Vrede komt als Israël zich bekeert

(door Rein Visscher)

Zal de terugtrekking door Israël uit de Gazastrook en enkele nederzettingen op de westelijke Jordaanoever de vrede dichterbij brengen? Als we in de Bijbel de geschiedenis vanaf het begin lezen, krijgen we oog voor de strijd die tot op de dag van vandaag wordt gevoerd.

Er bestond een familievete tussen Izaïk en Ismaël, de twee halfbroers. Als Esau met Machalat, de dochter van Isma‰l, trouwt (Genesis 28 vers 9), wordt deze vete een strijd tussen de twee broers. En dan zien we deze vete zich uitbreiden tot de nakomelingen van Iza„k en Isma‰l, Jacob en Esau. Het volk Israël en de Arabische volkeren.

Deze strijd duurt nog steeds voort. Daarom is het zeer de vraag of de huidige maatregelen werkelijk tot vrede kunnen leiden. We zien immers, als we de Bijbel lezen, steeds weer dat vrede voor het volk Israël ervan afhangt, of het volk de Here dient of niet.

Als Israël de weg die de Here aanwijst, verlaat, komt er een periode van onrust en oorlog en geeft God het volk over in handen van de vijand. Maar wee de vijand die Israël dan onder de voet loopt. God straft die vijand, omdat die zich richt tegen zijn volk. Als Israël dan berouw krijgt van z'n zonden en zich bekeert, geeft God weer vrede.

Hier zien we, dat hoe Israël ook zondigt en zich van God afkeert, God zijn volk niet verstoot. De apostel Paulus is hier heel duidelijk over. In de hoofdstukken 9 t/m 11 van zijn brief aan de Romeinen geeft hij duidelijk aan wat de positie van Israël ook nu nog is.

Wij als christenen zullen de positie van het volk Israël anders moeten beoordelen dan vanuit politiek oogpunt.

Hoe kan dan vrede worden bereikt? Dat hangt ervan af, wat we onder vrede verstaan. De shalom die in de Bijbel bedoeld wordt, is in de eerste plaats vrede met God. Dan volgt voor het volk van God ook de vrede met elkaar.

Wat moet Israël dan doen? Zich bekeren. Hoe wordt die vrede bereikt? Als het volk Isra‰l, het Joodse volk, de God der vaderen weer gaat zoeken en uitkomt bij Messias Jezus en diens verlossingswerk gaat zien en aanvaarden.

We zien dat het aantal Messiasbelijders onder het Joodse volk langzaam groeiende is. We danken God daarvoor. Ook zijn er gemeenten die contacten uitoefenen met christen-Palestijnen. Een voorbeeld is de Beith Asaph-gemeente van David Loden in Nethanya. Zij bidden voor elkaar en bellen elkaar op als er aan beide zijden weer doden vallen.

Dat is een prachtig voorbeeld, hoe geloof in de Messias Yeshua deze volken verbindt.

Heeft de kerk, hebben wij als christenen een taak in dit 'Vredesproces'? Jazeker! De kerk zal bewust moeten worden gemaakt van de positie van Israël (het Joodse volk) ‚n van haar eigen positie. We moeten ons er in toenemende mate bewust van worden, dat wij als wilde takken tussen de eigen takken op de edele stam zijn geënt. Dat wij als gelovigen uit de heidenen door genade alleen deel hebben gekregen aan de saprijke wortel. Niet wij dragen de wortel, maar de wortel draagt ons (Romeinen 11 vers 11-24)!

Paulus schrijft schrijft in de tegenwoordige tijd. Deze zaak is ook nu nog actueel. Wees niet hoogmoedig, maar vrees!, zegt Paulus, ook nu nog tegen ons.

Belofte
We moeten daarom wegdoen alles wat ook maar enigszins riekt naar de 'vervangingstheologie'. Ook binnen de gereformeerde gezindte was dat een gangbare theorie, die nog steeds voorkomt. De kerk is niet in de plaats van Israël gekomen, maar tussen hen geënt. God maakt geen gedane zaak met Israël. Voor £ is de belofte, en voor uw kinderen en voor allen die verre zijn. Dit zegt Petrus (Handelingen 2 vers 39) tegen de Joden!

Hoe moeten we deze taak uitvoeren? Hen jaloers maken, door te laten zien wie Jezus, de Messias, is en wat het geloof in Hem en het aanvaarden van zijn verlossingswerk tot gevolg heeft. Niet eigenwijs en hoogmoedig, maar in grote verwondering.

Door hun struikelen en vallen in ongeloof kwam de weg vrij voor de heidenen tot Christus en tot God.

We moeten in de gezinnen en in de kerk veel bidden, dat het Joodse volk dit met verwondering zal gaan zien en zich zal bekeren. Dit gebed ontbrak tot nu toe nog veel te veel.

Dan alleen komt er vrede met God, en dan kan Israël ook in vrede wonen. Dat zien we de hele bijbel door. God heeft dat immers beloofd!

Rein Visscher is voorzitter van de Stichting ter bevordering van de evangelieverkondiging aan het Joodse volk (Stevaj) en lid van de Bat Tsion Commissie, die namens de Gereformeerde Kerken (vrijgemaakt) de evangelieverkondiging onder het Joodse volk behartigt.




©Nederlands Dagblad

Vrede op aarde?

Vrede op aarde?

Wat gebeuren er toch vreselijke dingen in de wereld. Misschien is dat altijd al zo geweest, maar met de moderne communicatie-middelen wordt je er wel met de neus bovenop gedrukt. En vaak vraag je je machteloos af waar dat toch allemaal goed voor is. Zal daar nu nooit eens een eind aan komen?

Natuurlijk zijn er nog steeds mensen die geloven dat dit allemaal nodig is voor de vooruitgang. Die gaan er vanuit dat er niet alleen een evolutie is in de natuur, maar ook in de maatschappij. En net als in de natuur de sterke dieren de zwakke op moeten ruimen, zijn al die conflicten en oorlogen in de wereld nodig om te groeien naar een ideale, klassenloze samenleving.
Maar na zo'n tachtig jaar ervaring met deze visie in het Oostblok, is het geloof in deze theorie wat op z'n retour. Toch zijn er nog heel wat die ondanks alles blijven vasthouden aan hun ideaal. Ze hebben nog steeds een sterk vertrouwen dat het ooit nog eens zo ver zal komen.

Maar weet je, eigenlijk is dat nog niets vergeleken bij al die mensen die tijdens de kerstdagen weer uit volle borst "vrede op aarde" zitten te zingen! Wat dacht je daarvan?! Die bakken het nog veel bruiner! Die geloven al tweeduizend jaar dat dat nog eens gaat gebeuren! Vrede op aarde! Nou, dan moet je wel oogkleppen voor hebben en je verstand op nul zetten om dat nog serieus te nemen! Na tweeduizend jaar christendom is die vrede op aarde nog steeds ver te zoeken! Je moet toch wel een bord voor je kop hebben om daar nog in te geloven.

Toch moeten we hier even een hardnekkig misverstand uit de weg ruimen. Kijk, het marxisme leerde dat de mens gebruik moest maken van de wetten van de evolutie in de maatschappij. Dan zou er binnen afzienbare tijd een klassenloze maatschappij ontstaan en zou er vrede zijn. Maar wist je dat Jezus precies het tegenovergestelde verkondigde? Hij had het helemaal niet over vrede! Ik zal je even voorlezen wat hij 2000 jaar geleden zei over de toekomst van de wereld en over de tijd waarin we nu leven.

"Pas op", zei Hij, "dat je je niet laat misleiden. Want velen zullen in mijn naam komen en zeggen: 'Ik ben het', en 'de tijd is nabij!'. Loopt hen niet na. En wanneer jullie horen spreken van oorlogen en omwentelingen, schrikt er niet van, want dit alles moet eerst gebeuren, maar het einde komt niet zo spoedig. Volk zal opstaan tegen volk, en koninkrijk tegen koninkrijk, en er zullen geweldige aardbevingen zijn, en op verschillende plaatsen pestziekten en hongersnoden en schrikwekkende dingen en grote tekenen vanuit de hemel. Ja, er zullen tekenen zijn aan zon, maan en sterren, en op de aarde doodsangst onder de volken, radeloos door het het gedruis van de zee en de branding.
En de mensen zullen vergaan van vrees voor wat er met de wereld gaat gebeuren, want de krachten der aarde zullen worden geschokt ……"

Ja, dat is wel even wat anders dan "Vrede op aarde!" Dat is precies het tegenovergestelde! Maar hoe komen ze er dan in hemelsnaam bij om elk jaar vrede op aarde te zingen met Kerst?! Dat slaat dan toch nergens op?

