A crucial quote from that great Armenian C.S. Lewis that is, I think, helpful in many ongoing hermeneutical debates in the theological world today.
"An author doesn't necessarily understand the meaning of his own story better than anyone else." -C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces
Along similar lines is a quote by one of my favorite writers of fiction from his best work:
"A narrator should not supply interpretations of his work; otherwise he would not have written a novel, which is a machine for generating interpretations." -Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose
Of course the Old Testament writers are the prime examples of these truths. I think that it would be safe to say that none of them had Jesus Christ in mind when they were writing their words of truth. Yet, as the Apostles and the Fathers and the Medieval exegetes and countless saints throughout the life of the Church realize, the Old Testament is about Christ. It does not matter that the original author may not have intended his work to speak of Christ, it does. Or to argue like the greatest of medieval exegetes Aquinas, the literal meaning of Scripture is indeed what the author intended. But the author was God.
If only modern biblical scholars would awaken to this point.
Showing posts with label Interpretation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Interpretation. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Why have we lost the Story?
In the previous post, I lamented the fact that church has, generally speaking, in some way lost the understanding of the biblical narrative, the redemption story of God and the people he has called to himself in Israel and in the church. This loss has been deceptive because in many parts of the church, it would appear that bible reading is on the rise. Individual study of the Scriptures is now everywhere encouraged, including the Catholic Church which, for a time, kept the Scriptures away from lay people in an ancient language. Additionally, it would appear that Scripture memorization is on the rise. I've been to many churches where pastors encourage this discipline from the pulpit.
But the deception comes just in this. It is easy to deceive ourselves into thinking that we are biblically literate people because we have memorized a few verses or because we know a few bible stories. It is easy to deceive ourselves into thinking that we understand the story because we know who Balaam is. And so despite what can pass for biblical sermons and such, I hold to my original claim. But why have we lost this story? Particularly when the love of the bible is so high in many denominations. How did we get to where we are? This is a complex question with many possible answers. In this post, I would like to suggest only one possible factor with the knowledge that it alone cannot shoulder the blame.
Maxie Dunham, long time United Methodist pastor and former president of Asbury Theological Seminary, was fond of saying: "As the seminary goes, so goes the preacher, as the preacher goes, so goes the church." There is much wisdom in this statement and I think that he gets at a fundamental truth of the loss of the story. Much of the onus must be placed on the academy that trains these ministers. Allow me a bit of background to make this point.
In the modern era, there developed in biblical scholarship a series of methods for studying the text, which are collectively known as the "historical-critical method." The historical-critical method, in all of its varieties, seeks to find the meaning of the text by placing the text in its original sitz im leben ("life setting"). It seeks to discover the original author, the original audience, the original setting, any circumstances that occasioned the work, and the like. It was thought that the original context would provide the appropriate interpretive context. The historical-critical method developed in response to erroneous interpretations which read the text purely from one's own context, often employing it in manners that are unwarranted by the text itself.
This is all well and good and you might think that the historical-critical method was a positive development. After all, there are innumerable examples of how the text has been twisted to meet someone's personal agenda and the historical-critical method does provide some means of objectivity to act as a check against this sort of exegesis.
Having said this, there are, in my estimation, many negatives to the historical-critical method. The first, and perhaps the only one that needs to be mentioned here, is the shifting of the context of interpretation. For the historical-critical method, the context of interpretation moves behind the text. That is, the real interesting and crucial knowledge about an epistle such as Ephesians is not the content of the letter itself, but rather the situation in which it was written. Scholars who employ this method think that they will ascertain the meaning of the text if they can recreate the original context. But that means that the meaning is not located in anything Paul says in the text (if indeed Paul wrote Ephesians) but what was happening in his mind to cause him to write this. As a result, the text shifts to the background and these "behind-the-text" issues become the only important thing.
The greatest example of the loss of the text is in Gospel studies. Historical-critics are in general agreement that Mark was the first Gospel written and that Matthew and Luke used Mark as a source. But to understand the numerous similar passages found in Matthew and Luke that are absent from Mark, they have constructed a hypothetical "Q" document which is, supposedly, an early list of Jesus' sayings. They contend that Matthew and Luke also used "Q" to write their accounts. There is no manuscript evidence for this document. It is never quoted as such in the early Fathers or canonical lists of books. Yet, for most biblical scholars Q more important than any of the Gospels because it represents the earliest source, a list that is closest in time to the Christ event. NEVER MIND THE FACT THAT IT DOESN'T EXIST! The canonical Gospels, in the work of these scholars, very clearly take second place.
This phenomenon can also be witnessed in any scholarly commentary that one picks up today. On the average, 3/4s of a given commentary is devoted to the recreation of the original setting, whereas only 1/4 is given to actual exposition of the text. And these are the commentaries that our preachers are using.
And here is where I think the academy has led to the loss of the story. The majority of ministers currently in the pulpit cut their teeth on this historical-critical method. As a result, they have been trained to think of the text as secondary in importance. This leaves them with quite a problem on Sunday mornings. Are they to write a sermon about the real author of Ephesians? Chances are no because that does not preach very well. What is left then but some topical sermon? For they were not trained to understand the entire narrative and that its retelling is the only thing that will form Christian disciples.
