Chapter 51 of 163

Scripture

The terms “Bible” and “Scripture,” along with the derived adjectives “biblical” and “scriptural,” are virtually interchangeable. Both designate a body of texts which are recognized as having authority for Christian thinking. The unusual word “Bible” needs explanation. Like many words in modern English, it derives from a Greek original. The Greek phrase which has been rendered into English is ta biblia – literally, “the books.” This Greek phrase is plural, and refers to the collection of books, or writings, regarded as authoritative by Christians. It must be stressed that the Bible is not merely the object of formal academic study within Christianity; it is also read and expounded within the context of public worship, and is the subject of meditation and devotion on the part of individual Christians. We begin by considering the major components of the Christian Bible.

The Old Testament

The term “Old Testament” is used by Christian writers to refer to those books of the Christian Bible which were (and still are) regarded as sacred by Judaism. For Christians, the Old Testament is seen as setting the scene for the coming of Jesus of Nazareth, who brings its leading themes and institutions to fulfillment. Early Christians – including Jesus himself and many of the writers of the New Testament – simply used the word “scripture” or “writing” (Greek: graphē) to refer to what is now known as the Old Testament. It is not clear when this specific way of referring to these books became established.

These texts, of course, continue to be held as sacred by Jews to this day. This means that the same collection of texts is referred to in different ways by different groups. This has led to some proposals for renaming this collection of texts, none of which has gained general acceptance. Three may be noted.

The Hebrew Bible. This way of referring to the Old Testament stresses the fact that it was written in Hebrew and is sacred to the Hebrew people. However, it fails to do justice to the way in which Christianity sees an essential continuity between the Old and New Testaments. A minor difficulty is also caused by the fact that parts of the Old Testament are written in Aramaic, rather than Hebrew.

The First Testament. This way of referring to the collection of texts avoids using the word “old,” which is held by some to be pejorative. “Old,” it is argued, means “outdated” or “invalid.” Referring to the Old Testament as the “First Testament” and the New as the “Second Testament” stresses the continuity between the two collections of texts.

Tanakh – an acronym of the Hebrew words for “law,” “prophets,” and “writings” (torah, nevi'im, and ketuvim), which is the standard Jewish description of the works that Christians call the “Old Testament.” This is perfectly acceptable for use within Judaism but does not reflect the specifically Christian understanding of continuity between the people of Israel and the church.

There is presently no generally accepted alternative to the traditional term “Old Testament,” which will therefore be used throughout this study. Nevertheless, readers should be aware of the alternatives and the issues that led to their being proposed.

The New Testament

The New Testament, which consists of 27 books, is considerably shorter than the Old Testament. It is written entirely in a late form of Greek (often referred to as koinē, from the Greek word for “common” or “everyday”) that was widely spoken in the eastern Mediterranean world of that time. The New Testament opens with the four gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. The word “gospel” basically means “good news.” Each of the four gospel writers – or “evangelists,” as they are sometimes known – sets out the basic events lying behind the good news. These four books describe the life of Jesus Christ, which reaches its climax in his resurrection, and present his teachings.

This is followed by an account of the expansion of Christianity. How were events described in the gospels received at the time? How did the gospel spread from Palestine to Europe? These questions are addressed in the fifth work to be found in the New Testament, the full title of which is “the Acts of the Apostles” but which is more usually referred to simply as “Acts.” The gospel of Luke and Acts are widely agreed to have been written by the same person: Luke.

The next major section of material in the New Testament comprises the letters, sometimes still referred to by the older English word “epistles.” These letters provide teaching concerning both Christian beliefs and behavior, and are an important witness to the emerging doctrinal consensus about the identity and significance of Jesus Christ, the central figure of the Christian faith.

Most of these letters were written by Paul, whose conversion to the Christian faith led him to undertake a major program of evangelism and church-planting. Many of his letters were written to churches he had planted, giving them advice. Other letters are attributed to the apostles Peter and John. These letters should not be thought of primarily as doctrinal textbooks but rather as living testimonies to every aspect of the Christian faith which include doctrinal teaching along with moral guidance and spiritual encouragement. The term “pastoral letters” is sometimes used to refer to the two letters Paul addressed to Timothy and to his letter to Titus, which deal particularly with issues of pastoral importance.

The New Testament then ends with the book of Revelation (sometimes also known as “the Apocalypse”), which offers a vision of the end of history in which the writer is allowed to see into heaven and gain a glimpse of the new Jerusalem.

Figure 6.1 The Codex Sinaiticus, a manuscript dating from the middle of the fourth century which contains the earliest complete copy of the New Testament.

Other Works: Deutero-Canonical and Apocryphal Writings

The adjective “canonical” is often used to refer to Scripture. This term, deriving from the Greek word kanōn (meaning “rule,” “norm,” or “yardstick”), is used to indicate that limits have been set by the consensus of the Christian community to the texts that may be regarded as “scriptural” and hence as authoritative for Christian theology. A long-standing debate between Catholic and Protestant theologians concerns the status of a further group of texts which are often referred to as “apocryphal” or “deutero-canonical.”

A comparison of the contents of the Old Testament in the Hebrew Bible, on the one hand, and the Greek and Latin versions (such as the Septuagint or Vulgate), on the other, shows that the latter contain a number of works not found in the former. Following the lead of Jerome (c.347–420), the sixteenth-century reformers argued that the only Old Testament writings that could be regarded as belonging to the canon of Scripture were those originally included in the Hebrew Bible.

A distinction was thus drawn between the “Old Testament” and the “Apocrypha”: the former consisted of works found in the Hebrew Bible, while the latter consisted of works found in the Greek and Latin Bibles but not in the Hebrew Bible. While some reformers allowed that the apocryphal works were edifying reading, there was general agreement that these works could not be used as the basis of Christian theology. In 1546, the Council of Trent defined the Old Testament as “those Old Testament works contained in the Greek and Latin Bibles,” thus eliminating any distinction between “Old Testament” and “Apocrypha.”

In practice, this distinction is not as significant as might at first seem to be the case. An examination of the sixteenth-century debates over the matter suggests that the only theological issue of any real importance which was linked to this question was whether it was proper to pray for the dead. The (apocryphal) books of the Maccabees encourage this practice, which Protestant theologians were not inclined to accept.