Ik weet ook niet precies hoe de maker van dat bekende kerstlied aan die woorden kwam: Vrede op aarde, in de mensen een welbehagen. Misschien was de wens de moeder van de gedachte. Vrede op aarde en in de mensen een welbehagen, dat was best fijn om over te zingen. Maar kloppen doet het niet helemaal.

Maar staat de tekst van dat lied dan niet in de Bijbel?! Daarin staat toch, dat er naar aanleiding van de geboorte van Jezus zoiets door de engelen werd gezongen? Nee hoor. Het lijkt er alleen een beetje op. Nee, volgens de Bijbel werd er het volgende gezongen: "Ere zij God in de hoge en vrede op aarde onder de mensen van goede wil!"

Vrede op aarde onder de mensen van goede wil. Daar ging het over: dat er vrede zou komen voor iedereen die van goede wil was. En die vrede is er al die eeuwen daarna geweest. Dat is een vrede die niet afhankelijk is van de omstandigheden. Een vrede in je hart. Als je die vrede hebt, dan ervaar je ook een diepe vrede met al die anderen die dat geheim ook hebben ontdekt. Ja, er is vrede op aarde onder de mensen van goede wil. En die vrede hebben ze ondanks de dingen die er om hen heen gebeuren.

Weet je, vaak geven we de omstandigheden de schuld als we in de problemen zitten en geen vrede hebben van binnen. Natuurlijk spelen de omstandigheden een grote rol. Maar als je geluk moet afhangen van de omstandigheden, wel, dan hangt je geluk wel aan een zijden draadje. Want de omstandigheden heb je niet in de hand. En die zullen er ook niet beter op worden volgens Jezus Christus.

Daarom is het zo belangrijk dat je het geheim ontdekt van een vrede van binnen die niet afhankelijk is van de dingen die om je heen gebeuren.

Maar al die oorlogen dan? Zal daar dan nooit een eind aan komen? Nee, zonder de vrede die Jezus geeft, komt daar nooit een eind aan. Want al die grote oorlogen en conflicten zijn een optelsom van alle kleine oorlogjes en conflicten bij iedereen van binnen. Als daar geen eind aan komt, dan blijft het dweilen met de kraan open.

Kijk maar naar wat er gebeurde nadat de muur viel. Eerst dachten we allemaal dat er nu wel een tijd van vrede zou aanbreken. Nou, mooi niet hoor. Toen begon het bloedvergieten pas.

Nee, echte vrede begint niet in het groot en aan de buitenkant. Echte vrede begint in je hart. Je wil moet veranderen, die moet goed worden, zodat je plezier krijgt in de dingen die goed zijn en een hekel krijgt aan de dingen die niet deugen. En dat gebeurt wanneer je Jezus Christus uitnodigt in je leven.

God heeft nog steeds geduld met de wereld. Hij hoopt om zo te zeggen nog steeds dat de mensen de mogelijkheid zullen aangrijpen om die echte vrede te ontvangen. Maar de prijs van zijn geduld is wel vreselijk hoog. Dat kunnen we dag in dag uit zien op TV en in de krant. Dat kan niet lang meer duren. Daarom zeggen we wel eens: Als er nu toch een God is van liefde hè, dan moet Hij toch eens een keer ingrijpen. Nou, dat gaat een keer gebeuren. Dan is de maat vol. Dan komt Jezus terug.

Dan komt er vrede op aarde omdat hij dan iedereen uit de wereld zal gaan verwijderen die die echte vrede niet wilde ……

Alleen zitten we nu nog met dat bekende kerstlied. Wat moeten we daarmee? Kunnen we dat nu niet meer zingen? Ja hoor. Als we dan maar bedenken dat die vrede alleen maar daar is waar Jezus de leiding heeft, hetzij nu in je hart, hetzij straks over de hele aarde als Hij teruggekomen is.

