6 Hermeneutics and Historical Precedent: A Major Issue in Pentecostal Hermeneutics
6
HERMENEUTICS AND HISTORICAL PRECEDENT—A MAJOR ISSUE IN PENTECOSTAL HERMENEUTICS
Walter J. Hollenweger offers this interesting dedication to his comprehensive survey of Pentecostalism in the churches: “To my friends and teachers in the Pentecostal Movement who taught me to love the Bible and to my teachers and friends in the Presbyterian Church who taught me to understand it.”[1] This statement by a former Pentecostal reflects the strength of Pentecostalism in general and its weakness in hermeneutics in particular.
Pentecostals, in spite of some of their excesses, are frequently praised for recapturing for the church its joyful radiance, missionary enthusiasm, and life in the Spirit. But they are at the same time noted for bad hermeneutics. Thus, in the more recent irenic treatments of Pentecostals and their theology—such as those by James D. G. Dunn,[2] Frederick D. Bruner,[3] Hollenweger,[4] and Clark H. Pinnock[5]—one finds words of appreciation for the Pentecostal contribution alongside a critical assessment of the exegetical base for its distinctive teaching on Holy Spirit baptism.
I. The Problem
Although other exegetical and theological problems are sometimes noted, the crucial issue for Pentecostals in hermeneutics lies at their very heart, namely, with their “distinctives”: (1) the doctrine of subsequence, i.e., that there is for Christians a baptism in the Spirit distinct from and subsequent to the experience of salvation, a doctrine which Pentecostals share with many “non-tongues” expressions of Christianity, and (2) the doctrine of tongues as the initial physical evidence of baptism in the Spirit.
An example of the formulation of these distinctives may be found in articles 7 and 8 of the “Statement of Fundamental Truths” of the General Council of the Assemblies of God:
7. The Baptism of the Holy Ghost
All believers are entitled to and should ardently expect and earnestly seek the promise of the Father, the baptism in the Holy Ghost and fire, according to the command of our Lord Jesus Christ. This was the normal experience of all in the early Christian Church. . . . This experience is distinct from and subsequent to the experience of the new birth (Acts 8:12–17; 10:44–46; 11:14–16; 15:7–9) . . . .
8. The Evidence of the Baptism in the Holy Ghost
The baptism of believers in the Holy Ghost is witnessed by the initial physical sign of speaking with other tongues as the Spirit of God gives them utterance (Acts 2:4). The speaking in tongues in this instance is the same in essence as the gift of tongues (1 Cor 12:4–10, 28), but different in purpose and use.[6]
It will be noted that the sole biblical support for these teachings consists of passages from the book of Acts. It is important to note further that in the literature of the movement the experience of the apostles in Acts 2:4 is often seen as subsequent to their “conversion” experiences in John 20:22. One also finds the doctrine of subsequence supported by the example of Jesus, who was conceived of the Holy Spirit, but endued with power by the Spirit at his baptism.[7] Thus for Pentecostals the baptism in the Holy Spirit subsequent to conversion and evidenced by tongues is “the clear teaching of Scripture,” based on biblical historical precedence. The Acts of the Apostles is the normative record of the normative primitive church. Therefore, the apostolic experience is the normative model for all Christians.[8]
Those who disagree with Pentecostals on these points usually argue in two closely related veins. First, they argue that one must distinguish between didactic and historical portions of Scripture, and that for the formulation of Christian doctrine and experience one must go primarily to the didactic portions, and only secondarily to the historical.[9] Secondly, what is descriptive history of the primitive church must not be translated into normative experience for the ongoing church. Pinnock and Osborne have put these two arguments together thus: “Didactic portions of Scripture must have precedence over historical passages in establishing doctrine,” and “. . . the book of Acts does not establish a normative experience for the believer today.”[10]
II. Some Preliminary Observations
Two observations should be made about hermeneutics within the traditional Pentecostal movement. First, their attitude toward Scripture regularly has included a general disregard for scientific exegesis and carefully thought-out hermeneutics. In fact, hermeneutics has simply not been a Pentecostal thing. Scripture is the word of God and is to be obeyed. In place of scientific hermeneutics there developed a kind of pragmatic hermeneutics—obey what should be taken literally; spiritualize, allegorize, or devotionalize the rest. Pentecostals, of course, are not alone in this. Furthermore, gifted people tend to apply this hermeneutic with inspired common sense. Therefore, although aberrations abound in Pentecostal pulpits and sometimes in their pamphlets, the mainstream of traditional American Pentecostalism has treated Scripture in very much the same way as have other forms of American fundamentalism or evangelicalism. The differences have been over what is to be literally obeyed.
