Category Archives: Bible

CCH – OT – Genesis – “Diversity and Continuity”

In this inaugural post (for more info on this series click here), I will attempt to outline and to hint at an answer to a fundamental concern in reading not only Genesis but the Pentateuch as a whole; dealing with the composite text left to us.

To properly understand the difficulties in reading the text of Genesis left to us, a brief historical examination is in order.  A primary reason behind the current struggle to interpret Genesis (and indeed much of scripture) stem from the watershed publication of Julius Wellhausen’s Prolegomena to the History of Israel in 1878.   As Marvin Pate has documented, it was this work among others in the “Religionsgeschichte approach” that “dealt the deathblow” to biblical theology in the 19th century (15).

According to Pate, Wellhausen’s Prolegomena made its splash by taking the (1) composite author theory of the Pentateuch and (2) Darwinism and combining them in a “popularized and integrated” way.  It is the composite author theory, or the “JEPD theory,” that is of lasting significance for studies of the Pentateuch, and our specific concern here (Ibid).

Basically, each letter of the JEPD theory stands for a specific “author” of the text, each of which had unique theological (and political) concerns that informed their memory/presentation of Israel’s history and it’s interaction with their God.  To note one popular example, in the Pentateuch God is called, among many names, both Yahweh and Elohim.  These different names are significant, because the actions and descriptions of God when named as Yahweh seem to present a fairly consistent picture of God, but one much different from the also relatively self-consistent Elohim.  This suggests that two different authors wrote these two depictions of God, one where Yahweh (the “J Source”) is portrayed with very human characteristics and one where the otherness and transcendence of God is emphasized (the “E Source”).  Each perspective was cut and pasted together over the centuries, leaving the composite text of the Pentateuch today.

The upshot of all this is that we are left with a diverse and composite text (even after the return of biblical theology as documented by Pate), “consisting of a patchwork quilt of traditions from various periods (Birch et al, 38).”  Despite the relative lack of attention given to the “documentary hypothesis” today, as Birch writes, “general agreement continues that Genesis 1-11 is a composite work (Ibid).”  The situation for the Pentateuch as a whole is no different.

At this juncture the problems of the Scripture’s authority and its ability to present a coherent understanding of God and humanity come into view.  Birch and company are right caution against a mere grab bag approach that would encourage the creation of an idol, but then how is unity maintained (29)?  A more complete answer to this question will come in a subsequent post that deals with the nature and tasks of systematic theology, but for now let me gesture at the concept of witness.  Briefly, this approach can be understood through Jesus’ rebuke in Jn 5:

You search the scriptures because you think in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf.  Yet you refuse to come to me to have life (39-40, NRSV).

By seeing the scripture as a witness, its unity is found in the One it points to, despite the diversity of ways it does so.

In sum, as we begin to examine Genesis, and much of the rest of scripture for that matter, we take from this initial inquiry into the composite nature of Genesis that one must have the courage to deal with the text as it, and often it turns out to be a great deal messier than probably all would prefer.  This however, is not an invitation to despair, but instead to look towards the “common focus on the character, activity, and will of Israel’s one God (Ibid, 30).”

*With that, off to bed for a couple hours rest before the weekend camping trip.  I will be checking the post on my mobile, so feel free to comment suggestions, pushbacks, questions, spelling/grammar checks, etc etc.  The CCH continues Monday, see you then!  

Bibliography

Birch, Bruce C., Walter Brueggemann, Terence E. Fretheim, and David L. Peterson.  A Theological Introduction to the Old Testament.  Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1999.

Harris, Stephen L. and Robert L. Platzner.  The Old Testament: An Introduction to the Hebrew Bible.  2nd ed.  New York: McGraw Hill, 2008.

Hartsfield II, Wallace.  Lecture Notes, “Hebrew Bible I.”  Fall 2008.

Pate, Marvin C., J. Scott Duvall, J. Daniel Hays, E. Randolph Richards, W. Dennis Tucker Jr., and Preben Vang.  The Story of Israel:  A Biblical Theology.  Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2004.

A Theological-Ethical Reading of Mt 1:19-20

Growing up I had always been taught that Mt 1:19 was an apt illustration of the love vs. justice problem that pervades much of evangelical ethical thinking.  For many evangelicals this passage provides an example of the inevitable teleological vs. deontological tensions we face in life.  Good evangelicals are to take their cue from Joseph, feeling the teleological urge but ultimately being bound to doing “the right thing,” trying to follow the universally valid principles of justice no matter what. 

However, why should verse 20, where the angel of the Lord tells Joseph to not follow through on this decision, be read in this dualistic fashion?  Isn’t it entirely possible that Joseph, operating from his limited vantage point, was basing his decision not on the command of God but on abstract ethical maxims?  It is only when the Lord breaks through this abstraction via his angel that Joseph learns what he is supposed to do.  In this more Barthian reading of the passage Joseph is not some tragic western ethical hero, always willing to do right no matter what.  Instead, he is sinning by attempting be righteous without knowing the concrete will of God, relying merely on a merely abstract principle of righteousness.  Once he had “resolved” to follow through on this decision without seeking the will of God, only God could break through to show him his error.

