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Let’s Play Woo: Hebrew and Physics

Posted on by Brooke

I have reason to take things easy this week, so let’s keep it light. Here is a YouTube video that I have designated as woo: it includes the trappings and language of reasoned argument, but uses various smoke and mirrors to dupe the gullible with that sweet-tasting, pseudoscientific woo.

Use the comments to play! Find as many problems as you can with the claims made by the video. Go for the details. Find more than your friends and taunt them with your bragging rights. Have fun!

Think broadly: not just about the Hebrew, but logic and fallacy, scientific inquiry, and so on.

Without further ado:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIQQX13FX3E (update: removed by user)

Divine English Pictographs Unveiled!

Posted on by Brooke

This post will change your life, and change the way you look at everything and everyone around you. But it will be easy! So chillax and read.

This morning, I had a cup of coffee, pet the dog, and chatted with my wife. If you properly want to understand these figures in my life, you have to attend to the pictographs from which these words derive.

The c in coffee is derived from the Semitic alphabetic character gimel. Now, the gimel is a pictograph of a throwing stick. The o comes from Semitic ayin, which represents an eye. The f is derived from the waw, a hook or a nail. Finally, the e comes from Semitic he, whose pictograph represents some dude waving his arms (“hey!”). Put them together, and you see that “coffee” means “better than a stick in the eye, on which I am totally hooked, and which makes me say Hey, Hey!”

I pause for you to collect yourself.

As for my dog: The d comes from dalet, which represents a door (or a fish, but anyone can see that my dog is not a fish, even though Hebrew dag means “fish”; stay with me here). Then there’s that o from ayin (eye) again. And g, like c, comes from gimel (stick). That is, my dog keeps an eye on the door, for which service I throw him a stick.

Finally, my wife: The i is from Semitic yod (hand, or forearm). Both the w and the f come from that waw (nail, or hook, but my wife is not a hooker, so nail, please). Recall that the e is from he (hey!). So, my wife is the one with two nails in the forearm ZOMG!! MY WIFE IS JESUS!! Which totally makes me say, “Hey!”

It should be clear to you by now that an understanding of the deeper meaning of our English characters opens a window on the plans that God has for our relationships with one another and with our coffee. And that…

What? You say that language ≠ script, that the former precedes the latter, and that no speakers of English ever sat around and said, “So what shall we call this stuff over here? I don’t know, but it’s like a stick in the eye so let’s be sure to use c and o?”

I guess somebody should tell that to all those frauds who teach Hebrew like this guy does (“It’s easy! And happens to support the patriarchy!”):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnJgJsFqI2I

Bible Woo and Easy Answers to Complicated Problems

Posted on by Brooke

Bryan Bibb writes today about religious hucksters in the business of getting rich on false promises. There, he compares the marketing of false hopes by religious television with the woo-hawking infomercials run by the same stations. I encourage you to read the whole piece. Here, I just touch briefly on one element noted by Bryan—the promise to solve all or most problems with a single easy solution—and relate it to best practices in biblical studies.

Bryan writes of those who send their money off to the innumerable heirs of Jim Bakker:

They might take a chance on a $25 book, or a $100 donation, or a $500 conference session if they think it will fix what is wrong (without them having to actually do anything about it, if there is anything indeed that can be done).

Dupes send their money to a televangelist in exactly the same way that they send it to a purveyor of quack nostrums, in the same hope of a quick cure-all that will fix what is wrong. The RationalWiki identifies this false promise as one defining characteristic of pseudoscientific woo:
A simple idea that purports to be the one answer to many diseases or problems.

In my developing ideas about “Bible woo,” I am thinking about analogous “quick and easy cure-alls” in the reading of the Bible. A major breeding ground of Bible woo is the reader’s perception of a problem in the text: not in the value-neutral sense of “some odd data that call for explanation,” but rather in the value-laden sense of “some apparent feature that can’t and shouldn’t be there, whose logical explanation is intolerable to me, and that therefore must me explained away.” A ready example is the clear evidence of multiple sources in what are traditionally called the “five books of Moses.” In this context of biblical studies, a part of Bryan’s words above leap out to me:
…if there is anything indeed that can be done…

An axiom of critical inquiry is that data are good: you follow them, and they lead to you unpredictable places that you couldn’t have found unassisted. If the logical explanations of textual data lead you to an understanding of events that makes you uncomfortable, well, nothing to be done: there you are.

The woo-meister crouches in the doorway of that uncomfortable place, promising glib solutions to these and all other uncomfortable facts of life, for a reasonable price, whether a few dollars out of one’ purse or pocket, or only a few tolerable compromises in one’s God-given human capacity to reason.

Jargon, Phlebotinum, Bad Explanations, and Bible Woo

Posted on by Brooke

Professional jargon gets a bad rap, but it is a useful and indispensable tool: jargon is precise speech that allows experts to speak efficiently with one another. Technical terms have the virtue of being able to mean more narrowly, in fewer words, than does the usual language.

Like any tool, jargon can be misused. Both Ben Goldacre (Bad Science) and Mark Liberman (Language Log) have called attention to a recent study (Weisburg et al, PDF)* showing that bad explanations about human behavior are made more convincing if you sprinkle them with jargon from the field of neuroscience. This can undoubtedly be generalized: bad explanations about anything can seem more convincing, especially to the non-specialist, if served up with a helping of techno-babble.