Secondly, it is probably fair—and important—to note that in general the Pentecostals’ experience has preceded their hermeneutics. In a sense, the Pentecostal tends to exegete his or her experience. For example, the doctrine of Spirit-baptism as distinct from and subsequent to conversion did not flow naturally out of the Pentecostal’s reading of Scripture. What happened was that they had themselves spent considerable time after their conversion sensing a lack of spiritual power. They saw the dynamic, life-transforming quality of the apostolic experience in Acts 2 and asked God for something similar. When they did have a dynamic experience in the Holy Spirit, they said with Peter, “This is that.” That it happened after their conversion helped them to see this very pattern in Scripture: they saw the analogy with Jesus and the apostles, and the precedent in Samaria (Acts 8) and Paul (Acts 9). What followed was perfectly natural. They took the scriptural pattern they had found, supported by their own personal experience and that of thousands of others, and made it normative for all Christians.[11]
William Menzies has suggested, rightly I think, that my statement needs to be qualified in a slightly different way, namely, that the Pentecostals did not look to the text for the origination of a theology, but for the biblical/theological verification of their experience (see “The Methodology of Pentecostal Theology: An Essay on Hermeneutics,” in Essays on Apostolic Themes: Studies in Honor of Howard M. Ervin [ed. P. Elbert; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1985] 13).
In defense of Pentecostals, it should be observed that although they have tended to arrive at the biblical norm by way of experience, they are not alone in establishing norms on the basis of historical precedent rather than on the explicit teaching of Scripture. The practice of infant baptism and the theology of its necessity are based first of all on the exegesis of some historical passages in Acts and one in 1 Corinthians (7:14); they are made normative on the basis of the historical precedent.[12] (Roman Catholic theologians would prefer the word “tradition.”) The Baptists’ insistence on baptism by immersion is based on no clear statement of Scripture, but rather on the exegesis of certain passages (including word study: “to baptize” = “to immerse”) and historical precedent.[13] The partaking of the Lord’s Supper every Sunday is required by some Christians on the basis of historical precedent (Acts 20:7).[14] Likewise, on the basis of Acts 2:44–45 some groups in the Jesus-movement required the selling of possessions and having all things in common. Even such fringe groups as the snake-handlers argue for their distinctive practices partly on the basis of historical precedent (Acts 28:3–6).
The hermeneutical problem, therefore, is not unique to Pentecostals. It has to do with the interpretation and appropriation of the historical sections of Scripture. The problem may be posed in several ways. How is the book of Acts the word of God? That is, does it have a word which not only describes the primitive church but speaks as a norm to the church at all times? If there is such a word, how does one discover it, or set up principles in order to hear it? If the primitive church is normative, which expression of it is normative? Jerusalem? Antioch? Philippi? Corinth? That is, why do not all the churches sell their possessions and have all things in common? Or further, is it at all legitimate to take descriptive statements as normative? If so, how does one distinguish those which are from those which are not? For example, must we follow the pattern of Acts 1:26 and select leaders by lot? Just exactly what role does historical precedent play in Christian doctrine or in the understanding of Christian experience?
Already I have raised more questions than I am capable of answering. Unfortunately, one looks in vain in the standard works on hermeneutics for answers, because for the most part these questions are not asked.[15] Under the rubric of “special hermeneutics” one finds suggestions or principles on how to deal with prophecy, typology, parables, apocalypses, etc., but nothing on the manner in which one is to understand the historical sections as a normative word for today.[16] This is all the more surprising when one considers how often the Old Testament and New Testament historical and biographical sections are preached from not simply for illustrative value, but also somehow by analogy for normative value.
Since this is an exploratory essay, what follows is a potpourri of general hermeneutical observations and specific suggestions for the hermeneutics of historical precedent. These are not offered as definitive, but as an invitation to further dialogue both with my own Pentecostal brothers and sisters as well as with other evangelicals.[17]
III. General Principles of Biblical Hermeneutics
1. Issues of Genre
It should be an axiom of biblical hermeneutics that the interpreter must take into account the literary genre of the passage being interpreted, along with the questions of text, grammar, philology, and history. Such a principle would appear to be self-evident, yet it is seldom applied to the New Testament except for the Apocalypse. However, the Gospels, Epistles, and Acts are also distinct literary types, and awareness of this fact must become a part of valid hermeneutics.
The point is that not every biblical statement is the word of God in exactly the same way. That the Psalms are poetry, that the prophets are primarily a collection of spoken oracles, that Ecclesiastes and Job are Jewish wisdom literature, that Daniel and the Revelation are apocalyptic, that the Epistles are letters, and that the Acts is historical narrative must be a primary consideration in interpretation in order to avoid the non-contextual, “promise box” approach to Scripture.
For example, the Epistles must be taken seriously as letters, not treated primarily as theological treatises. Theology obviously abounds—and frequently is the primary intent; but the Epistles are not systematic treatises on theology. Paul’s theology is related to his special task as missionary to the Gentiles, and it is worked out accordingly.[18] This does not diminish the theological value of the Epistles—indeed, I think it enhances it—but it does demand that the interpreter be aware of the genre and not treat the writings of Paul in the same manner he or she would read the treatises of Augustine or the Summa of Aquinas.
