Dr. Mark Leuchter
Associate Professor
IN MEMORY OF BRIAN PECKHAM, 1934-2008
Brian Peckham, professor of Bible and Ancient Near East at University of Toronto, died on October 19th. He was 74.
Brian was my thesis director when I was a graduate student. The first time I met him was during my MA program...I had to take a language proficiency test in Biblical Hebrew, and he administered the exam. At the time, I was not a Biblical scholar; I was interested in religion and the arts. But meeting him was part of what changed my direction as a young scholar. When I returned to school to do my PhD, I had not a shadow of a doubt about who I wanted to work with: I knew that I could learn a lot from this gentle natured, erudite and good humored man. And indeed I did.
Brian wrote several important works that scholars of ancient Israel and Biblical ltierature know very well. His great opus was the 1993 volume entitled HISTORY AND PROPHECY, where he conceived of a model where Biblical authors knew and responded to each other in their works. For him, the Bible was not just a text to be read but a symphony of concepts, a dense tapestry of intellectual history that taught lessons not just through its verses but by giving clues as to how those verses were woven together. His last work, still incomplete, was to be a history of Phoenician religion from the 12th Century BCE to the 3rd Century BCE. Brian worked on that for 10 years. Every time I saw him, I would ask him how he was progressing, and he would always say that he was making headway but remained unsatisfied because there was so much more he wanted to delve into with each chapter than what practicality would allow him.
I remember one conversation with Brian when we were discussing some ways we could evaluate the formation of prophetic texts. I had an idea, but quickly followed up by saying that it wasn’t worth much and how could it compare to the work of great scholars with whom I disagreed on a specific point. brian’s immediate reply was "I don’t think you understand what scholarship is, Mark." He went on to explain to me that true scholarship is about ideas no matter WHO comes up with them; to be a scholar, one must value their own thoughts and be willing to contribute them to the conversation other scholars are already having. Even if they are wrong, they’ve still provided new ways for other people to think about the world. That was the most valuable piece of advice I ever received regarding working in this field, and I’ve never forgotten it.
I was fortunate to edit a Festschrift in Brian’s honor a few years ago with John Harvey and Joyce Rilett Wood. It was amazing to see the variety of voices, young and old, who contributed essays that were published in the Festschrift, and it was equally amazing to see how different they all were from each other. Some scholars want to forge little versions of themselves to carry on their intellectual legacy, but not Brian. He encouraged us to be different, to follow our own instincts, to argue against views he held if we felt there were other ways of looking at history or texts.
But Brian was more than just a scholarly mentor. He was a caring, sympathetic and supportive friend. When going through some sad personal times during the completion of my doctorate, he would often stop our discussion of my work and ask me to tell him how I was feeling. He cared not just about what I was going to write and publish, but whether or not I was living life and finding meaning in daily existence. And if I wasn’t, he shared insights into life with me, the kind that only come from a deep wisdom one gains with age, to try and help me see light in dark places. He was a kind man who delighted in the delights of his students and peers. He was my mentor and my friend, and I hope that my own work does justice to what he taught me. I will miss him.