(November 30, 2014 at 5:59 pm)abaris Wrote: When I was studying history at university, the first lesson was to look at the origin of your sources. We were presented with different quotes without being told their origin. One was from the Third Reich, but not obviously so, one was from the GDR, again not obviously so. You had to read between the lines to get to the bottom. In short, not to take any source at face value was encouraged, but with the caveat, that you absolutely should use these sources. Scepticism was the lesson when dealing with any kind of text.I know how historians see it. However there is a major difference between the illiad and the OT. The illiad was told and retold as a story by bards. It's a bit like if we wanted to learn about 1990s England by reading harry potter. Treat it with some skepticism and you might surprised what you can learn.
Same goes for the bible. I for one treat the old testament as a collection of ancient laws as well as a sort of breast pounding by semi nomadic tribes. Some of the things described in the bible probably did actually happen. But they were embellished by the ones telling them at the campfires. It's very much like the Illiad. Nothing can be taken as it is written, but you still can get some clues to what actually happened.
Now, I'm not in any way specialised when it comes to old history. I simply wanted to give you an insight how any serious historian would deal with the material at hand.
On the other hand I think that the bible is a bit more like a soviet or third Reich history lesson. So full of shit you may as well throw the book out and learn from scratch.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.