So also with the Acts. However much of the “theology” of Luke one finds in the book, it is not an epistle or a theological treatise. Even if one disregards its historical value, one cannot, indeed must not, disregard the fact that it is cast in the form of historical narrative. This, it seems to me, is the great fault of the monumental works of Dibelius and Haenchen.[19] They tend to treat Acts first as theology and only secondarily as history. I demur. Theology there is aplenty, and theology is almost certainly part of Luke’s intent; but it is cast as history, and the first principle of hermeneutics here is to take that literary genre seriously.
The significance of this principle for our problem is that in the hermeneutics of biblical history the major task of the interpreter is to discover the author’s (I would add, the Holy Spirit’s) intent in the recording of that history. This, of course, is a general maxim of hermeneutics and applies to the other literary genres as well. But it is of crucial importance to the hermeneutics of the historical narratives, for it is one thing for the historian to include an event because it serves the greater purpose of his work, and yet another thing for the interpreter to take that incident as having didactic value apart from the historian’s larger intent.
Although Luke’s “broader intent” may be a moot point for some, it is a defensible hypothesis that he was trying to show how the church emerged as a chiefly Gentile, worldwide phenomenon from its origins as a Jerusalem-based, Judaism-oriented sect of Jewish believers, and how the Holy Spirit was ultimately responsible for this phenomenon of universal salvation based on grace alone.
An event such as the conversion of Cornelius serves this broader interest not simply to “represent a principle . . . of higher historical truth” (so Dibelius), nor simply to illustrate Christian conversion in general or the baptism in the Holy Spirit in particular (so Pentecostals). Rather, Cornelius serves for Luke as the first-fruits of the Gentile mission, and he is important to Luke’s purpose because his conversion is by direct intervention of the Holy Spirit through one of the Jerusalem apostles (Acts 15:7; cf. 10:19, 44; 11:12; 15). Through these combined circumstances the eyes of the church were opened to the fact that “even to the Gentiles God has granted repentance unto life.”
Whatever else one gleans from the story, whether it be the place of visions in Christian guidance (!) or the nature of Christian conversion, such gleanings are incidental to Luke’s intent. This does not mean that what is incidental is false, that it has no theological value; it does mean that God’s word for us in that narrative is primarily related to what it was intended to teach.[20]
On the basis of this discussion the following principles emerge with regard to hermeneutics of historical narrative:
(1) The word of God in Acts which may be regarded as normative for Christians is related primarily to what any given narrative was intended to teach.
(2) What is incidental to the primary intent of the narrative may indeed reflect an author’s theology, or how he understood things, but it cannot have the same didactic value as what the narrative was intended to teach has. This does not negate what is incidental or imply that it has no word for us. What it does argue is that what is incidental must not become primary, although it may always serve as additional support to what is unequivocally taught elsewhere.
(3) Historical precedent, to have normative value, must be related to intent. That is, if it can be shown that the purpose of a given narrative is to establish precedent, then such precedent should be regarded as normative. For example, if it could be demonstrated on exegetical grounds that Luke’s intent in Acts 1:15–26 was to give the church a precedent for selecting its leaders, then such a selection process should be followed by later Christians. But if the establishing of precedent was not the intent of the narrative, then its value as a precedent for later Christians should be treated according to the specific principles suggested in the next section of this essay.
2. Establishing Doctrine from Scripture
Closely related to the foregoing discussion is the observation that not all doctrinal statements derived from Scripture belong to the same categories, nor are they on the same level within those categories.
In general, doctrinal statements fall into three categories: (1) Christian theology (what Christians believe), (2) Christian ethics (how Christians ought to behave), and (3) Christian experience or practice (what Christians do in terms of religious practices). Statements within these categories may further be classified as primary or secondary, depending on whether, on the one hand, they are derived from what are “propositions” or “imperatives” (i.e., what is intended) or whether, on the other hand, they are derived incidentally, by implication or by precedent.[21]
For example, in the category of Christian theology such statements as God is one, God is love, all have sinned, Christ died for sins, salvation is by grace, and Jesus Christ is divine are derived from passages where they are taught by intent, and are therefore primary. At the secondary level are those statements which are the logical outflow of the primary statements or are derived by implication from Scripture. Thus the fact, or “that-ness,” of the deity of Christ is primary; how the natures concur in unity is secondary. A similar distinction may be made with regard to the doctrine of Scripture: that it is the inspired word of God is primary; the nature of the inspiration is secondary. This is not to say that the secondary statements are unimportant. Quite often they will have significant bearing on one’s faith with regard to the primary statements. Their ultimate theological value may be related to how well they preserve the integrity of the primary statements.
Similar distinctions may be made in the category of Christian ethics. At the primary level are the general maxims, the imperatives, the absolutes: love for one’s enemy, unlimited forgiveness, temperance, etc. From these may be derived concrete principles and applications for specific situations.
