Apocalyptic Hermeneutics

Looking at the Rose

Upon first examination one might wonder how I'm actually to use a novel as a textbook.

I could ask the reader to reflect upon what a textbook is, or what a novel is. Yet, I am concerned with the task at hand: using a novel as a textbook. My thought is that neither can be separated.

Textbooks tell the story of how to do something, or the chronicle what occurred. Novels provide this same device, only without the facts presented as facts. They are stories, not evidence. Our job as the reader is to investigate what facts contributed to this narrative. Our job as the reader is to investigate how a novel, a narrative, can provide insight into an age that is chronologically distant from our time.

The task at hand requires proving the case for using Eco's work as a textbook. Though it is a historical novel, we are not without significant challenges for using it as the main text. The challenge exists for the student, who must be brought into active engagement. Active engagement requires asking questions concerning the background, foreground, and questions that do not make themselves readily present in the novel. We are forced, then, to provide a basis, a solid and clear language, for the use of Eco's novel. Moreover, while Eco has spent hours writing, piling up resources, and creating characters The Name is no longer his work, but the interpreters or readers work. We have been given a text, and now have the power to do with it what we may. To do so honestly, and adequately, requires a foothold in hermeneutics and interpretative theory. Thus, the first portion of the course is concerned with asking, "How? How can we even do this?" Martha Nussbaum's article, "Form and Content; Philosophy and Literature" illustrates well the endeavor upon which the course embarks. Though the course is not philosophical it is asking deeper questions that are not necessarily literary. Nussbaum says, "…in pursuit of human self-understanding and of a society in which humanity can realize itself more fully-the imagination and the terms of the literary artist are indispensable guides…" iii Apocalypse and Apocalypticism, if not human endeavors, are communicated and transmitted via humans.

Apocalypse opens a window into human self-understanding, always asking the question "What does this mean?" This question alone is a human question, and aware of the precocious nature of self-understanding. Eco provides a way, though not clearly structured, of asking questions about Apocalypse that point down deeper into the human experience. The focus of the course, of the larger endeavor, is to discover those ways. Moreover, imagination is crucial, and we ought not discount the work of imagination throughout Apocalypse. We will return to the work of imagination, and, I will suggest that Apocalypse refreshes imagination and fosters faith for imagination in an empirically, doubt-less, world.

This doubt-less world provides opportunity to revisit the relevant question of language Gadamer proposed in 1966. We are born into language, and we live within worlds of language that provide ways of understanding. Our experience as humans is one comprised of language in an attempt to reach the other. iv How do we communicate? How to we bridge the gap between 'us' and 'them'? This challenge, the universality of the problem, strikes us in our present endeavor: Medieval and 21 st century; author and reader; experience and text; understanding and misunderstanding. The peculiarities we bring to a text (i.e. our lives) provide an inroad to bridging the gap between that which is other and ourselves. For this course we are concerned with interpretive issues, but also concerned with how centuries-ago apocalyptic ideas reach, and communicate with us.

Yet, to even ask these questions is assume that we are readers. One must ask, "What is a reader?" Aaron Hebbard's short conclusion to his book provides an opportunity to see the reader as multifaceted, yet not schizophrenic. v Readers move through the role of character, text, and interpreter. With Eco we are challenged on all fronts: become Adso with the invitation of the personal "I" vi ; see how the Medieval (con)text reads us now in the 21 st century; and, interpreting the work while always seeking the over and undertones, noting where our experience illuminates new questions. Pinpointing when one ought to assume a particular role is not necessary or possible. Rather we are living in all three instances, and guided only by prejudice. Indeed, while one reader might be concerned as to how to interpret an event (interpreter) another may be concerned with the personal connection to the text (character). All three instances are interpretative roles, asking the reader to isolate her experience, the moment of unconcealment.

Smelling the Rose vii

Though the section dealing with interpretative questions has ended, it is far from a conclusion. Time and again the experience of reading The Name will provide moments of interpretative questions. Kevin R. West in "Apocalypse Found" proposes reading The Name as an Apocalypse. From questions of transmission, to discovery, to interpretation we are placed within the apocalyptic mindset. Interesting, though, is his claim that The Name itself is an apocalypse. West states, "But beyond these apocalyptic contents in my reading the novel actually constitutes what might be termed a "post-modern apocalypse," one that reveals through destruction not the meaning of divine truth but the tenuous nature of truth and meaning…He [Adso] grieves, perhaps most of all, for the absence of some key insight that would legitimate his own narrative effort." viii Moreover, West connects The Name to the Apocalypse of Paul, which is often purported to be a found text. The culmination of The Name occurs in rooms, arranged as a mirror of the world, each associated with Revelation; all support the claim that this text is apocalyptic. Moreover, apocalyptic literature in its Jewish origin was meant to be textual: written down. ix Apocalyptic point of view attempts to read the world like a text, attempting to provide a legible point of view. x Indeed, one way we can read apocalypse is an attempt to provide a rendering of the world events, their deeper meaning, in a form that varies, and thus always constitutes another text.

The next seven classes mirror the seven days in the book (seventh day includes "Last Page"). Each day has a particular question to orient the reader and focus the discussion. The questions are not completely arbitrary, but do not hold any special significance. Indeed, the questions could be asked within other chapters (if not all). It is worth noting that the questions limit the reader's focus. This should be the reader's second reading, and with that comes the need to focus and dig deeper into the text. Yet, these questions are not the ultimate questions conversation will cover. They are starting points for deeper questions that will be supplemented by either other apocalypses or readings that will provide better contextual information.

As one looks at the course syllabus one might soon recognize there are three readings of The Name. Some might find this tenuous, and they should. Reading and re-reading is an act of proving and disproving interpretation. The thought here is that the repetitive encounter with the text will provide moments of insight, and moments of doubt. The flow of the text, the experience of reading, harkens back to Nussbaum: the endeavor of human self-understanding. The act of rereading provides an abbreviated version of the human journey. Moreover, what we find interesting initially, may not be equally interesting the second, or even third time reading. Each reading becomes more focused. The first reading remains uninterrupted, outside of structured discussion. The second reading is brought into a time of questioning and investigation. Finally, the intentional ignorance of some aspects of the texts in order to focus on particular texts occurs.