ON BEING A CONTEMPORARY CHRISTIAN

"WHAT is bothering me is the question what Christianity really is, or indeed who Christ really is, for us today." So wrote the young Lutheran Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer from his Berlin prison cell in April 1944, one year before he was executed by the SS for complicity in the plots against Hitler's life. It is a question that today — for more complicated reasons — concerns countless thousands of churchgoers, who see about them a Christianity in the midst of change, confusion and disarray.
For Roman Catholics, the religious revolution set loose by the Second Vatican Council has changed many traditional patterns of worship and thought, and seemingly unleashed a legion of priests, nuns and laymen who feel free to cast doubt on every article of defined dogma. Protestants too have been stunned by the spectacle of an Episcopal bishop openly denying the Trinity and the Virgin Birth, and ordained ministers teaching in seminaries proclaiming the news that God is dead. On the theological right, evangelical preachers summon believers back to a strict Biblical orthodoxy; on the left, angry young activists insist that to be a Christian is to be a revolutionary, and propose to substitute picket lines for prayer.
It is not really surprising that the churches should be sounding uncertain trumpets, or that Christians should be insecure as to the meaning and direction of their spiritual commitment. Undeniably, one of the most telling events of modern history has been a revolution in the relationship of religion to Western civilization. The churchgoer could once take comfort in the fact that he belonged to what was essentially a Christian society, in which the existence of an omnipotent God was the focus of ultimate meaning. No such security exists today, in a secular-minded culture that suggests the eclipse rather than the presence of God.
Science and technology have long since made it unnecessary to posit a creative Deity as a hypothesis to explain anything in the universe. From Marxists, existentialists and assorted humanists has come the persistent message that the idea of God is an intellectual bogy that prevents man from claiming his mature heritage of freedom. In the U.S., which probably has a higher percentage of regular Sunday churchgoers than any other nation on earth, the impact of organized Christianity appears to be on the wane. One problem for the future of the churches is the indifference and even hostility toward them on the part of the young. Even those drawn to the person of Christ chafe against outmoded rules, irrelevant sermons, dogmas that apparently have no personal meaning to a generation struggling to understand themselves, to grapple with such concrete issues as sex and social injustice.
Also a Man
Undeniably, one major task of theology today is to define what it means to be a Christian in a secular society. For millions, of course, there is no real problem. Baptism and church membership are the external criteria of faith, and a true follower of Jesus is one who keeps his beliefs free from heresy and tries to live a decent, upright, moral life. Yet to the most thoughtful spokesmen of modern Christianity, these criteria are not only minimal, they are secondary and even somewhat irrelevant. Instead, they argue that faith is not an intellectual assent to a series of dogmatic propositions but a commitment of one's entire being; ethical concern is directed not primarily toward one's own life but toward one's neighbor and the world. The mortal sins, in this new morality, are not those of the flesh but those of society; more important than the evil man does to himself is the evil he does to his fellow man. "The Christian's role is to bear witness to God in man," says Jesuit Clinical Psychologist Carlo Weber. "Jesus Christ is the wedding of the divine and the human. Being a Christian for me means bearing witness to the wedding of divinity and humanity, to love God and man—to be involved, therefore, in human affairs."
Although the churches have always taught that Christ was both God and man, Christians have hardly ever seemed to accept his humanity. Historically, preaching has emphasized the Risen Christ, who sits at the right hand of God, and will come in glory to the Last Judgment. This is a basic premise of faith, but it is equally true that Jesus was emphatically a man — a lowly carpenter who walked the earth of Palestine at a specific moment in human history, and whose death fulfilled Isaiah's prophesy of the Suffering Servant. Jesus, as Bonhoeffer memorably put it, was "the man for others."
Summing up his message to man, Jesus asked his followers to love God, and "thy neighbor as thyself." For centuries, Christians have seemed to emphasize the first of those commands—and all too frequently, when there was a conflict between the two, it was love of man that went by the boards. But Biblical scholars point out that the New Testament is a very secular book, and there is an unmistakable social concern in Jesus' moral teachings. In Matthew 23, for example, Jesus condemns as hypocrites the scribes and Pharisees who ostentatiously tithe their possessions but neglect "the weightier matters of the law, justice and mercy and faith."
Christian & Atheist
There is nothing fundamentally new about the insight that Christian ethics are corporate rather than individualistic. The medieval monasteries, for example, were dedicated to serving their communities as well as to praising God in communal prayer; the Mennonites and Quakers have always emphasized brotherly love and peace rather than dogma. The difference is that theologians now take it for granted that Christian love is something that cannot be confined to the church but is directed toward all the world. The commitment of a man who follows Jesus is not to an institution, but to life itself.
Within the churches, there is considerably less agreement on how this commitment should be exercised. Christian radicals — such as the young firebrands who dominated the National Council of Churches' Conference on Church and Society in Detroit last fall — argue that the true follower of Jesus is the revolutionary, siding with forces and events that seek to overthrow established disorder. On the other hand, Protestant Theologian Hans-Joachim Margull of Hamburg University points out that it is not always so easy to identify the secular causes that Christians have a clear moral duty to support.
It is easy enough to argue that Christians have a God-given duty to work for racial equality, or for the eradication of hunger and disease in the world. The strategies to be followed in achieving these goals do not so easily acquire universal assent. For that reason, Dean Jerald Brauer of the University of Chicago Divinity School argues that churches should not necessarily be engaged in trying to hand down specific solutions to social and political problems from the pulpit. Christian creativity in trying to solve these questions, he says, "won't be a case of the churches poking their noses into areas where they have no right to be. Churches may have no special answers, although they certainly have a responsibility to sensitize their people to the questions. But the answers will have to be worked out by the body politic."
What this means, in essence, is that a commitment to love in worldly life cannot be separated from faith in Christ, who demanded that commitment. One argument against trying to build Christianity on moral action alone is that Jesus' teachings, unlike those of, say, Confucius, make sense only when understood as counsels of perfection in obedience to God rather than as workable guidelines of behavior. The Rev. David H. C. Read, pastor of Manhattan's Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church, points out that in facing many problems of life the behavior of the Christian and the humanist might well be identical. Bertrand Russell and the Archbishop of Canterbury, for example, could equably serve on the same committee to improve housing. "The distinction is not in their action," Read argues. "It is in their motivation and ultimate conviction on the meaning of life." This suggests that the committed Christian who is immersed in the secular world will also be to some extent an anonymous Christian; his light will still shine before the world, but it will not be so easily identified.
Since faith is the reason for commitment, most churchmen regard the idea of a "Christian atheist" or a "Christian agnostic" as something of a contradiction in terms. "I can't see how it is possible to be a Christian atheist," says Episcopal Bishop James A. Pike, who has been accused of being just that by some of his fellow clerics. "You cannot attack the idea of an ultimate and at the same time accept Jesus as an ultimate." Swiss Catholic Theologian Hans Kiing points out that "Jesus had no sense of himself without God. He made it clear that his radical commitment to men presupposed a radical commitment to God."
Nonetheless, theologians also acknowledge that only God is the final judge of who can rightly be considered a Christian. Austrian Jesuit Theologian Karl Rahner, for example, suggests that there is today "an invisible Christianity which does indeed possess the justification of sanctifying grace from God. A man belonging to this invisible Christianity may deny his Christianity or maintain that he does not know whether he is a Christian or not. Yet God may have chosen him in grace." Similarly, the late Protestant theologian Paul Tillich contrasted the "manifest church" of confessed believers with what he called the "latent church," whose membership included all men engaged with the ultimate realities of life.
The Decline of Dogma
Since faith is primarily a way of life rather than a creed to be so proclaimed, it is not something that can be reduced to an articulated set of principles. In an age of ecumenical breakthrough and doctrinal pluralism, sectarian particularities of belief seem largely irrelevant and even a little quaint. What is important is not the doctrine of predestination, for example, but the mystery of man's relationship to God that lies behind it. A Christian must accept the Incarnation — but there is room for differing interpretations of Jesus' unique relationship to God. The Resurrection is, as the Apostle Paul insisted, the cornerstone of faith; but how one defines this unique defiance of death is of less moment.
Even in the Roman Catholic Church, which has traditionally upheld the immutability of dogma, there is widespread recognition by theologians that all formulas of faith are man's frail and imperfect vessels for carrying God's truth, and are forever in need of reformulation. In the light of Christianity's need to respond to the human needs of the earth, many of these ancient formulas hardly seem worth rethinking. "The central axis of religious concern," notes Langdon Gilkey of the University of Chicago Divinity School, "has shifted from matters of ultimate 'salvation,' and of heaven or hell, to questions of the meaning, necessity, or usefulness of religion for this life." In other words, the theological task is to justify Christianity in this world — and let God take care of the next.
The faith commitment of the Christian also implies the need for allegiance to a church — or at least to some kind of community of faith. Theoretically, it may be possible for a Christian to survive without any institutional identity — but the majority of modern theologians would agree that to be "a man for others" there must be others to be with, and that faith is sustained by communal structure. Churchmen would also argue that there is nothing obsolete about the basic necessity for worship and prayer. "Liturgy must be an expression of something that is happening in the community," says the Rev. David Kirk, a Melchite Catholic priest who is founder of a unique interfaith center in Manhattan called Emmaus House. "Without worship, the community is a piece of rubbish." On the other hand, there is little doubt that the churches are in desperate need of new, this worldly liturgies that reflect present needs rather than past glories.
A Band of Soul Brothers
While a church — in the sense of a community — may be necessary for a viable Christian life, institutional or denominational churches are not. Today it would be hard to find an atheist whose criticism of religion is any more vociferous than the attack on the irrelevance, stagnation and non utility of organized christendom offered by its adherents. "Christianity is like a trip," muses Episcopal Bishop Edward Crowther, a Fellow of the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions at Santa Barbara, Calif. "The church is like a travel agent with a lot of pictures in her office describing what it's like. But either she's never been there, or was there so long ago that she doesn't remember what it was all about."
Methodist Theologian Van Harvey suggests that the church should not be "a place where men come to be more pious. The church is a place of edification, where one comes to learn to be an honest-to-God person living in dialogue with others." Despite all the yearning for spirituality that may exist in the average Modern church, it is questionable how many churchgoers can and do live up to this ideal. The stratified irrelevance of the established parish, whether Catholic or Protestant, is a major reason for the growth of what Episcopal Chaplain Malcolm Boyd has dubbed "the underground church"—informal, ad hoc gatherings of Christians who cross over and above denominational lines to celebrate improvised Eucharists in each other's homes, and study Scripture or theology together.
To some theologians, the emergence of this underground church is a sign of spiritual health, a harbinger of renewal. To be sure, there is the possibility that these unstructured groups might coalesce into a new kind of gnostic sect — an elect that considers itself set apart from the erring mass of nominal believers. On the other hand, there is the far greater danger that institutional Christianity, without an extraordinary amount of reform, will end up as a monumental irrelevancy. Faced with a choice between the church in its present form and the underground cell, it is likely that a majority of Christian thinkers would opt for the small, unstructured community as a likely model for the future. Jesus never explicitly said that all men would be converted to believe in his word. Far more meaningful is his image of his followers as the "salt of the earth" and "the light of the world" — similes suggesting that the status of Christianity, until God's final reckoning, is properly that of a band of soul brothers rather than a numberless army.
Despite the visible health and prosperity of existing denominations, there is a considerable number of future oriented theologians who feel that the church, in large parts of the world, is entering a stage of Diaspora when, like Judaism, it will survive in the form of a scattered few, the hidden remnant. Strangely enough, there are any number of Christians who rejoice at this prospect rather than fear it. This is not because they want to see the fainthearted and the half convinced drift away into unbelief. Rather, they prefer that the choice of being Christian once again become openly, as Kierkegaard puts it, a leap of faith, an adult decision to serve as one of God's pilgrims on the road of life.
It is conceivable that Christianity is heading toward an era in which its status will be akin to that of the despised minority who proclaimed faith in the one God against the idolatry of the Roman Empire. To be sure, the Christian burden in the future will be different from that of the past: less to proclaim Jesus by word than to follow him in deed and loving service. It may prove a perilous course, but the opportunity is great: the courage and zeal of that first despised minority changed the history of the world.

Semantic Encoding of the Hebrew Text

Hebrew Syntax Encoding Initiative Working Papers, no 96.4
revised draft no. 2

* * *

Contents

1. Introduction

Part I: Assignment of Semantic Functions
1. Source of Function Labels and Initial Characterizations
2. Lexical Rules (Verbal Case Frames)
3. Formal Rules

Part II: Critical Consideration of the Semantic Encoding Scheme
4. Adequacy of Scheme
5. Redundancy and Decomposition

* * *

1. Introduction

1.1 The working paper HSEIWP96.2, ""Theory-Neutral" Syntactic
Tagging of the Text," presents a brief outline of the encoding
scheme and indicates the theorizing behind it. This paper,
HSEIWP96.4, is the sister of HSEIWP96.3, "On the Syntactic
Encoding of the Text," which examines choices in implementation
of phrase-structure parsing and assignment of syntactic case. It
was thought useful to separate out the semantic case or
"functions" for independent consideration here in HSEIWP96.4.

1.2 These three working papers, together with the independent
work by Kirk Lowery, HSEIWP96.1, which introduces the Encoding
project and its goals, constitute a basic documentation package
to accompany the HSEI texts, initially of Jonah with the four
books of Samuel-Kings to follow.

