Paul Soukup’s latest book is a triumph, both well-written and wide-ranging. Unusually for an academic book (and I am sorry if I offend!), it is also both very readable and erudite. His expertise in media ecology and his training in theology are both evident here.
The book is set out in 11 chapters plus an introduction and a conclusion. Today, when people talk about ‘media’, they usually mean the mass media of various types, and while these are discussed here, Prof. Soukup looks at the ecology of both the mass media and areas such as architecture, art and ritual, music, film and social media, and at how they have been used theologically. He also considers writing, printing, the oral media which preceded all of these, and educational systems. Theology, Soukup says, is something that most people think of as being a written project. But theology is simply: ‘faith-seeking-understanding or, more elaborately, a systematic reflection on belief’ (17). This ‘shows how theology bears the mark of the communication tools available to it at different points in its history. Christian theology evolved in a milieu that encompassed both an oral culture and a written culture, with the oral aspects predominant in its first millennium. If media ecology approaches are correct, then the media environment should leave ‘some kind of imprint on the theology’ (17). He notes also that there is a complex relationship between orality and early scribal culture; whereas the Gospels often tell us about Jesus speaking, he notes that those same gospels refer to Jesus writing only once, while the Synoptic Gospels refer to Him reading. However, Soukup highlights that Christians have no written material left by Jesus, and the ‘written New Testament letters and Gospels date from the middle to the end of the first century of the Christian era – some thirty years and more after the death of Jesus’ (17). There are, of course, written documents from others that come from that era, and he discusses (18 ff.) how the marks of the prevalent contemporary culture are seen in those documents, noting also that ‘The accuracy of this kind of oral transmission varies, then: it follows a general practice of preserving the core message with changes in the minor details’ (19), providing illustrations of this from the Synoptic Gospels.
Something I had not previously considered in any depth was translation (which here has its own chapter). Having read the chapter, I realise that it was foolish of me not to have thought about it, particularly as I do some translation work. To hark back to the paragraph above, with regard to the effect of the oral tradition on the written documentation, the availability of printed matter also had an effect on theology, in Soukup’s sense of ‘faith reflecting on its meaning’ (77). There had been translations of the Bible into various languages, and ‘doctrinal significance found in word choices and linguistic differences’ (78), however, a major step forward was the introduction of the moveable type printing press by Gutenberg, in 1428. Previously to its introduction, books had been made, but had not been so widely available. Where they were available, in the West, they were found mainly in (non-lending) libraries, in the church (often the custodian of those libraries), and in the homes of the rich. Not only did the printing press mean that books became cheaper, but books were more quickly reproduced and there was a greater selection, according to Eisenstein, whom Soukup cites (79). Further, errors could be more easily corrected, although, at the same time, errors in texts were more easily distributed. Soukup notes some examples of such errors in the original version of the King James Bible (79). The extant book trade – although depending on the country permissions from government(s) and on licensing (as in England) were needed – expanded greatly. Yet, governments could seize illegal copies (again, in England) and destroy the presses on which they had been printed. Prior to the publication of the King James Bible, which was the authorized version, Bible translation was undertaken outside the country and the Bibles were smuggled into the country to their intended audiences. The history of such translations ‘includes the accounts of numerous smugglers, secret agents, spies, and scholars’ (81). Today, in the UK, it is difficult to believe that there could have been such excitement in the trade in Bibles, although in far too many countries worldwide, this is still the case.
