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SCRIPTURE AND THEOLOGY: COMPASS POINTS
IN THE CURRENT DISCUSSION
With apologies to Martin Luther, some eighteen months ago, I created “Table
Talk,” a center for threaded discussion on our seminary’s Intranet. Open
to staff, students, and faculty across our three campuses, “Table Talk” has
become the locus of debate on all sorts of topics: pacifism, library hours,
capital punishment, Harry Potter, the nature of the atonement, infant baptism,
and more. Running like a scarlet thread through most every conversation (grade
inflation and the quality of food in the student center come to mind as exceptions!)
has been the question of theological method. More specifically, conversation
returns again and again to the role of Scripture in theological discourse.
With regard to theological hermeneutics, “Table Talk” within our seminary
community is little more than a microcosm of the larger world of the church
and theological academy at the turn of the third millennium. Although most
Christians would presume some integral relationship between Scripture and
theology, the nature of this relationship today is contested. Does the Bible
function as final court of appeal? Criterion? Source? Norm? Resource? The
pathway from biblical text to Christian theology has neither been well-identified
nor well-marked, even if blazing that trail has become the preoccupation
of an increasing number of scholars (cf., e.g., J.B. Green and M. Turner,
eds., Between Two Horizons: Spanning New Testament Studies and Systematic
Theology [Wm.B. Eerdmans, 2000]).
One typical way of relating the Bible to constructive theology is to plot
a linear course from exegesis to biblical theology to systematic theology
to ethics. Three difficulties present themselves immediately. First, in terms
of simple historical development, it is erroneous to imagine that
Scripture has priority over theology. “Rules of faith,” narrative summaries
of the kerygma, were shaped before and alongside the formation of the Christian
canon and, in fact, performed a determinative role in the formation of the
Christian canon. Second, there is the problem of continuity: Can these biblical
documents, by themselves, support the theological weight placed upon them?
Add to this the fact that biblical texts, taken on their own terms and without
recourse to a history or community of interpretation, are capable of supporting
multiple interpretations, and it becomes clear that, even if we want to affirm
that scriptural engagement is inescapable for the Christian community,
sola Scriptura can never guarantee that one is Christian. Irenaeus (ca.
130—ca. 202), for example, noted how Gnostics made use of biblical exegesis
in their arguments, but insisted that they did not read the Scriptures aright
on account of their disregard of the “order and connection” of Scripture;
failing to understand the Bible’s true content, they put the pieces of the
biblical puzzle together in a way that turned a royal personage into a hound
or fox (Adversus Haereses 1.8.1). The “order and connection” to which
Irenaeus referred was the Rule of Faith, a summary of the Christian kerygma
that measured faithful interpretation of Scripture.
If this sort of hermeneutic does not map the way ahead in a straightforward
sense, to what points on the theological compass should we attend? In order
to point the way forward, I want to engage in a brief conversation with F.
Schleiemacher, and especially his explicit statement regarding the relation
of theology and the Bible which appears at the head of his discussion of
“The Formation of the Dogmatic System”: “All propositions which claim
a place in an epitome of Evangelical (Protestant) doctrine must approve themselves
both by appeal to Evangelical confessional documents, or in default of these,
to the New Testament Scriptures, and by exhibition of their homogeneity with
other propositions already recognized” (The Christian Faith [Fortress,
1928) §27).
Schleiermacher thus underscores helpfully such crucial concerns as the priority
of classical formulations of the faith of the Christian church; the import
of addressing Scripture theologically, and from an avowedly theological stance
(and, by implication, the decisive role of the theological formation of readers
of Scripture); and the place of coherence in theology. Taking seriously his
legacy as the “father of Protestant theology” and now reading this methodological
axiom more than 160 years after its first publication, we can see how Schleiermacher
brings into focus important issues that continue to trouble us. In what follows,
I want to use Schleiermacher’s statement of method as a beginning point for
discussion of three issues.
(1) The Status and Role of the OT
Schleiermacher’s use of “New Testament” to modify “Scriptures” makes explicit
what has been and continues often to be the practice associated with theology
in diminishing the status and role of the OT as Christian Scripture. This
is an almost inevitable outcome of the impulses of the sort of history-oriented
analysis that has occupied biblical scholarship since the 18th century. Requiring
that the meaning of texts resides at their historical address, historical
criticism has no intrinsic need and little room for the theological claim
constituted by the location of these two collections together as one “book.”
More pointedly, though, Schleiermacher saw his disjunction of Old and New
Testaments as the disjunction of Judaism and Christianity. Admitting the
historical connection between Christianity and Judaism “through the fact
that Jesus was born among the Jewish people” (§12.1), he nonetheless
lumped Judaism together with Heathenism “inasmuch as the transition from
either of these to Christianity is a transition to another religion” (§12.2).