The issue that remains of real theological significance today concerns the canon of Scripture. Does the fact that the church drew up the canon imply that the church has authority over Scripture? Or did the church merely recognize and give formal assent to an authority which the canonical Scriptures already possessed? Does the process of shaping the canon of Scripture reflect the imposition of the external authority of the church upon the Bible or the recognition by the church of the intrinsic authority of the Bible? The former position is particularly attractive to Catholic, and the latter to Protestant, scholars.

Box 6.1 Abbreviations of the books of the Bible.

The standard method of referring to the Bible involves three elements. First, the book in question is identified (note that the term “book” is invariably used, even when the “book” in question is actually a letter). This is followed by the chapter of the book, followed by the verse(s) within that chapter.

Old Testament

Genesis

Ruth

Exodus

1 Samuel

1 Sa

Leviticus

Lev

2 Samuel

2 Sa

Numbers

1 Kings

1 Ki

Deuteronomy

2 Kings

2 Ki

Joshua

Jos

1 Chronicles

1 Ch

Judges

Jdg

2 Chronicles

2 Ch

Ezra

Ezr

Hosea

Hos

Nehemiah

Joel

Esther

Est

Amos

Job

Obadiah

Psalms

Jonah

Jnh

Proverbs

Micah

Mic

Ecclesiastes

Ecc

Nahum

Song of Songs

Habakkuk

Hab

Isaiah

Isa

Zephaniah

Zep

Jeremiah

Jer

Haggai

Hag

Lamentations

Zechariah

Zec

Ezekiel

Eze

Malachi

Mal

Daniel

New Testament

Matthew

1 Timothy

1 Ti

Mark

2 Timothy

2 Ti

Luke

Titus

Tit

John

Philemon

Phm

Acts

Hebrews

Heb

Romans

James

Jas

1 Corinthians

1 Co

1 Peter

1 Pe

2 Corinthians

2 Co

2 Peter

2 Pe

Galatians

Gal

1 John

1 Jn

Ephesians

Eph

2 John

2 Jn

Philippians

Php

3 John

3 Jn

Colossians

Col

Jude

1 Thessalonians

1 Th

Revelation (or “The Apocalypse”)

Rev

2 Thessalonians

2 Th

Box 6.2 Referring to books of the Bible

The book may be identified in a full or abbreviated form. The chapter may be given in Roman or Arabic numerals. The chapter and verse numbers are usually separated by a colon or period. However, occasionally the verse numbers are printed in superscript.

The following are all commonly encountered ways of referring to one of the most familiar sayings from St. Paul, which has become widely known as “the grace.”

Corinthians 13.14; II Corinthians xiii, 14; 2 Cor. 13¹⁴; 2 Co 13: 14

Note the following points:

It is not necessary to distinguish between the Old and New Testaments in referring to biblical works.

It is not necessary to identify the author of a biblical book when referring to it.

Box 6.3 Common terms used in relation to the Bible

Pentateuch The first five books of the Old Testament (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy).

Five books of the law The first five books of the Old Testament (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy).

Major prophets The first four prophetic writings of the Old Testament (Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel).

Minor prophets The twelve remaining prophetic writings of the Old Testament (Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi).

Synoptic gospels The first three gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke).

Fourth Gospel The gospel of John.

Pastoral epistles (or letters) A way of referring collectively to 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, and Titus that takes note of their particular concern for pastoral matters and church order.

Catholic epistles (or letters) Those New Testament letters which are not explicitly addressed to individuals (James, 1 Peter, 2 Peter, 1 John, 2 John, 3 John, Jude). In older works, these are sometimes referred to as “epistles general.”

In practice, there has been increased recognition of late that the community of faith and Scripture, the people and the book, coexist with one another, and that attempts to draw sharp lines of distinction between them are somewhat arbitrary. The canon of Scripture may be regarded as emerging organically from a community of faith already committed to using and respecting it. We shall explore these issues further presently.

The Relationship Between the Old and New Testaments

The specifically Christian terms “Old Testament” and “New Testament” are strongly theological in nature. They rest upon the belief that the contents of the Old Testament belong to a period of God's dealings with the world which has in some way been superseded or fulfilled by the coming of Jesus Christ in the New Testament. Roughly the same collection of texts is referred to by Jewish writers as “the law, prophets, and writings” and by Christian writers as the “Old Testament.” There is thus no particular reason why someone who is not a Christian should feel obliged to refer to this collection of books as the Old Testament, apart from custom of use.

The Christian theological framework that leads to this distinction is that of “covenants” or “dispensations.” The basic Christian belief is that the coming of Christ inaugurated something new while still being continuous with God's earlier actions in history. This leads to the distinctively Christian attitude toward the Old Testament, which can be summarized in three principles:

Theological principles and ideas (such as the notion of a sovereign God who is active in human history) are reaffirmed by Christianity while sometimes being given a new focus – for example, by being specifically linked to the person of Jesus Christ.

Ethical principles – such as loving God and respecting the integrity of others – are reaffirmed by Christianity.

Cultic practices (such as circumcision, dietary laws, and sacrificial rites) are regarded as belonging to a past era in God's dealings with humanity, and are therefore no longer binding on Christians. For example, the Old Testament sacrificial system is seen as a “type” – that is, a “foreshadowing” or anticipation – of the sacrifice of Christ. Once that perfect sacrifice was made, the Old Testament sacrificial system became obsolete.

How, then, do the Old and New Testaments relate to one another, according to Christian theology? One radical option was developed by the second-century writer Marcion of Sinope (c.85–c.160), who became alienated from mainstream Roman Christianity in the year 144. Marcion argued that the Old Testament was the sacred text of a religion which had nothing to do with Christianity. According to Marcion, Christianity was a religion of love, which had no place whatsoever for the legalistic and violent God of the Old Testament. He believed that Christianity ought to sever all its links with Judaism, appealing to biblical texts such as Luke 5: 37: “no one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise the new wine will burst the skins and will be spilled, and the skins will be destroyed.” Christianity, he argued, should have nothing to do with the God, beliefs, and rituals of Judaism. According to Marcion, the purpose of Christ was to depose the Old Testament God (who bears a considerable resemblance to the Gnostic “demiurge,” a semidivine figure responsible for fashioning the world) and usher in the worship of the true God of grace. The third-century theologian Tertullian (c.160–c.220) summarized Marcion's core belief in terms of recognizing two quite different gods, “of unequal rank, the one a stern and warlike judge, the other gentle and mild, kind, and supremely good.”