Part I: Assignment of Semantic Functions

1. Source of Function Labels and Initial Characterizations

1.1 To date, the source of the semantic tags has been Kirk
Lowery's paper, "The Role of Semantics in the Adequacy of
Syntactic Models of Biblical Hebrew," pp. 101-128 in Bible and
Computer: Desk and Discipline: The Impact of Computers in Bible
Studies: Proceedings of the Fourth International Colloquium of
the Association Internationale Bible et Informatique (AIBI),
Amsterdam, 15-18 August 1994 (Travaux de Linguistique
Quantitative, no. 57; Paris: Honore Champion, 1995):

agent
benefactive
experiencer
goal
instrument
location
patient
percept (with experiencer)
recipient
source
theme

circumstance
comitative
direction
duration
frequency
cause
manner
path
purpose
quality
time
reason

1.2 This scheme appears to strike a balance between fine- and
coarse-grained approaches to Biblical Hebrew semantic functions.
The goal is to apply the labels in a consistent fashion so that
they can be easily manipulated by the discrimating functionalist
scholar.

1.3 In initial attempts to tag Jonah and fragments of other
texts, the semantic roles where the most difficult to assign
confidently and systematically. I have adopted a series of formal
rules to aid the encoder in this more difficult area of tagging,
which are now outlined. It is hoped that such rules might be
developed into lexical "features" of verbs; and that such a
lexicon could be invoked in the envisioned unification-based
parsing of the text.

2. Lexical Rules (Verbal Case Frames)

2.1 Verbs of Motion. The theme tag is reserved here
strictly for the constituent in motion; this may be the argument
of the verb, e.g., hlk, or independently motivated by
prepositions such as el "to." The theme may be the subject ;
or the object , in which case the subject is the agent .
There are therefore two schemas. Here as elsewhere the question
of the redundancy of the syntactic case assignment arises.

(a)
|


(b)
| |


2.2 Verbs of Cognition. The paired functions "experiencer"
and "percept" are reserved for verbs of cognition. It
is expected that typically will be associated with the
subject position .

2.3 Verbs of Speech. These verbs are not assigned semantic-
functional labels, only for speaker, for content, and
for the addressee.

2.4 Verbs of Exchange. Under the interpretation of "theme"
adopted, i.e., the constituent in motion, that which is exchanged
is analyzed as a theme. The subject will necessarily be an agent
. The goal is marked "recipient" and associated with
dative assignment . In summary, verbs of exchange pattern
similarly to verbs of motion.

3. Formal Rules

3.1 Purpose is automatically assigned to the headed by

l- "to" which in turn governs the .

3.2 Why/Reason is assigned to the ki- as default. The

9al "on" in 9al ken "therefore" automatically triggers .
The complex construction with be-$el-l-mi is assigned as
well.

3.3

s are assigned as a default.

3.4 A headed by ka'a$er triggers "manner."

3.5 The

9al triggers by stipulation in its sense of
"versus."

3.6 The

9im "with" is assigned .

Part II: Critical Consideration of the Semantic Encoding Scheme

4. Adequacy of Scheme

4.1 The scheme as applied to the text of Jonah does not present
any insurmountable difficulties. Nevertheless, scholars using the
database would be well advised to consider the slipperiness of
the semantics in working with the results of searches.

4.2 It seems unlikely that the full range of semantic tags would
be required for automated parsing. However, there is the question
of the relative order of verbal modifiers; and the more fine-
grained scheme here should facilitate testing hypotheses in this
domain.

5. Redundancy and Decomposition

5.1 Redundancy and the Lexicon. There appears to be a great deal
of redundancy at the lexical level. Individual

s appear to be
redundantly associated with semantic tags, e.g., the

9im
"with" and the function "comitative." Such observations
extend to the arguments of verbs as noted in section 2 above.
Given the verb is, e.g., yd9 "to know," the subject is
redundantly tagged "experiencer."

5.2 Such observations, however, hold out hope for automated
tagging. Lexical entries could in some fashion bear semantic
"features" that could be used in assigning semantic "functions."

5.3 Consideration of a lexicon and its structure suggests that
many of the semantic-function labels are not "primitives" but are
subject to decomposition. The label "purpose," e.g., appears
to be a function of a particular

, l- "to" as noted in section
3 above.

5.4 Such considerations suggest that groups might be related
systematically at a more primitive level. No doubt "time,"
"duration," and "frequency" could be so related;
indeed, may be the primitive, the others derived by
composition.

5.5 The basic suggestion is that individual heads introduce
semantic features into representations by virtue of their lexical
representations. These features can percolate and interact with
features and syntactic configurations to produce the ultimate
assignment of "function" to a given .

5.6 An example might be the assignment of "time" to bre$it
in Genesis 1:1. Under the null hypothesis, b- "in" might be
assigned by default, but otherwise remain unmarked. On the
other hand, re$it will bring with it the feature by virtue
of its semantic lexical entry. The proposal can be graphically
represented in (a) and (b).

(a) variables in < > (b) variables bound by

PP < > PP
/ \ / \
P NP < > --> P NP
| | | |
b- < > N b- N
| |
re$it re$it

De Mens - Metafoor

(Beth HaMidrash)

In de discussie, Goddelijke relativiteit ten opzichte van het Universum, is de favoriete metafoor van de mystici (ook vele filosofen) de analogie tot de mens. Theologische concepten en de G`D-wereld verhouding, zijn vaak uitgelegd in termen van ziel-lichaam verhouding, en in het bijzonder met de vergelijking van de verschillende ziel-gaven, hun eigenschappen, functies en manifestaties. De ‘bewijstekst’ voor dit taalgebruik is het vers ‘Vanuit mijn vlees voorzie ik G`D’ (Job 19:26) en de Rabbijnse analogie “Juist zoals de ziel doordringt het hele lichaam. ziet maar is niet gezien……ondersteund het hele lichaam…..is zuiver…..verblijft in de binnenste omgeving……is uniek in het lichaam….doet niet eten noch drinken…..geen mens weet waar zijn plaats is…… Dat de Heilige die Een is, geprezen zij Hij…” Ook dit in bepaalde zin volgt het bovengenoemde principe van een ‘aards-bovennatuurlijke overeenkomst’.

Maar zelfs als tijdelijk begrippen van de ziel behulpzaam zijn om kwesties te begrijpen die gerelateerd zijn aan het Goddelijke, dan is dit maar een antropomorfistische benadering welke niet te ver mag gaan, zo nodig beperkt.

Het moet onthouden worden, zoals R. Schneur Zalman karakteriseert, dat in sommige opzichten de analogie instort en compleet ontoereikend is: “Deze parallel is alleen ter bevrediging van het oor. In werkelijk echter, heeft de analogie geen enkele overeenkomst tot het vergelijkbare oogmerk. Want de menselijke ziel… is geaffecteerd door de accidenten van het lichaam en zijn pijn. terwijl de Heilige die Een is, geprezen zij Hij, niet, de Hemel verbied, is geaffecteerd door de accidenten van de wereld en zijn veranderingen, noch door de wereld zelf; zij bewerkstelligen geen enkele verandering in HEM…..”. Evenzo, “De ziel en het lichaam zijn in werkelijkheid verschillend van elkaar, van uit hun absoluut bron gezien, want de bron van het lichaam en zijn essentie komen niet in tot– zijn–vanuit de ziel…”. Dus terwijl het lichaam volledig ondergeschikt mag zijn aan de ziel, zijn er, niettegenstaande, twee verschillende entiteiten. In contrast, “in relatie tot De Heilige die een is, geprezen zij Hij, die alles tot existentie brengt ex nihilo, is alles absoluut genullificeerd, net zoals het licht van de zon is genullificeerd in de zon zelf”. M.a.w. licht is niets vergeleken tot zijn bron.

Book Review: Writing Genres

Writing Genres, by Amy J. Devitt. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2004.

Reviewed by Mary Buchinger Bodwell, Massachusetts College of Pharmacy and Health Sciences.

***

Devitt examines the development of rhetorical genre theory over the past twenty years, illustrating the value of a user-based definition of genre. In her analysis, genres are dynamic and shaped by the tension between paired elements including multiplicity and standardization, variation and regularity, stability and flexibility, the individual and society.

***

In the first chapter of Writing Genres, Amy Devitt tells the reader that this work “examines, interprets, illustrates, elaborates, critiques, refines, and extends a rhetorical theory of genre” (2). This volume accomplishes all it promises, more or less. With a focus on the first half of this set of verbs, Writing Genres is more a concise and comprehensive synthesis of the work that has been done in genre theory in the last twenty years than it is a critique or extension of the theory.

Citing the seminal work of rhetorical theorists Karlyn Kohrs Cambell, Kathleen Hall Jamieson, and Carolyn Miller, Devitt describes the shift from critic- and scholar-driven definitions of genres to user-based definitions. She argues against reducing genre to a classification system, which limits the pool of objects for analysis to fairly static forms. As she points out, not only does this discount the wide range of variation within genres but, more damagingly, it decontextualizes the text. Devitt maintains that regarding genre as a classification or a form entails circularity—the definition of a text’s genre depends on the text’s classification or formal features and the classification or form of the text depends on the genre’s definition. On the other hand, a rhetorical theory of genre focuses less on the features of a text and much more on its social context, rhetorical purposes, and themes; in other words, users define genres.