Movement from general to particular mirrors the experience of interpreting: as we interpret the questions become pointed and direct leaving us in the ignorance of the meaning held in the next page.

Along the way Theresa Coletti's voice is an optional reading, for during this part of the reading I do not want to interfere with the secondary encounter of the reader with text. In preparing readings I argued with myself as to whether I ought require Nussbaum's "The Transfiguration of Everyday Life: Joyce" in Upheavals of Thought. Yet, I succumb to the categorical imperative of not requiring an outside voice to influence the reader's prejudice.

However, Nussbaum's voice may provide a fresh accent to the droll attitude interpreting and analyzing can bring. We do not interpret in a vacuum, absent of our meeting the text. Our emotions play into our interpretations. Our imaginations set ablaze world of possibility that may or may not come around into meaning, yet, they exist. It is the ember of emotion that smolders upon the fodder of imagination, until, all at once, a blaze of creativity erupts. Some call this the revelatory moment, others the engaging of the others, and still others the interpretative moment.

Yet, I prefer Nussbaum, who says, "…the incompleteness and surprise of human life is accepted rather than hated, love and its allies among the emotions (compassion, grief) can provides [sic] powerful guidance toward social justice, the basis for a politics that addresses the needs of other groups and nations, rather than spawning the various forms of hatred that our texts have identified." xi Our texts, our apocalypses, have provided seeds of hatred, of dominance, but we are presented with the unique opportunity to see how through the lens of The Name powerful guidance toward equitable living might arise. We then see how interpreting moves from the densely analytic, to the imminently personal.

The Middle Ages & Eco -Again

The course moves swiftly into a third reading that isolates particular issues of discussion.

These are topics central to understanding the Middle Ages, and why apocalyptic visions and endings are deeply connected to context. During this time students are required to provide discussion and lead class discussion. This responsibility allows students to provide interpretations of material, and find how the book focuses or does not focus these issues.

Moreover, the bibliography provides suitable material for presentations. To write on these issues would require books, and that is precisely why it is a course! Yet, I do find them deeply important and necessary for understanding motive of characters, the larger text, and where we sit today.

The third section, however, attempts to advance a thesis that the Middle Ages speak to us today. Their voices are neither distant nor irrelevant. The issues presented and subsequent discussions are relevant for contemporary issues. How does logic and syllogism still work today?

How does the hatred for 'infidels' within the Medieval Church speak to contemporary disdain for those that aren't Christian? How does the Revelation of John still hold cultural dominance, and why is it in the Canon? All these questions, and more, were asked and pondered upon throughout the Middle Ages. Can we learn from missteps and decisions made? This becomes the main primary question. Students are now tasked with becoming hermeneuts: taking interpretations and creating ways of living and being in the world. Richard Kearney's "Vive l'imagination" proposes a post-modern hermeneutic of imagining that seeks to conjoin without confusing poetics and ethics. That is to say that storytelling (poetics) may prove necessary to history-making (ethics). xii Kearney puts it well when he says, "Ethics without poetics leads to the censuring of imagination; poetics without ethics leads to dangerous play." xiii The challenge exists not in proving something, but wagering that the imagination is alive, and it begins with telling stories. Sure, Eco's story takes place in the 14 th century, but he tells stories nonetheless so that we might see a way of living. If anything, Apocalypse ought be understood as a fostering of the imagination. Indeed, apocalypse is an invitation to tell a story and tell how to live -you cannot separate the two! The journey from story-telling and history-making is not a journey, but recognition that in telling stories, in allowing the imagination to burn with fury we unlock ways of being in the world. Medieval Apocalypse was no different in how it sought to tell the story, and encourage ways of living. Yet, we are not provided a complete task with Kearney alone, for the journey to understand Medieval Apocalypse particularly, and Apocalypticism generally, requires unlocking and fostering imagination to see what a story teaches.

'A' Postscript, the Apocalyptic Hermeneutic

In similar fashion to The Name, the course ends in a discussion of postscript. Though postscripts are not unfamiliar to academic journals, how thankful would hermeneuts, those biblical scholars, preachers, teachers, and wayfarers become if they were granted a postscript to each book of the Bible? In the same breath, we welcome the fact that there remains no postscript, for many would be out of a job (or would we?)! For Eco's work, a postscript serves a purpose: to provide clarity for the reader. The job of a postscript is not to provide the penultimate meaning.

Postscripts make clear previously foggy paths on the way to digging deeper into the text.

We become enamored with postscripts because with them comes the author's voice, providing an additional word. No matter how refreshing a postscript might become, we would be wise not to become obsessed with the author's words. Ironically, the author has been speaking the whole time! Through the voice of characters and plot, could it be that even the author herself could not tell us what they meant? Perhaps, then, a postscript does not come after, but before, from, and within the 'script.' The postscript is always present, ever before the reader, and the reader is marked with the task of finding it. Even Eco's Postscript provides only a glimpse into the larger script, and stands rather as an invitation to engage the script. There exists nothing more gratifying than an author's invitation to a critic, the reader. We know all we need to know about the author: the text and the name on the spine. As Eco states in Postscript, "A narrator should not supply interpretations of his work; otherwise he would not have written a novel, which is a machine for generating interpretations." xiv Engagement of Eco's postscript is only natural, as it falls in due order of the book. Yet, I want to take the idea of postscript farther. To read the Middle Ages as a postscript requires that we give the Middle Ages proper due, which has been part of the attempt during the course.

Moreover, to read the Middle Ages as a postscript is two-pronged. First, we can read the Middle Ages as a postscript to the era preceding it. This discussion allows for us to see the influences of the Early Christian discussions, Augustine, Constantine, and others that shaped the formation of the church. While we might still be able to see these discussions today, the issues discussed throughout the Middles Ages provide a better route for their discussion, simply because of their proximity to the Early Christian movement. How were decisions made in the second century Apocalypticism and Apocalyptic Hermeneutic 13 affecting the Medieval Church? How was Augustine's presence being felt? Indeed, the authors, the leaders, of major decisions are no longer present to clarify the positions. How does the Middle Ages appropriate teachings and interpret them for a different context? These questions situate us in a mode of thinking that leaves behind the Reformation, World Wars, and Industrial Revolution and makes the Middle Ages all that was, and potentially could be.