There are faint echoes of this idea in the writings of Martin Luther (1483–1546). Although Luther insists that both the Old and the New Testaments relate to the actions of the same God, he nevertheless insists upon the total opposition of law and grace. Judaism, according to Luther, was totally preoccupied with the idea of justification by works, believing that it was possible to merit favor in the sight of God by one's achievements. The gospel, in contrast, emphasizes that justification is completely gratuitous, resting only on the grace of God. Although grace can be detected in the Old Testament (e.g., Isaiah 40–55), and law in the New (e.g., the Sermon on the Mount: Matthew 5–7), Luther often seemed to suggest that the Old Testament was primarily a religion of law, contrasted with the New Testament emphasis on grace.

The majority position within Christian theology has emphasized the continuity between the two testaments while affirming the distinction between them. John Calvin (1509–64) provides a lucid and typical discussion of their relationship. He argued that there is a fundamental similarity and continuity between the Old and New Testaments in three major respects. First, Calvin stresses the immutability of the divine will. God cannot do one thing in the Old Testament and follow it by doing something totally different in the New. There must be a fundamental continuity of action and intention between the two. Second, both testaments celebrate and proclaim the grace of God manifested in Jesus Christ. The Old Testament may only be able to witness to Jesus Christ “from a distance and darkly”; nevertheless, its witness to the coming of Christ is real. In the third place, both testaments possess the “same signs and sacraments,” bearing witness to the same grace of God.

Calvin thus argues that the two testaments are basically identical. They differ in administratio but not in substantia. In terms of their substance and content there is no radical discontinuity between them. The Old Testament happens to occupy a different chronological position in the divine plan of salvation from the New; its content (rightly understood), however, is the same. Calvin summarizes this general principle thus: “where the entire law is concerned, the gospel differs from it only in clarity of presentation.” Christ is revealed and the grace of the Holy Spirit is offered in both Old and New Testaments – but more clearly and more fully in the latter. This viewpoint is characteristic of mainstream Christianity. It can be found, for example, in the declarations of the Second Vatican Council, which affirms the importance of the Old Testament for Christians:

The Church of Christ acknowledges that in God's plan of salvation the beginning of her faith and election is to be found in the patriarchs, Moses and the prophets. She professes that all Christ's faithful, who as men of faith are sons of Abraham (cf. Galatians 3: 7), are included in the same patriarch's call and that the salvation of the Church is mystically prefigured in the exodus of God's chosen people from the land of bondage. On this account the Church cannot forget that she received the revelation of the Old Testament by way of that people with whom God in his inexpressible mercy established the ancient covenant.

The Canon of Scripture: Historical and Theological Issues

Earlier, we noted that one of the achievements of the patristic era was the gradual achievement of a consensus over what the term “Scripture” designated. The development of the notion of the “canon” (Greek: kanōn, “a rule” or “a norm”) raises two interrelated questions. First, how did this actually happen? And, second, what theological principles were involved in this process? In this section, we shall consider both the historical and theological aspects of the formation of the New Testament canon.

Historical Issues

Historically, the formation of the New Testament canon was a continuous process of reception, in which Christian communities around the Mediterranean gradually came to a consensus over which religious writings they regarded as being normative. The historical evidence suggests that early Christians read quite widely, often failing to make any distinction between works that they considered to be “normative” and those that were simply “helpful.” Local preferences can be identified: some churches, for example, regularly read works such as the Didache, the letters of Clement, and the Shepherd of Hermas. Gradually, however, a consensus emerged over a relatively narrow range of works that were seen as having universal relevance and authority, without in any way preventing local congregations from supplementing these with other sources. The “canon” was not a list of authorized documents imposed on a church but a formalization of the authority and utility of those documents that already enjoyed universal usage and approbation throughout the Christian world.

A widespread consensus appears to have emerged within the churches by the middle of the third century over the core elements of what we now call the “New Testament,” with lingering low-level disputes over four letters – 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, and Jude – which were seen as borderline cases by some church leaders and communities. This consensus was not imposed on Christian communities; indeed, where centralized decisions were made, these are best seen as the endorsement of an existing practice or consensus. Although later writers tried to set out criteria for determining whether a work was canonical (e.g., written by an apostle), the evidence suggests that earlier Christians did not really think in terms of “criteria of canonicity” but acted on the basis of how widely the documents were accepted and used.

Historically, the question of the limits of the canon proved to be a lot less important to the great theological debates of the first four centuries than might be expected. The Christological and trinitarian debates of this period often involved New Testament documents (particularly the four gospels) whose authority was already widely accepted. The doctrinal debates of this era made little reference to 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, and Jude, so that these demarcation disputes were actually less important for the development of Christian theology than might be thought.

Theological Issues

The theological aspects of the process of shaping the canon concern the roles of “receiving community” and “received text” within the process of reception. The historical process of shaping the canon involved decisions to exclude, as much as to include, certain texts. This clearly raises theological questions concerning the relationship between the community of faith and the New Testament, which continue to be significant in contemporary theological reflection. In choosing the New Testament canon, was the church exercising its authority over the texts? Or was the church discerning an existing authority within these texts? The first approach locates authority primarily with the church, the second primarily with the texts.

Three theological approaches to the issue of the relationship between community and text, church and Bible, have emerged over the history of Christian thought.

The church has authority over Scripture. This position, which tends to be associated with Catholic theologians, is often expressed in the words of Augustine of Hippo (354–430): “For my part, I should not believe the Gospel except as moved by the authority of the Catholic Church.” The authority of the biblical texts was determined by a process of reception, which involved an appeal to the apostolic tradition as the criterion of canonicity. “It was by the apostolic Tradition that the Church discerned which writings are to be included in the list of the sacred books” (Catechism of the Catholic Church).