The concept of levels of doctrinal statements seems to apply as well to the category which is of special interest in this chapter: Christian experience and practice. For example, the necessity of the Lord’s Supper is at the primary level, based on an imperative; but the frequency of its observance, which is based on precedent alone, is surely not as binding. So also with the necessity of baptism and its mode, or with the practice of Christians “assembling of themselves together” and the frequency or the day of the week. Again, this is not to say that the secondary statements are unimportant. For example, one will surely be hard pressed to prove that Christians must meet to worship on Saturday or Sunday; but in either case one is saying something of theological significance by one’s practice.
The doctrine of a baptism in the Holy Spirit as subsequent to conversion and accompanied by tongues seems to belong to the secondary level of doctrinal statements in my third category. That believers are to be (or keep) filled with the Spirit, that they are to walk and live in the Spirit is at the primary level and normative. When and how one enters the dimension of Christian experience, although not unimportant, is not of the same “normative” quality, because the “when and how” is based solely on precedent and/or analogy.
IV. Specific Principles for the Use of Historical Precedent[22]
With these general observations and principles in view, I would offer the following suggestions as to the hermeneutics of historical precedent:
1. The Use of Analogy as Precedent
The use of historical precedent as an analogy by which to establish a norm is never valid in itself. Such a process (drawing universal norms from particular events) produces a non sequitur and is therefore irrelevant. Thus, to urge the necessity of water baptism as an act of obedience to Jesus’ example is bad exegesis. John’s baptism and Christian baptism, though the latter is probably rooted in the former, are different things, and the meaning and necessity of Christian baptism must be made of sterner stuff.
Likewise the analogies of Jesus and the apostles as having been “born” of the Spirit and later “baptized” in the Spirit may be interesting analogies, but they are of such a different kind from succeeding Christian experience that they can scarcely have normative value. The day of Pentecost is a great line of demarcation; it marks the beginning of the age of the Spirit. Surely valid patterns of Christian experience must follow that day, not precede it.
2. Historical Narrative as Illustration and Pattern
Although it may not have been the author’s primary purpose, historical narratives do have illustrative and, sometimes, “pattern” value. In fact, this is how the New Testament people used the historical narratives of the Old Testament. Paul, for example, used certain Old Testament examples as warnings to those who had a false security in their divine election (1 Cor 10:1–13); and Jesus used the example of David as a historical precedent to justify his disciples’ sabbath actions (Mark 2:23–28 and parallels).
Whether we can reproduce the manner of exegesis which the New Testament authors applied to the Old Testament may be a moot point.[23] It should be noted, however, especially in cases where the precedent justifies a present action, that the precedent does not establish a norm for specific action. People are not to eat regularly of the show-bread or to pluck grain on the sabbath to show that the sabbath was made for man. Rather, the precedent illustrates a principle with regard to the sabbath.
A caveat is in order here: for a biblical precedent to justify a present action, the principle of the action must be taught elsewhere, where it is the primary intent so to teach. For example, to use Jesus’ cleansing of the temple to justify one’s so-called righteous indignation—usually a euphemism for selfish anger—is to abuse this principle. On the other hand, the Pentecostal may justify his or her speaking in tongues not only from precedent (in Acts) but also from the teaching about spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians 12–14.
3. Historical Narratives as Repeatable Patterns
In matters of Christian experience, and even more so of Christian practice, biblical precedents may be regarded as repeatable patterns—even if they are not to be regarded as normative. This is especially true when the practice itself is mandatory but the mode is not.
The repeatable character of certain practices or patterns should be guided by the following considerations:
a. The strongest possible case can be made when only one pattern is found (although one must be careful not to make too much of silence), and when the pattern is repeated within the New Testament itself.
b. When there is an ambiguity of patterns or when a pattern occurs but once, it is repeatable for later Christians only if it appears to have divine approbation or is in harmony with what is taught elsewhere in Scripture.
c. What is culturally conditioned is either not repeatable at all, or must be translated into the new or differing culture.
Thus, on the basis of these principles, one can make the strongest kind of case for immersion as the mode of baptism, a much weaker case for the observance of the Lord’s Supper each Sunday, and almost no case, except on other grounds, for infant baptism.[24] By the same token, the Mormon practice of baptism for the dead fails on all counts.
It is in the light of such principles, and in keeping with the careful exegesis of all passages involved, that one must examine the Pentecostal “distinctives.”
