Divine Anger, Divine Favor, and the Ongoing Dynamics of Intercession: Comparing the Moses Yhwh Relationship in Exodus 32–34 and Numbers 11

Several Roman writers regarded the security and prosperity of their communities, as well as the order of the entire universe, as connected with the scrupulous fulfilment of religious duties. 2 This order, called pax deorum, included peace and harmony in society as well as in the universe. Natural catastrophes and public disasters were explained as caused by divine anger that was provoked by either religious misbehaviour or neglect (religio neglecta). 3 In Greco-Roman thinking, religious misbehaviour -impiety towards the gods (asebeia, impietas) -was in correlation with the transgression against the res publica. 4 According to the renowned Roman ethos, known to us especially through the dialogue in Cicero, De natura deorum, it was the religio of the maiores that brought Romans their triumphs, achieved the greatness of the

One of the most significant extant documents attesting to the dissemination of genocide ideology in Rwanda in the early 1990s is the speech delivered on 22 November 1992 by the political figure Léon Mugesera, a member of the incumbent MRND party. It is particularly significant because it constitutes the earliest example of explicit genocidal discourse expressed by a member of the ruling political party in a public forum, and as such it has often been regarded as offering a ‘blueprint’ for the practical implementation of the genocide. In addition, the contents of the speech have been the subject of intense scrutiny and heated debate within the framework of a judicial process in Canada spanning more than a decade to determine whether Mugesera should be deported to Rwanda to face prosecution for genocide.
 
 The original speech was delivered in Kinyarwanda, the national language of Rwanda, which effectively meant it was largely inaccessible to foreign commentators until it was translated into French and English. This article examines key thematic, lexical and stylistic elements within the original speech as it was heard by its target audience, as well as fundamental issues raised by the Canadian hearings relating to the translation process such as accuracy, fidelity, impartiality and subjectivity which were crucial elements in the decision-making process which finally led to Mugesera being deported to Rwanda on 23 January 2012.

416 PHOENIX In Chapter Four Gladhill reveals how “Vergil constructs his entire epic according to a series of foedera struck by Aeneas, which organizes and motivates the narrative” (118) and culminates in Aeneas’ sacrifice of Turnus at the poem’s end. On a larger scale, the violation of foedera struck between Europe and Asia underlies the poem’s entire poetic landscape. Within this structure, Gladhill shows how certain patterns, such as altar violation, emerge as a norm, as in the stories of Sychaeus, Laocoon, Priam, Dido, etc., and Gladhill draws usefully on Servius in fleshing out this and other aspects of his argument. His overall conclusion in this chapter, however, resembles what is commonly said about the conclusion of the Aeneid, i.e., that it is ambiguous: “the death of Turnus and the consequent enactment of the foedus leave the reader in a state of interpretive aporia, which has continued from the Aeneid’s publication to the present moment” (154). Chapter Five on Lucan’s Bellum Civile provides the book’s climactic counter-example. Whereas in the texts examined in earlier chapters the foulness shadowing foedera is contained in various ways, “Lucan constructs a narrative not of ritual alliance, but of ritualized foeditas” (168) in depicting the civil war between Caesar and Pompey. The narrative arc of foeditas in the poem extends from Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon at the poem’s opening to the decapitation of Pompey near its close. In this world, “scelus is law and nefas is pervasive” (170) and the reader watches as the narrative of civil war unfolds via a “unified and coherent poetics of inversion and destruction” (171). The subversion of the foedera mundi in the poem finds its most memorable expression in the witch Erictho’s ability to reanimate a dead man. At moments of concordia in the poem, such as the foedus struck by the armies of the Pompeians and Caesar at Ilerda in Book 4, foedera humana and civilia may be revitalized, but these moments quickly pass as the poem rushes on to the passage in Book 9 (1018–27) where Pompey’s foul severed head becomes the basis of the foedus that ends the civil war. Overall, this book represents a significant contribution to the reading of classical Latin literature in its broader cultural context, one of the most interesting and productive areas of Latin literary studies at present. Faults aside, Gladhill’s study has much to offer scholars working in this general area as well as on the individual authors whom he treats. University of Michigan Basil Dufallo The Peace of the Gods: Elite Religious Practices in the Middle Roman Republic . By Craige B. Champion. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. 2017. Pp. xxv, 270. This book argues that Roman elites of the middle republic believed in their gods in the sense that they accepted that there were supernatural forces with whom they could negotiate in order to influence the course of events. Champion begins from the premise that what he calls “elite-instrumentalism,” the idea that skeptical elites manipulated religion to control their social inferiors, lies behind much contemporary scholarship on Roman religion, including the current orthodoxy of “belief denialism” (x). The Peace of the Gods, by contrast, explores what religious rituals meant to elite practitioners, especially in times of political, military, or social crisis. As Champion acknowledges, it is a “methodological impossibility” (7) to recover the subjective mental state of a historical agent. Even so, he contends that an individual’s behavior can serve as an indicator of what his or her mental state was likely to have BOOK REVIEWS/COMPTES RENDUS 417 been. Throughout much of the book, Champion engages with elite-instrumentalism as a “counterfactual interpretive strategy” (ix), asking whether a ritual action undertaken by a member of the elite individually, or by the aristocracy collectively, makes sense when understood as a cynical attempt to exert control over the masses. In nearly every case, he finds that Roman elites acted from a genuine conviction that the scrupulous performance of religious ritual could secure divine favor in matters of great importance. Chapter One (“Elite-Instrumentalism: Persistence and Paradox”) provides a history of elite-instrumentalist interpretations...