Scripture has authority over the church. This position, which tends to be associated with Protestant theologians, holds that the church recognized an inner authoritative spiritual quality to biblical works, which they possessed independently of the church's decision to recognize them. John Calvin, for example, spoke of the secret (or internal) testimony of the Holy Spirit, which alone can authenticate inspired Scripture in the hearts of believers. In declaring a work “canonical,” the church thus responds to an internal quality of Scripture and does not impose its own judgment as an expression of its authority.

The church and Bible belong together, as an organic unity of community and text, making it impossible to allocate “authority” to either. This third position is often adopted by those who take the view that the historical process of the formation of the canon does not fit neatly into either of the two theological schemas already mentioned. Whether some place authority with the “people” and others with the “book,” this locates the issue at their intersection: “people and book.” This is not inconsistent with either of the previous two models, but sets each of them in an expanded context.

A further theological issue which should be noted here concerns the finality of the process of fixing the canon. Is the canon closed? Or is there still at least a theoretical possibility of adding new works or removing existing ones? Most Christian theologians take the view that the canon is now fixed, representing a final account of the documents that the church has recognized as witnessing authentically to its faith. In recent years, however, the rediscovery of Gnostic writings, such as the Coptic gospel of Thomas, has led some scholars to argue for the belated inclusion of such works. Others have rejected this as inappropriate, noting the late dates of these works, their partisan character, and their purely local influence.

The Word of God

The phrases “the Word of God” and “the Word of the Lord” are as deeply rooted in Christian worship as they are in Christian theology. “Word” implies action and communication. Just as a person's character and will are expressed through the words he or she uses, so Scripture (especially the Old Testament) understands God to address people, who are thus made aware of God's intentions and will for them.

The term “Word of God” is complex and highly nuanced, bringing together a cluster of ideas. Three broad, and clearly related, senses of the term may be discerned, both within the Christian tradition and within Scripture itself.

The phrase is used to refer to Jesus Christ as the Word of God made flesh (John 1: 14). This is the most highly developed use of the term in the New Testament. In speaking of Christ as the “Word of God incarnate,” Christian theology has attempted to express the idea that the will, purposes, and nature of God are made known in history through the person of Jesus Christ. It is the deeds, character, and theological identity of Jesus Christ, and not merely the words that he uttered, that make known the nature and purpose of God.

The term is also used to refer to “the gospel of Christ” or the “message or proclamation about Jesus.” In this sense, the term refers to what God achieved and made known through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ.

The term can be used in a general sense to refer to the whole Bible, which can be regarded as setting the scene for the advent of Christ, telling the story of his coming, and exploring the implications of his life, death, and resurrection for believers. For many Christians, the phrase “Word of God” is a theological alternative or equivalent to “the Bible.” This leaves open the question of whether the Bible is itself that “Word of God” or whether it contains or mediates this “Word of God.”

Karl Barth's (1886–1968) use of the phrase “the Word of God” is widely discussed in contemporary theological reflection. Barth offers a theological (as opposed to an historical or literary) account of the place of Scripture in the church, grounding it in the notion of God's self-revelation in Christ. Barth's doctrine of “the threefold form of the Word of God” distinguishes a threefold movement consisting of the Word of God embodied in Christ, the witness to this Word in Scripture, and finally the proclamation of this Word in the preaching of the community of faith. There is thus a direct and organic connection between the preaching of the church and the person of Jesus Christ.

There are some difficulties with this position. Some more conservative Protestants have found difficulty with Barth's emphatic assertion that Scripture itself is not to be directly identified with divine revelation. For Barth, Scripture is a “witness to” or a “token of” that revelation. Yet Barth also insists that revelation does not “bypass” this witness. This witness becomes revelation when God speaks through it. Does this reduce biblical authority to our subjective reception of the divine address that confronts us through the human words of the Bible? Barth certainly did not think so, although some of his critics have interpreted him in this manner.

Narrative Theology

Social anthropologists, sociologists, philosophers of history, and literary theorists have all emphasized that human beings find it natural to use stories to explore fundamental questions of meaning.

[We] are animals who must fundamentally understand what reality is, who we are, and how we ought to live by locating ourselves within the larger narratives and metanarratives that we hear and tell, and that constitute what is for us real and significant.

The literary form which dominates Scripture is that of narrative. The Bible narrates a series of stories which disclose the nature and character of God, and the shape of the redemption achieved through Christ. The story of the calling of Abraham, the exodus from Egypt, the exile in Babylon, and the coming of Jesus Christ are all seen as individual parts of the greater narrative that discloses God's nature and purposes. So what implications does this observation have for relating Scripture to theology? The recently developed concept of narrative theology has much to say on this theme.

Narrative theology is based on the observation that the Bible tells stories about God. These stories “render” or disclose the nature and character of God. For example, the Old Testament tells and retells the story of how God led the people of Israel out of Egypt into the promised land, and all that this implies for the people of God. In a similar way, the New Testament is also dominated by a story of God's redeeming action in history, this time centering on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. What does this story mean for Christians? How does it affect the way in which they think and act? It is helpful to think of Paul's letters, for example, as systematic attempts to spell out the relevance of the story of Jesus Christ for Christians – how it affects the way they think and the way they behave.

Enlightenment biblical interpreters regarded the narrative structure of Scripture as an irritation, and aimed to extract propositional truths from it. In his landmark work The Eclipse of Biblical Narrative (1974), Hans Frei (1922–88) pointed out this tendency, and noted that the waning of the Enlightenment meant that its prejudice against narrative need no longer be theologically decisive. The way was clear to reappropriate biblical narratives as a way of conveying divine revelation.

This development lies behind the emergence of “narrative theology,” especially in the writings of postliberal writers such as Hans Frei, George Lindbeck (born 1923), and Stanley Hauerwas (born 1940). It must, however, be stressed that narrative theology is by no means a well-defined movement, and is probably better thought of as a theological trend rather than a well-defined school. The importance of narrative is also evident from Christian literary writers, such as J. R. R. Tolkien (1892–1973) and C. S. Lewis (1898–1963), both of whom developed sophisticated theories of narrative to allow them to explore theological themes, such as the meaning of the incarnation and resurrection.