Yet, the other prong to the Middle Ages as postscript reveals itself in our current era, our current place. How are the Middle Ages speaking, reflecting, and illuminating present problems within society and the Church? In this sense the discussions concerning heresy, interfaith issues (still most dominant between Islam and Christianity), and proper Church authority are still debated. The Middle Ages present a church in transition, one with power and wealth, controlling policy, and facing questions about the future. We might, then, use the Medieval Church as a way to highlight problems and learn from decisions made. In staying true to a postscript, all of the answers will not be present, that's the role of the interpreter, the reader. Yet, to read the Middle Ages as a postscript on present time allows for an opening, a possibility, to find answers to questions perplexing the Church today.

The final class seeks to read the Apocalypse as a postscript. One could argue the entirety of the course has been reading the Apocalypse as a postscript. And, if that were the case, they would have argued correctly. On my read, Apocalypse and Apocalypticism provide inroads for discussions many cast off or have missed. Apocalypse reflects in some sense what we find valuable, what we want to teach. The story-telling and history-making that occurs within apocalypse and apocalypticism communicates the values of a society in a given context. If churches use Revelation, they are demonstrating found value in a story. However, the use of apocalypse provides opportunities for discussion by those outside the ecclesial boundaries.

Indeed, this course has attempted to understand apocalypse, and specifically what an apocalypse is, but a clear definition eludes us. Suffice to say, apocalypse becomes whatever readers want it to become. Let us turn to the book of Daniel for clarity's sake.

The final day also requires reading Daniel. Whether people have read Daniel or not before this class, they will have been educated and illuminated on the complexities of Apocalypticism and Apocalypse throughout this entire course. Reading Daniel should bring to light the complexities and varied interpretations Apocalypses provide, and should illustrate the peculiar and difficult effort that has faced the class throughout the semester. Some will be interested in authorial intent, which provides a particular purpose, others will be interested in political issues, and still some will want to discuss theological implications. Simply put, none of these are incorrect interpretations. This peculiar aspect of Apocalypticism and Apocalypse provides multiplicity of meaning and uses in hermeneutics, philosophy, theology, political science, and history, and yet, it does not. There are those unwilling to accept such a broad understanding. To those skeptics I suggest that in the cosmological "battle," the meeting of worldly and other-worldly, that accompanies each apocalypse, we are meeting and engaging particular "other" interpretations over 'our' interpretation. The cosmological meeting is both distant and near; physical and metaphysical; literal and figurative.

Eco, in his Postscript, answers questions concerning the title The Name of the Rose: "The idea of calling my book The Name of the Rose came to me virtually by chance, and I liked it because the rose is a symbolic figure so rich in meanings that by now it hardly has any meaning left: Dante's mystic rose, and go lovely rose, the Wars of the Roses…The title right disoriented the reader, who was unable to choose just one interpretation; and even if he were to catch the possible nominalist readings of the concluding verse, he would come to them only at the end, having previously made God only knows what other choices. A Title must muddle the reader's ideas, not regiment them." xv The title of a genre, Apocalypse, provides the same disorientation, the same discombobulating effect for the reader. The reader finds herself unable to choose only one interpretation. Yet necessity demands choosing. Once she does choose, her choice is of ignorance. She chooses to ignore other possibilities, both seen and unseen. Thus, the journey embarked upon will never be complete. The reader of the Apocalypse knows other interpretations are possible, though their prejudice may not allow them to be seen.

Indeed, the genre Apocalypse is so full of meaning, so pregnant with meaning, that determining meaning becomes difficult. What are we to make of this? Reading something as apocalypse alerts the reader to the multiplicity of meanings, the lack of particular meaning, and makes aware the role of the reader. The reader is thrust into the narrative, the vision, to become the one meeting all meanings, and stands facing fire, dragons, and an eternity of interpretations.

Yet, they must choose, and follow an interpretation. The hope, then, is to make wise decisions, and recognize that the meaning of apocalypse is to interpret. Apocalypse is a provocation of the interpretive spirit, the prompting of the hermeneutical question, and the spark that ignites imagination.

John J. Collins provides a remarkably lengthy definition of Apocalypse:

...a genre of revelatory literature with a narrative framework, in which a revelation is mediated by an otherworldly being to a human recipient, disclosing a transcendent reality which is both temporal, insofar as it envisages eschatological salvation, and spatial insofar as it involves another, supernatural world. xvi This definition provides a means to isolate a particular genre. As mentioned in the introduction, I read Eco's novel first as historical novel. This simply means that this is a fictional story set in the past. Yet, I have argued that we can read it as an apocalypse. How can this be? As stated previously, our interpretations are clashing with previous interpretations. But, how can this constitute an apocalypse? My distinction, then, is made between the genre and the lens.

Apocalypse defined for a genre provides a basis for examination and discussion. Indeed, defining the genre paves the way for specific scholarship that entails specific questions. I, however, am interested in developing an apocalyptic lens. That is to say, apocalypse becomes a way of reading that relies upon the reader.

Apocalypse defined in this context becomes simply the other-worldly meeting worldly.

By this I mean that which exists in a different world (i.e. time, space, context, language, etc.) meets our present place in time. When this occurs we are reading apocalypse. Apocalypticism, then, becomes the act of recognizing the clashing of other worlds. Eco displays this as he uses the "seven trumpets" in the Revelation of John to structure the murders. He has effectively engaged one world of meaning, and it has clashed with his.

Some will object to my use of apocalypse as a lens of reading, all the better! Indeed, the variances within interpretations provide the necessary fodder for imagination. Texts remain simply texts, until we, the readers, engage them and meet them with our imagination. The apocalyptic lens provides an opening to speak through, and move into new worlds of meaning.

My suggestion is that the coming world we find within the genre we call apocalypse, provides the basis for understanding the new world that occurs every time we interpret. Whether of John, Paul, or Daniel the apocalypse remains recorded, written down in language.

