Caroline Walker Bynum has written extensively about medieval religious objects and about the background to medieval understandings of materiality in theology, natural philosophy, and science. Here she turns to a very different consideration of objects, asking how they reflect and sharpen personal and contemporary memories. Using autobiographical reminiscences of her mother's Virginia girlhood a hundred years ago and of her own encounters with that Southern past, she considers how the story of two lost or destroyed objects—a photograph of (...) a house and a portrait of a Southern beauty—help anchor the story of two lives, yet leave it mysteriously open as well. (shrink)

The historian Caroline Walker Bynum, who solicited and organized this set of five case studies, explains in her afterword that one intention behind the series is to stimulate other teachers, as well as students, of the humanities to write similar ethnographies of the classroom and submit them to Common Knowledge.

The historian Caroline Walker Bynum, who solicited and organized this set of five case studies, explains in her introduction to them that their intent is to bypass the currently popular and unsupported claim that the humanities have practical relevance and, instead, to offer ruminative descriptions of what happens when teachers and students meet to discuss texts and objects. She explains that the essays report in detail on five individual classes in five very different academic settings, in the hope (...) of helping to turn the international anglophone conversation about humanistic education away from utilitarian, presentist, all-inclusive claims and toward a demonstration of what the humanities do in practice. (shrink)

In this guest column, the medieval historian Caroline Walker Bynum uses her recent experiences as a hospital volunteer advocate for victims of sexual assault and domestic violence in New York City to meditate on the progressive politics of her younger days in the 1960s, on her current doubts about the efficacy of political action, and on the virtue of silent listening.

Drawing on her memories of growing up in a racially segregated South, the author argues not so much for the removal and erasure of Confederate memorials as for mutilating them or retaining a version of their presence glossed with an explanation for their rejection. Connecting the southern anti-Semitism and anti-Black racism of her youth, she explains the parallels and differences between German efforts to come to terms with the Holocaust and American efforts, southern and northern, to move beyond and make (...) reparation for both slavery and continuing twentieth- and twenty-first-century racism. (shrink)

An exploration of the roles of metamorphosis and hybridity in the establishment of personal identity, with particular emphasis on the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.

John Baldwin began his presidential address last year by remarking that such an address affords the opportunity to speak to colleagues and friends about “what you've been working on and pondering for the past couple of years.” What then have I been thinking about ? If I'm honest with myself, I must admit that what I've really been doing is wondering: did I get it right last time? For I find, as do many of you, I'm sure, that new research (...) arises from old, that new questions come because one reads new texts—or maybe even the same texts—and suddenly asks oneself: if this is what it says, can I really be right about what I thought last year or the year before? The work I am beginning on metamorphosis in the years around 1200 originates in my own questioning of conclusions I drew about the same period in my study of bodily resurrection. (shrink)

As part of a series of case studies titled “In the Humanities Classroom,” this contribution reports in detail on the initial class taught by the author in the spring of 2015, during her time at Princeton University as a visiting lecturer in art history. By presenting students with three sets of devotional materials—two papier-mâché medallions painted by nuns at the convent of Wienhausen in northern Germany on the eve of the Reformation; a n'kisi n'kondi figure from the Yombe group of (...) Kongo peoples in the nineteenth-century; and a description, taken from Marilynne Robinson's novel Gilead, of a child baptizing kittens with creek water—the instructor raises questions about how materials convey holiness and influence viewers or worshippers. She prods history and literature students, both graduate and undergraduate, to take physical objects seriously as evidence, and she challenges those in art history to study objects and also texts normally regarded as outside of their purview. (shrink)