Devitt unpacks Miller’s definition of genre: “typified rhetorical actions based in recurrent situations,” and explains that a situation is a social construct and is integrally bound up with genre in a dynamic, reciprocal relationship. Genre, essentially a functional activity, responds to the rhetorical demands of a situation, but it resists the determinism such an economy of supply and demand might impose. Devitt quotes Bakhtin’s observation that there is no first speaker; all texts are intertextual and, perhaps, intercontextual as well. Devitt asserts that genre is a nexus of situation, culture, and other genres which has an impact on the actions of writers and readers. Although the idea of meaningful human activity being both constituted and constitutive is certainly not new, Devitt more intriguingly suggests that “[g]enre allows us to particularize context while generalizing individual action” (30).

In her analysis of genres in social settings, Devitt proposes six principles: Genres are generated in and dependent upon the activity of people in groups; genres are ideological as well as situational, and function in multiple ways; the social functions of a genre may sometimes be recognizable only by members of the group in which the genre developed; genres interact with each other, and finally, a genre “reflects, constructs, and reinforces the values, epistemology, and power relationships of the group from which it developed and for which it functions…” (63-64). Devitt advocates for a view of discourse communities as both constructed by and generative of discourse practices. Furthermore, she wants to broaden the definitions of social groupings in relation to genres. In her discussion of Swales’ work, Devitt is critical of the limited range of social structures and communities he considers appropriate for study. For Devitt, commonalities in goals and purposes trump commonalities in discourses or genres. In examining individual participation in numerous communities, she focuses on the shifting of identity and motives as an individual moves through various communities; however, she fails to discuss the co-construction of groups and individuals and the ways in which communities differentially evoke individual potentialities or respond to individual participation.

Devitt illustrates the principles of the social nature of genres with her 1986 analysis of texts generated by tax accountants. These accountants self-identified a variety of different types of writing they do in their work. Devitt analyzed the texts for similarities in rhetorical situations and in linguistic features; not surprisingly, she found both differences and commonalities in the genres across individuals and across firms. Devitt also provides a number of examples of the dynamic nature of genres and how they reflect shifts in situational contexts and cultural and rhetorical purposes. Her discussion of Kitzhaber’s work on the history of composition is especially fascinating in light of current debate over the relevance and effectiveness of expository writing classes. Devitt uses this history to illustrate the tension between flexibility and stability—each is necessary for the survival of a genre but each is also capable of killing off a genre (i.e., a genre that is too loosely defined is as vulnerable as genre that is too rigidly defined). Each extreme has threatened the viability of composition courses in the academy. Her discussion of her own study, Standardizing Written English: Diffusion in the Case of Scotland, illustrates a number of the principles of genre change. However, penciled in the margin of my copy of Writing Genres are the questions “audience? purpose?” “education level?”—in this discussion, she has seemingly overlooked major elements of her own construction of genre.

Devitt also explores the ways in which genres provide authors with “creative boundaries” and describes artistic responses to generic constraints. Unfortunately, as is the case throughout the book, the emphasis is more on theory (in this case, creativity theory) than on practice. In another chapter, Devitt compares literary and rhetorical genres, identifying significant differences in who defines and who uses genres. Citing Rosmarin’s work, she notes that literary genre theorists tend to privilege the reader, particularly the critic, whereas rhetorical genre theorists privilege the writer. This tendency is reflected in the goals that drive their respective work. Literary genre theorists look for texts that break generic rules, focusing on the particularities of individual texts, whereas rhetorical genre theorists are more concerned with the ways in which texts bear generic similarities and conform to identifiable genre constraints. Yet, she notes both view genre as constructed and constructive; both are interested in questions of universality and persistence of relevance. In identifying similarities between the two, Devitt may be taking some chances, as well as opening doors for possible interchange.

The most provocative chapter in the book is Devitt’s proposal to raise students’ awareness of genre. Writing mostly in response to Freedman’s critique of explicit teaching of genre (which is focused on second language pedagogy), Devitt suggests that rather than being instructed in the particular features of specific genres, students should be taught the process of acquiring a new genre. She argues that strategies for acquiring a genre could serve students well in all linguistic contexts. Explicit teaching of genre, rather than implicit teaching through immersion, has the advantage of allowing students access to the construction of genres and, likewise, to their ideologies. Students should be instructed to consider the rhetorical form of a text and take into account the context, audience, and purpose. For example, Devitt’s students examine a variety of texts, such as newspaper wedding announcements and catalogue course descriptions, and determine who the audience is, what the author’s purposes might be, and what recurring features they notice. She also has students consider alternative ways of accomplishing the same purpose, or additional information that might have been included. Like awareness of differences in register, awareness of differences in genres can possibly lead to greater control and can position students to be more purposeful in their use of language. Devitt argues that students can begin to build a repertoire of genres along with a sense of the rhetorical demands of a particular situation. This argument serves both as her response to scholars who have called into question the transferability of writing skills from first year composition to disciplinary writing as well as her rationalization for the maintenance of first-year writing courses.

Devitt presents a theory of genre built on the tension between paired elements such as multiplicity and standardization, variation and regularity, stability and flexibility, the diachronic and synchronic, the individual and society. The tension along these various continua lends genres their dynamic character. Unfortunately, there are some gaps in the survey of the literature—Duranti, Gee, Goodwin, Gumperz, Ochs, and other key figures are missing from the discussion of genre in relation to context and discourse communities. However, Devitt does not claim to have written the ultimate volume on genre, and she issues calls for further research to validate and expand the theory. Most significantly for the further development of an interdisciplinary approach to genre analysis, she voices a strong and consistent call for the reintegration of content and form, text and context.

A literatura e o contemporâneo

O que dizer da produção literária estabelecida em 1997 para que a partir dela se possa pensar o ano de 1998? Pensar o que, minimamente, tenha ou carregue caraterística própria para receber o nome de literatura; ou seja, originalidade. Mas pensar apenas assim pode ser pouco. Literatura, para a originalidade, vai sempre precisar de história, precisar de referência, precisar, principalmente, de uma dimensão formal do que ficou aparentemente pronto como ‘obra de arte literária’.

Em literatura - está em Tonio Kroeger, livro curto e um dos mais geniais de Thomas Mann, quando a personagem homônima afirma em uma conversa com sua amiga Lisavieta, e ensina: “A literatura não é profissão alguma, e sim uma maldição.” -, esta maldição maravilhosa, só se pode/deve discutir qualidade, formação de estética, preservação e registro. Literatura de verdade não vende, nunca deixou ninguém nadando em dinheiro e “é muito bom que não venda”, diz Leminski. Este nosso tempo é que quer pensar a literatura como comércio, como necessidade orçamentária, já que tudo ficou fácil, fácil demais até. Mas não pode ser comércio o que é apenas um sutil prazer para o diletante. Mais adiante Kroeger afirma: “Ah! sim, a literatura cansa, Lisavieta.”

O fato é que, cansada, a literatura tornou-se apenas mais uma entre tantas manifestações culturais. Perdeu a sua hegemonia, virou princípio participativo e foi aboca hando outra fatia deste pequeno bolo qualitativo através de um diálogo maior.Ponto normal se pensarmos isso diante da abertura pós-moderna, ou como queiram nomear essa reviravolta normativa. O outro ponto, anormal, seria pensar a literatura como resistência para a descompostura estética que vive a contemporaneidade.

A suposta abertura para o heterogêneo, chamada de pós-modernidade, não significa abastardamento. Logo, a verdadeira literatura não pode ser resistência. Esta abertura apenas permite que o diálogo intercontextual seja intensificado e estabeleça novas regras de andamento para qualquer predisposição de arte. A literatura, senhora de si, essencialmente, tenta manter os seus velhos leitores e trazer o anti-leitor - este, natural deste tempo, que é empiricamente fascinado pelo som e pela imagem -, para perto. Tudo muito tranqüilamente.

A narrativa que se pretende contemporânea, com total garantia do caráter literário, é feita sob a égide desse vulto heterogêneo que é a grande cidade. “O mundo é, hoje, todo, este oxímoro: uma ampliação reduzida: uma grande cidade.” Daí ficar impossibilitada qualquer pretensão criativa que traduza esta época e seja ao mesmo tempo voltada apenas para o regional, para uma literatura nacional, presa dentro de pequenas fronteiras, daqui ou de qualquer lugar. Pensar a literatura hoje, seria pensá-la de uma forma pós-nacional para que não seja tomada como entidade inexistente.