I want to touch on two categories of misuse: the accidental misuse of jargon in teaching and learning, and the intentional misuse of jargon in pseudo-scholarship. Toward that end, I propose to slightly extend the usual use of a favorite word: phlebotinum.

Phlebotinum” (sometimes “phlebotnum,” rarely “flebotinum”) was coined by David Greenwalt, screenwriter for Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. It refers to any magical/mystical force or item that exists to further create the show’s narrative world or advance its plot. (Compare to the better-known term, “McGuffin.”) As phlebotinum, an item is intrinsically meaningless: it can be the Orb of Zanzum, the Arm of Ragnok, gamma rays…its significance is purely utilitarian. As that last example shows, real-life things can be used as phlebotinum (here, gamma rays in Spider Man The Hulk) if narratively employed in a fictionalizing way. From a writer’s standpoint, phlebotinum is a placeholder: “Tragically, the heroine allowed the (phlebotinum) to touch the (phlebotinum), allowing the (phlebotinum) to escape (phlebotinum) and wreak havoc on the city.”

As has any teacher, I have seen student work reduce the jargon of my field to meaninglessness. “Form critically, the Deuteronomistic Historian is a source, whereas saga is a narrative where God is ideological.” (Example is made up, thank God, but not by much.) Any student can misunderstand a technical term, but this is different. The student is not so much showing a genuine misunderstanding of the terms, as rather desperately plugging in phlebotinum to “move along the plot” of her doomed explanatory narrative. From a teaching perspective, there is some diagnosis to be done here: has the student simply blown off the material until late in the game? Has she been going outside the course material and cramming with bad explanations from irresponsible sources? Or has she been attending diligently to explanations that are accurate enough but for which she has not adequately been prepared?

Finally, there is the intentionally misleading use of technical terms in pseudo-scholarship, or “woo.” Just as the writer of speculative fiction uses phlebotinum to create her narrative universe or advance her plot, just so does the woo-meister use otherwise-sound technical terms in a fictionalizing way in order to mischaracterize the actual universe or advance her lying narrative depiction of the real world. That is, she seeks to dupe the hearer by employing perfectly good jargon as phlebotinum.

This dimension of phlebotinum—the deceptive use of jargon to advance a fictional narrative explanation of real-life phenomena—goes to the heart of what makes woo, woo. I would propose as a working definition of “Bible woo” the following:

Bible woo: any discourse about the Bible that advances its claims using the appearance and trappings of reasoned argument, while systematically avoiding responsibility to the strictures of reasoned argument.

In a later installment, I will address the objection that any speech about the Bible must be woo: a necessary step, since the term “woo” originates in circles that are traditionally antagonistic to religion in general and therefore to the Bible by association.

* That PDF seems to change locations regularly. If you try the link and it’s broken, notify me in a comment to this post and I’ll track it down again.

To Debunk or Not to Debunk?

Posted on by Brooke

Christopher Hays commented on my link to PaleoBabble, and my answer became  convoluted textured enough that I thought I’d bump it up into a post. Chris writes:

…imagine Dan Brown sitting on the deck of his Malibu home (or wherever he lives off all the money his craptastic books and movies earn) laughing about all the religious people “debunking” his crap.

Just to be clear, I’m not saying “debunking” makes the situation worse. It could not be worse. But damn, why add to the noise?

That is a really good point. My analogy here isn’t quite right, but for example, when some hate group publicly demonstrates, my view is that everyone should just stay the heck home and let the haters stand around by themselves. Why dignify their claims by engaging them? Why “add to the noise” as Chris says?

In the case of pseudo-scientific woo, or pseudo-historical “paleobabble,” or pseudo-linguistics, or whatever, there are for me a couple of considerations that could tilt me toward engagement:

  1. Does the misinformation threaten real harm, especially to definable groups under my care? For example, some crazy stuff on YouTube about biblical Hebrew turns out to be a platform for some ugly anti-Semitic propaganda. Further, in my Hebrew class, I am already encouraging students to search the Web for info on biblical Hebrew—the point is to give them a chance to exercise their developing skills of critical assessment. In this case, I have a responsibility to do the frankly tiresome work of anticipating some of what’s out there. Nobody to blame but myself, of course: I made my bed.



  1. Does the misinformation offer biblical studies an opportunity to raise its public profile in an attractive way? Dan Brown’s book a good example: he has already drawn the press and the crowds, all we have to do is step into the spotlight and be heard. Sadly, it turns out that a decade of graduate work in philological-linguistic biblical studies does not an able marketing executive or a sexy talking head make. Hundreds of biblical-studies folks found a familiar platform doing adult education talks at churches about Da Vinci Code, but I don’t know of any who became darlings of The View and the Today show. Still, the opportunity is there. In theory, an entertaining and attractive dialogue with the Bible woo could, over time, translate into funds for academic jobs for my ilk (cue swelling strains of “The Impossible Dream”).


All this said, Chris’s point stands as long as our engagements with bunk profit them more than us. There are some skill sets to be sharpened here, and I’d take Chris’s words as a notice that the burden is on the debunker to show that she does more good than harm with her engagement. Do any shining examples of public biblical debunking come to mind for you? Or any less-shining examples from which there are lessons to be learned?

Post coming (I promise) on pseudo-biblical-history and pseudo-Hebrew-linguistics as a species of “woo.”