STEPHEN TATUM "Distance," Desire, and The Ideological Matrix of Winter in the Blood At the end of part one ofJames Welch's Winter in the Blood the unnamed narrator-protagonist discovers in his jacket pocket a letter written to his mothet, Teresa First Raise, from a Catholic priest in nearby Harlem, Montana. Pondering the envelope with her name written on it in "big, solid, unreal" letters, the narrator concludes that "the name did not belong to the woman who was my mother. It belonged to somebody I didn't know, somebody so far away that the picture on the stamp of a man I didn't recognize seemed familiar" (58). Although he thinks briefly about opening the envelope and reading the correspondence , he decides instead to tear up the letter held between his legs and watch its pieces fall to the floor. He feels "vaguely satisfied" that "a lettet written by a white man who refused to bury Indians in their own plots, who refused to set foot on the reservation" (59), will never reach its destination. Framed by his troubled recall of the previous evening's boozy escapades and by the street sounds that interrupt his thoughts that afternoon while he sits in a tavern, the narrator's gesture binds together several formal and thematic elements at work in the novel's opening section. In terms of characterization, this conjunction of naming, letters , and the power to "bury" humans in plots both magnifies the narrator 's isolation from the social matrix depicted in the novel and deArizona Quarterly Volume 46 Number 2, Summer 1990 Copyright © 1990 by Arizona Board of Regents ISSN 0004-1 6 10 74Stephen Tatwm fines, in particular, Part One's illustration of an Oedipal scenario. In terms of theme, this rupture of the communication circuit foreshadows the novel's overall investment in recording acts of repression or censorship . It also discloses its thematic interest in interrogating the consequences of an indifferent "official" culture's authority to plot a local, native culture's fortunes. Finally, because the narrator's action severs the connections potentially offered by any written discourse, it underlines the reader's burgeoning sense that the twin dynamic of a novel's traditional plotting—to chart meaningful intersections, to announce and eventually "resolve" enigmas—will not dominate the texture of Winter in the Blood. Moreover, what seems initially to be a heightened textual moment charting the narrator's emergent will to power also opens up a basic epistemological question concerning how the truth ofanything, past or present, can be known. To state the question in the novel's language, is it possible to make any written representation "familiar" rather than "distant"? This question surfaces here because the narrator insists on the distinction between representation itself and what is represented. The "I" who speaks in this passage believes that both the individual letters forming his mother's name ("T-E-R-E-S-A" [58]) and the epistolary discourse constituting the priest's "Teresa" do not "belong to the woman who was my mother," do not bear any relation to the Teresa known and jealously guarded by her son. Taken together, his remarks during the course of this scene raise epistemological questions because they suggest three problems associated with naming. Knowing Teresa— or any other person, object, or domain—becomes problematic when names are severed from the context of their utterance, and when certain experiences seem to overwhelm any effort to control them via the act ofnaming. In addition, the effort to articulate experience in written signs can also be frusttated by knowing of all that contradicts what the signs designate. Such problems are not simply introduced here and dropped. They are bound together later in the novel when the narrator examines his father's tombstone—on which "were written the name, John First Raise, and a pair of dates between which he had managed to stay alive"—and realizes that such engraved marks "said nothing about how he had liked to fix machines and laugh with the white men of Dodson, or how he came to be frozen stiff as a plank in the borrow pit by Earthboy's" (137). Winter in the Blood75...

Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) pertains to the examination of language or linguistic usage. The objectives of this investigation were twofold: firstly, to identify the types of CDA evident in Selena Gomez's speeches, and secondly, to delineate the social cognition apparent within her speeches. The researcher employed Teun A. Van Dijk's (1998) Critical Discourse Analysis theory as the theoretical framework. Employing qualitative and descriptive methodologies, this study aimed to depict and scrutinize the data. The analysis primarily focused on dissecting the critical discourse present in Selena Gomez's speech texts. Through this analysis, three categories of CDA elements were identified in Selena Gomez's speeches: firstly, thematic elements, comprising a single category; secondly, syntactic style elements, subdivided into five categories, namely Persuasion, Impression Management, Attribution, Cohesion, and Pronoun usage; thirdly, semantic style elements, which were further categorized into Background and Detail, as well as Presupposition; and fourthly, schemata, classified into three segments: the opening section, the content, and the closing section. Additionally, several elements contributing to social cognition were discerned, including person schemas, self-schemes, and role schemes