Outro fato é: por mais incalculável que seja a quantidade de livros que pipocam por aí sem contribuição nenhuma, sem valor de classificação, o que de melhor se produz em arte neste país ainda é no plano literário. Temos uma produção de poesia - que é qualitativamente muito boa - e uma outra de narrativas - menor, mas também interessante - que buscam exatamente o conceito estabelecido por Bhabha: “De muitos, um.” Do heterogêneo, a essencialidade. E hoje, é neste conceito de essencialidade múltipla que sustenta-se a literatura, na desleitura. E não dialogando com o que ainda quer ser nacional, cheio de penduricalhos tradicionais.

Semantic Minimalism and Nonindexical Contextualism

John MacFarlane (University of California, Berkeley)

Abstract: According to Semantic Minimalism, every use of "Chiara is tall"

(fixing the girl and the time) semantically expresses the same proposition,

the proposition that Chiara is (just plain) tall. Given standard assumptions,

this proposition ought to have an intension (a function from possible worlds

to truth values). However, speakers tend to reject questions that

presuppose that it does. I suggest that semantic minimalists might address

this problem by adopting a form of "nonindexical contextualism," according

to which the proposition invariantly expressed by "Chiara is tall" does not

have a context-invariant intension. Nonindexical contextualism provides an

elegant explanation of what is wrong with "context-shifting arguments" and

can be seen as a synthesis of the (partial) insights of semantic minimalists

and radical contextualists.

1. Introduction

My niece is four and a half feet tall—significantly taller than the average

seven-year old. With this in mind, I might say "Chiara is tall," and, it seems,

I would be speaking truly. Yet it also seems that if her basketball coach

were to say "Chiara is tall" while discussing who should play which position

on the team, he would not be speaking truly. What can we conclude about

the meaning of "tall"?

Moderate Contextualists conclude that the sentence must be contextsensitive,

in a way that goes beyond the context sensitivity of "Chiara" and

"is" (which we may presume are being used in reference to the same girl

and time). They reason as follows: If I am speaking truly and the coach is

speaking falsely, we must be saying different things. Since we are using

the same sentence, and using it "literally," this sentence must be contextsensitive.

Used at my context, it expresses the proposition that Chiara has

significantly greater height than the average seven-year old; used at the

coach's context, it expresses the proposition that she has significantly

greater height than the average member of team he coaches.

Cappelen and Lepore (2005) reject this reasoning, but only at the last step.

They agree that different things are said in the two contexts I have

described, but they deny that anything interesting follows from this about

the meaning of "Chiara is tall." They can do this because they are Speech

Act Pluralists: they hold that indefinitely many different things can be said

in a single utterance. So, although I have said that Chiara is tall for a

seven-year old, and the coach has said that she is tall for a member of the

basketball team, that is consistent with there also being something that we

have both said—namely, that she is (just plain) tall. It is this that Cappelen

and Lepore take to be the invariant semantic content of the sentence we

have used. Thus they can concede to the Moderate Contextualist that

different things have been said in the two contexts, while resisting the

conclusion that the sentence used is context-sensitive.

This deployment of Speech Act Pluralism helps deflect one argument

against the view that there is a single proposition that is semantically

expressed by every use of "Chiara is tall" (fixing the girl and the time). But

it does nothing to make it plausible that there is such a proposition. Indeed,

most contextualists, including some who accept Speech Act Pluralism,

take it to be obvious that there cannot be any such proposition, on the

grounds that there is no such thing as being just plain tall (as opposed to

tall for a seven-year old, or tall for a team member, or tall compared to a

skyscraper, or …). That there is in fact such a proposition—a bona fide,

truth-evaluable proposition, not a "proposition radical" or anything

schematic—is the central tenet of what Cappelen and Lepore call

Semantic Minimalism. It is this, chiefly, that distinguishes them from the

philosophers they call Radical Contextualists. If it should turn out that there

is no such "minimal" or (borrowing a phrase from Ken Taylor)

"modificationally neutral" proposition, then Cappelen and Lepore will have

no choice but to embrace the Radical Contextualists' conclusion that there

is no hope for systematic theorizing about the propositions expressed by

sentences in contexts.1 After all, they accept all of the Radicals' arguments

against the Moderates.

Our first order of business, then, should be asking what might be thought

1 Note that this is not at all the same as the claim that systematic

semantics is impossible. What Radical Contextualists reject is only a

certain conception of what semantics must accomplish.

to be problematic about such propositions—since Moderate and Radical

Contextualists are united in rejecting them—and considering whether

Cappelen and Lepore have said enough to dispel these worries. I am

going to argue that although Cappelen and Lepore misidentify the real

source of resistance to minimal propositions, and so do not address it, this

worry can be addressed. However, the strategy I will describe for making

sense of Semantic Minimalism is not one that Cappelen and Lepore can

take on board without cost. For my way of "making sense" of Cappelen

and Lepore's view can, with a slight shift of perspective, be regarded as a

way of making sense of Radical Contextualism, a position they regard as

incompatible with their own (and indeed as hopeless).2

2. The intension problem

Let's call the proposition putatively expressed in every context of use by

the sentence "Chiara is tall" (fixing girl and time) the proposition that Chiara

is (just plain) tall (at time t—I will henceforth omit this qualification).

According to Cappelen and Lepore, "[t]his proposition is not a 'skeleton'; it

is not fragmentary; it's a full-blooded proposition with truth conditions and a

truth value" (181). What they mean, presumably, is that it has a truth value

at every circumstance of evaluation (since propositions may, in general,

have different truth values at different circumstances of evaluation).

I believe that most philosophers' worries about minimal propositions are

rooted in puzzlement over the question this claim naturally provokes: At

which circumstances of evaluation is the proposition that Chiara is (just

plain) tall true? Here I'm using the technical term "circumstance of

evaluation" the way David Kaplan taught us to use it in Demonstratives

(1989). A circumstance of evaluation includes all the parameters to which

propositional truth must be relativized for semantic purposes. Though

Kaplan himself included times in his circumstances of evaluation (and

contemplated other parameters as well), the current orthodoxy is that

2 Because my concern here is with the coherence of Semantic

Minimalism, I will not address the arguments Cappelen and Lepore

muster in favor of that doctrine (most of them arguments against the

contextualist alternative).

circumstances of evaluation are just possible worlds.3 In this setting, our

question becomes: At which possible worlds is the minimal proposition that

Chiara is (just plain) tall true? I'll call this the intension problem for minimal

propositions (using the term "intension" for a function from possible worlds

to truth values for propositions, or to extensions for properties and

relations).

It's easy to feel pressure to make this intension very, very weak. After all,

being tall for a seven year old does seem to be a way of being tall. So it is

natural to think that the proposition that Chiara is (just plain) tall must be

true at every world at which the proposition that Chiara is tall for a seven

year old is true. Similar reasoning will move us inexorably towards the

conclusion that, no matter what reference class F we pick, the proposition

that Chiara is (just plain) tall is weaker than the proposition that she is tall

for an F. After all, even being tall compared to an ant is a way of being tall.

We are left with the surprising conclusion that the minimal proposition that

Chiara is (just plain) tall is true at every world at which Chiara has any

degree of height at all.

That's odd enough. It gets even odder when we run the same argument

with "short" and conclude that the proposition that Chiara is (just plain)

short is true at every possible world in which she is not absolutely gigantic.

It follows that at all but a few very odd worlds, Chiara has both the property

of being (just plain) tall and the property of being (just plain) short. And that

does not sit well with our feeling that being tall and being short are

incompatible properties.

Cappelen and Lepore do not themselves embrace this view about the

3 Kaplan included times because he thought the tenses were best

understood as propositional operators, which need a parameter to shift

(1989: 502-3). This view of tenses is now rejected by most

semanticists, so there is no longer a compelling reason to include a

time parameter in circumstances of evaluation (see King 2003). But

everything I say in this paper about the orthodox framework could be

said (with minimal modifications) about a Kaplan-style framework as

well.

intension of tall. They do not reject it either. They present it as one of

several possible views one might adopt about the metaphysics of tallness

(171):

• A thing is tall if there is some comparison class with respect to which

it is tall.

• A thing is tall if it is tall with respect to its privileged comparison

class.

• A thing is tall (at time t) if it is tall with respect to the comparison

class that is appropriate to its situation (at t).

• A thing is tall if it is taller than the average of all objects with height.

All of these views are problematic; indeed, Cappelen and Lepore point out

many of the problems themselves. But they don't think that solving these

problems, or deciding between these options, is part of their job as

semanticists. Their charge is language, not the metaphysics of properties.

Having argued to their satisfaction that "tall" is not context sensitive, they

are content to leave it to the metaphysicians to sort out just what an object

has to be like in order to have the property that "tall" invariantly expresses.