V. Pentecostal Distinctives and Historical Precedent[25]
The question of a baptism in the Holy Spirit distinct from and subsequent to conversion remains a thorny one. In the first place, the Pentecostal has indeed experienced such a “baptism,” and for him or her it has had a dynamic quality similar to the life in the Spirit one finds in the Acts. But apart from the analogies of Jesus and the apostles (ruled out as ultimately irrelevant), the Pentecostal’s biblical support for this baptism as “subsequent to and distinct from” rests on the “pattern” of Samaria (two weeks?), Paul (three days), and Ephesus (several minutes?). When faced with the Cornelius episode, the Pentecostal has argued either that Cornelius was already a Christian as a god-fearer (surely a case of special pleading) or that “this visitation was God’s ideal, his perfect pattern: believe Christ, receive the Holy Spirit in immediate succession.”[26]
The Pentecostal’s strongest case is the episode at Samaria (Acts 8), but whether Luke intended to imply an experience “distinct from” conversion is debatable. Some indeed have argued against the Pentecostals (weakly, it seems to me) that the Samaritans were not even Christians until the advent of the Spirit (18:17).[27] However, there are too many terms denoting Christian experience prior to verse 17 to give this view much support. Such terms as “[they] with one accord gave heed to what was said” (v. 6), had “much joy” (v. 8), “believed Philip as he preached the good news” (v. 12), “were baptized” (v. 12), and “had received the word of God” (v. 14) are used elsewhere by Luke to describe the Christian experience of conversion. To argue on the basis of Romans 8:1–17 that they do not do so here seems also to be a case of special pleading. Luke surely intended to be describing believers.
Yet the Holy Spirit “had not yet fallen on them” (v. 16). Is Luke thereby intending to teach “distinct from and subsequent to”? Probably not. It is furthermore questionable whether he is teaching it incidentally—at least the notion that a baptism in the Spirit is distinct from conversion. In a carefully argued exegetical study of all relevant passages in Acts, Dunn concluded that for Luke the real evidence (and chief element) of Christian experience was the presence of the Spirit. What seems to be important for Luke in this narrative is that the validation (and completion) of the Christian experience in the initial spread beyond Jerusalem is tied to the Jerusalem church and signified by a dynamic quality similar to theirs. If this is a correct understanding of Luke’s concern, and it surely is defensible exegesis, then the concept of subsequence is irrelevant. What is of consequence is the experiential, dynamic quality of the gift of the Spirit.
If, however, a baptism in the Spirit “distinct from and subsequent to” is neither clearly taught in the New Testament nor necessarily to be seen as a normative pattern (let alone the only pattern) for Christian experience, there is a pattern in Acts which may be derived only from historical precedent by the intent of Luke and Paul.
It would seem from any valid reading of Luke and Paul that the gift of the Spirit was not some sort of adjunct to Christian experience, nor was it some kind of second and more significant part of Christian experience. It was rather the chief element of Christian life, from beginning to end. Everywhere for Luke it is the presence of the Spirit that signifies the “real thing.” And Paul asks the Galatians as to their Christian experience, “Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law, or by hearing with faith?” (Gal 3:2). Furthermore, in Acts the recurring pattern of the coming (or presence) of the Spirit has a dramatic, or dynamic, element to it. It was experienced, or to use contemporary parlance, it was very often charismatic in nature.
If in the attempt to recapture this New Testament pattern, the Pentecostal saw the dynamic element as “distinct from and subsequent to,” he or she should not thereby be faulted. The fault perhaps lay with the church which no longer normally expected or experienced life in the Spirit in a dynamic way.
The question as to whether tongues is the initial physical evidence of the charismatic quality of life in the Spirit is a moot point. Some Pentecostals see speaking in tongues as a repeated pattern and have argued that it is the normal pattern. Others agree that it is a repeated, and therefore repeatable pattern; but to insist that it is the only valid sign seems to place too much weight on the historical precedent of three (perhaps four) instances in Acts.
What, then, may the Pentecostal say about his or her experience in view of the hermeneutical principles suggested in this paper?
(1) In the New Testament the presence of the Spirit was the chief element of Christian conversion and the Christian life.
(2) In Acts, as well as in the Pauline churches (cf. 1 Thess 5:19–21; 1 Cor 12–14), a charismatic dimension was a normal phenomenon in the reception of the Spirit.
(3) Speaking in tongues, if not normative, was a repeated expression of the charismatic dimension of the coming of the Spirit. Given Paul’s clearly congenial attitude toward this phenomenon in 1 Corinthians 12–14,[28] both with regard to himself and to the Corinthians, Pentecostals have much in their favor to argue that this was the normal (in the sense of expected) experience of believers in the early church.[29]
(4) Even though most contemporary Christians no longer expect a charismatic dimension as an integral part of their conversion, they may nevertheless—on the basis of the New Testament pattern—still experience such a dimension of life in the Spirit. That this dimension is now usually subsequent to conversion is ultimately irrelevant. The charismatic dimension is a repeatable, and—the Pentecostal would argue—a valuable dimension of life in the Spirit.
(5) Since speaking in tongues was a repeated expression of this dynamic, or charismatic, dimension of the coming of the Spirit, the contemporary Christian may expect this, too, as a part of his or her experience in the Spirit. If the Pentecostal may not say one must speak in tongues, the Pentecostal may surely say, why not speak in tongues? It does have repeated biblical precedent, it did have evidential value at Cornelius’ household (Acts 10:45–46), and—in spite of much that has been written to the contrary—it does have value both for the edification of the believer (1 Cor 14:2–4) and, with interpretation, for the edification of the church (1 Cor 14:5, 26–28).