On May 1, 1988, Hans Magnus Enzensberger attended a performance of Gustav Mahler's Fourth symphony in Lisbon. Two years later, the poem "Vierte Symphonie, Coliseu dos Recreois, Lissabon" appeared in the volume Zukunftsmusik. The present article analyzes the impressions generated both by the music itself and by the ninety-year-old concert hall in which it was performed. It also demonstrates the thematic links between the poem and the essay on Portugal that the author had previously published in Ach Europa! My analysis then focuses on Enzensberger's fascination with time and, more specifically, the phenomenon of anachronism. Beginning with the publication of Die Furie des Verschwindens in 1980, the poetry concerns itself to such an extent with outmoded customs, activities, and language that there emerges an unmistakable paradigm of disappearance, the thematic and lexical elements of which this article then maps out. (AJC)

Over more than three decades, Brian Bauer has been a constant, prolific leader in the expansion of anthropological and historical knowledge of the Inca and the ancient Andes more broadly, frequently involving students and other colleagues in research and publications that bridge the Spanish-English language barrier. In their recent book, Voices from Vilcabamba, Bauer and coauthors Madeleine Halac-Higashimori and Gabriel E. Cantarutti hew to this legacy. They present the decades (ca. 1536–1607) of historical struggle between the last Inca sovereigns, Spanish colonizers of various stripes, and other Indigenous groups throughout this rugged eastern Andean enclave. The volume consists of two short, densely detailed chapters of historical narrative, and five sections with English translations of early Spanish colonial documents (hence the plural “voices” from Vilcabamba).The first chapter covers the decades of Inca rule in exile, from Manco Inca’s rejection of Spanish co-rule in Cuzco to Viceroy Toledo’s administration, the invasion of the hardly accessible Vilcabamba, and the capture and execution of Tupac Amaru (in 1572). The second chapter deals with Spanish colonization of Vilcabamba from 1572 to circa 1607, concentrating on the tenure of governor Martín Hurtado de Arbieto, his unsuccessful campaigns to extend colonial control in the region, and settlement of colonial towns. Notwithstanding this general outline, one of the richest series of events—the history of Augustinian missionary to Vilcabamba, Diego Ortiz, and his afterlife as a candidate for sainthood—is included in the first chapter, even though its narrative arc extends beyond 1600. The organizational choice keeps thematic continuity: Ortiz was in Vilcabamba by Titu Cusi Yupanqui’s invitation and was killed on suspicion of involvement in the Inca’s 1571 death. However, in light of what the histories show of the mutability of social and political alliances and animosities in Inca and post-Inca Vilcabamba, this organization also illustrates how religious conversion or alliance making were not unilineal, irreversible chronological realizations, but instead processual.Following these summaries are sections with English translations of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Vilcabamba documents. A perennial challenge in introducing undergraduates (and attracting future specialists) to Andean ethnohistory is the amount of critical material in Spanish. On this score alone, Voices is valuable and most welcome. The opening section includes the first English translations of writings from Martín de Murúa’s influential Historia general del Perú (ca. 1590). Next is the (ca. 1611) testament of Baltasar de Ocampo Conejeros, covering “the final years of independent Inca kingship in the Andes” (109), and subsequent efforts to colonize Vilcabamba, including military campaigns against the Pilcosuni. Next comes Diego Rodríguez de Figueroa’s (1565) compellingly related eyewitness report of Titu Cusi and his comportment during their meeting in Vilcabamba. The fourth translation is from a chronicle by a Spanish functionary who accompanied “Toledo during the fall of Vilcabamba and may have personally witnessed the execution of Tupac Amaru” (177). The last section draws on testimonies from multiple documents produced in the Augustinian investigations into Ortiz’s death and possible saintly miracles effected by his buried body. These new and corroborating details are the authors’ hardest won, and they highlight the authors’ indefatigable and thorough “archival fieldwork.” Such disentangling of historical/historiographic threads drives home the merit and value in uniting these documents in one volume. Each document is situated within its sociohistorical context, and copious endnotes enhance both the book’s narrative and document portions. Most interesting for interdisciplinary approaches, the notes also mention archaeological research (often Bauer’s own) that bears on specific items in the narratives.The book is full of the sorts of passages that pique ethnohistorical interest in different peoples navigating different times. For instance, Rodríguez de Figueroa’s references to cannibal Amazonians and Europeans’ bargaining with glass beads will be familiar to ethnohistorians. Why, following Ortiz’s execution, did Vilcabamba Indians repurpose his vestments and dispose of the soil on which he had said mass? And did a battle really end when the Spanish governor convinced his Pilcosuni foes to doubt the damage they had inflicted by covering his several wounds with ash, as a Spaniard reported? In some cases (wisely, I think) the authors examine suggested interpretations, in others they simply include the detail and continue their historical narrative.Voices from Vilcabamba’s narratives and documents have already been used in advanced historical and anthropological research; surely, this will continue. The book should also interest scholars of Andean history and colonial interactions in the early modern period. The volume’s succinct but comprehensive narrative chapters and its translated documents are well suited for use in large introductory and upper-division “area studies” courses.