There are, to be sure, positive things to be mined from the historical-critical method. But to buy into it hook, line, and sinker is to relegate the text to second place and to lose the overall understanding of the story of God from creation to redemption. It is to lose the idea that the one author, the Holy Spirit, is behind all of the individual authors and settings and gives the story its coherence. It is to lose the idea that this story still speaks to us today, that we as the church today are the intended audience of these letters. In short, the beginning of the recovery of the biblical story is the restoration of the text to its rightful place as the center of both exegetical study and homiletical exposition.
But the deception comes just in this. It is easy to deceive ourselves into thinking that we are biblically literate people because we have memorized a few verses or because we know a few bible stories. It is easy to deceive ourselves into thinking that we understand the story because we know who Balaam is. And so despite what can pass for biblical sermons and such, I hold to my original claim. But why have we lost this story? Particularly when the love of the bible is so high in many denominations. How did we get to where we are? This is a complex question with many possible answers. In this post, I would like to suggest only one possible factor with the knowledge that it alone cannot shoulder the blame.
Maxie Dunham, long time United Methodist pastor and former president of Asbury Theological Seminary, was fond of saying: "As the seminary goes, so goes the preacher, as the preacher goes, so goes the church." There is much wisdom in this statement and I think that he gets at a fundamental truth of the loss of the story. Much of the onus must be placed on the academy that trains these ministers. Allow me a bit of background to make this point.
In the modern era, there developed in biblical scholarship a series of methods for studying the text, which are collectively known as the "historical-critical method." The historical-critical method, in all of its varieties, seeks to find the meaning of the text by placing the text in its original sitz im leben ("life setting"). It seeks to discover the original author, the original audience, the original setting, any circumstances that occasioned the work, and the like. It was thought that the original context would provide the appropriate interpretive context. The historical-critical method developed in response to erroneous interpretations which read the text purely from one's own context, often employing it in manners that are unwarranted by the text itself.
This is all well and good and you might think that the historical-critical method was a positive development. After all, there are innumerable examples of how the text has been twisted to meet someone's personal agenda and the historical-critical method does provide some means of objectivity to act as a check against this sort of exegesis.
Having said this, there are, in my estimation, many negatives to the historical-critical method. The first, and perhaps the only one that needs to be mentioned here, is the shifting of the context of interpretation. For the historical-critical method, the context of interpretation moves behind the text. That is, the real interesting and crucial knowledge about an epistle such as Ephesians is not the content of the letter itself, but rather the situation in which it was written. Scholars who employ this method think that they will ascertain the meaning of the text if they can recreate the original context. But that means that the meaning is not located in anything Paul says in the text (if indeed Paul wrote Ephesians) but what was happening in his mind to cause him to write this. As a result, the text shifts to the background and these "behind-the-text" issues become the only important thing.
The greatest example of the loss of the text is in Gospel studies. Historical-critics are in general agreement that Mark was the first Gospel written and that Matthew and Luke used Mark as a source. But to understand the numerous similar passages found in Matthew and Luke that are absent from Mark, they have constructed a hypothetical "Q" document which is, supposedly, an early list of Jesus' sayings. They contend that Matthew and Luke also used "Q" to write their accounts. There is no manuscript evidence for this document. It is never quoted as such in the early Fathers or canonical lists of books. Yet, for most biblical scholars Q more important than any of the Gospels because it represents the earliest source, a list that is closest in time to the Christ event. NEVER MIND THE FACT THAT IT DOESN'T EXIST! The canonical Gospels, in the work of these scholars, very clearly take second place.
This phenomenon can also be witnessed in any scholarly commentary that one picks up today. On the average, 3/4s of a given commentary is devoted to the recreation of the original setting, whereas only 1/4 is given to actual exposition of the text. And these are the commentaries that our preachers are using.
And here is where I think the academy has led to the loss of the story. The majority of ministers currently in the pulpit cut their teeth on this historical-critical method. As a result, they have been trained to think of the text as secondary in importance. This leaves them with quite a problem on Sunday mornings. Are they to write a sermon about the real author of Ephesians? Chances are no because that does not preach very well. What is left then but some topical sermon? For they were not trained to understand the entire narrative and that its retelling is the only thing that will form Christian disciples.
There are, to be sure, positive things to be mined from the historical-critical method. But to buy into it hook, line, and sinker is to relegate the text to second place and to lose the overall understanding of the story of God from creation to redemption. It is to lose the idea that the one author, the Holy Spirit, is behind all of the individual authors and settings and gives the story its coherence. It is to lose the idea that this story still speaks to us today, that we as the church today are the intended audience of these letters. In short, the beginning of the recovery of the biblical story is the restoration of the text to its rightful place as the center of both exegetical study and homiletical exposition.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Right Interpretation
This beautiful quotation comes from Richard B. Hays, a professor of New Testament at Duke and one of the foremost Wesleyan Biblical scholars of our time:
"No reading of Scripture can be legitimate, then, if it fails to shape the readers into a community that embodies the love of God as shown forth in Christ. This criterion slashes away all frivolous or self-serving readings, all readings that aggrandize the interpreter, all merely clever readings. True interpretation of Scripture leads us into unqualified giving of our lives in service within the community whose vocation is to reenact the obedience of the Son of God who loved us and gave himself for us. Community in the likeness of Christ is cruciform; therefore right interpretation must be cruciform."
-Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul, p. 191
"No reading of Scripture can be legitimate, then, if it fails to shape the readers into a community that embodies the love of God as shown forth in Christ. This criterion slashes away all frivolous or self-serving readings, all readings that aggrandize the interpreter, all merely clever readings. True interpretation of Scripture leads us into unqualified giving of our lives in service within the community whose vocation is to reenact the obedience of the Son of God who loved us and gave himself for us. Community in the likeness of Christ is cruciform; therefore right interpretation must be cruciform."
-Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul, p. 191
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
People of the Book
Historically, both Jews and Christians have been known as "People of the Book." The reason for this is that both religions are based, not in a direct experience of God (which was the claim of Paganism and much of today's so-called "New Ages" religions), but in an experience that is mediated through a story preserved for them in a book. Much of the opposing groups' stories are exactly the same. The one God created the heavens and the earth, was rebelled against by sinful humanity, and now pursues a salvific relationship with them (a salvation which finds its paradigmatic episode in the Exodus of the Hebrews from the slavery of Egypt). Of course, the story diverges at just the crucial point (the "climax" in narrative terms). For the Jews are still waiting for their final restoration in a Messiah who has not yet come. The Christians believe that their restoration (and the restoration of creation) has already begun - it began with the coming of Jesus the Messiah (Christ is the Greek term meaning "Messiah").
Because much of their story, and therefore their Scriptures, are the same, it is not surprising that the debates between Jews and Christians in the first few centuries were exegetical in nature. That is, the debate hinged on the correct way to understand and interpret the revelatory story God gave them. (We must remember that, though all of the documents of the New Testament were written in the first century, it took much longer for the church to recognize that God had spoken authoritatively in them. When the early Christians - and the New Testament writers for that matter - speak of their Scriptures, they are speaking only of what we now call the Old Testament.)
You might be wondering or have thought before that the Old Testament does not say much, if anything, about Jesus. But for the early Christians, everything that they needed to know about the nature of Jesus had already been revealed. We can see this in the pages of the New Testament. Consider the parable of Lazarus and the rich man and Abraham's solemn warning to the rich man concerning the fate of his unbelieving brothers: "[The rich man] said, 'Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house--for I have five brothers--that he may warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.' Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' He said, 'No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.' He said to them, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'" -Luke 16:27-31
Or Consider Jesus' words to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus: "'O, how foolish you are, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?' Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the Scriptures." -Luke 24:25-27
But to the Jews, it was anything but obvious that the Messiah should suffer; and herein lies the single greatest point of differentiation between the Jews and the Christians of the first centuries. The Jews were waiting for a triumphant, warrior Messiah who would come in and forcibly set up the kingdom of the Jews on earth. Conversely, the Christians proclaimed that a crucified man was the Messiah. Thus, the text that created the most controversy in those early debates was Isaiah 53: "He was despised and rejected by others; a man of sorrows and acquainted with infirmity . . . surely he has born our infirmities and carried our diseases . . . but he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed."
In this amazing passage, written hundreds of years before Christ, the Christians discerned the identity of their savior - not a warrior Messiah, not a triumphant king, but a suffering servant. They clearly saw the cross - the punishment that made us whole. The New Testament writers refer to it frequently (cf. 1 Pet 2:21-24). In a mid second century debate between the early church father Justin Martyr and the Jew Trypho, Justin quotes or refers to it in excess of twenty times including a full quotation of Isaiah 52:10-54:6. This was obviously the foundation of the Christians' claim that the cross was prophesied by the prophets.
Incredibly, the Jews also discerned the Messiah in this passage; however, they saw not a suffering Messiah, but the triumphant Messiah that they so longed for. They concentrated on other parts of the passage: "Therefore I will allot him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong." It is not until the fourth century that Rabbinic exegesis begins to concede that the Messiah figure might be a suffering one.
I imagine that most of us would find it unimaginable that the Jews cannot see the cross in this passage; it is so clearly there. But the reality is that one's interpretations of Scripture are always guided by his or her presuppositions. The Jews saw a triumphant, warrior Messiah in Isaiah 53 because that is what they already expected. Only those who had undergone the radical conversion to Christianity could look upon the Scriptures through a new lens, and see so clearly what was previously thought impossible.
The same remains true for us today - for our interpretations of Scripture are just as surely guided by our presuppositions. Many of these presuppositions are ungrounded and can be harmful; they can lead us to find things in Scripture that are truly not there. Thus, we in America can interpret our riches as the blessings of God, while the poor in South America can interpret them as signs that we have forsaken God. Suspending judgment on either claim for the moment, the lesson is that we need to read Scripture with the knowledge that we have presuppositions, and we need to pray that Christ will continue to open our eyes as he opened the eyes of those first Christians, that we too may see things we have never seen. And that we might be converted. And that we might still be known as people of the book.
Because much of their story, and therefore their Scriptures, are the same, it is not surprising that the debates between Jews and Christians in the first few centuries were exegetical in nature. That is, the debate hinged on the correct way to understand and interpret the revelatory story God gave them. (We must remember that, though all of the documents of the New Testament were written in the first century, it took much longer for the church to recognize that God had spoken authoritatively in them. When the early Christians - and the New Testament writers for that matter - speak of their Scriptures, they are speaking only of what we now call the Old Testament.)
