The Boy Scholastic Watched A Tree Bloom

Thursday it was bare, but Friday was warm and sunny, and today it poured. He woke up this morning early to a smell of rain and saw buds outside his window. The Boy Scholastic wasted the day away with his texts and pipe, and as the smoke and histories unfurled around him, so did the buds bloom and grow. Now he lies in bed, a smile on his face, wondering if tomorrow will hold more. He's already prepared for it, though. One way or another, he and a friend (!!!) are making a pie.

The next two months promise to be exciting -- I've got several ideas for papers that I am eager to explore, no matter whether or not they materialize (although something has to, eventually). Right now, I'm occupied with exploratory research for a paper about the competing views of history at play in Early Medieval Spanish histories (specifically those of Augustine and Eusebius). I'm focusing mostly on Isadore's History of the Goths, though I'm sure other works will materialize in time. I'm proposing it as a way the Spanish at the time of Muslim conquest comprehended their social situation in terms of religion. I'm hoping that it materializes into a BA in the near future, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

After that there is a paper for my class on The Gospel According to Mark. While working on the pericope of the Syrophoenician woman, I noticed how the exchange between said woman and Jesus appeared to be similar to the dialogs from Sayings of Spartan Women in that it had a woman with significantly less authority successfully challenging a man of greater authority with witty report. As we've floated the idea of Mark as the "Pauline" Gospel, I thought it interesting propose an exploration of how well this pericope conformed/deviated from that narrative style. My professor agreed (or gave me the impression of agreeing.) I'm in the process of working up a formal proposal.

There's an idea or two which is still floating around, but they need more time to stew. I think this is enough to legitimize posting, though. Time will tell.

The Boy Scholastic Misses the Stars

Whose idea was it to put universities inside cities? The Boy Scholastic wishes they were like old monasteries -- out in the middle of the wilderness. But this is just because he wishes to hear the voice of one crying out, ειπεν ησαιας ο προφητης.

²⁴Jesus rose up and went out into the land around Tyre. And he went into a house not wanting to be discovered, but he was unable to be hidden; ²⁵but immediately a woman heard of him, whose daughter had an unclean spirit [πνευμα ακαθαρτον], she came and fell down at his feet; ²⁶this woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by birth; and she prayed [ηρωτα] that he would cast out the demon [δαιμονιον] in her daughter. ²⁷And he said to her: Let [αφες] first [πρωτον] the children be fed, for it would not be just to snatch the children's bread to throw to the dogs. ²⁸But she replied and said to him: Lord, but the dogs eat the children's crumbs from under the table. ²⁹and he said to her: on account of what was said, get up! the demon [δαιμονιον] has gone out of your daughter. ³⁰And going out of his house she found her child thrown out of bed but the demon had left her.

Things of interest: the switch from 'πνευμα ακαθαρτον' to 'διαμονιον' (represented by switching from "unclean spirit" to "demon"), the use of αφιημι to signify an imperative/command (it usually translates as "let go" or "release", but I can see "permit"), and, of course, the dialog itself (which is a delightful mystery to me).

The Boy Scholastic Got Lost in a Book

He was all to happy to be there; however, all good things... and look how hackneyed he's become! But some good may have come of it all along.

I don't like writing unless I have something to say. It's a self-indulgence that is all-too-common of people who want to make a living publishing their thoughts.---They begin to think that people care!---And I've been so tired... But I've ceased to be tired, thanks in no small part to Tati Cycles carrying Metropolis coffee now, and I've decided to get kicking once again. And expect some new read enough that I believe there could be things in my head which are worth writing. My Greek improved, my Latin atrophied, and Wittgenstein placed Bultmann in a new light which has me at once excited and afraid. The latter alread shook my world apart in ways which have made me unrecognizable to my former self.---Will this be the same?

I haven't formed these thoughts yet, so no more on them. This serves as an instrument of fear and shame so as to compell me to take the time later. Right now, I have two particularly interesting Syrophoenician women calling me. Think about it for a moment.