You're studying what?

My decision to pursue a course of study in Biblical literature has been met with a variety of questions:
Question 1: "Do you know how old you'll be when you're done?"
My reply, "Do you know how old I'll be if I don't do this?"

Question 2: "Are you going to be a pastor?"
"No, I hope to teach." Then follows a pause and a look of confusion..."Oh, well, where would you do that?" (I detect some doubt about anyone taking courses on such material.)
"Most likely I would teach at a university or a seminary." Pause, then politely, "Oh, that sounds interesting."

Question 3: "How long will it take you?" "Until I finish or 7 years, whichever comes first."

Or more recently, since I've returned to Ohio after 3 years of study in New Jersey, "So, you're all done now?"
"No, I still have to write a book." At this point the questioner usually gets a little interested and asks what it's about. I know whatever their expectations, my answer will surely disappoint.
"I'm writing about the books, Ezra and Nehemiah," I state. A furrowed brow appears as the questioner tries to recall if they've ever heard of them. "Two books in the Hebrew Bible," I say helpfully. At this point the furrow deepens. My questioner is wondering if perhaps there is another book called the Bible since they are quite sure they've never heard of Ezra and Nehemiah in their Bible.

"Hmm, I'm not sure I'm acquainted with those books. What are they about?"
"Well, they're about rebuilding Jerusalem and the Temple and the Jewish community after the exile." (I could have said they're about divorcing wives, running off unwanted neighbors and using religious arguments to shore up a local power base but that always seems a bit too cynical of a starting place.)
"Ah," says my respondent. What this usually indicates is that my questioner is historically lost. The exile, the rebuilding, and the time period are all ancient history and although useful for keeping scholars out of trouble seem of little importance to life today. I know that further efforts to try and provide some familiar context to explain my study will only muddy the waters. However, never one to give up on a teachable moment, I add, "They were written at the end of the Persian period (before the Greeks took over Jerusalem.)" Eyes begin to glaze a bit at this but I plow on, "I'm doing a sociological study of author's effort to legitimate his community and with that, his position in it. I hope my study will tell us something about the social and political dynamics of the community at that time..." My conversation partner is now beginning to truly worry. His or her eyes begin to dart past my head, looking for a convenient exit much as one drowning looks for a life buoy. (Why I didn't write on Genesis - everyone's heard of Genesis... or the Psalms, everyone likes Psalms; or even David, now there's an adventure story. sigh.)

At moments like this I try and say something that makes my study of these books relevant to life (like how religion, ethnicity and land are employed to define a community and carve out a space of its own within a large, rich, and powerful empire). Occasionally I succeed. It is how these books wage verbal war or wave verbal flags that has caught my attention but explaining that requires some discussion of Pierre Bourdieu and that I will save for another post. You can stop looking for the life buoy now.