This past week, I participated in my first religion symposium, an affair for graduate students at Indiana University. I submitted a paper proposal in December, and -- to my shock -- my proposal was accepted. Which meant I had to write the paper. Which wasn't on a topic I really knew anything about.
The subject of the symposium was "The Art of Religion," which I took to mean the intersection of religion and the Arts. I proposed a paper about how the original Broadway production of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, and in particular Lee J. Cobb's portrayal of Willy Loman, heralded the death of a distinct American Jewish identity. It was fun to research -- the middle of the 20th century in America was a time of enormous change for Americans generally and American Jews in particular. Death of a Salesman not only captured what had been the American Jewish experience -- in many ways it foretold a great deal about where the lives of American Jews were headed.
Above are Cobb as Willy (center), with Arthur Kennedy as Biff and Cameron Mitchell as Happy, in the original Broadway cast.
Seventeen years later -- well after his compelled testimony to HUAC, and his naming of names, had stunted Cobb's career and nearly ruined his health -- he appeared in a television adaptation of Salesman, with George Segal as Biff.
I reflected on how Cobb's experience -- wanting to belong, wanting the world to change, and being hunted for both -- must have been reflected in his reinterpretation of the role that he made famous, and vice versa. Though dated, uneven and in some ways melodramatic, this adaptation of the play captures its nightmarish power; you can probably get it at your local library, and you should. It captures one of the great American stage performances if the 20th century.
The other presenters -- there were 12 of us in all -- covered a range of fascinating topics, from Gregorian chant to the goddess Parvati and the evoloution of female Hindu wedding attire, to violent imagery in early Christian poetry, to the question of whether Quranic chant was music (and the wider issue of the relationship of Muslim societies to music).
The symposium's keynote speaker, Maria Heim of Amherst College, talked about the prolific 5th century Buddhist scholar and monk Buddhaghosa, and his articulation of how to be receptive student and reader.
Buddhaghosa (seated)
Just to be able to think about Buddhism, the Qu'ran, Indian wedding attire, Gregorian chant and Death of a Salesman over the course of 48 hours was thrilling. It was also fun to be in Bloomington with the One True Wife, who had attended IU's School of Music in her college days. The memories came flooding back to her; we were only a few hours from Chicago, but she'd been transported back to a particular vivid and liberating time in her life.
The best thing about the event was how interesting the people were. Many of the professors in IU's religion department were U. Chicago Divinity School grads. Their perspectives on the experience were tremendously helpful to me. One professor said he only realized, upon going back into the school on a visit a few years after graduation, "how miserable I'd been almost the entire time." Miserable not because he was unhappy, but because of the pressure and the demands of the D school's rigorous curricula and exams.
Tomorrow I will briefly return to work, and turn my attention back to real estate.
--T.A.
Glad to hear the event went well! I'm gearing up to present TWO papers at the SBL NE conference ... talk about scary. Any tips for a beginner?
Posted by: Chavi | March 09, 2009 at 11:14 PM
Chavi: Good for you!! That's great.
My only advice for you is: **make some kind of contact with your audience.** The number of people who just stand there and drone their papers out is astonishing.
Break a leg!
Posted by: david | March 10, 2009 at 01:16 PM