklesia (92). Paul’s aim was to create politically orientated collectives that sought to communally embody the eco-political eschatology presented in the figure of Christ (1 Cor. 12:12-27). The Pauline ekklesia were not beholden to Roman ‘law’, or imperial politics but, were faithful to charis (“grace”/generosity/hospitality/charity/forgiveness/love), that is, the reciprocal sharing of communal resources in a sustainable and egalitarian manner (Rom. 6:14). The ‘Christian’ ekklesia functioned as, what Hakim Bey might call Temporary Autonomous Zones, or “islands in the net” (81). The ‘Christocentric’ ekklesia of Paul were seditiously defiant to the social relations and power structures of Rome, and could be likened to what Bey describes as “a guerilla operation which liberates an area (of land, of time, of imagination)” (70). Ekklesia, in this regard, were, then, autonomous, self-governing socio-political collectives forming in spaces at the fringes and margins of culture, and within the crevices, cracks, and fissures of the Empire. As such, the Pauline ekklesia were non-hierarchical, non-authortarian, communities in opposition to the formalized systems of imperial control, who offered alternative methods of eco- politico-economic engagement.

Textual Reflexivity…

 

This is the continuation of an earlier post (you can find it here), which was an excerpt from a short essay I wrote for a philosophy class discussing the work of Wilhelm Dilthey. Throughout much of the course we were asked to elaborate on our work and positions, this is one such short example. Enjoy!

What is initiated in Dilhey approach is a hermeneutics beyond hermeneutics, a hermeneutics both beyond and exterior to the text. Influential philosopher Jacques Derrida proposed that nothing is outside of the text or that there is no outside of the text, yet, thinkers such as Wilhelm Dilthey and Edward Said seem to counter this notion strongly, suggesting instead that “all texts are ‘worldly’; that they are…‘events, even when they appear to deny it, they are nevertheless part of the social world, human life, and of course, the historical moments in which they are located and interpreted” (Rich, 2010, p. 72). There is a concrete material reality and sociological context which gives birth to the text and cannot be separated from it.
In my opinion then, Dilthey’s method is to be likened most to that of Clifford Geertz, who offers something of a wedding of semiotics and anthropology “In order to understand the full range of a culture’s psychology and systems of meaning” (Rich, 2010, p. 66). While Dilthey himself did not delve into the semiotic study of signs, Dilthey, like Geertz, believes that “culture must be studied like a text” (Rich, 2010, p. 66). Jennifer Rich (2010) explains that when history and society are treated as though they were texts it “brings out the cultural connotations and psychological symbolism missed in conventional anthropological explanations ” (p. 68). Dilthey’s hermeneutic historicism is a kind of sociological theory of knowledge. Perhaps, then, Dilthey somewhat agrees with Derrida  that there is ‘no outside of the text’. Perhaps the ‘text’ is best understood as representing a kind of reflexivity, in which the text and culture both wholly contain one another, causing and affecting each other. Culture gives rise to the text and within its contents the text implicitly reflects back a concretization and solidification of culture.
Rich, J. (2010). Critical Theory: An introduction [Kindle version]. Retrieved from Amazon.com