Although this assertion flies in the face of the findings of more recent
study, it remains true that OT scholarship in the historical-critical mode
has continued to segregate the OT from its canonical mores in the Christian
Bible, increasingly treating it as a self-contained collection of documents
known as the “Hebrew Bible.” The teleological movement of the Christian Bible
from creation to new creation, together with its christological pivot-point,
is thus displaced.
In his study of the enduring theological witness of the OT, C. Seitz points
us in a helpful direction. For Seitz, what holds the canon together is the
God who covenanted with Israel and raised Jesus from the dead. Christians
who downplay or deny the ongoing theological witness of the OT thus cut themselves
off from more than “background material.” At stake, rather, is the fulness
of God’s self-disclosure—that is, the possibility that we might erroneously
imagine that we have access to a “person-event, Jesus of Nazareth, apart
from the claims of the triune God” (Word without End [Wm.B.Eerdmans,
1998] 45). Scripture is not a people’s attempt to understand God, but God’s
own self-disclosure: “The two-testament witness renders not a great code,
but God as he truly is, without remainder, save that blocked out by a darkened
will and mind” (14).
A “Christian” reading of the OT is not one that asserts the superiority of
the NT over the Old, or that the OT requires the New as hermeneutical key,
but rather one that recognizes that the OT points beyond itself toward the
fulfillment of God’s purpose at the same time that it narrates the expression
of that purpose in creation and among those whom God has made his people.
To interpret the pages of the biblical texts in this way is itself already
a theological task, one that requires both less and more than proper exegetical
tools. To grapple with Scripture in this way presumes an openness to a living
relationship with God, on the basis of which we come to Scripture with respect,
in gratitude, ready to embrace and to be embraced into God’s own ways and
work.
(2) Does Doctrine Eclipse the Witness of Scripture?
For children of the Reformation, the relation of the biblical text to the
theological tradition presents an unresolved and inescapable conundrum. The
same may be said for children of the Enlightenment. The slogan sola Scriptura
raises the question, How does Scripture function vis-à-vis
doctrine, the teaching office of the church, experience, and so on? Recognition
of the historical particularity of all knowing raises the question how theological
statements from another time might bear on our own.
For this reason, we need to hear Schleiermacher’s emphasis on “confessional
documents.” Although his concern is with a particularly Protestant interpretation
of Scripture, at a more basic level his is a call to take seriously that
a reading of the Bible worthy of the name “Christian” is a “ruled reading.”
That is, the question of validity in interpretation for theological readings
of Scripture cannot be separated from the question of a particular reading’s
coherence with classical faith.
Let me propose, however, that more needs to be said and that, for a contemporary
theological hermeneutics, it is important to characterize the relationship
between Scripture and doctrine as mutually informing and influencing. For
example, the Apostles’ Creed summarizes one of our central beliefs in a rather
one-sided representation of the Return of Christ: “from thence he shall
come to judge the quick and the dead.” It is astonishing that the Creed can
speak of the coming judgment without bearing witness to the consummation
of God’s purpose in creation and covenant, and, indeed, to the biblical hope
of the restoration of the cosmos. On this point the Creed’s witness is truncated
and in need of augmentation.
Again, it is astounding that neither the Apostles’ Creed nor any of the Rules
of Faith that dot the writings of the early centuries of the church ever
mentions Israel. In this regard, we should take note of the need early on
for Christians to work out their self-identity, especially with respect to
Judaism, and that they did so by adopting a supersessionist narrative of
God’s purpose (cf. R.K. Soulen, The God of Israel and Christian Theology
[Fortress, 1996]). However, for Luke and Paul, to name two prominent New
Testament witnesses, the narrative of God’s purpose cannot circumnavigate
Israel and remain the biblical narrative, even if the “confessional documents”
of the Christian church seem willing to write Israel out of the story altogether.
Here is evidence that doctrine cannot simply trump the work of biblical interpretation
but must be placed in a dialectical relationship with Scripture that is mutually
informing.
(3) Our (Modernist) Tendency to Reduce and Objectify
Schleiermacher’s reference to “an epitome [Inbegriff: “synopsis” or
“condensation”] of...doctrine” witnesses a concern with analytical synthesis
at the level of abstraction and systematization that lies behind the general
disdain for systematics among biblical scholars. Insofar as systematic and
biblical theologians alike participate in and perpetuate the modernist tendency
to reduce and objectify, and to dismiss mystery and resolve tensions left
standing by Scripture in the service of principles and schemas, it will be
difficult to unite the two so long divided, exegesis and constructive theology.
Even a cursory examination of the content of the Bible will illustrate why
this is so. Although one finds lists of precepts (“You shall...”) and the
formulation of truth claims (“God is...”), overwhelmingly the Bible is cast
as narrative. What is more, even those texts that do not exhibit an explicitly
narrative mode of discourse—say, the latter prophets or letters—themselves
have a storied character about them. These observations have immediate ramifications
for the theological use of Scripture.