To those who know little about the Middle Ages, the copying of manuscripts of “the ancients” (whether classical, such as the Roman poet Horace, or Christian, such as Saints Jerome or Augustine) often seems either a laudable act of preserving the past or an unfortunate fixation on repeating the words of others rather than penning new and original compositions. Even scholars of the Middle Ages appear sometimes more interested in new types of works such as fabliaux or courtly romances written (...) in the vernacular; when they study the practice of copying, they often concentrate on identifying prototypes or legacies. Finding old wine in old bottles has been a fairly constant theme in medieval studies; sometimes, we must admit, medievalists have just thrown out the old bottles and moved on to something completely new. In this context, it may seem strange to find a work about medieval Latin manuscript commentaries titled “The Birth of the Author,” responding to Roland Barthes's well-known essay “The Death of the Author,” published in 1984 and cited repeatedly since. What can it mean to see new, self-conscious awareness of the act of personal creation in works that are copies by scribes of other works that themselves comment on yet earlier works, often of a certain age or canonicity? Yet in this intelligent, engaging, and beautifully produced book, art historian Jeffrey Hamburger not only shows how those who wrote commentaries came to suggest that anyone who composes a work (even the scribe who copies it) could be considered a creator of meaning but also that the images in commentaries themselves sometimes make statements—indeed, statements more radical than those in the text—about the author of the work being illustrated. Long known as one of the relatively rare historians of medieval art equipped with a wide knowledge of theology and hence of how images respond to and reflect text, Hamburger here shows himself possessed of a shrewd eye for the image itself. He studies illuminated prefaces to, among other texts, the prose and poetic works of Horace as used in the medieval classroom, copies of the major biblical commentary of the High Middle Ages, the Glossa ordinaria, and Rupert of Deutz's erotically charged commentary on the Song of Songs. Changing the lens through which scholars have usually viewed such texts, Hamburger argues that images of authors of commentaries sometimes go beyond anything in the text to assert the authority not only of the author of the text commented on and of the commentator but occasionally even of the scribe.The Birth of the Author is a work of complicated analysis, and its full power demands close attention. Understanding how images construct claims that go beyond the text involves a good deal of careful looking. Hamburger is a patient and clear guide, but the reader must be prepared to flip back and forth between the magnificent colored images the publisher provides and to follow what are often painstaking arguments from comparison of small visual differences or puzzling identifications of seemingly strange details. The result of doing so is, however, to gain not only the reward of Hamburger's ingenious conclusions but also a lesson in how to look. For example, in a discussion of Gilbert Universalis's commentary on the Lamentations of the Hebrew prophet Jeremiah, Hamburger shows how Gilbert not only identifies Jeremiah as a “divine rhetorician” but also assimilates his own act of authorship to Jeremiah's prophetic speech. In the only extant copy of Gilbert's text that has a program of illustrations, the artist constructs both Jeremiah's speech and Gilbert's interpretation as similar acts of creation by framing both authors in parallel architectural images that evoke the Old Testament temple and a Christian church. Or to give a final example of Hamburger's interpretive reach: the book concludes not with yet another medieval preface but with an example of the far less usual manuscript epilogue. Here not only commentator, scribe, and illustrator but even the medieval reader construct themselves. Reception becomes interpretation, illustration becomes construction. In a commentary by the Carolingian figure Sedulius Scotus (fl. 840–60) on the Roman grammarian Donatus (mid-fourth century), the illustrator depicts Donatus as author and scribe (thus assimilating author into copier and vice versa). On the same folio, a later medieval reader constructs himself as reader/author in a charming marginal doodle that seems to entrap Donatus in a sort of hangman's noose. Thus, a bit wryly perhaps, Hamburger—himself teacher, commentator, and consummate scholar—seems to suggest that even frustrated students can construct themselves as interpreters and, yes, authors. Behind the seeming repetition and backward glance of the images in medieval commentaries lies radical and forward-looking self-awareness of the acts of authoring, interpreting, reading, and imagining. In Hamburger's analysis, the most seemingly conventional of medieval genres—the preface to commentaries on the texts of others—is a locus of the birth in illustration of the self-conscious and self-expressive author and reader. (shrink)

Written two days after the women's march in New York on January 21, 2017, this essay — a guest column in Common Knowledge — describes the event and emphasizes two aspects: its multi-issue focus and its response to the denigration of women's expertise represented in much of the hostility to Hillary Clinton's candidacy. Comparing the widespread resistance to Donald Trump's proposals in early 2017 with recent single-issue protests, the author suggests that it is a strength of the current moment that (...) women confront a wide range of issues, from sexual harassment to gun violence to reproductive choice to immigration restriction. She also argues that a pernicious and often unrecognized denigration of female voices and female expertise forms an undercurrent of contemporary political debate that needs to be much more widely resisted. She writes out of forty years of personal experience with women's issues, hoping that the progress made earlier will continue but predicting an uphill battle. (shrink)

This essay is a parable that delivers a message of epistemological significance for teachers and students in historically based disciplines and religious studies. Bynum writes, anecdotally, of standing “for a long time” and “rejoicing” before Vermeer’s painting The Woman with the Pearl Necklace at an exhibit in 2001 at the Metropolitan Museum. Later she discovers that the painting had not left Berlin for inclusion in the New York exhibit. “I can only hypothesize,” she reflects, “that I must have deeply needed (...) a moment out of ordinary time” and so “saw” a work of importance to herself that she had visited often at its home in Berlin. “The medieval people I study,” she writes, “‘saw things’, as my students put it. And those same students frequently ask me what I think they saw.” Bynum then proceeds to explicate Augustine’s three categories of vision and to comment on other medieval theories about and incidents of inexplicable or miraculous seeing on the part of the “spiritually gifted.” Her conclusion is that students who ask what such people do see must be told that they have indeed seen what they have claimed to see, just “as I saw The Woman with the Pearl Necklace.”. (shrink)

Background Our objective was to evaluate whether the description of a machine learning (ML) app or brain imaging technology to predict the onset of schizophrenia or alcohol use disorder (AUD) influences healthcare professionals’ judgments of stigma, empathy, and compassion.Methods We randomized healthcare professionals (N = 310) to one vignette about a person whose clinician seeks to predict schizophrenia or an AUD, using a ML app, brain imaging, or a psychosocial assessment. Participants used scales to measure their judgments of stigma, empathy, (...) and compassion.Results Participants randomized to the ML vignette endorsed less anger and more fear relative to the psychosocial vignette, and the brain imaging vignette elicited higher pity ratings. The brain imaging and ML vignettes evoked lower personal responsibility judgments compared to the psychosocial vignette. Physicians and nurses reported less empathy than clinical psychologists.Conclusions The use of predictive technologies may reinforce essentialist views about mental health and substance use that may increase specific aspects of stigma and reduce others. (shrink)