On "Early Eastern Christianity" by Francis Burkitt ****

This set of six lectures is at this point the best summation of the history of the Christian Church in the east that I've read. I'm sure there are other, better, more recent works on the subject, but I haven't gotten to them yet. Burkitt, here, takes the implications of the very few sources that we have and draws out a reasonable synopsis of what may well have happened to Christians east of Palestine during the first centuries of the Christian era.

The lack of sources at the time is, of course, the central issue with research in this area. What we have comes from a period much later or is questionable legend. What we do know, however, suggests that Christianity started among the Jewish people (as we are told that it came along through merchants). The first person to bring the message, Addai, apparently died in peace, but those who followed suffered or seem out of chronological time--it's claimed, for example, that the second following Addai, Palut sought ordination from Serapion in Antioch, but that would have been long after Addai, if Addai had connection the apostles. Thus, Burkitt posits that Palut was likely connected to the Catholic church (insofar as it was connected to Rome) while those before perhaps had not been (rather, the church before was more loosely configured).

What's also interesting is how the church in the East was influence by Gnostic ideas from the East itself. So often, I've read about the differing culture in the East, but Burkitt does a good job of showing how differing Christian ideas were not just a later phenomenon. The Church in the East, thus, was a different kind of Christianity, but it was, at least by the time it enters the historical records, not much more connected to its Jewish roots than Roman church of the West.

On "The First Edition of the New Testament" by David Trobisch *****

In this short but very readable monograph (save for the Greek scattered throughout), Trobisch makes the claim that the New Testament was of early vintage and was the product of a singular editorial hand (even if a group of editors). To make his point, he looks largely into the text itself, comparing how anthologies are put together in our contemporary day to what must have happened back in the first century. Canonization (as opposed to anthologization), by contrast, is a different matter.

As an example of canonization, Trobisch examines the writings of the Christian Fathers, those who came directly after the New Testament. Here, there is significant variance with regard to what is placed into any one collection. One editor might include the letter of Polycarp, while another might drop it or use another rescention. If the New Testament had been canonized over the course of centuries, he claims, as most scholars believe, there would be little agreement as to what belongs in it. Instead, later ancient writers who question the legitimacy and inclusion of certain books in the New Testament are not, Trobisch notes, engaging in arguments over what gets canonized--or rather, included--in the New Testament but rather are engaging in criticism regarding an already established book, even as today's critics do. (This is not to say that there weren't other versions of the "New Testament"; Marcion, for example, created his own, though largely from the larger book, quite possibly already in large distribution.)

Other arguments for the singular editorial hand include the following, some more convincing or easier to understand than others. One is the common set of abbreviations (the Nomina Sacra) used throughout different versions of the manuscripts (though they are not, be any means, used consistently), mainly for the names of God. Another is the common use of the codex rather than the scroll in the early writings. Another is the manner in which the New Testament is arranged, with four distinct parts--Gospels, Acts and General Epistles (called Praxapostolos), Paul's epistles (with Hebrews coming before the pastoral epistles), and Revelation. These allow for easy splitting into separate codexes. They also mirror the pattern of the Old Testament, at least as it is presented in most English Bibles (histories first, then writings and prophecy). The presentation of the General Epistles first, right after Acts, with Paul's following, as is the case in most early manuscripts, also mirrors the presentation of the figures as they appear in Acts (with Paul coming last). Another item pointing to an editor is the uniformity of the naming conventions (Epistle of . . .; Epistle to . . .; Gospel according to . . .). Finally, from very early on, the work was known as the "New Testament" (this is the name all the second-century writers use), suggesting that this was the name the editors affixed to it. A later chapter of Trobisch's book looks at the way the New Testament is cross-referenced such that it sets up a particular unified view of the church and introduces readers to specific characters who can then be identified again later when one comes across their writings or their persona in other portions of the work (e.g., we figure the letters of Peter are from the Peter described in the Gospels, where we first read of him, and mentioned in Acts and Paul's letters, etc.).

On "Facing the Snow" by Tu Fu, translated by Sam Hamill *****

The other great Chinese poet from the same period in which Li Po was writing is Tu Fu, and this selection of poems provides a rounded view of his work.

Hamill's introduction makes clear that Tu Fu suffered many of the same difficulties that Li Po did, as their lives ran roughly parallel, with Tu Fu, the younger, dying earlier also. However, both failed to obtain government jobs except on the lowest end, and both suffered the consequences of the wars that broke out in China around 750 that lasted for a decade or so. The poems reflect that. Like Li Po's work, we have only a segment of what Tu Fu actually wrote, maybe one-third.

Hamill's intrdocution, however, only touches on Tu Fu's life. Most of it is about translation--the difficulties of moving a poem from one language to another and the reason for his choices. Tu Fu was apparently quite a formalist, with many of his poems built around set stanzas and rhymes. English offers so much less in terms of rhyming opportunities that Hamill chooses instead to focus on the images and content, which seems a wise move.

The selection here connected more to me personally than the poems in the Li Po collection I read. Both poets write their share of nature poems, and poems about drinking, but Tu Fu also deals a lot with relationships and with the effects that world events have had on his life. It likely helped that Hamill doesn't leave some words untranslated, as did Hinton with the Li Po poems. As such, one doesn't feel quite as much the foreigness of Tu Fu's work. But beyond that, Tu Fu just seemed better at expressing the anguish of the world around him and of his own life. My favorite poems were those about war. He didn't delve so much into generic expressions about soldiers fighting as personal ones about how wars affect him and those around him. The communities he lives in feel the pain that having their young men and eventually old men too stripped from them to go fight yet another battle against the invading forces; they also feel the anguish of not having a strong government to defend them. There are poems expressing the difficulties of both positions. It's as if the people are pained either way. The speakers in Tu Fu's work migrate as invaders take over their land. They express the pain of the refugee. And later, when able to return, there is both a kind of joy in coming home again and a sadness. The homes they lived in five years ago are run down, unmaintained; many of the old neighbors have returned, but some never will. What is left but to wander out into the forest or along the river, seeking solace, knowing that you'd like to have a drink but that the folks you'd have shared one with are now gone.