Anyone who has undertaken the translation of ‘serious’ texts – in my case, mostly academic works – understands the pitfalls that await the unwary translator. Soukup notes (84) that the translators and revisers who worked on the King James Bible, ‘pored over all previous English versions, [and] consulted the Complutensian Polyglot of 1517’ (and a variety of other versions in a variety of languages) in their attempts to translate this further version. These workers in the vineyard of the Lord understood that they were the latest in a long line of translators. Soukup says also: ‘Indirectly, the communication ecology also includes the expectations that people should have the Bible in translation and that some, at least, should develop the language skills for translation’ (84). At the time when the first Vulgate versions of the Bible were published, the general literacy level was low – hence the Bible stories that were illustrated in various ways in churches and elsewhere to enable those who couldn’t read to develop at least some knowledge of those stories. The Church was also a provider of education, through Church schools. In the UK, some of our oldest schools are built on the foundation of Church Schools; Eton College, for instance, was founded in 1440 by Edward VI as Kynge’s College of Our Ladye of Eton beside Windesore, but is still only the 18th oldest school in the Headmasters’ and Headmistresses’ Conference (see Wikipedia). There was a political context also:
The religious and political elite recognized that the Bible formed a teaching tool and that it communicated particular expectations to the people. King James himself objected to glosses in the Geneva Bible that implied a limitation on the power of the monarch. He also recognized the problem of keeping the established church group and the Puritan group aligned with the monarchy and the church. (85)
The Church thinks about God and nature and people’s responsibility to the environment because we as people have become conscious of our destruction of this environment. All communication media allow its members to express and share their thoughts. (3)
One of the gifts this book offers is a very wide introduction to the area, which would be a marvellous asset for anybody moving into it. The book moves effortlessly (which means that Soukup has put a lot of effort into it himself) through how oral cultures work, through the written and printed word (particularly the work of the Church Fathers and the Bible), art and architecture. Liturgical space is in itself a medium that is incorporated into worship, whether as ritual or as personal prayer space. I think here particularly of the Church of the Gesù in Rome. I once took some friends – neither of them ‘religious’ – to visit it, but the church was built to instil a ‘sense of awe’. The evening we visited, it was dark, the internal lights were on, there were many people there and a concert was taking place. The male visitor said only one thing as we walked through the church doors: ‘Wow!’ Here were the media of art, architecture and music all in one place – and this caused both of them to ask me questions about the church building itself and the Roman Catholic Church, drawing them into talking about God, faith and the media that are used there. Such reactions are not limited, of course, to specifically ‘religious’ buildings or artifacts. I once went to Tate Modern with a young Jesuit, with whom I had become friendly. He sat in the Rothko Room there and said that he felt as if he were in a chapel and often prayed there, for instance.
Soukup draws conclusions from this work. ‘Faith-seeking’, he says, ‘can appear anywhere, including in today’s (or yesterday’s) popular culture’. He quotes Lynch, who said: ‘We can think about popular culture as the shared environment, practices, and resources of everyday life’, and that popular culture refers to ‘culture more as a “way of life” for particular people in particular contexts rather than simply as a collection of texts and other cultural products’ (204) Contemporary media have followed the ‘pattern that Goethals (1999) first identified with the visual arts after the Reformation’. Artistic expression of various sorts has moved from churches into spaces such as ‘homes, galleries and public spaces’ (204). This, Soukup writes, was partially because, while Reformers did not reject artistic expression itself, it rejected this expression – or expression of certain types – in those churches which were reformed. Viewers/listeners/readers thus found theological reflection in secular spaces. In seeking faith and understanding, it has touched many lives and those media ecosystems about which Soukup writes so well, and which also touch everyone, providing ‘means of thought and expression and a reservoir of content’ (204). Yet many people still think of ‘theology’ as something that is seen only in what he describes as those ‘closely reasoned technical written documents’ (204), whether such documents are written by church(es) or academics. Here, we are shown that we should perhaps look for ecosystems of the various media in a wider way – perhaps looking at what Shakespeare called ‘sermons in stones’ (As You Like It, Act II, Scene 1), or even in music, art, TV, film, in print or on the web.
This book is remarkable in its spread and is well worth reading, not just by those who are interested in the ecology of theology, but also by those interested in history, religion more generally or in societal development.
Independent Researcher
Formerly at the University of Westminster, London, UK
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