This response is fine, as far as it goes. Semanticists should not be

required to be metaphysicians (or physicists or biologists or ethicists).

They need not give informative answers to questions about the intensions

of properties.4 However, in taking resistance to minimal propositions to be

grounded in a misguided demand for an informative specification of their

intensions, Cappelen and Lepore have missed what is most troubling

about their doctrine. Semantic Minimalism is problematic not because it

does not provide an answer to questions about the intensions of its

minimal properties and propositions, but because it requires that there be

answers to such questions.

4 It is not difficult for the Semantic Minimalist to give uninformative

answers: for example, "a thing has the property of being tall (in some

world w) just in case it is tall in w."

Suppose that you are examining some ants on the sidewalk. Most of the

ants are tiny, but one is significantly bigger than the rest. "That's a big

one," you say. After a while, the ants begin to disappear though a barely

perceptible crack in the concrete. When the last ant, the bigger one,

squeezes through, you say, "Boy, that ant is small." At this point a

Semantic Minimalist appears and begins to question you in a most

annoying way:

"Wait a second. You just said that that ant was big. Now you say it's

small. I didn't notice it changing size. So which is it, big or small?"

"Well, it's big for an ant, but small compared to most of the other things

we can see."

"Fine, but I'm not asking about these properties; I'm asking about plain

old bigness and smallness. You said (among many other things) that the

ant was (just plain) big, and then that it was (just plain) small. Do you

suppose it could have had both properties, bigness and smallness?"

"No..."

"So which is it, then? Or don't you know?"

The question seems completely inappropriate. But why should it, if the

Semantic Minimalist is right that there is a property of being (just plain) big

which is always expressed by "big", and a property of being (just plain)

small which is always expressed by "small"? Why shouldn't we be able to

entertain questions about which things have these properties? It is not

enough to point out that semanticists need not answer metaphysical

questions. For even the answer "I have no idea" seems out of place here.5

5 It should be clear that the problem does not stem from the vagueness

of "big" and "small". It would not help the Semantic Minimalist here if

we allowed the intensions of bigness and smallness to be functions

from possible worlds to fuzzy extensions (mappings of objects to

degrees of truth) or partial functions from possible worlds to

extensions.

It might be suggested that we reject such questions because we aren't

aware of the minimal propositions that are semantically expressed by our

sentences, but only of the more determinate contents of our speech acts.

But such a line would be incompatible with what Cappelen and Lepore say

about the cognitive role of the minimal content. They say that "the

proposition semantically expressed is that content the audience can expect

the speaker to grasp (and expect the speaker to expect the audience to

grasp, etc.) even if she has such mistaken or incomplete information"

about the context (184-5). Explaining how a speaker could use the

(presumably quite weak) proposition that A is red in order to make a much

more determinate claim about A's color, they say: "The audience can

assume that the speaker knew that this [the proposition semantically

expressed] was trivial and was not interested in conveying such trivialities

with his utterance and can, therefore, infer that there's work to be done in

order to figure out exactly what the speaker was trying to communicate"

(185-6). All of this assumes that both speaker and audience are aware of

the proposition semantically expressed. (Indeed, the second claim

assumes some mutual knowledge about the intension of this proposition.)

If Cappelen and Lepore were to abandon this assumption, they would

open themselves up to the objection that their minimal propositions play no

real cognitive role in communication.

Alternatively, the Minimalist might say that the reason speakers find the

question in our dialogue inappropriate is that they have mistaken views

about the semantics of terms like "big" and "small." They implicitly take

these words to be context sensitive, when in fact they invariantly express

the properties of being (just plain) big and (just plain) small.

It should be obvious, however, that this response would completely

undermine the positive case for Semantic Minimalism. For the contextualist

can use exactly the same trick—attributing confusion or error about the

semantics of these terms to ordinary speakers—to dismiss the evidence

Cappelen and Lepore have mustered that terms like "red," "tall," and

"know" do not behave like context-sensitive expressions. For example,

Cappelen and Lepore make much of the fact that we report others who

utter the sentence "Chiara is tall" as having said that Chiara is tall, without

much regard to differences in our contexts. The practice of making such

"intercontextual disquotational indirect reports" only makes sense, they

say, if "tall" semantically expresses the same property in every context. But

the contextualist can accept this conditional and conclude that the practice

doesn't make sense—that it embodies a fundamental mistake people

implicitly make about the semantics of their own terms, a mistake that the

contextualist hopes to correct. (This is, in fact, a common line for

contextualists to take, although they sometimes also question the

uniformity or the relevance of the data about intercontextual indirect

reports: see DeRose, forthcoming.) Cappelen and Lepore need to say

something to block this kind of move. Whatever they say, it will presumably

also block them from appealing to massive speaker error or confusion in

explaining our rejection of the question in the dialogue above as somehow

absurd or inappropriate.

To recap: The intension problem is the problem of saying just what a world

must be like if the proposition that Chiara is (just plain) tall is to be true at

that world. Cappelen and Lepore rightly put this aside as a metaphysical

question, not a semantic one. But they fail to see that there is a semantic

problem lurking in the immediate vicinity. If Semantic Minimalism is true,

then the intension problem should have a solution (even if the solution is

not known to us). But we do not treat it as having a solution at all. We

reject as inappropriate questions that ought to have perfectly definite

answers if there is such a property as being (just plain) tall and that

property has an intension.

3. Minimal propositions without intensions?

In view of this problem, it is worth asking whether a Semantic Minimalist

can coherently deny that minimal propositions, like the proposition that

Chiara is (just plain) tall, have intensions.

In orthodox frameworks of the kind favored by most Moderate

Contextualists, this option is not open. For propositions have truth values

relative to circumstances of evaluation. If circumstances of evaluation are

just possible worlds, then propositions have truth values relative to worlds:

in other words, they have intensions. So if there is a proposition that is

semantically expressed by "Chiara is tall" at every context of use, it must

have an intension. At this point, contextualists conclude modo tollente that

there is no such proposition, while Cappelen and Lepore conclude modo

ponente that, since there is such a proposition, it must have an intension.

We can go beyond these two alternatives by thinking a bit differently about

circumstances of evaluation. Possible worlds will presumably be one

component of our circumstances of evaluation (otherwise, what will our

modal operators shift?), but nothing stops us from introducing other

components as well. (Indeed, semanticists have for various reasons

suggested adding times, "standards of precision," and other parameters.)

So let's think of a circumstance of evaluation as an ordered pair consisting

of a world and a "counts-as" parameter, which we can model as a function

from properties to intensions (functions from worlds to extensions). The

"counts-as" parameter is so called because it fixes what things have to be

like in order to count as having the property of tallness (or any other

property) at a circumstance of evaluation.6

As before, we say that propositions have truth values at circumstances of

evaluation. But now our circumstances are not just worlds, so it no longer

follows that propositions have truth values at worlds. This is why it is not

appropriate to ask about the truth value of the proposition that Chiara is

(just plain) tall at a possible world (including the actual world). For there will

in general be many circumstances of evaluation that have a given world as

their world parameter but differ in their "counts-as" parameter. Our

proposition will be true at some of these circumstances and false at others.

So it does not have an intension (a function from possible worlds to truth

values).7 This should be a welcome result for the Semantic Minimalist, who

no longer has to say that there is a (context-invariant) answer to the

question: Does Chiara have the property of being (just plain) tall, in the

actual world, or not?

Following Kaplan, we say that an occurrence of a sentence is true just in

6 Note that the function assigns an intension to every property, not just

"minimal" properties. This is important because, as Cappelen and

Lepore point out (172-5), the same kinds of arguments that may lead

one to doubt that the property of being tall has an intension can also be

run for the property of being tall for a giraffe.

7 Of course it has an "intension" in a broader sense: a function from

circumstances of evaluation to truth values.

case the proposition expressed is true at the circumstance of the context.8

Which circumstance of evaluation is the "circumstance of the context," in

this framework? The world parameter of the circumstance of the context is,

of course, just the world of the context. But the counts-as parameter will be

determined in complex ways by other features of the context, including the

topic of conversation and the speaker's intentions. In a context C1 where

I'm talking about seven-year olds, the counts-as function might assign to

the property of being (just plain) tall the same intension it assigns to the

property of being tall-for-a-seven-year-old. In a context C2 where I'm

talking about members of the basketball team, the counts-as function

might assign to the property of being tall the same intension it assigns to

the property of being tall-for-team-member. Thus the circumstance of C1

can differ from the circumstance of C2 even if the two contexts are situated

in the same world (say, the actual world). And as a result, an occurrence of

"Chiara is tall" in C1 can differ in truth value from an occurrence of "Chiara

is tall" in C2, even if the same proposition is expressed by both.