The role of biblical narratives was of central importance to the “demythologization” debate of the 1940s and 1950s. The New Testament scholar Rudolf Bultmann (1884–1976) argued that the New Testament was influenced by outdated myths, such as a belief in a three-decker universe. It was necessary to get rid of these myths, first because they were outdated and second because they were narratives. In their place, Bultmann urged the adoption of an existential philosophical framework.

C. S. Lewis, one of Bultmann's more severe critics, argued that this was impossible. “We are invited to restate our belief in a form free from metaphor and symbol. The reason why we don't is that we can't.” For Lewis, Christianity was best understood as a “true myth,” and could not be framed in other ways without loss of its capacity to render the world truthfully and realistically. It was impossible to eliminate narrative, metaphor, and imagery from the Christian proclamation without deforming and distorting it.

What, then, are the advantages and drawbacks of such an approach? Why has it gained such a following in academic theology? The following points are important in understanding the appeal of this approach, especially among writers concerned to reclaim the centrality of Scripture in modern theology.

Narrative is the main literary type found in Scripture. To approach theology from a narrative point of view is, potentially, to be much more faithful to Scripture itself than to take a more theoretical approach. C. S. Lewis, for example, argued that the Christian story was of primary importance whereas Christian doctrines were of secondary importance, in that they were derived from the story. Whereas the story appealed to the imagination, the doctrines appealed to the intellect. The narrative approach thus avoids the dulling sense of “abstraction” which is often claimed to be a feature of much academic theological writing.

Narrative theology affirms that God meets us in history and speaks to us as one who has been involved in history. The doctrine of the incarnation affirms that the story of Jesus Christ is also the story of God. Narrative theology declares that God really became involved in our world of space and time, that God really entered into history, that God really came to meet us where we are. Often, systematic theology creates the impression that God has presented us with a set of ideas, as if revelation were some kind of data bank (see pp. 137–8). Narrative theology enables us to recover the central insight that God became involved in our history. God's story intersects with our story. We can understand our story by relating it to the story of God, as we read it in Scripture. This aspect of narrative theology has had a considerable impact, most strikingly in the field of ethics. Stanley Hauerwas is perhaps the most distinguished of a group of ethical writers who have argued that the gospel narratives set out a pattern of behavior which is appropriate for Christian believers. The story of Jesus Christ, for example, is seen as establishing a pattern which is characteristic of the story of Christian believers. Ethics, approached from a narrative standpoint, becomes thoroughly grounded in real life. The gospel is not primarily about a set of ethical principles; it is about the effect of an encounter with God upon the lives of individuals and the histories of nations. By relating such stories, the biblical writers are able to declare: “This is the result of being transformed by the grace of God. That is an appropriate model for Christian behavior.”

Recognition of the narrative character of Scripture allows us to appreciate how Scripture effectively conveys the tension between limited knowledge on the part of the human characters in the story and the omniscience of God. In his Art of Biblical Narrative (1981), Robert Alter (born 1935) makes this point as follows: “The biblical tale might usefully be regarded as a narrative experiment in the possibilities of moral, spiritual, and historical knowledge, undertaken through a process of studied contrasts between the variously limited knowledge of the human characters and the divine omniscience quietly but firmly represented by the narrator.” Perhaps the book of Job illustrates this point with especial clarity in the Old Testament. The narrative structure of Scripture allows the reader to see the story from God's point of view, and appreciate the interplay between the human ignorance or misunderstanding of the situation and its reality, seen from God's point of view.

Methods of Interpretation of Scripture

Every text demands to be interpreted; Scripture is no exception. There is a sense in which the history of Christian theology can be regarded as the history of biblical interpretation. In what follows, we shall explore some of the approaches to biblical interpretation likely to be of interest to students of theology. It will, however, be clear that the vastness of the subject makes it impossible to do more than give a representative selection of approaches to the matter.

The first major approach to biblical interpretation that we need to consider is “typology,” which was widely used in the early church as a means of interpreting the Old Testament. The Greek word typos (usually translated simply as “type”) means something like a “figure,” “anticipation,” or “prototype.” Three main categories of types were identified: persons (such as Moses, seen as a type of Christ), events (such as the Exodus, seen as a type of redemption), and institutions (such as the people of Israel, seen as a type of the church). Whereas allegory relates primarily to biblical images, typology relates primarily to historical events or historical individuals.

One of the most important early examples of this typological approach is found in the “Homily on the Passover” by the second-century theologian Melito of Sardis (died c.180). Drawing on some passages in Paul's letters, Melito developed the idea that the Passover is to be seen as a “type” of the death of Christ. The Passover once celebrated in Egypt is to be seen as prefiguring “Christ our Passover” (1 Corinthians 5: 7), just as the passover lamb slain in Egypt is to be seen as a foreshadowing of the “Lamb slain from the foundation of the world” (Revelation 13: 8).

So what is the difference between “typology” and “allegory”? These are both ways of reading texts which allow deeper levels of meaning than permitted by a purely literal or historical reading. Scholars disagree about both what it means to speak of “typological” and “allegorical” readings of the Bible and whether these are equally acceptable. The present consensus could be summarized like this.

Typology is about “the correspondences between the events, the institutions, and the persons of the Old Testament and those of the New Testament” (Jean Daniélou). It involves interpreting events in the New Testament – especially relating to Jesus Christ – as representing the fulfillment of a similar situation recorded or prophesied in the Old Testament. Allegory generally involves using the words of the Old Testament as symbols or tokens of religious ideals or values, rather than events (such as the death and resurrection of Christ). Many scholars are concerned that allegory can all too easily become the reading of meaning into texts rather than the discovery of meaning within them.