VI. A Postscript
Since this essay invited dialogue with other Pentecostals, this republication gives me an opportunity briefly to join in such dialogue with two colleagues, and good friends, William Menzies[30] and Roger Stronstad,[31] who have taken my invitation seriously. Rather than here replay their critiques and respond to them point by point, I invite the reader to read Menzies and Stronstad for herself/himself. What I wish to do here is to respond to what I perceive as the basic issues they have raised: (1) whether theology may be derived from biblical narrative, even if not clearly taught elsewhere by intent; (2) the semantics of “normal,” “normative,” and “precedent,” by which I assumed certain understandings that may not have been true of my colleagues; and (3) the matter of Luke’s intentionality with regard to the basic “Pentecostal narratives” in question. The following response is not intended to defend my own positions; rather I hope to clarify—or modify as necessary—my stated positions and thus to advance the dialogue.
1. Deriving Theology from Narrative
Both Menzies and Stronstad express concern that my “general principles” in Part III are too “reductionist” (Menzies) or “radically limiting” (Stronstad). In the case of Stronstad this is related even more to some explicit statements in chapter 6 of How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth that seem to suggest that “historical narrative can only have didactic value when its message is taught elsewhere, specifically in the teaching of Jesus, or in the sermons or writings of the apostles.”[32]
I do not deny that some real differences may exist between us here; but we do not all mean the same thing by “didactic.” I strongly agree with both colleagues, and especially with Stronstad, on the “charismatic nature” of Lukan theology; moreover, I am equally convinced, with Stronstad, that this theology, derived largely from narratives, is equally “normative”—and thus “didactic”—in its significance for later Christian theology as are the Epistles of Paul.[33] But such theology, again as Stronstad argues vigorously, is the result of careful study of the whole of Luke–Acts, not simply from a few or several individual narratives—although the latter obviously play their part in the larger whole.
My concern lies in two areas, and here I probably do differ with Menzies in particular. First, it is not “theology” in the larger sense that concerns me, but the concept of “didactic” as it is related specifically to the question of establishing specific patterns of Christian experience and practice as norms. It is the issue of “specific patterns of Christian experience and practice” that called forth the second part of the argument in Section III. I do not deny that we are saying something theological by our praxis, but I doubt whether this is an area of theology of the same kind as what I have called “theology proper” and “ethics.”
Second, I have a concern over the question of “norms” or “normative,” especially in the area of Christian experience and practice. But this leads to the second major issue that my colleagues have raised with me.
2. The Semantics of “Normal,” “Normative,” and “Precedent”
My experience in the larger church, both evangelical and Pentecostal, is what led directly to the writing of this essay. I was teaching at Wheaton College at the time, and regularly heard chapel speakers appeal to various narratives or examples from both the Old and New Testaments as “establishing precedent for us.” I often wondered what that meant. My guess is that most often it meant something close to “repeatable,” that is, that the biblical people did something that we would do well to pattern our lives after. On the other hand, it was also clear that at times they meant something much closer to what I would call “normative.”
Menzies has especially expressed concern that by my own distinctions between “normal,” “normative,” and “repeatable” I would water down the Pentecostal position too much. “Repeatable is hardly a preachable item,” he suggests[34]—although my experience at Wheaton and elsewhere suggests otherwise. In any case, the concern is that if a pattern is “merely repeatable” most people will scarcely give it a second thought, and for many believers that means continuing on in the present “norm” of anemia.[35] Since as a Pentecostal I share this concern, let me try at least to clarify my use of these words, as an attempt both to explain where I am coming from and to bring greater precision to the discussion.
The language “establishing a norm,” and therefore for something to be “normative,” I have always understood to refer to what must be adhered to by all Christians at all times and in all places, if they are truly to be obedient to God’s word. It becomes a matter of obedience, pure and simple.
By “normal” I mean what I take Article 7 in the Assemblies of God creed to mean when it says that “this was the normal experience of all in the early Christian Church.” I understand that to suggest that this is the way it was for them, as a normal, expected, recurring experience. My colleagues in New Testament scholarship may disagree with me here, but I am convinced that the dynamic, empowering dimension of life in the Spirit was the “norm” in the early church, and that they simply would not have understood the less-than-dynamic quality of life in the Spirit (without the Spirit?) that has been the “norm” of so much of the later church. Precisely because it was “normal” in this sense, it was the presupposition of life in the Spirit for them; thus they felt no compulsion to talk about it at every turn.