There remains one final part to the definition of an apocalyptic lens -transformation.

When we read a text, we do not complete the reading without change. We are transformed, and the exercise exceeds intellectual ascent. Reading a text will affect the way we think and experience the world. When worlds clash we are thrust into the questions that shocking moment provides. We are asked, subtly, about our human experience, about our identity. Nussbaum, again, says, "Texts ask and answer questions, offer explanations of the phenomena they address.

How much of this concern for explaining does the text in question show?" xvii The answer to that question becomes answered only in the reader's mind. As we find with apocalypse, the meaning varies from person to person, and context to context. The prejudices we bring to a text are necessary. The extent to which a text will offer a suitable explanation remains beholden to the reader.

This endeavor, this new hermeneutic, grows from the apocalyptic genre. The engagement with apocalypse provided the impetus for the development of such a hermeneutic. This freshly proposed hermeneutic will remain connected to the genre. This link should not be severed, but rather revered. Perhaps, then, the final word remains the necessary connection between what a genre can teach us about interpretation. What are the limits? What genres cannot teach us about interpretation? Answering this becomes a question of imagination and possibility. For example, can a grocery list teach us how to interpret? Take for example a note from one spouse to another that simply says: "Please pickup eggs and bread from the grocery." Does this actually teach us something about interpretation? Does this "listing" genre teach us something about interpretation? On the surface, no. This remains nothing more than a list. Yet, if we, with an apocalyptic hermeneutic, ask, "Why does she need these?" we are provided an opportunity. The spouse has interpreted the barren cupboard and noted a lack in particular goods. Perhaps this says of interpretation, that when we read a text, when we notice something lacking, interpretation becomes necessary. We must then make a decision as to what the lack means, and what is lacking.

This simplistic example could fall away into the abyss of absurdity. But, perhaps we have not allowed our imaginations to flow freely. What can we learn from our world? What can our texts teach us about how to live? After all, if a text is created within this existence, this Earthly existence, can it not speak to other possibilities other than communicating a central meaning?

Though many will be suspicious of this, we ought remember that this very hermeneutic, this apocalyptic hermeneutic, rose from apocalyptic text itself. The distinction between genre and hermeneutic exists, but the two are hardly separated. Methodologically speaking, my imagination, my disposition toward hermeneutics, set my focus upon finding a hermeneutic within apocalypse. It would be safe to assume, then, that the discovery of this particular hermeneutic would not be possible without the study of the genre, without care for the textual tradition.

The move from genre to hermeneutic is neither linear, nor a stationary once the move occurs. Rather, the conflation of apocalypse, Eco, Medieval, and hermeneutics came together in a tour de force to propose an apocalyptic hermeneutic. These respective studies retain their particularities, but contribute to a larger conversation understood as the apocalyptic hermeneutic.

In a similar sense, one reading with as otherworldly meeting worldly relies upon different studies, experiences, and traditions to inform the interpretation that inevitably arises. Indeed, the apocalyptic hermeneutic seeks conflation, seeks blending of disciplines. Personally, I am a philosopher, Christian, theologian, white, male, middle-class, American, etc. Yet, that is not all I am.

The multiplicities of definitions granted through socialization require us to move through our different defined roles. These definitions affect the way we read, the way we interpret.

Instead of attempting to isolate a particular model from which to interpret, we should recognize and call out how our particular social roles affect our interpretations. When we move in between genre and hermeneutic, and in this case apocalypse and interpreting, we are moving between a form of narrative with a historical context, into a way of reading. I would not see this possibility without my socialized particularities. Yet, in order to remain honest to my hermeneutic, to develop it further, I remain indebted to the genre so that it may provide a deeper understanding of an apocalyptic hermeneutic. Indeed, we have a conflation every time we approach a text of our societal definitions, studied disciplines, and the text. Remaining aware of this does not serve to limit interpretation, but make aware interpretative possibilities.

Interpretative possibilities displayed through the apocalyptic hermeneutic do not advocate relativism, or fade away into meaninglessness. Rather, reading text as apocalypse opens up conversations between individuals and groups. There remains an ethic, a requirement for apocalyptic hermeneutic. If we intend to use this hermeneutic we need a limit, a way to know if and when we are interpreting correctly. Apocalypse has a lengthy historical understanding, as previously noted, and within this historical continuum many interpretations of apocalypses exist.

In order for genre and hermeneutic of apocalypse to co-exist the proposal made in this treatise must respect this history of interpretation. Accounting for the history of interpretation of apocalypse cannot be adequately accounted for -it is a canon by itself! However, we can take note that the recognition of many historical interpretations can provide for the apocalyptic hermeneutic a limit, an ethic of interpretation. For the hermeneutic of apocalypse to work we need humility. Without recognition of the legitimacy of other interpretations there can be no conversation. The history of interpretation of apocalypse demonstrates a journey littered with ideas, beliefs, and movements based off interpreted apocalypse. In the broad apocalyptic hermeneutic we find limitless translations, and it is the awareness that prevents absolute certainty and necessitates responsibility.

Humility and Hermeneutic

"Humility," Norman Wirzba says, "trains us in the art of being creatures. It does so by teaching us to be honest about our need, grateful for the gifts of others, and faithful in the service of healing the many memberships of creation." xviii Our creaturely existence can also be seen as an interpretative existence. Caught up in the use of language we provide and necessitate interpretation. Philosophy, theology, hermeneutics, and other 'systems' of thought all too often forget (usually by omission) our creaturely existence. Wirzba makes it clear when he says, "There is no task more difficult than to faithful and true to our creaturely condition…Rather than patiently and honestly living up to our need before others…we deform need into fantasy and remake the world to suit our own desires." xix Apocalypse stands in stark contrast to what we desire. The stories of apocalypse are wildly different than what we desire. The elements of judgment typically challenge our desire. There becomes a struggle, then, to find who 'wins' and who 'loses.' Yet, inevitably interpretations of apocalypse find those who 'win' to be remarkably similar to the author. Can we actually interpret humbly? This might mean that the author, the interpreter would be implicated in the judgment. Or, to state more broadly, an interpretation may not be the only possibility. Whereas we typically write with the assumption that we are at minimum not false, we must are challenged to interpret in such a way that assumes there are other interpretations that are not false as well.