Two major schools of interpretation emerged in the Greek-speaking church, one based at the great city of Alexandria, the other at Antioch. The Alexandrian school of biblical interpretation drew on the methods devised by the Jewish writer Philo of Alexandria (c.25 bc–c.ad 50) and earlier Jewish traditions, which allowed the literal interpretation of Scripture to be supplemented by an appeal to allegory. The Greek philosopher Heracleitus defined an allegory as “saying one thing, and meaning something other than what is said.” Philo argued that it was necessary to look beneath the surface meaning of Scripture to discern a deeper meaning which lay beneath the surface of the text. These ideas were taken up by a group of theologians based in Alexandria, of which the most important are generally agreed to be Clement (c.150–c.215), Origen (c.185–c.254), and Didymus the Blind (c.313–98). (Indeed, Jerome playfully referred to the last mentioned as “Didymus the Sighted” on account of the spiritual insights that resulted from his application of the allegorical method of biblical interpretation.)

It might at first sight seem that this means that the interpreter simply reads any meaning he or she likes into the text of Scripture. However, as the writings of Didymus (which were rediscovered, incidentally, in an ammunition dump in Egypt during the Second World War) make clear, this need not be the case. It seems that a consensus developed within the church about how the images and texts of the Old Testament were to be interpreted allegorically. For example, Jerusalem regularly came to be seen as an allegory of the church.

In contrast, the Antiochene school placed an emphasis upon the interpretation of Scripture in the light of its historical context. This school, especially associated with writers such as Diodore of Tarsus (died c.390), John Chrysostom (c.347–407), and Theodore of Mopsuestia (c.350–428), gave an emphasis to the historical location of Old Testament prophecies, which is quite absent from the writings of Origen and other representatives of the Alexandrian tradition. Thus Theodore, in dealing with Old Testament prophecy, stresses that the prophetic message was relevant to those to whom it was directly addressed, as well as having a developed meaning for a Christian readership. Every prophetic oracle is to be interpreted as having a single consistent historical or literal meaning. In consequence, Theodore tended to interpret relatively few Old Testament passages as referring directly to Christ, whereas the Alexandrian school regarded Christ as the hidden content of many Old Testament passages, both prophetic and historical.

In the western church, a slightly different approach emerged. Ambrose of Milan (c.337–97) developed a threefold understanding of the senses of Scripture, particularly the Old Testament: in addition to the natural sense, the interpreter may discern a moral sense and a rational or theological sense. Augustine chose to follow this approach, but instead argued for a twofold sense: a literal–fleshly–historical sense and an allegorical–mystical–spiritual sense, although he allowed that some passages could possess both senses. “The sayings of the prophets are found to have a threefold meaning, in that some have in mind the earthly Jerusalem, others the heavenly city, and others refer to both.” To understand the Old Testament at a purely historical level was unacceptable; the key to its understanding lay in its correct interpretation, through being seen in the right way.

It is not the Old Testament itself that is abolished in Christ but the concealing veil, so that it may be understood through Christ. That which is obscure and hidden without Christ is, as it were, opened up. [... Paul] does not say: “The Law or the Old Testament is abolished.” It is not the case, therefore, that by the grace of the Lord that which was covered has been abolished as useless; rather, the covering which concealed useful truth has been removed. [...] The secret truths are conveyed in figures that are to be brought to light by interpretation.

This hermeneutical approach allowed Augustine to stress the unity of the Old and New Testaments. Christ “rends the veil” that conceals the true meaning of the Old Testament, allowing the reader to realize that both testaments bear witness to the same faith, even if their modes of expression may be different. Augustine expresses this idea in a famous maxim: “The New Testament lies hidden in the Old, and the Old Testament is unveiled in the New.”

Figure 6.2 The Quadriga on the Brandenburg Gate, Berlin.

Source: Danita Delimont / Alamy.

This distinction between the literal or historical sense of Scripture, on the one hand, and a deeper spiritual or allegorical meaning, on the other, came to be generally accepted within the church during the early Middle Ages. The standard method of biblical interpretation used during the Middle Ages is usually known as the Quadriga, or the “fourfold sense of Scripture.” The Latin term Quadriga originally meant a chariot drawn by four horses; in Christian usage, it came to mean the reader of Scripture being guided by the four meanings of the text. The origins of this method lie specifically in the distinction between the literal and spiritual senses. Scripture possesses four different senses. In addition to the literal sense, three nonliteral senses could be distinguished: the allegorical, defining what Christians are to believe; the tropological or moral, defining what Christians are to do; and the anagogical, defining what Christians are to hope for. The four senses of Scripture were thus the following:

the literal sense of Scripture, in which the text was taken at face value;

the allegorical sense, which interpreted certain otherwise obscure passages of Scripture to produce statements of doctrine;

the tropological or moral sense, which interpreted such passages to produce ethical guidance for Christian conduct;

the anagogical sense, which interpreted passages to indicate the grounds of Christian hope, pointing toward the future fulfillment of the divine promises in the New Jerusalem.

An excellent example of allegorical interpretation can be found in Bernard of Clairvaux's (1090–1153) twelfth-century exposition of the Song of Songs. Bernard here provides an allegorical interpretation of the phrase “the beams of our houses are of cedar, and our panels are of cypress” (Song of Solomon 1: 17), illustrating the way in which doctrinal or spiritual meaning was “read into” otherwise unpromising passages at this time:

By “houses” we are to understand the great mass of the Christian people, who are bound together with those who possess power and dignity, rulers of the church and the state, as “beams.” These hold them together by wise and firm laws; otherwise, if each of them were to operate in any way that they pleased, the walls would bend and collapse, and the whole house would fall in ruins. By the “panels” which are firmly attached to the beams and which adorn the house in a royal manner, we are to understand the kindly and ordered lives of a properly instructed clergy, and the proper administration of the rites of the church.

But surely this simply opened the way to an arbitrary interpretation of biblical passages, in which readers imposed their own views upon the text? This potential difficulty was avoided by insisting that nothing should be believed on the basis of a nonliteral sense of Scripture unless it could first be established on the basis of the literal sense. This insistence on the priority of the literal sense of Scripture may be seen as an implied criticism of the allegorical approach adopted by Origen, which virtually allowed interpreters of Scripture to read into any passage whatever “spiritual” interpretations they liked. Martin Luther stated this principle in the following way in 1515: “In the Scriptures no allegory, tropology, or anagogy is valid, unless that same truth is explicitly stated literally somewhere else. Otherwise, Scripture would become a laughing matter.”