We can now say precisely what goes wrong in the story about the ants

(above). The problem is not that there is no such proposition as the

proposition that the ant is (just plain) big. The present view concedes that

there is such a proposition, and that this proposition is perfectly suitable, in

general, for use in questions and answers. In general, we look to

contextual factors to determine a counts-as parameter that (together with

the world of utterance) can settle a truth value for the proposition in

8 "If c is a context, then an occurrence of in c is true iff the content

expressed by in this context is true when evaluated with respect to

the circumstance of the context" (Kaplan 1989: 522). Semanticists

sometimes ascribe truth to utterances rather than to occurrences of

sentences in contexts, but as Kaplan notes, the notion of an utterance

is proper to pragmatics, not semantics. It is especially odd to find

Speech Act Pluralists like Cappelen and Lepore ascribing truth and

falsity to utterances (e.g. in their "intercontextual disquotational test,"

105), since on their view an utterance can express indefinitely many

propositions, which (one assumes) need not all have the same truth

value at the circumstance of the context.

context. In the ant story, however, the context fails to determine a single

counts-as parameter, because the questioner has deliberately made

salient two incompatible counts-as parameters: the one that was in play

when the ant was first described as big and the one that was in play when

it was later described as small. The question "which is it, big or small?"

presupposes that the context determines sufficiently what counts as having

the properties of bigness and smallness. But the questioner in this case

has ensured that this presupposition cannot be met. That is why we

(rightly) reject the question and find every answer (even "I don’t know") to

be inappropriate.

As far as I can see, the view I have just described is consistent with

Semantic Minimalism, as Cappelen and Lepore describe it. It allows that

"Chiara is tall" expresses the same proposition at every context of use

(fixing girl and time). This proposition is not a "schema," but "a full-blooded

proposition with truth conditions and a truth value," that is, a truth value at

each circumstance of evaluation. Granted, the proposition does not have a

truth value at each possible world, but that is just what we should expect in

a framework where there is more to circumstances of evaluation than just

worlds.9

On this picture, the sentence "Chiara is tall" is not context-sensitive in the

sense that it expresses different propositions at different contexts. But it is

context-sensitive in the sense that the truth of an occurrence of it depends

on features of the context—not just the world of the context, but the

speaker's intentions, the conversational common ground, and other such

things.10 Accordingly, this brand of Semantic Minimalism might also be

9 "Temporalists" who take circumstances of evaluation to be world/time

pairs do not think that propositions have truth values relative to worlds,

either.

10 Interestingly, Cappelen and Lepore give two distinct definitions of

"context-sensitive," corresponding roughly to these two senses (146).

According to the first, "To say that e is context sensitive is to say that

its contribution to the proposition expressed by utterances of sentences

containing e varies from context to context." According to the second,

"To say that e is context sensitive is to say that its contribution to the

described as a kind of contextualism: what I have elsewhere called

Nonindexical Contextualism.11 This way of describing it brings out how

close it is to Radical Contextualism. Too close, Cappelen and Lepore may

feel! However, it is immune to their best arguments against Radical

Contextualism, so if they are going to reject it, they need fresh reasons.

truth conditions of utterances u of a sentence S containing e (in some

way or other) references various aspects of the context of u." In the

framework I have described, these two definitions are not equivalent.

11 See my "Nonindexical Contextualism" (in preparation). See also

MacFarlane 2005a and 2005b, where I describe nonindexical

contextualist views in order to distinguish them from views I regard as

genuinely "relativist." I take it that the account developed by Predelli

2005, to which I am much indebted, is also a form of nonindexical

contextualism. Instead of countenancing an extra parameter of

circumstances of evaluation, as I do here, Predelli conceives of points

of evaluation as something like state descriptions (which fix the

extension of every property and relation expressible in the language).

There are state descriptions according to which Chiara falls into the

extension of both "four and a half feet tall" and "tall", and others

according to which she falls into the extension of the former but not the

latter. Which state description is "the circumstance of the context" will

depend not just on the world of the context, but on other features of

context as well. I think that the differences between these two versions

of nonindexical contextualism are largely notational. I prefer to "factor

out" my circumstances of evaluation into a world component and a

catch-all counts-as parameter, because it is convenient to have a

separate "world" parameter of circumstances for modal operators to

shift. If we let them shift state descriptions wholesale, then "That could

have been red" could come out true just because what counts as red

might have been different, even if the color of the object demonstrated

could not have been different—surely an undesirable result. But this is

not a fatal objection to Predelli's approach: as Kenny Easwaran has

pointed out to me, Predelli could allow his modal operators to shift

state descriptions "retail," the way quantifiers shift assignments.

4. Context Shifting Arguments reconsidered

An advantage of the framework I have just sketched is that it offers a

different (and perhaps deeper) diagnosis than Cappelen and Lepore's of

what goes wrong in Moderate Contextualists' uses of Context Shifting

Arguments (CSAs). Unlike Cappelen and Lepore's diagnosis, this one

does not require Speech Act Pluralism, though it is consistent with it.

Let's consider again the general form of a Context Shifting Argument. We

describe two occurrences of the same sentence, S, one in context C1, the

other in context C2. We then observe that intuitively the former is true,

while the latter is false. Assuming these intuitions are accurate, we can

conclude the following:

(1) At C1, S expresses a proposition that is true at the circumstance of

C1.

(2) At C2, S expresses a proposition that is false at the circumstance of

C2.

We cannot conclude, however, that the proposition S expresses at C1 is

different from the proposition S expresses at C2. For if the circumstance of

C1 is different from the circumstance of C2, our two occurrences of S can

diverge in truth value even while expressing the same proposition.

Nothing about the general point I am making here depends on

circumstances of evaluations being anything other than just worlds.

Suppose S is the sentence "Bush won the US Presidential election in

2000," and suppose that the world of C1 is different from the world of C2.

Then an occurrence of S in C1 could diverge in truth value from an

occurrence of S in C2, not because different propositions are expressed,

but simply because the circumstances of the two contexts are different.

(Say, Bush won in the world of C1, but lost in the world of C2.)

Thus, a CSA establishes that the propositions expressed are different only

given an additional premise:

(3) The circumstance of C1 = the circumstance of C2.

Normally users of CSAs do not even mention (or perhaps see the need for)

this premise, because in orthodox frameworks it is relatively easy to

secure. In these frameworks, a circumstance of evaluation is just a

possible world, so (3) amounts to

(4) The world of C1 = the world of C2.

So the user of a CSA has only to describe contexts that take place at the

same world and differ only in other ways—in the topic of conversation, for

example—and the CSA will establish that what is said at C1 is different

from what is said at C2.

Cappelen and Lepore seem to accept all of this reasoning. They accept

that the CSAs used by contextualists show that something different is said

at the two contexts described. Their point is that this does not show that

the proposition semantically expressed is different, because (given Speech

Act Pluralism) the proposition semantically expressed is only one of many

things said.

If we adopt the framework described in the last section, however, we can

reject the contextualists' reasoning in a more fundamental way. For in this

framework it is no longer true that a circumstance of evaluation is just a

world. This makes it much more difficult to construct a CSA for which (3)

holds. It is no longer sufficient to ensure that C1 and C2 are situated at the

same world; we must also make sure that these contexts determine the

same counts-as function. This is relatively easy to do when we are making

up CSAs to demonstrate the indexicality of "I", "here", or "now", but difficult

or impossible when we are making up CSAs to demonstrate the

indexicality of "knows", "tall", and other such terms. That is why CSAs work

in the former cases but not in the latter.

5. Conclusion

I have offered up this version of Nonindexical Contextualism as a way of

making sense of Semantic Minimalism. If Cappelen and Lepore accept my

exegesis, then they can block Context Shifting Arguments in a different

way than they do in Insensitive Semantics, and without invoking Speech

Act Pluralism. If they do not accept it, then they must find another way to

explain why speakers reject questions that should admit of answers (if only

"I don't know") if minimal propositions have determinate intensions.

In closing, a Hegelian thought. In a recent paper, Stefano Predelli (2005)

has offered up his own version of Nonindexical Contextualism as a way of

making sense of Radical Contextualism. It is striking, I think, that a

plausible interpretation of Semantic Minimalism and a plausible

interpretation of Radical Contextualism should come out looking very

similar! This suggests that, far from being fundamentally opposed, the two

positions are just the two one-sided ways of grasping the truth about

context sensitivity that are available when one supposes that propositions

have truth values at possible worlds. Thesis: Semantic Minimalism.

Antithesis: Radical Contextualism. Synthesis: Nonindexical Contextualism.

References

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Semantic Minimalism and Speech Act Pluralism. Oxford: Blackwell.

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King, J. 2003. "Tense, Modality, and Semantic Value." In Philosophical

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DeRose, K. (forthcoming). "'Bamboozled by Our Own Words': Semantic

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