You might be wondering or have thought before that the Old Testament does not say much, if anything, about Jesus. But for the early Christians, everything that they needed to know about the nature of Jesus had already been revealed. We can see this in the pages of the New Testament. Consider the parable of Lazarus and the rich man and Abraham's solemn warning to the rich man concerning the fate of his unbelieving brothers: "[The rich man] said, 'Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house--for I have five brothers--that he may warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.' Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' He said, 'No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.' He said to them, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'" -Luke 16:27-31
Or Consider Jesus' words to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus: "'O, how foolish you are, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?' Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the Scriptures." -Luke 24:25-27
But to the Jews, it was anything but obvious that the Messiah should suffer; and herein lies the single greatest point of differentiation between the Jews and the Christians of the first centuries. The Jews were waiting for a triumphant, warrior Messiah who would come in and forcibly set up the kingdom of the Jews on earth. Conversely, the Christians proclaimed that a crucified man was the Messiah. Thus, the text that created the most controversy in those early debates was Isaiah 53: "He was despised and rejected by others; a man of sorrows and acquainted with infirmity . . . surely he has born our infirmities and carried our diseases . . . but he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed."
In this amazing passage, written hundreds of years before Christ, the Christians discerned the identity of their savior - not a warrior Messiah, not a triumphant king, but a suffering servant. They clearly saw the cross - the punishment that made us whole. The New Testament writers refer to it frequently (cf. 1 Pet 2:21-24). In a mid second century debate between the early church father Justin Martyr and the Jew Trypho, Justin quotes or refers to it in excess of twenty times including a full quotation of Isaiah 52:10-54:6. This was obviously the foundation of the Christians' claim that the cross was prophesied by the prophets.
Incredibly, the Jews also discerned the Messiah in this passage; however, they saw not a suffering Messiah, but the triumphant Messiah that they so longed for. They concentrated on other parts of the passage: "Therefore I will allot him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong." It is not until the fourth century that Rabbinic exegesis begins to concede that the Messiah figure might be a suffering one.
I imagine that most of us would find it unimaginable that the Jews cannot see the cross in this passage; it is so clearly there. But the reality is that one's interpretations of Scripture are always guided by his or her presuppositions. The Jews saw a triumphant, warrior Messiah in Isaiah 53 because that is what they already expected. Only those who had undergone the radical conversion to Christianity could look upon the Scriptures through a new lens, and see so clearly what was previously thought impossible.
The same remains true for us today - for our interpretations of Scripture are just as surely guided by our presuppositions. Many of these presuppositions are ungrounded and can be harmful; they can lead us to find things in Scripture that are truly not there. Thus, we in America can interpret our riches as the blessings of God, while the poor in South America can interpret them as signs that we have forsaken God. Suspending judgment on either claim for the moment, the lesson is that we need to read Scripture with the knowledge that we have presuppositions, and we need to pray that Christ will continue to open our eyes as he opened the eyes of those first Christians, that we too may see things we have never seen. And that we might be converted. And that we might still be known as people of the book.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
The Root of All Heresy
For those of us in the church, we have learned to regard the words "heresy" and "heretics" as bad words, of the four letter variety, from which to stay far away. Often these heretics can be demonized and the church has a wicked history of, not just breaking communion with them (which is warranted) but of killing them (which is not warranted). While heretics are rarely killed anymore, they are certainly still demonized, to the point that we assume that someone who is a heretic is an evil person.
History shows us, however, that this is simply not correct. In point of fact, most heretics were holy men and women, just as devout and just as zealous for the truth as those labeled orthodox. Heretics rarely disregard the Word or call into question its inspiration. Where then does heresy come from, if not from the disregard of God's Word? It comes from a misinterpretation of God's Word. Bad interpretation of Scripture is the root of all heresy. As St. Irenaeus in the late second century wrote in the preface to his monumental work against the Gnostic heresies: "They falsify the words of the Lord and make themselves bad interpreters of what was well said."
This is a warning to us to handle the Word with care, lest in our devoutness we are lead astray with some of the heretics of old. As we read, we need to look to our Fathers and Mothers in the faith for clues on how to interpret and to pray that the Spirit be with us as we read. There is power in the Word to change us, if we read it in accord with the boundaries given the church. For the same Spirit that gave the church the Word also gave her the means to interpret it well.
History shows us, however, that this is simply not correct. In point of fact, most heretics were holy men and women, just as devout and just as zealous for the truth as those labeled orthodox. Heretics rarely disregard the Word or call into question its inspiration. Where then does heresy come from, if not from the disregard of God's Word? It comes from a misinterpretation of God's Word. Bad interpretation of Scripture is the root of all heresy. As St. Irenaeus in the late second century wrote in the preface to his monumental work against the Gnostic heresies: "They falsify the words of the Lord and make themselves bad interpreters of what was well said."
