Reminds me of an oversized fraud…
Enjoy the flight to Lucifer:
“Our earliest and defining portrait of Yahweh is by the J Writer, who still seems to me likely to have been an aristocratic woman who wrote in the Age of Solomon, while experiencing nostalgia [sic] for Solomon’s heroic father, David… I have written about Yahweh at length before, in The Book of J (1990)… Jack Miles playfully suggested that I go ahead and name the J Writer Bathsheba the Hittite, queen-mother of Solomon, a notion I gladly adopted in The Western Canon (1994) and again in Genius (2002). The extraordinary detachment of the J Writer in regard both to Yahweh and the Patriarchs fits the perspective of a Hittite woman who had married David and given birth to Solomon, and perhaps rendered her own self-portrait in Tamar, who outwits Judah and, by him, becomes the ancestress of David, Solomon, and ultimately of Jesus of Nazareth.” (ND, 149-150)
Lo and behold, the Pentateuch was not written by a man but by a woman! And specifically a Hittite woman. Not because of any historical or textual evidence, but because a moron says that such nonsense “seems likely,” and that ”it fits her perspective” – given that we all know very well what a feminine Hittite perspective is or should be….
The question is: How did this garbage survive peer-review, exactly?
How much money and good faith has this idiot been stealing from the families of paying students so far? Notice that this super-sized fraud never gets one reference right in his vanity presses – but accidentally, he quotes his own rubbish by title and year.
And what are his Anglo-American colleagues doing in the meantime, instead of doing the work of “literary critics” for which they are much too generously paid?
What would happen to an undergraduate if he or she were so flipped out as to say that the Pentateuch “sounds like” written by a Hittite woman - please, tell me.
I just love academic honesty made – actually - forged in New Haven. Study the Word of Isaiah:
But evil will come on you
Which you will not know how to predict;
And disaster will fall upon you
For which you cannot atone.
suddenly there shall come upon you
ruin which you will not expect.
Keep up, now, your spells
And your many sorceries;
Perhaps you can make them avail,
Perhaps you can strike terror!
You wearied yourself with many consultations,
at which you toiled from your youth.
Let the astrologers stand forth to save you now,
the stargazers who forecast at each new moon
what would happen to you.
Behold, they have become like stubble,
Fire burns them.
They cannot save themselves from the power of the flame.
And this is no warming ember,
no fire to sit before.
Thus do your wizards serve you,
with whom you have labored from your youth.
Each wanders his own way,
There is no one to save you.