The multiplicity of interpretations apocalypse presents reflects our own existence in the world. Wirzba, again, says, "In a fundamental sense, all true speech is a response to the call of others-other people, history, habitats, the world, and God. When we fail to listen and respond appropriately to this call, we bear witness to a spiritual malfunction of the highest significance." xx Wirzba's focus on humility remains spiritual in scope, but the understanding of listening exceeds listening only with the ears. xxi The listening provides a reception of the world, an understanding that other voices exist within our existence. Apocalyptic hermeneutic respects the responses to texts, and views interpretation as a "response to the call of others"-other interpretations, texts, meanings, and possibilities. Our responses are varied and implied within our interpretative movement. Indeed, to provide interpretation is to declare that other interpretative possibilities exist.

The path to humility cannot occur without proper recognition of the task, the existence set before us. Channeling Wirzba, we cannot become humble as long as we persist in the belief that we can stand on our own, that the significance of other interpretations signify for us. While humility might seem acceptable for some as the regulating factor within the apocalyptic hermeneutic, others will find it too fanciful or expecting too much of the interpreter.

Their suspicions are not without considerations, for within The Name of the Rose we find those suspicious of William of Baskerville's suggestion that those learned in the Scriptures might be wrong in thinking the murders are the act of the Devil. Humility, however, reaches beyond the possibility of correctness, and calls for us to engage our deeper sensitivities. The apocalyptic hermeneutic without humility becomes an act that lays waste to deeper tones the genre and hermeneutic can provide for human existence.

The genre comes to us as recorded visions, and often times prove beyond our ability to interpret. Daniel even finds himself stumped concerning a vision, and must allow another interpreter to step in: an angel. xxiii Wirzba makes clear the difficulty of our relinquishing control.

He says, "…we have great difficulty knowing and then respectfully observing the limits of our capacities and abilities. Fearful of our deep ignorance and weakness, we presume too much for ourselves, and in our presumption we speak and act as arrogant fools." xxiv Our apocalyptic hermeneutic requires, from time to time, silence. Humility recognizes not only the need for silence, but also what we might hear in the moments of silence, the moments of 'listening.' In our attempt to become interpreters, to assert what the text means, we may overreach our bounds.

At times we cannot interpret because of ignorance of the larger text, ignorance of tradition, or our cultural situatedness does not allow adequate interpretation to take place. Yet, nevertheless, we interpret.

Humility, then, requires us to remain attentive to our concrete contexts. These contexts, our physical situatedness, both limit and open up possibilities. Limits exist, and engaging these limits means they cannot be overcome. We must exercise caution, and insure that we do not fall into attempts to ascent to ways of thinking that do not respect the "limits of our capabilities." Physicality becomes paramount in understanding humility and the apocalyptic hermeneutic. As the genre teaches, visions occurred, and they occurred within a physical reality. It could be argued that Daniel 1-6 sets up the recognition of the physicality of the apocalypse that follows in Daniel 7-12. If we were to begin reading the apocalypse immediately, we might perceive it only as a 'mind' game. Yet, the Danielic Complier provides us with the events rooted within reality. This, I propose, is a moment for us to learn that our apocalyptic hermeneutic begins in the world, in our physical contexts. This teaching moment for the apocalyptic hermeneutic reveals the need for humility.

Humility speaks to the apocalyptic interpretation, asking for remembrance of where one finds their place in the world. The disposition of humility in conjunction with the apocalyptic hermeneutic calls us to acknowledge the dependence upon others (those that inspire, grow our food, teach us, learn from us, love us, are loved by us) that affect our world that will meet the otherworldly. Interpretations expose the interpreter; for our interpretations reveal our worlds, reveal who we are, and those "others" upon which we depend. This exposure will reveal the deception that one stands alone, absent of others.

Humility, however, enables us to respond to the ego shattering event of exposure:

That we exist at all, and the dynamic set of possibilities that our lives represent, are features of how we have been "called," quite gratuitously, into existence by a creative word and a continually expressive creation. The fitting, humble response is first to listen, and then to offer our lives as gifts to others in return…In offering ourselves we do not often know what we are doing. Nor can we predict or control what our offering will accomplish…We take seriously and respect the memberships of creation, and make the commitment to be faithful to them. xxv Humility speaks to our existence, our place in the world, and calls us to listen, and then interpret.

All that which constitutes our lives, that which shares the membership of creation, requires faithfulness. For our apocalyptic hermeneutic, when otherworldly meets worldly, we must remember what exactly the worldly constitutes. The worldly appears as more than interesting questions, constitutes more than learned dogma, and exceeds strict categories. Offering our interpretations does not appear as an exercise in mental ascent, but as a contribution to the larger creaturely existence. Apocalypse, the genre, teaches us that there remains a voice in the meeting of otherworldly and worldly that calls one forth to hear, to see, to receive possible worlds. The Biblical narrative alone provides examples with John and Daniel. The reception occurs in reality -creaturely existence. For the apocalyptic hermeneutic the interpretation we glean from two worlds meeting occurs within the interpreter's reality. Whatever the interpretation, we must ask if it respects the larger interpretative community, and provides space for other interpretations.

We must not confuse this with meaning there are no false interpretations. Primarily, when an interpretation does not respect the world into which the interpretation is called it disrespects the interpreter's creaturely existence. Secondly, the recognition of other interpretations provides an understanding of the larger existence at work. Practically speaking, it provides the space to for the interpreter to revise, remember, and rethink her own interpretation. Humility calls for radical honesty, and provides the space for those sharing in the creaturely, interpretative existence, to be affected and moved by other interpretations.