This is a warning to us to handle the Word with care, lest in our devoutness we are lead astray with some of the heretics of old. As we read, we need to look to our Fathers and Mothers in the faith for clues on how to interpret and to pray that the Spirit be with us as we read. There is power in the Word to change us, if we read it in accord with the boundaries given the church. For the same Spirit that gave the church the Word also gave her the means to interpret it well.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
The Relevant Tradition
From the earliest days of the church, two seemingly paradoxical characteristics have marked the Christian faith: 1) an abiding concern for tradition and finding one's identity and story in the community that has gone before; and 2) an abiding concern for spreading the gospel to peoples and cultures who have never heard it before. These characteristics, equally important, have often been the source of tension, for the question always arises: how does one make the faith relevant and understandable to new generations and cultures without sacrificing what is distinctive about that faith?
There have been times when the church has succeeded in the struggle. The New Testament writers are the prime example. Their beloved tradition, the tradition and story out of which Christianity grew, was the story of Israel. And as the pages of the NT reveal, this story was fully embraced and carried on by the first Christians. The church, in struggling to identify herself, looked back into her tradition. Thus, Peter, writing to his church of Gentile converts says this: "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God's own possession . . ." (1 Pet 2:9). These four images are lifted straight from Israel's Scriptures, former descriptions of Israel now applied to the church.
Yet the NT writers, in looking back to tradition, were not imprisoned by it. After all, the language of Israel's Scriptures was Hebrew, but no common person (least of all the Gentiles) knew how to read Hebrew. Thus, the NT is written in Greek, the language that everyone knew. These tradition filled documents, full of imagery garnered from Israel's story, is presented to the people in a new medium, one which they were able to understand and, as a result, the Gospel spread quickly in those first generations. When Greek fell out of use in the West in the second and third centuries, the Scriptures were translated once again into the common language (Latin).
Unfortunately, there have also been times when the church has failed at this struggle. For centuries in the middle ages, the church kept the Scriptures locked away from the people by refusing to allow it to be translated from Latin (though no common person read or spoke Latin by this time). Church leaders had begun to confuse its tradition (the story of the Scriptures) with the form of that story, the Latin language. And incredibly, it persecuted those first brave souls who dared to translate the Latin Bible into the common language.
In our generation, it is evident that the same struggle goes on. While language might not be the focal point, the question remains vital: how do we make the faith understandable without losing its content. While the church in the middle ages erred on the side of tradition (thus failing to make it understandable to the people), I fear that many in our generation have erred on the other side. There are many examples today of those who would remove everything distinctive about the Christian faith so as to make it more attractive. A few examples:
1) The Old Testament is often hidden away as the dirty little secret. Instead of going to the effort of understanding what actually was happening in those pages, many preachers just skip over it and preach solely from the New Testament, if even that. But the loss of the Old Testament is the loss of a significant part of our story. In fact, the early Christians would have found a Christian faith without the Old Testament unintelligible. If we knew our story better, I suspect we would feel the same way.
2) The names of God are being changed. Instead of Father, Son, Holy Spirit, many are opting for titles like "the Divine" or "Sophia." While the intent behind these name changes is not necessarily bad and often times good (namely the concern for the marginalization of women in a patriarchal faith), I am not sure that changing the names of God revealed in Scripture is the best way to go about this. After all, I believe that Jesus reveals God as primarily a Father and he is best understood in the terms of that Father-Son relationship. To lose this metaphor is to lose a significant part of a traditional understanding of God.
3) My brother tells me that there is a church in his town which is considering removing all crosses from their premises in order to make it a more welcoming environment. Here is a church who has forfeited too much of tradition to make the faith more attractive. But if the cross has to be removed to do this, my question is what story are they teaching, what story are they living. A faith without the cross is not Christian. (One wonders if there would have been more resistance to the removing of the American flag from that church.)
This struggle is a necessary one, for as Christians, we are a people who are defined by our story, by our past. And yet we are commissioned to take that story to the world, to the world that does not speak our language. How are we to do it?
There have been times when the church has succeeded in the struggle. The New Testament writers are the prime example. Their beloved tradition, the tradition and story out of which Christianity grew, was the story of Israel. And as the pages of the NT reveal, this story was fully embraced and carried on by the first Christians. The church, in struggling to identify herself, looked back into her tradition. Thus, Peter, writing to his church of Gentile converts says this: "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God's own possession . . ." (1 Pet 2:9). These four images are lifted straight from Israel's Scriptures, former descriptions of Israel now applied to the church.
Yet the NT writers, in looking back to tradition, were not imprisoned by it. After all, the language of Israel's Scriptures was Hebrew, but no common person (least of all the Gentiles) knew how to read Hebrew. Thus, the NT is written in Greek, the language that everyone knew. These tradition filled documents, full of imagery garnered from Israel's story, is presented to the people in a new medium, one which they were able to understand and, as a result, the Gospel spread quickly in those first generations. When Greek fell out of use in the West in the second and third centuries, the Scriptures were translated once again into the common language (Latin).
Unfortunately, there have also been times when the church has failed at this struggle. For centuries in the middle ages, the church kept the Scriptures locked away from the people by refusing to allow it to be translated from Latin (though no common person read or spoke Latin by this time). Church leaders had begun to confuse its tradition (the story of the Scriptures) with the form of that story, the Latin language. And incredibly, it persecuted those first brave souls who dared to translate the Latin Bible into the common language.
