Yet another birthday. For the first time in years I won’t be going to work thinking, “I wonder if anyone remembers. I wonder if any classes will do anything?” It was a nice sign that they liked me, and I always tried to be a pleasant teacher whom students actually thought was an okay person. Such was “proof,” I suppose.

Last night, after walking home from class, I was thinking about knowledge — again. I was recalling the interview I had with Rob for the job I now have, and he asked me if I’d be more interested in an editing position or a content-based position (“course developer” is the official title now, I think). I said that I didn’t know enough yet to be comfortable with the idea of being a content person. Muttering to myself as I walked down North Beacon Street, “I know just enough to realize how little I really know.” And I thought of my adventures trying to determine whether any of the New Testament was written in the second century or not as ample proof. I talked to Peter — large guy with earrings and a husky voice — last night after class and he confirmed that there was something written in the second century. (I mentioned 2 Peter and he said that it was a possibility, along with the other Neo-Pauline epistles, “But I really haven’t studied 2 Peter that much,” he said, and I realized, “God, in New Testament studies you could devote a significant portion of your life to studying one single book.”) Anyway, he said that there was something written in the second century, and now I “know.” But to what degree do I know? How can I be sure? What is the criterion for “knowing” versus simply “believing” or “thinking that . . .”? On what authority can I say I know this? Because he told me. On what authority does he have it? Because someone told him, or he read it (which constitutes the same thing as being told something — simply a different form). Someone, at some point in the process, knows it because she has examined the various documents — the scrolls and such — and done textual examination, and through various processes determined that it was second century. She “knows” it in a way different than I now “know” it. But what is the criterion? Expertise? Certainly not.

A good example of this is chaos theory. At one point, all meteorologists and atmospheric physicists (if there be such a thing, which I sure there is) “knew” that there really were no laws governing cloud shape. It was just random nonsense — noise, in other words. Then along comes fractals and fractional dimensions and we start saying, “Well, no, it’s not quite like that. It’s really a matter of nonliner equations.” So did the meteorologists “know” beforehand? Obviously not. Of course the same is true of any scientific revolution. Did people “know” before Copernicus that the sun revolves around the earth? They certainly thought they did. And they could have “proved” it in much the same way that I can now prove that some of the canonized New Testament was written in the second century.

Knowledge at one point was defined as “true justified belief,” but can someone know something and not realize that they know it? They just think they believe it? For example, most Christians “know” that God exists, but some more liberal might admit that they only believe it. If it turns out to be true, it was indeed “true, justified belief.” But they didn’t claim it as knowledge, simply as belief. Did they “know” it even though they only thought they “believed” it?

Something I’ve been meaning to write about: What was the purpose of the Passover symbols? Why put blood on the mantel and doorposts? Could God not discern without this visual aid which houses were Israelite homes and which were Egyptian? Wouldn’t it be a little obvious by the sectioning of the city? I sort of doubt that any of the Egyptians lived with the “defiled, uncivilized” Israelites.