Humility does not serve for the apocalyptic hermeneutic, but the conscience for interpretation. Interpretations do not fall into subjectivity, but are called forth into responsible conversation with other interpretations. Interpreters voice interpretations, or we might say that persons voice things. Hans-Georg Gadamer states, "The person appears as something to be respected in its own being. The thing, on the other hand, is something to be used, something that stands entirely at our disposal." xxvi To put Gadamer's words in an apocalyptic hermeneutic understanding: The interpreter stands as something to be respected in its own being. The interpretation, on the other hand, stands as something to be used, something stands entirely at our disposal. Yet, this does not permit unfaithful interpretation of interpretations. Within the genre apocalypse the on the other end of the vision, the text, remains the Divine, God. Daniel did not interpret flippantly or unfaithfully because on the other end of the vision was God. Though persons are not God, they are apart of the creaturely existence that humility seeks to respect, and engage. While interpretations do not hold autonomy as humans do, they represent a particular human's existence. We must respect what stands behind the affirmation of the interpretation, respect what the interpretation represents. This defines the limiting and life-giving aspect of humility. We are challenged to engage the worlds from which an interpretation comes, which may limit what we can say. Yet, it also opens up the interpreter's particular world for deeper and substantive investigation.

Explicit exchange of words provides us the recognition that we must be grateful for varied interpretations, honest about our own interpretative prejudice, and the need to bridge the gap between interpretations, our communities. Reading text, as apocalypse, requires that we respect varied interpretations, but seek to bridge gaps between interpretations. In effect, by bridging the gaps between interpretations we hold out the possibility of bridging the gap between the persons from which interpretation comes. Bridging interpretation between interpretation becomes yet another apocalyptic act. Interpretations become texts, and rely upon the engagement from others to build bridges. Simply put, we need interpreters, "Daniels", "Johns" (though not gender-specific), to be willing to bridge the gap between what we perceive as "other-worldly".

For example, we need interpreters willing to bridge the gap between Muslim and Christian; literary and analytic; faithful and faithless. We find ourselves caught in what every hermeneutic needs: a hermeneutical circle. We interpret a text, form a text, and rely upon another 'apocalyptic' event to occur.

As we close this brief treatise, we mustn't forget, that a messenger, a "bridge" between otherworldly and worldly spoke, "But, you go your way, and rest; you shall rise for your reward at the end of days" (Daniel 12:13 NRSV). In the conclusion of an apocalypse Daniel is told to rest, perhaps now his life ends. At minimum his work as interpreter concludes, at least for the moment, and must rest. Daniel shows us that interpreting apocalypse is an ongoing process that when read and re-read, and then read again, illuminates the variances within a text. Yet, between all the readings, between the life-giving experience story-telling and history-making provide, required are moments of rest. This movement between 3 readings of Eco's work has attempted to provide necessary rest between each reading. For, in each new reading a new interpretative life comes forth, and the reward obtained for the interpreter is a new world, a new heavens, never before seen. This is the interpretative event, par excellence. We, as interpreters, are moving in and out of a text, and in our rest -our lack of interpretation -we find new meaning (which is only meaning we have yet to discover). Can we ever find the concluding meaning of an apocalypse?

No. Can we ever find the concluding meaning of any text? No. Required of us, the interpreters, is to return to the text, listen to our 'angels', and discover the multiplicity of meaning ever-present in a text. The apocalyptic hermeneutic does not "finish." Like an apocalypse, the genre, the event continues into the future, calling only for more interpretation as continued living.

Leaving the Text and Living

Umberto Eco states, "It seems that the Parisian Oulipo group has recently constructed a matrix of all possible murder-story situations and has found that there is still to be written a books in which the murderer is the reader. Moral: there exists obsessive ideas, they are never personal; book talk among themselves, and any true detection should prove that we are the guilty party." xxvii Apocalypse leaves us to wrestle and contend with the author who when she writes hears the deeper pulses of love vibrating, the overtones of joy singing in perfect harmony, and the miraculous movement of grief escaping their grasp. In that moment, we have stepped into a world, and must inevitably leave, to rest, for apocalypse grants life, but reaps life -it is a mirror, and a portal.

The previous pages have attempted to provide a basis for the development of an apocalyptic hermeneutic. The course provides students the opportunity to wrestle with questions they find interesting. Indeed, the entire journey of the course is a practice in the apocalyptic hermeneutic. Moving to and from the text mirrors our existence within the world. We are on the move, whether in our minds or bodies. Apocalypse calls for moments of rest. Indeed, could Daniel have interpreted without resting, pondering, or reflecting? xxviii Could John have listened to the angel if did not pause, and listen? xxix Could Eco have written had he not pondered upon his "yen to do it", his prodding by a seminal idea: "I felt like poisoning a monk"? xxx Reflection upon the moments of imagination, of possibility, will provide for us the interpretative moment.

The apocalyptic hermeneutic is many things, not unlike the genre. There are demons and monsters, fear and hope, life and death. We, from our place, our worlds, greet the text, interpretations of others, the otherworldly. In that moment, provided by restful refection we become aware of the multiplicity of interpretations. Ironically, or gratefully, or both, this hermeneut realizes that the apocalyptic hermeneutic is an interpretation of apocalypse as well, joining the larger existence of other interpretations. Are other interpretations wrong? The interpreter without humility will declare, "Yes!" Yet, when interpreted in humility we see a larger conglomeration of possibility. The interpretations, themselves, become an apocalypse in and of themselves. We are ushered into a vision that provides endless interpretations and demonstrates an existence filled with possibility. Behold, there are new possibilities on the horizon, new worlds to engage. They are coming, and we can only hope to be as brave to encounter them.

Thus, this treatise ends in a bizarre paradox: it itself becomes an apocalyptic vision. The apocalyptic hermeneutic seeks a world that has room enough for all interpretations, and the possibility that they may speak with one another. This is not the condition the current state of affairs within our global society. We have countries at war, religions combating each other with truth claims, and separatist movements within governments motivated by belief that they possess the right way to govern. xxxi Presently varied interpretations do not co-exist on any large-scale.

What the apocalyptic hermeneutic proposes is not of this current world, not the current state of affairs. There are no angels, trumpets, or demonic figures. There are only interpreters and interpretations and an ethic of humility that provides a vision.