In our generation, it is evident that the same struggle goes on. While language might not be the focal point, the question remains vital: how do we make the faith understandable without losing its content. While the church in the middle ages erred on the side of tradition (thus failing to make it understandable to the people), I fear that many in our generation have erred on the other side. There are many examples today of those who would remove everything distinctive about the Christian faith so as to make it more attractive. A few examples:
1) The Old Testament is often hidden away as the dirty little secret. Instead of going to the effort of understanding what actually was happening in those pages, many preachers just skip over it and preach solely from the New Testament, if even that. But the loss of the Old Testament is the loss of a significant part of our story. In fact, the early Christians would have found a Christian faith without the Old Testament unintelligible. If we knew our story better, I suspect we would feel the same way.
2) The names of God are being changed. Instead of Father, Son, Holy Spirit, many are opting for titles like "the Divine" or "Sophia." While the intent behind these name changes is not necessarily bad and often times good (namely the concern for the marginalization of women in a patriarchal faith), I am not sure that changing the names of God revealed in Scripture is the best way to go about this. After all, I believe that Jesus reveals God as primarily a Father and he is best understood in the terms of that Father-Son relationship. To lose this metaphor is to lose a significant part of a traditional understanding of God.
3) My brother tells me that there is a church in his town which is considering removing all crosses from their premises in order to make it a more welcoming environment. Here is a church who has forfeited too much of tradition to make the faith more attractive. But if the cross has to be removed to do this, my question is what story are they teaching, what story are they living. A faith without the cross is not Christian. (One wonders if there would have been more resistance to the removing of the American flag from that church.)
This struggle is a necessary one, for as Christians, we are a people who are defined by our story, by our past. And yet we are commissioned to take that story to the world, to the world that does not speak our language. How are we to do it?
Sunday, February 25, 2007
A Beautiful Story
One of my favorite movies is A Beautiful Mind, a biopic about the renowned mathematician and Nobel Peace Prize winner John Nash. The movie opens with Nash's years in graduate school at Princeton, chronicling his failures and successes, as well as narrating the close relationship which developed between Nash and his roommate Charles Herman. After Princeton, it follows Nash through several years at Wheeler Labs at MIT, as he is married and becomes involved in a highly dangerous task of cracking the codes of Russians who are hiding a portable nuclear bomb. About halfway through the movie, Nash begins to be pursued by Russians and he becomes extremely paranoid. This culminates in his lecture at Harvard where he is forcibly sedated and taken captive by imposing men in dark suits. (If you have not seen the movie, stop reading - spoiler ahead.)
The next scene, Nash awakes to find himself in a mental institution. And through a conversation between Dr. Rosen, the head psychiatrist, and Nash's wife Alicia, the audience learns to their shock that Nash is schizophrenic and the story of the Russian code breaking, which had consumed the better part of the movie, was all a delusion. Moreover, his Princeton roommate Charles Herman, a character the audience had by now grown to love, was also a delusion. The audience is then taken on a journey through Alicia's searching to various places that Nash visited during his delusions. What had been a beautiful old mansion, where he had dropped off his code breaking research, was truly a dilapidated old house. What had been a highly sophisticated entrance system, was truly just a rusted out mailbox. All of Nash's research was still sitting in the drop box, never picked up, never opened. The audience learns with Nash and experiences with him his disbelief of the poignant words of his wife: "It isn't real."
This point in the movie, though midway through its plot line, entirely changes the story. After learning this information, the audience realizes that they are not watching a movie about Russian codes; rather, they are watching a movie about a schizophrenic man. Had a person stopped watching the movie prior to this point, he or she would have had an entirely different interpretation of the first half of the movie.
There is a striking parallel here to the story of Scripture. Imagine a person sitting down to read the Bible for the first time. Imagine further that this person had never heard of anything in its pages before. Not knowing where else to start, she starts at the beginning. As she reads along in the first few books it becomes clear to her what the story is about, a people group who is chosen and redeemed by their Covenant, Creator God. But like A Beautiful Mind, there is a crucial turning point two thirds through the story: "And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth."
These words, much like the words of Alicia Nash, change everything. When we go back and read the first part of the story, we see things differently, things we didn't see before are there and things we saw before are no longer there. For instance, if you read the first part of the story, you might be prone to think of the Creator God as one who sanctions war. But after reading the sermon on the mount and seeing the God on the cross, you realize that this is not true. If you read the first part of the story, you might think that the Creator God is an exclusive God, coming for only one group of people. But after you read the letters of Paul, you realize that Christ came for all people.
Whereas the Fathers, starting from the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, inherently understood the truth that the testaments cannot be read apart from one another, most biblical scholars and Christians today do not understand it. You see the misunderstanding every time an OT scholar insists that we must understand the OT as the Jews would have understood it. You see the misunderstanding every time someone argues for the death penalty or for war or for some other controversial point using verses from the OT with no concern for the coming of Christ. These kinds of arguments are the same as if someone argued for the reality of Nash's roommate Charles Herman having only seen the first half of the movie. Herman is, of course, not reality but one has no way of knowing that without watching the entire movie.
Of course metaphors are not exactly the same as that which they portray; therefore, metaphors by nature break down. Where this one breaks down is precisely in the category of truth. Whereas John Nash's turning point showed him that things in his life he had thought were real were actually illusory, the coming of Christ in the flesh shows that the stories of God and the prophecies therein are the only true thing.