The Quadriga was a major component of academic study of the Bible within scholastic theological faculties of universities. But it was not the only option available to biblical interpreters in the first two decades of the sixteenth century. The only Protestant reformer to make significant use of this scholastic approach to biblical interpretation was Martin Luther, who deployed it in his early lectures on biblical works such as the Psalter. By far the most influential approach to the subject within reforming and humanist circles in the early Reformation period was that associated with Erasmus of Rotterdam (1466–1536), to which we now turn.

Erasmus's Handbook of the Christian Soldier (1503; see p. 33) made much of the distinction between the “letter” and the “spirit” – that is, between the outward words of Scripture and their inner, real meaning. Especially in the Old Testament, the words of the text are like a shell, containing – but not identical with – the kernel of the meaning. The surface meaning of the text often conceals a deeper hidden meaning, which it is the task of the enlightened and responsible exegete to uncover. Biblical interpretation, according to Erasmus, is concerned with establishing the underlying sense, not the letter, of Scripture. There are strong affinities here with the Alexandrian school, noted earlier.

However, in his later writings, Erasmus emphasized the importance of establishing an accurate text using the best historical tools, and ensuring that biblical interpretation remained wedded as closely as possible to the text. It is possible that Erasmus became aware of the importance of accurately establishing the best text of the New Testament, and providing a reliable translation, when he produced the first printed version of the Greek New Testament in 1516.

A similar approach is found in the Protestant reformer Huldrych Zwingli (1484–1531). Echoing Erasmus, Zwingli argued that the interpreter of the Bible is required to establish the “natural sense of Scripture,” which is not necessarily identical with the literal sense of Scripture. Zwingli's humanist background allowed him to distinguish various figures of speech in the biblical text. A good example is found in the biblical narrative of the Last Supper, in which Jesus of Nazareth, when breaking the bread, spoke the words “this is my body” (Matthew 26: 26). The literal sense of these words would be “this piece of bread is my body,” but the natural sense is “this piece of bread signifies my body” (see p. 400). For Zwingli, this is the correct interpretation of this passage.

Zwingli's search for the deeper meaning of Scripture (to be contrasted with the superficial meaning) is well illustrated by the story of Abraham and his son Isaac (Genesis 22). In this story, Abraham is represented as being willing to sacrifice Isaac if that is what God wants. The historical details of the story are too easily assumed to be its real meaning. In fact, Zwingli argues, the real meaning of that story can only be understood when it is seen as a prophetic anticipation of the story of Christ, in which Abraham represents God and Isaac is a figure (or, more technically, a “type”) of Christ.

With the advent of the modern period, the science of biblical interpretation has become considerably more complex, reflecting the increased acceptance within academic circles of new rational methods of interpretation, grounded in the assumptions of the Enlightenment. It is impossible to survey these developments adequately in the scope of this work. However, it will be helpful to note some broad tendencies in biblical interpretation during the past two and a half centuries. Under the influence of the Enlightenment, four main approaches can be seen in academic biblical interpretation.

The rational approach, found in the writings of Hermann Samuel Reimarus (1694–1768). This regards both Old and New Testaments as resting on a series of supernatural fictions. By a process of radical logical criticism, Reimarus argued that the supernatural elements of the Bible could not be taken seriously. It was therefore necessary to interpret Scripture along rational lines, as stating (although in a somewhat muddled manner) the universal truths of the religion of reason. With the general collapse in confidence in both the universality and the theological competence of reason in more recent times, the attractions of this approach have dwindled drastically.

The historical approach, which treats Scripture as an account of Christian origins. F. C. Baur (1792–1860), probably the most distinguished early representative of this tradition, argued that it was no longer permissible to explain the origins of the Christian faith in terms of “the only-begotten Son of God descending from the eternal throne of the Godhead to earth, and becoming a human person in the womb of the virgin.” Instead, Baur argued that it was possible to account for the origins of Christianity in rational and nonsupernatural terms. Believing that Hegelianism held the key to explaining how Christianity came into being, Baur made a direct appeal to its philosophy of history as an alternative explanation to the traditional accounts of the origins of Christian faith, and interpreted the New Testament in its light. With the waning of Hegelianism, Baur's impact also diminished.

The sociological approach. By the 1890s, many liberal Christians had lost interest in matters of Christian doctrine or theology and had begun to explore the wider category of “religion” in general – a trend which undergirds the development of faculties of “religious studies” in many western universities. Yet religion is a social phenomenon: concerned with far more than “ideas” as such, it comes under the category of “social history.” The way was thus opened for a sociological approach to biblical interpretation, which treated Christianity as a specific example of a general phenomenon – religion. An example of this approach is provided by Sir James Frazer's (1854–1941) The Golden Bough (1890–1915), which applied comparative ethnology (the study of peoples and their traditions) to the Bible on an unprecedented scale.

The literary approach, which is concerned to do justice to the distinctive literary categories of Scripture. One such approach which has had a major impact of late is narrative theology, discussed earlier in this chapter (see pp. 113–15).

Two other recent approaches to biblical interpretation should also be noted. The first is the distinctive hermeneutic of praxis of Latin American liberation theology (pp. 74–5). This emphasizes the solidarity experienced by the poor in reading the Bible. Thus, Leonardo Boff (born 1938) argues that “hermeneutical mediation” takes place between the reader and the text: the poor find themselves able to relate to Scripture because of the resonance between the situations described in the text and those experienced in life. As Boff puts it: “The liberation theologian goes to the scriptures bearing the whole weight of the problems, sorrows, and hopes of the poor, seeking light and inspiration from the divine word.”

Liberation theology thus argues that the task of the interpreter of Scripture is not theoretical but practical – namely, the mediation of liberation. As Boff argues, “liberative hermeneutics seeks to discover and activate the transforming energy of biblical texts.” Christianity is a praxis of liberation, leading to an interpretation of the Bible in the categories of politico-social liberation praxis rather than purely theoretical ideas, or a personalized individual piety.