Precisely because I understand this dimension of life in the Spirit to be the New Testament norm, I think it is repeatable, and should be so, as the norm of the later church. Where I would tend to disagree with my tradition in the articulation of this norm is when they use language that seems more obligatory to me than I find in the New Testament documents themselves.[36]
3. Lukan Intentionality
Finally there is the methodological issue that all three of us dance around a bit, that of finding Luke’s own intent in his various narratives. As Stronstad puts it, rather strongly, “Concerning Luke’s narratives about the Holy Spirit, who determines authorial intent—Pentecostals or non-Pentecostals? . . . Who is authorized to adjudicate between Pentecostals and their opponents whether or not Luke may teach 20th century Christians about their experience of the Holy Spirit?”[37]
This is an issue on which I would love to work within some kind of community setting, since here in particular I surely have neither the first nor last word. What I would like to offer to the discussion is a twofold agenda: (1) It seems to me that we must first speak to the question of whether or not one is justified at all in assuming that there is a doctrinal/theological imperative in Luke’s narratives, with regard to repeating the specifics. Especially so, since Luke does not seem to specify anywhere that he intends his history to be precedent for the church in some way. (2) Since there seems to be a considerable diversity of patterns within Acts itself, how therefore does one distinguish among them as to the “normative” ones? If in fact normativeness were Luke’s concern in the matter of individual narratives, how does one explain his failure to narrate every instance of the same kind of experience in the same way?
I would not want to say that Luke did not intend us to understand the baptism of the Spirit to be distinct from and subsequent to conversion, intended for empowering, and always evidenced by speaking in tongues; I simply am less convinced than my Pentecostal forebears that Luke did so intend. And chiefly because, even though this pattern can be found in three (probably four, and perhaps five) instances, it is clearly not expressly narrated in this way in every instance. Although I am quite open on this question, I do not find in Menzies’ articles the kinds of criteria that help me to think otherwise on this matter.
But in any case, my long experience in evangelical settings makes me urge that we articulate our hermeneutics in such a way that these friends will find it at least viable, if not always compelling. If we cannot do so, it may in fact be a question of their own biases at work. On the other hand, we need always to ask whether or not it is ours instead. I for one am convinced that our experience approximates that of the early church, and that others would do well so to experience the Spirit of the living God. And therefore I am willing to continue to wrestle with the articulation of our hermeneutics, so that we do justice both to Scripture and to the ongoing experience of the Spirit in the church.
1 The Pentecostals. The Charismatic Movement in the Churches (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson [reprint], 1988) xvi.
2 Baptism in the Holy Spirit (SBT 2/15; London: SCM, 1970).
3 A Theology of the Holy Spirit. The Pentecostal Experience and the New Testament Witness (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1970).
4 See Hollenweger, The Pentecostals.
5 With Grant R. Osborne, “A Truce Proposal for the Tongues Controversy,” Christianity Today 16 (Oct. 8, 1971) 6–9. See also Pinnock’s essay in Perspectives on the New Pentecostalism (ed. R. P. Spittler; Baker, 1976) 182–92.
6 Minutes of the Thirty-fifth General Council of the Assemblies of God (Miami Beach, Fla., August 12–16, 1973) 102.
7 See esp. Ralph M. Riggs, The Spirit Himself (Springfield Mo.: Gospel Publishing House, 1949) 47–61; cf. Dennis and Rita Bennett, The Holy Spirit and You (Plainfield, N.J.: Logos International, 1971) 23–25.
8 Hollenweger, The Pentecostals, 321, cites a Swiss Pentecostal confessional statement which says: “The apostolic church is its obligatory model.” [This understanding of “normative” = “obligatory,” and therefore a matter of obedience or disobedience has controlled all my discussions on this matter. See the “postscript” in section VI below for a further discussion of this matter.]
9 See, for example, John R. W. Stott, The Baptism and Fullness of the Holy Spirit (Downers Grove Ill.: Inter-Varsity, 1964) 8, and Anthony Hoekema, Holy Spirit Baptism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972) 23–24.
10 “A Truce Proposal,” 8.
11 [It has been suggested that this paragraph is not quite accurate historically, and that the earliest Pentecostals became so from their searching of the Scriptures. I acknowledge this bit of history in chapter 5, pp. 71–72, n. 9. But my point still remains. It was not a natural reading of texts that led them to a view of distinct from and subsequent to. They were in search of something, and found it. This is not quite the same thing as simply reading texts and coming to the conclusion that it clearly teaches that this is the norm of Christian experience.]
12 See especially the debate between Joachim Jeremias and Kurt Aland: Jeremias, Infant Baptism in the First Four Centuries (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1960) and The Origins of Infant Baptism (London: SCM, 1963); Aland, Did the Early Church Baptize Infants? (London: SCM, 1961); Pierre Ch. Marcel in The Biblical Doctrine of Infant Baptism (London: James Clarke, 1953) bases his argument on the related hermeneutical principle of the analogy of faith.
13 It is interesting to see the Bennetts assume a moderate stance on this issue of historical precedent: “It is assumed that you who are reading this book and who accept Christ will receive or have received baptism in water in the manner of the particular Christian fellowship to which you belong, and in accordance with your understanding of what the Scripture teaches about it” (The Holy Spirit and You, 25–26).