First, widespread efforts either to distill theological claims from narrative
or to deny that theology can be derived from narrative notwithstanding, we
must recognize that narrative in Scripture simply is a mode of theological
discourse. If we deny this, it may be because we have learned too much from
Schleiermacher concerning the way “theology” must be done. Alternatively,
it may be because we have a truncated notion of narrative, one whose primary
categories are “true” or “false” rather than oriented toward the communicative
role of narrative texts. This has to do largely with problematic notions
of “history” in terms of “what actually happened”—a modernist perspective
that, again, divorces history and theology and minimizes the role of historical
narrative in the Bible. As the field of philosophy of history has developed,
we have seen, instead, that history is both less and more than the past;
history is diegesis (narration), not mimesis (imitation). Here
is the axis around which the entire enterprise turns: Events are chosen and
linked in light of the commitments of the historians (and their communities)
concerning their sense of beginnings and endings. That is, selectivity and
narrativity in biblical historiography are theological statements, forged
in relation to a vision of how Yahweh’s will is coming to fruition.
Second, rather than restricting Scripture’s role in theology to that of “foundation”
or “source,” it is important to recognize that the Bible is not raw material
waiting for theology to happen. “Faith seeking understanding” is already
going on in its pages. Answers to the question, How might Scripture function
in systematic theology?, often revolve around issues of content. What does
James teach about God, for example? If these books are themselves “faith
seeking understanding,” however, different questions surface, for one finds
in their pages “theology” both in its critical task of reflection on the
practices and affirmations of the people of God to determine their credibility
and faithfulness, and in its constructive task of reiteration, restatement,
and interpretation of the good news vis-à-vis ever-developing
horizons and challenges. How is James situated in and reflective of a particular
sociohistorical environment? What is its response, on the basis of the great
story of God’s activity in the world, including the world of James, to that
environment? When read against that mural, what does James affirm, deny,
reject, undermine, embrace? What strategies for articulating the good news
and construing practical faithfulness are portended in those pages? How does
it invite its readers into the reflective and constructive task of discourse
on the nature of faithful discipleship? On what authorities does the text
of James draw? What vision of the “new world” does it portend? In short,
if we are concerned with the “theology of James,” we cannot be satisfied
with “description,” but we must explore how this letter draws its readers
into transformative discourse.
Shaping Our Theological Horizons
What sort of reading of Scripture would be sponsored by this theological
approach? First, it would be a critically engaged reading, one that would
account for the text in its final form; for the text as a whole; for the
cultural embeddedness of all language; for the canonical address of the text,
particularly with reference to the location of particular biblical witnesses
within the grand mural of the actualization of God’s purpose; and for the
witness of Scripture as seen in its effects within and among the community
of God’s people, not least in the distillation of Scripture’s message in
the great creeds of the church which confess and proclaim and worship the
Triune God.
Second, it would be “partial,” in the sense of the ecclesial and theological
locations of its practitioners. From this vantage point, the best interpreters
of the Bible are those actively engaged in communities of biblical interpretation
and the single most important practice to cultivate is involvement in reading
the Bible with others who meet regularly to discern its meaning for faith
and life. Moreover, a reading of the Bible as Christian Scripture can never
be satisfied with anything less than interpretive practices oriented toward
shaping and nurturing the faith and life of God’s people. Faithful appropriation
of Scripture requires attention to theology, with the result that we can
hardly speak of biblical illiteracy in the church without at the same time
decrying our concomitant theological amnesia.
Finally, a theological hermeneutics of Christian Scripture would take seriously
the referential relation between the words of Scripture and the ongoing presence
of the crucified Christ, who is Lord of the church. Such a hermeneutic would
find its orientation not in an objective reading of biblical texts, but in
the creative and redemptive aims of God that come to their most visible expression
in Jesus of Nazareth, the Word become flesh. This is not to belittle or otherwise
to minimize the importance of Scripture, as though God’s purpose were mediated
apart from Scripture. It is, however, to underscore, first, that the truth
we seek cannot be dissolved into objective truth claims; and, second, that
a Christian theological hermeneutic is necessarily tied to its effects in
transforming persons and communities in ways consonant with God’s project
of liberation.
In the end, a theological hermeneutics concerned with the interpretation
of the Bible as Christian Scripture is first as an invitation from God. We
are beckoned to come and live the biblical story, to inhabit the narrative
of God’s ongoing and gracious purpose for his people, to resist attempts
at revising the words of Scripture so as to make them match our reality and
instead to make sense of our reality, our lives, within its pages, within
its story. To embrace the Bible as Scripture, then, is to accept it not as
one narrative among others, but to accord it a privilege above all others,
and to allow ourselves to be shaped by it ultimately.
By Joel B. Green, Ph.D., John Wesley Fellow, and co-author of
Introducing the New Testament: Its Literature and Theology (Wm.B. Eerdmans,
2001); this essay is adapted from “Scripture and Theology: Failed Experiments,
Fresh Perspectives,” Interpretation (January 2002).
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