The second approach is that adopted by postmodern theologians, who are suspicious of the notion of there being any meaning intrinsic to a text and of the notion that a text is capable of conveying the meaning intended by its author. Both the “New Criticism” in the 1940s and the “structuralism” of the 1960s attempted to find a principle for establishing meaning based on the text alone, considered as something quite distinct from its author. The “reader-response” school of biblical interpretation holds that active readers give texts their meaning. The meaning of a text does not lie in the author's intended message but in the thoughts and feelings of readers as they encounter the text. Meaning is thus something constructed by the reader, rather than being embedded within the text itself.

It must be appreciated, however, that there are considerable variations within this approach. Some theorists – such as Stanley Fish (born 1938) – tend toward the view that meaning is created by the reader alone. The reader thus controls the text, in that “the text and all its features are only defined and therefore brought into existence by the reader's interpretive strategies.”

Others, however, recognize the importance of a critical interaction between reader and text. Paul Ricoeur (1913–2005) describes reading as “the process by which the world of the text intersects with the world of the reader.” While the text may offer a generous range of possible interpretations, this range is nevertheless limited by the text itself. “A text is a finite space of interpretation: there is not just one interpretation, but, on the other hand, there is not an infinite number of them.”

Theories of the Inspiration of Scripture

The notion that the special status of Scripture within Christian theology rests upon its divine origins, however vaguely this may be stated, can be discerned both in the New Testament itself and in subsequent reflection on it. An important element in any discussion of the manner in which Scripture is inspired, and the significance which is to be attached to this, is 2 Timothy 3: 16–17, which speaks of Scripture as being “God-breathed” (theopneustos). This idea was common in early Christian thought, and was not regarded as controversial. The Greek-speaking Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria regarded Scripture as fully inspired, and argued that God used the authors of scriptural books as passive instruments for communicating the divine will.

The issue began to surface as potentially controversial at the time of the Reformation. The reasons for this can be seen from the writings of John Calvin. Calvin was concerned to defend the authority of Scripture against two groups of people. On the one hand were those on the more Catholic wing of the church, who argued that the authority of Scripture rested in its being recognized as authoritative by the church. On the other were the more radical evangelical writers, such as some Anabaptists, who argued that every individual had the right to ignore Scripture altogether in favor of some direct personal divine revelation. Calvin declared that the Spirit worked through Scripture (not bypassing it, as the radicals held) and that the Spirit lent direct authority to Scripture by inspiring it, thus doing away with the need for any external support to its authority (such as that of the church).

This point is important as it indicates that the reformers did not see the issue of inspiration as linked with the absolute historical reliability or factual inerrancy of the biblical texts. Calvin's doctrine of accommodation (p. 169) implied that God chose to be revealed in forms tailored to the abilities of the communities which were to receive this revelation. Thus in the case of Genesis 1, Calvin suggests that a whole series of ideas – such as the “days of creation” – are simply accommodated ways of speaking, a kind of divine “baby talk.” The idea of “biblical infallibility” or “inerrancy” was a later development within Protestantism, and can be traced to the United States in the middle of the nineteenth century.

The general Christian consensus on the inspiration and authority of Scripture can be studied from a number of major confessional documents, both Protestant and Catholic. For example, the definitive 1994 Catechism of the Catholic Church clearly grounds the authority of Scripture in its divine inspiration:

God is the author of Sacred Scripture. The divine revealed realities, which are contained and presented in the text of Sacred Scripture, have been written down under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. For Holy Mother Church, relying on the faith of the apostolic age, accepts as sacred and canonical the books of the Old and the New Testaments, whole and entire, with all their parts, on the grounds that, written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, they have God as their author and have been handed on as such to the Church herself. God inspired the human authors of the sacred books.

With the coming of the Enlightenment, the idea of the Bible having any special status was called into question, largely on account of the presuppositions of the rationalism of the period and increased interest in the critical study of Scripture. A number of approaches to the issue of inspiration which developed around this period are of interest.

First, Johann Gottfried Herder (1744–1803), reflecting leading ideas of both secularism and Romanticism, argued that the idea of inspiration was to be interpreted in an artistic or aesthetic sense. In his Spirit of Hebrew Poetry (1782–3), Herder suggested that the most appropriate model for biblical inspiration was provided by works of art. Just as one might speak of a great novel, poem, or painting as “inspired,” so the same idea can be applied to Scripture. Inspiration is thus seen as a human achievement, rather than a gift of God.

We must read the Bible in a human way, since it is a book written by man for man: the language is human, it was written and preserved through human means, and the sense, in which one can understand it, the whole purpose, for which it may be used, is human.

Herder argues that, the more the “Word of God” is read in such a human way, the closer the human reader comes to the intention of God, its author, who created human beings to bear the divine image. Herder's argument that religious experience is mediated through poetry, music, and art leads to an emphasis upon the Bible as poetry, rather than the Bible as revelation. In effect, Herder sacralizes poetry, leading him to see the poetic character of Scripture as securing its sacred and inspired status.

Second, the Old Princeton school, represented by Charles Hodge (1797–1878) and Benjamin B. Warfield (1851–1921), developed strongly supernatural theories of inspiration, in conscious opposition to the naturalist approach favored by Herder. “Inspiration is that extraordinary, supernatural influence [...] exerted by the Holy Ghost on the writers of our Sacred Books, by which their words were rendered also the words of God, and, therefore, perfectly infallible.” Although Warfield is careful to stress that the humanity and individuality of biblical writers are not abolished by inspiration, he nonetheless insists that their humanity “was so dominated that their words became at the same time the words of God, and thus, in every case and all alike, absolutely infallible.”

Third, others held that inspiration was also to be regarded as God's guidance of the reader of Scripture, which enabled that reader to recognize the Word of God in the biblical text. As we have just seen, Warfield located the inspiration of Scripture in the biblical text itself, thus implying that Scripture was objectively, in itself, the Word of God for all who read it. Others argued for a subjective understanding of inspiration, by which the reader's perception of Scripture – rather than Scripture itself – was to be regarded as “inspired.” The Baptist theologian Augustus H. Strong (1836–1921) stressed that the authority of Scripture could not be located simply in the words of Scripture, as if these could have authoritative status apart from their reception by individual believers or the community of faith. Inspiration thus had to be recognized to have objective and subjective aspects.

Having examined some questions relating to Scripture as a source of Christian theology, we may now turn to a consideration of the role of tradition.

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