The next scene, Nash awakes to find himself in a mental institution. And through a conversation between Dr. Rosen, the head psychiatrist, and Nash's wife Alicia, the audience learns to their shock that Nash is schizophrenic and the story of the Russian code breaking, which had consumed the better part of the movie, was all a delusion. Moreover, his Princeton roommate Charles Herman, a character the audience had by now grown to love, was also a delusion. The audience is then taken on a journey through Alicia's searching to various places that Nash visited during his delusions. What had been a beautiful old mansion, where he had dropped off his code breaking research, was truly a dilapidated old house. What had been a highly sophisticated entrance system, was truly just a rusted out mailbox. All of Nash's research was still sitting in the drop box, never picked up, never opened. The audience learns with Nash and experiences with him his disbelief of the poignant words of his wife: "It isn't real."
This point in the movie, though midway through its plot line, entirely changes the story. After learning this information, the audience realizes that they are not watching a movie about Russian codes; rather, they are watching a movie about a schizophrenic man. Had a person stopped watching the movie prior to this point, he or she would have had an entirely different interpretation of the first half of the movie.
There is a striking parallel here to the story of Scripture. Imagine a person sitting down to read the Bible for the first time. Imagine further that this person had never heard of anything in its pages before. Not knowing where else to start, she starts at the beginning. As she reads along in the first few books it becomes clear to her what the story is about, a people group who is chosen and redeemed by their Covenant, Creator God. But like A Beautiful Mind, there is a crucial turning point two thirds through the story: "And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth."
These words, much like the words of Alicia Nash, change everything. When we go back and read the first part of the story, we see things differently, things we didn't see before are there and things we saw before are no longer there. For instance, if you read the first part of the story, you might be prone to think of the Creator God as one who sanctions war. But after reading the sermon on the mount and seeing the God on the cross, you realize that this is not true. If you read the first part of the story, you might think that the Creator God is an exclusive God, coming for only one group of people. But after you read the letters of Paul, you realize that Christ came for all people.
Whereas the Fathers, starting from the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, inherently understood the truth that the testaments cannot be read apart from one another, most biblical scholars and Christians today do not understand it. You see the misunderstanding every time an OT scholar insists that we must understand the OT as the Jews would have understood it. You see the misunderstanding every time someone argues for the death penalty or for war or for some other controversial point using verses from the OT with no concern for the coming of Christ. These kinds of arguments are the same as if someone argued for the reality of Nash's roommate Charles Herman having only seen the first half of the movie. Herman is, of course, not reality but one has no way of knowing that without watching the entire movie.
Of course metaphors are not exactly the same as that which they portray; therefore, metaphors by nature break down. Where this one breaks down is precisely in the category of truth. Whereas John Nash's turning point showed him that things in his life he had thought were real were actually illusory, the coming of Christ in the flesh shows that the stories of God and the prophecies therein are the only true thing.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
The Importance of Context in Reading Scripture
I believe that in understanding the meaning of a story, context is everything. Nowhere is this insight more crucial than in our understanding of Scripture. Just as one would not be able to pick a paragraph out of a novel such as To Kill a Mockingbird and understand the meaning of the story, its comments on the rapant racism of the South in thr 1930s, so one cannot read a verse in Philippians and understand what Paul is saying in the letter, much less the entirety of Scripture.
This truth might seem self evident. Unfortunately, however, many current practices in reading Scripture encourage just this practice. We often read a verse or two for our quiet times, in no particular sequence, and think we understand without giving any thought to the context in which it is set. The context than becomes whatever we bring to the verse resulting in an interpretation that best fits what we need, but may or may not have anything to do with the actual biblical narrative. Pastors, unfortunately, often model this practice, by reading one or two verses (sometimes even a half of a verse) and then making a 40 minute sermon on some topic that evidences little resemblance to the Scripture. While we may here a nice message, we are nowhere closer to understanding Scripture, which is, afterall, the primary duty of preaching.
The following blog was written by Chuck Gutenson, a former professor of mine at Asbury. It is one of the best pieces I have read on the importance of understanding the context for understanding Scripture: Gutenson's Blog.
This truth might seem self evident. Unfortunately, however, many current practices in reading Scripture encourage just this practice. We often read a verse or two for our quiet times, in no particular sequence, and think we understand without giving any thought to the context in which it is set. The context than becomes whatever we bring to the verse resulting in an interpretation that best fits what we need, but may or may not have anything to do with the actual biblical narrative. Pastors, unfortunately, often model this practice, by reading one or two verses (sometimes even a half of a verse) and then making a 40 minute sermon on some topic that evidences little resemblance to the Scripture. While we may here a nice message, we are nowhere closer to understanding Scripture, which is, afterall, the primary duty of preaching.
The following blog was written by Chuck Gutenson, a former professor of mine at Asbury. It is one of the best pieces I have read on the importance of understanding the context for understanding Scripture: Gutenson's Blog.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Studying the Bible or Reading Scripture?
I just finished reading a rather in depth article about the authorship of II Peter. It seems that we have been duped, that in fact the apostle Peter did not write that letter. But the most profound truth I gleaned from the article was the realization of how thankful I am that I am pursuing historical theology and not biblical studies.