14 It is of interest that the Assemblies of God sees baptism by immersion as “commanded in the Scriptures,” but makes no statement concerning the frequency of the Lord’s Supper. Most Assemblies churches, therefore, observe the Supper monthly, although daily or weekly seems to be the biblical “pattern.”
15 [Since this essay was first published I have discovered a whole spate of literature on this subject in the Restoration movement (Disciples and Churches of Christ). Much of this has been supplied to me by Craig Beard, former reference librarian at Harding University, Searcy, Arkansas, and now at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. In contrast to the early Pentecostals, this movement has clearly seen that everything for them is hermeneutical and stands or falls on their ability to establish normative practice from the narratives of Scripture.]
16 Paul D. Wieland offered a thesis to the Graduate School of Wheaton College entitled “Criteria for Determining the Normative in New Testament Church Government” (1965). But he scarcely comes to grips with the issues raised here. He does have a long section on hermeneutics, which simply goes over much-plowed ground. In his (all too short) section on the hermeneutics of history he fails to distinguish between history as the mighty acts of God and as the mere recording of narrative events per se. He suggests that events in NT history may be exemplary, serving as models or warnings (p. 15), but he offers no discussion of the criteria to be used in determining in what way, if any, they are normative for us.
17 Much of what follows may seem irrelevant to some of my Roman Catholic brothers and sisters, since historical precedent (as tradition) has for them a fixed role in establishing what is normative for the Christian faith.
18 Cf. G. W. Barker, W. L. Lane, J. R. Michaels, The New Testament Speaks (New York: Harper, 1969) 148–49.
19 Martin Dibelius, Studies in the Acts of the Apostles (London: SCM, 1956); Ernst Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971).
20 [Here is another place where Menzies, “Trends,” expresses concern, suggesting that this view is “reductionist.” Perhaps so, but my problem still remains—and Menzies’ article only exacerbates it for me—and that is, how does one unpack or discover Luke’s theological interests in his individual narratives, and how does one distinguish those he intends to be normative from those he does not, without his giving us some clue in the text itself. For further discussion see the Postscript below.]
21 This, of course, does not rule out the didactic nature of the historical portions of Scripture. What we learn of God from his acts is every bit as important as what we learn from “propositions.” These acts, which teach us of his reality and grace, are usually interpreted as having didactic or saving significance. Thus we have Gospels, not simply collections of the sayings of Jesus. The saving events of history are a deed-word complex—not simply deed, nor simply word. Cf. George E. Ladd, New Testament and Criticism, 19–33.
22 [R. Stronstad (“The Hermeneutics of Lucan Historiography,” Paraclete 22 [Fall 1988] 10) has suggested that this articulation of principles “hedges” what I have written to this point, which is “little more than a sophisticated echo of Stott.” He also suggests (p. 9) that this articulation “radically limits the normative and precedent value of historical narrative.” Perhaps the issue has to do with my understanding of the words “precedent” and “normative.” In any case, for further discussion of this issue see the Postscript below (section VI).]
23 Richard N. Longenecker (“Can We Reproduce the Exegesis of the New Testament?” Tyndale Bulletin 21 [1970] 3–38) has argued that because of the revelatory character of the NT its exegesis should be considered “once-for-all,” not normative, and in some cases not even repeatable.
24 Infant baptism, of course, may be argued from historical precedent, but not so easily from the biblical historical precedent, which is the issue here.
25 [See now the considerable elaboration of this material in chapter 7.]
26 Riggs, The Spirit Himself, 111.
27 See Dunn, Baptism, 55–72.
28 Contrary to some, Paul is not “condemning tongues with faint praise.” That is to belittle what he says very matter-of-factly in 14:19 about his own personal spirituality. The issue in Corinth is one of correcting an abuse, not eliminating a nuisance.
29 [This last sentence has been added in the present edition, as a way of saying more strongly what I believe to be the strength of the Pentecostal position.]
30 See “Synoptic Theology, An Essay on Pentecostal Hermeneutics,” Paraclete 13 (Winter 1979) 14–21; a revised edition of this paper appeared as “The Methodology of Pentecostal Theology: An Essay on Hermeneutics,” in Essays on Apostolic Themes: Studies in Honor of Howard M. Ervin (ed. P. Elbert; Peabody Mass.: Hendrickson, 1985) 1–14.
31 In Parts One and Two of a series of lectures given at the Assemblies of God Theological Seminary, Springfield Mo., and subsequently published in Paraclete. “Trends in Pentecostal Hermeneutics,” 22 (Summer 1988) 1–12; “The Hermeneutics of Lucan Historiography,” 22 (Fall 1988) 5–17.
32 “Hermeneutics,” 10.
33 In some ways this is exactly the point I try to make in the next essay in a slightly different way for the whole NT.
34 “Methodology,” 10.
35 These are my words, not Menzies’, although I think this gets at the heart of the issue.
36 I should mention here that in private conversation and correspondence with Bill Menzies some of our apparent disagreements on this matter seem to have been cleared up.
37 “Hermeneutics,” 11.