If this is an apocalypse I ought say as Daniel's angel does, "…for the words are to remain secret and sealed until the time of the end. Many shall be purified, cleansed, and refined, but the wicked shall continue to act wickedly. None of the wicked shall understand, but those who are wise shall understand." xxxii Or, perhaps I ought quote John's Revelation, which seems far more optimistic, when the angel says, "Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this book, for the time is near." xxxiii Still, perhaps, I ought quote Adso of Melk: "It is cold in the scriptorium, my thumb aches. I leave this manuscript, I do not know for whom; I no longer know what it is about: stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus." xxxiv The closing words are hardly the last words -the reader provides those. Every apocalypse closes only when we cease interpreting. Ending an apocalypse becomes the most difficult endeavor, for one knows that the vision becomes possible not through Daniel, John, Adso, but through the interpreter. These words cannot be sealed up, but not because I know the time is near. Yet, I yearn to seal them up; for this to remain secret or hidden, but the vision always calls for the otherworldly. Still, I understand Adso, and I know that I leave these words, for those I know not. All I know is that I've presented a possible world that recognizes the need for humility, and need for continued interpretation.

Walk we must walk, down the road to meet the world that is not our own. Walking away, go I, from the interpretation, back into creaturely existence xxxv . There are many things my creaturely existence necessitates: air, water, hope, and sustenance (maybe even books!).

Interpretation, however, remains nothing without life. Life makes interpretation possible. When we have no more words say, let us live. When the interpretation cannot be expounded upon any more, let us go forth and live.

What if we could float to the stars and explore the depths of the universe? Apocalypse does not want us to escape, for the genre recognizes this as a stumbling block to living. To escape is to abandon the radical nature of hope apocalypse provides. Thankfully, try as we might, no escape remains possible, and we must meet the future vision (hopefully). How will "they" judge us? Where there be a "they" to judge us? Whatever the case might be, we must leave the text and rest xxxvi , end the vision hopeful xxxvii , or simply leave the text no longer understanding what it means. xxxviii In an interpreter, apocalypse and the apocalyptic hermeneutic places hope.

When the author rests their pen, the interpreter picks up their reading glasses. Closing words signal the end of the genre, and the beginning of the hermeneutic -the search for "more."

Seek and not find. Look to the stars. Gazes abound. Hope fuels the eyes. No. "More" do I seek.

Rap on the door. Beat on the wood! Sing! Loud! For the otherworldly to hear. Hope fuels the hand. No. "More" do I yawp.

Inquire for once. Pursue a gaze. Look. Into the melody. My hope is? No. "More" Life fuels my persistence. xxxix Notes i. Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose (Orlando, FL: Harcourt, Inc, 1994), 17-18. ii. Ibid. 12-13. iii. Martha C. Nussbaum, Loves Knowledge (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990) , 1976). His essay, "Language on Discourse" is represented here, in which he says, "The personal pronouns, for example, have no objective meaning. "I" is not a concept. It is impossible to substitute a universal expression for it such as "the on who is now speaking." Its only function is to refer the whole sentence to the subject of the speech event. It has a new meaning each time it is used and each time it refers to a singular subject. "I" is the one who in speaking applies to himself the word "I" which appears in the sentence as a logical subject" (13). Aaron Hebbard, previously referenced, puts it nicely when he says concerning the "I", "No longer does the reader simply read about DanielC from a thirdperson perspective, s/he reads "I" and essentially becomes the "I," an identity the reader must eventually assume" (Hebbard 2009, 219).

vii. This section I would like to expand more, and given more time, I shall. This section would be dedicated to historical work on the Middle Ages, and rely heavily upon the work of Bernard xiii. Ibid. Elsewhere Kearney says of the post-modern imagination concerning justice that it "…is never simply a matter of conforming to a given law. It involves a responsibility to listen to other narratives…The obvious paradox -and one readily adverted to by Lyotard himself -is that the prescription against universal prescriptivism can itself be taken as a universal prescription" (210). The following apocalyptic hermeneutic seeks to avoid this by grounding in narrative (apocalypse) and requiring the meeting of worldly and otherworldly, thus focusing on the meeting, not a conception of justice. Humility will mediate the meeting. Wirzba,240. Also see Norman Wirzba in his ecological-theological monograph, The Paradise of God: "…so rather than reading the book of Revelation as a book of doom, a look in which we see the actualization and full realization of a destructive past we should instead interpret as a statement of what God still has in store for creation, a statement of what God has done and will yet to do to make creation the holy dwelling place for God" (55).

xxv. Ibid. 243-244. xxvi. Gadamer,70. xxvii. Eco,535. xxviii . Cf. Daniel 2:17-23 xxix. Cf. Revelation 1:1-20 xxx. Eco, 509. xxxi. Richard Kearney, "Epilogue: Narrative Imagination" in Poetics of Imagining does fine work presenting the ethical potential of narrative imagination. Our views are compatible with one another. Kearney says, "The ethical potential of narrative imagination may be summarized under three main headings: (1) the testimonial capacity to bear witness to a forgotten past; (2) the empathic capacity to identify with those different to us (victims and exemplars alike); and (3) the critical-utopian capacity to challenge official stories with unofficial or dissenting ones which open up alternative ways of being" (255). I suggest that narrative imagination and apocalyptic hermeneutic share the empathic capacity and critical-utopian capacity, but the apocalyptic hermeneutic does not possess the testimonial capacity. The apocalyptic capacity seeks not to testify to a forgotten past, for the apocalyptic hermeneutic occurs in the present looking forward. However, this is, perhaps, a place of development and further questioning of the apocalyptic hermeneutic.

xxxii. Cf. Daniel 11:9-10 xxxiii . Cf. Revelation 22:10 xxxiv. Eco, 502. "Yesterday's rose endures in its name, we hold empty names." xxxv. What that existence provides one cannot say for sure, but it might mean heeding the words of Martha Nussbaum in Love's Knowledge: "Most professional philosophers did not share the ancient conception of philosophy as discourse addressed to nonexpert readers of many kinds who would bring to the text their urgent concerns, question, needs, and whose souls in that interaction might be changed" (21). Perhaps rest from interpretation will provide us with a remembrance of the concerns, questions, and needs that discourse illuminates.