This statement may sound odd to many of my readers. I can just hear it now: "What could be better than studying the bible?" I certainly agree; unfortunately, the manner in which the majority of biblical scholars pursue study of the text, in my opinion, is not what we might call reading Scripture (there are exceptions, many of them at Asbury). Modern biblical scholars are studying an historical document, at best a dubious one in their minds. They are interested in questions of history - did this really happen in this way? Who really wrote this book? When did he write it? Who did he write it too? Did they really cast lots for Jesus' robe, etc. This is an entirely different process than what happens with the reading of Scripture in church, the reading to see God. And this is the only kind of reading in which I am interested.
I stand with the Fathers and the great majority of the church tradition when I say that the purpose of reading Scripture is to be formed into the kind of people God created us to be, Christlike, or if you like the slightly more shocking language, perfect (my apologies to Martin Luther). At the end of the day, I don't believe it much matters whether the apostle Peter truly did write II Peter or whether one of his disciples writing in his name wrote it - what matters is that the church recognized that in this document is contained the authentic message of Christ and it is therefore useful in making us perfect.
Now the first thing that a biblical scholar is likely to say to me is: "Don't you care if all this really happened?" Of course I care! As Paul said, "if Christ didn't truly raise from the dead, let us drink and be merry for tomorrow we die." Or in modern Milwaukee terms, "hand me a PBR because I ain't studying Greek no more!" I believe that these things really happened because of the coherency of the Scriptures and their power to do what they were written to do, as witnessed in the lives of the saints and in my own experiences. But despite Lee Strobel's best intentions, I do not think that we will ever be able to prove these things beyond a shadow of a doubt anymore than we can prove that the Battle of Bull Run was fought twice. Therefore, it seems to me that the historical questions of authorship and setting and the like are not very helpful in forming me into a Christlike person. It is the story of redemption, told ultimately by the Spirit, which matters most.
Thus, I pursue historical theology because I believe that the story of the church is the ongoing story of redemption begun in Scripture. Here we see Scripture lived out by the saints. Here we see Scripture given meaning in community. Here we see mistakes that were made that we might not relive. And here we see the redemption of those mistakes in manners that only Christ can accomplish. In a way, studying historical theology is studying Scripture - but Scripture as it was meant to be studied, Scripture performed in the lives of the people of God.
For 1800 years it was believed that the apostle Peter wrote II Peter. According to the article I just read, 1800 years of Christians got that one wrong. But guess what? The Scriptures still produced an Augustine and a Perpetua. They still produced a Francis and a Teresa. They still produced a Merton and a Therese. And these are all the proofs I need.
This statement may sound odd to many of my readers. I can just hear it now: "What could be better than studying the bible?" I certainly agree; unfortunately, the manner in which the majority of biblical scholars pursue study of the text, in my opinion, is not what we might call reading Scripture (there are exceptions, many of them at Asbury). Modern biblical scholars are studying an historical document, at best a dubious one in their minds. They are interested in questions of history - did this really happen in this way? Who really wrote this book? When did he write it? Who did he write it too? Did they really cast lots for Jesus' robe, etc. This is an entirely different process than what happens with the reading of Scripture in church, the reading to see God. And this is the only kind of reading in which I am interested.
I stand with the Fathers and the great majority of the church tradition when I say that the purpose of reading Scripture is to be formed into the kind of people God created us to be, Christlike, or if you like the slightly more shocking language, perfect (my apologies to Martin Luther). At the end of the day, I don't believe it much matters whether the apostle Peter truly did write II Peter or whether one of his disciples writing in his name wrote it - what matters is that the church recognized that in this document is contained the authentic message of Christ and it is therefore useful in making us perfect.
Now the first thing that a biblical scholar is likely to say to me is: "Don't you care if all this really happened?" Of course I care! As Paul said, "if Christ didn't truly raise from the dead, let us drink and be merry for tomorrow we die." Or in modern Milwaukee terms, "hand me a PBR because I ain't studying Greek no more!" I believe that these things really happened because of the coherency of the Scriptures and their power to do what they were written to do, as witnessed in the lives of the saints and in my own experiences. But despite Lee Strobel's best intentions, I do not think that we will ever be able to prove these things beyond a shadow of a doubt anymore than we can prove that the Battle of Bull Run was fought twice. Therefore, it seems to me that the historical questions of authorship and setting and the like are not very helpful in forming me into a Christlike person. It is the story of redemption, told ultimately by the Spirit, which matters most.
Thus, I pursue historical theology because I believe that the story of the church is the ongoing story of redemption begun in Scripture. Here we see Scripture lived out by the saints. Here we see Scripture given meaning in community. Here we see mistakes that were made that we might not relive. And here we see the redemption of those mistakes in manners that only Christ can accomplish. In a way, studying historical theology is studying Scripture - but Scripture as it was meant to be studied, Scripture performed in the lives of the people of God.
For 1800 years it was believed that the apostle Peter wrote II Peter. According to the article I just read, 1800 years of Christians got that one wrong. But guess what? The Scriptures still produced an Augustine and a Perpetua. They still produced a Francis and a Teresa. They still produced a Merton and a Therese. And these are all the proofs I need.
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