xxxvi. The character Daniel xxxvii . John in Revelation; Cf. C.S. Peirce, "Evolutionary Love" in The Essential Peirce: Selected Philosophical Writings Volume 1: (1867-1893, Edited by Nathan Houser and Christian Kloesel. Bloomington, IN;Indiana University Press, 1992. "Never mind, at this time, what the scribe of the apocalypse, if he were John, stung at length by persecution into a rage unable to distinguish suggestions of evil from visions of heaven, and so become the Slanderer of God to men, may have dreamed" (352-353). Peirce goes on to use John's Gospel and understanding of love to develop evolutionary philosophy. He makes what I consider an apocalyptic vision: "The reign of terror [of the 19 th century] was very bad; but now the Gradgrind banner has been this century long flaunting in the face of heaven, with an insolence to provoke the very skies to scowl and rumble. Soon a flash and quick peal will shake economists quite out of their complacency, too late. The twentieth century, in its latter half, shall surely see the deluge-tempest burst upon the social order,-to clear upon a world as deep in ruin as that greed-philosophy has long plunged it into guilt. No post-thermidorian high jinks then!" (356).

xxxviii . Adso of Melk xxxix. Original Poetry by J. Zachary Bailes. I cannot speak for the compiler of the book of Daniel, or the author of Revelation -John, or Adso of Melk, but ending an apocalyptic vision remains the most difficult task. I chose poetry because it leaves the end open, as the sayings in the three apocalypses demonstrate well. Perhaps the most difficult aspect of ending an apocalyptic vision is the realization that there is much meaning within it, but the author cannot speak for the meaning, or point it out. Thus, there remains excitement and intrigue, hesitation and trepidation at what might arise from interpretations when varied interpreters from their world meet my apocalypse, the otherworldly. Talking about what you have read and are thinking, as well as considering the perspectives of others in the class helps you both understand the reading and develop a more critical appreciation of it and the issues raised. Therefore, there will be varied formal and informal opportunities for you to do both. The participation grade will reflect the frequency, quality, and courtesy of your contributions to the class discussion. Attendance (more than three absences, without pre-approval, will reduce your final grade by a half a letter grade) and promptness (three tardies equals one absence). You will be expected to bring the readings to class, turn off cell phones, and only use laptops when necessary (and notes emailed after class to me). Analyze the assumptions of the authors and implications of the readings, offer insights, and pose questions that facilitate, rather than stops discussion. When engaging others with different perspectives, be respectful and invite exploration of differences. For students who are reluctant to speak, use your reading journal entries to pose a question or make a comment.

Umberto Eco, Medieval Studies, & Apocalypse

Reading Journal (20%):

Writing about the readings before you come to class helps you read more closely and critically, prepares you to contribute to class discussion, improves your writing skills, and helps you retain the material more effectively. Therefore, write a one-page, single-spaced journal entry that analyzes and reflects on one of the assigned readings for that day. Make sure you include your name and date on your entry. Bring these entries to class, so that you can use them during our discussion. Turn them in at the end of each class period; they will not be accepted at any other time. With regard to grading, I will read each entry and mark them acceptable or unacceptable. Only acceptable entries will count toward your grade. Unacceptable ones do not influence your grade; I will indicate in my comments deficiencies that need to be addressed. A (95%)= 20 Acceptable Entries B (85%)= 16 Acceptable Entries C (75%)= 12 Acceptable Entries F (65%)= 9 Acceptable Entries 3. Leading Class Discussion (10%): Each student will take one day to lead the discussion in what ever format they deem fit. The discussions should involved all students, provide space for questioning, and cover appropriate material Assistance by professor is available, and encouraged. The suggestion is to present on whichever subject area you are writing blog posts about. You should present fresh material for discussion. Suggested topics: poetry; papal bulls; witch trails; discussion of language; libraries; ritual; wealth of the Church; education; death. Connect your presentation back to Name of the Rose. 4. Medieval Blog (10%): As technology becomes increasingly necessary in our world and in scholarship, you will become your own teachers. Imagine, if you will, that you are in a monastery (the Academy) and trying to provide access to the 'library' or 'finis Africae.' Surely, there are some (like Jorge) who will not like the idea that knowledge has become more accessible, but ours is the privilege of knowing. The power structure of knowledge has certainly hurt many (as we have seen in Rose), and eventually becomes selfdefeating. As technology does improve, there is much information on the internet that is incorrect or misleading. You, then, will become a scribe, and create a library of Medieval Scholarship. You will be responsible for each contributing to the publicized blog once a week. These are expected to be short (400-500 words) articles that engage a very specific issue within Medieval Studies and Medieval Apocalypticism. Each of you is charged with the task of picking on topic, and that will be the subject for your webpage. You must comment on at least one other colleague's post. Lack of a comment negates your posting. Topics include: Monasticism; Medicine; Plague; Empire; Language; Christian/Islamic Relations; Mysticism; or, Sexuality. If you have a different topic you would like to write about, please consult the professor. Grading: A = Completed all 13 entries; B = Completed 11 entries; C = Completed 9 entries; F = Completed 8 or less entries These entries will be fact-checked. Hold yourself to a high academic standard, and let not 400 words become a stumbling block to your success. Use this space to contribute to the conversation of your Final Essay. It's a marathon, not a sprint.

4. Short Paper: 20%: This paper may range from 7-10 pages in length (double-spaced), and must engage how the reading of one of the required texts enhances the reading of The Name of the Rose. If there are other books one might feel contributes to the conversation, that too may be used, but must first be approved by the professor.

Final Essay (20%):

The final essay is an opportunity to engage any issue within Medieval Studies. However, each paper must relate to one section of the course, explicitly using the material provided during that section of the course. Essays may be as long as 20 pages (double-spaced) or as short as 15 pages, but not must exceed 25 pages. The papers are due December 11 by 5:00 pm. I'll be happy to meet with you later in the semester to talk about the topic of your paper. Moreover, this opportunity provides a chance to become published. Use this as an opportunity to engage issues or questions you might have concerning areas of philosophy, theology, history, or politics. I encourage you to ask a classmate or friend to read your essay offer you feedback and to use the services of the Writing Center.

Grading Scale per Divinity School Guidelines:

A (excellent) B (commendable) C (satisfactory) F (failure). Note: Pluses and minuses may be given at the discretion of the faculty member.