Divorcing the greatest commandment from how one conceives of just living no doubt can lead us down tyrannical paths, some with implications so severe that God must send his angels to break through to us.  More importantly, whenever we divorce our decision-making from seeking the concrete demand of God, reducing discipleship to an ethical calculus, we cannot help but go astray.

An (Oversimplified) Poll on Biblical Authority

Today I started reading David Kelsey’s semi-classic The Uses of Scripture in Recent Theology.  I have enjoyed it so far, my only gripe being that his sentence construction can be awkward occasionally.  His goal is not to argue for a particular method of using scripture in developing theological models, but to provide differing illustrations and tools for how to understand the authority of scripture for the theological enterprise.   

This brings us to our poll for tonight.  According to Kelsey, a fundamental issue re biblical authority is whether it is functional or intrinsic in nature (30).  In other words, does the scripture’s authority reside in the purpose it serves the theologian/church, or is it’s authority found in it’s very nature (ex: inerrancy)?

Let’s put this to a vote!

Erwin McManus & Ray Anderson on the Book of Ecclesiastes

I recently spent a week out in California at Catalyst, a gathering of pastors and Christian leaders.  There I heard Erwin McManus talk for the 1st time.  Much of his talk centered on the book of Ecclesiates, where at one point he argued that Solomon’s famous dictum “there is nothing new under the sun” was wrong.  For McManus, this conviction was born primarily out of the view that creation is an ongoing process, which occurs (only?) through his people, the church.  Furthermore, despite his professed love for Ecclesiastes, his general posture was at odds with the alleged cynicism he read in Koheleth.  McManus sees much potential, particularly creative potential, in humanity and feared that the despair Ecclesiates expresses can be used to squelch this potential in man to create things that have meaning.  The pessimism of Koheleth appeared at odds with the ability of men and women to acheive significant things and to create things with lasting value.

Leaving aside the issues of Solomonic authorship and the implications of his statements for a theology of scripture, I want to focus on his concern regarding the Teacher’s cynicism in Ecclesiastes becoming a stumbling block to individual believers living lives with meaning.  To state the matter plainly, this concern is ill-founded.  As the late Ray Anderson argued in his recent work on Ecclesiastes, “the vanity of life is its hope.”  This is because Anderson rightly discerns that the Teacher is arguing that a self-contained world has nothing to honor; it is vanity.  The Teacher wants people to understand that they are more than just earth, more than just the span of their lives.  God has “put eternity in their hearts,” and because of that life on earth alone or for its own sake is in fact meaningless or frustrating.  However, that frustration actually serves to point one beyond their feeble attempts for meaning to the One who gives meaning as a gift.  Anderson states this beautifully:

You see the point of all this is that God has put eternity in your heart.  It means sadness if you are aware of it.  But that sadness is the beating of the wings of your spirit against the prison of the frustrations that encompass you.  And in beating your wings and protesting against the contradictions of life, in constantly yearning to know more of life you become more aware, more of an individual, not just a part of the flock; this means suffering, but the spirit is alive (emphasis mine).  

The irony is that in the Teacher McManus does not have an enemy but an ally.  Both feel the ich of transcendence, the frustration of complacency, and the deep desire to have a life pregnant with meaning.  For Koheleth, Anderson reminds us, such meaning cannot be sought until one comes to terms with the limitations of earthly existence.  This does not preclude genuine and radical transformation, but the gift of Koheleth’s “cynicism” is that we can never forget that all such pursuits find their telos in God, not in a life that is full of meaning for its own sake.  Thus, for McManus, and for us all, a meaningful life begins with vanity, a happy life includes frustration.

The History of Biblical Interpretation: Jewish Interpretation

Here are all my posts on section 1 for my primer on the history of biblical interpretation:

Part 1: Hellenistic

Part 2: Qumranian

Part 3: Rabbinic

The History of Biblical Interpretation: Jewish Interpretation, Part 3

We conclude our survey of Jewish Interpretation by looking at the Rabbinic methods employed in interpreting and applying scripture.  At the outset we should note that in contrast to the apocalyptic orientation of the qumran community and the synthesizing tendencies of Philo and his disciples, the general motive behind Rabbinic exegesis was to protect the authority of the hebrew scriptures and to espouse their proper interpretation.

Rabbinic interpretation can be understood within two broad types: 1) Halakah and 2) Haggadah.  The purpose of Halakah was to seek for principles and “rules of thumb” for behavior from legal portions of the scriptures.  In contrast, Haggadah cast a wider net, attempting to encompass the whole hebrew corpus.  This method primarily drew on narrative and proverbs to illuminate the meaning of texts (particularly dealing with the law) and to encourage readers.  Thus rabbinic approaches focused on primarily ethical and pastoral readings of scripture.

Rabbinic interpretation introduced methods of study that would be appreciated by many Christians thousands of years later.  By seeking to determine the meaning of words and phrases by cross-referencing within scripture itself, and by seeking the peshat, the plain sense, of the scriptures, these interpreters demonstrated an interpretive sense shared by many conservative approaches today.  Both of these instincts, inner-scriptural exegesis and attending to scripture’s plain sense, would later be employed by 21st century evangelicals.

That said, rabbinic exegetes should not be understood as mere forerunners of conservative evangelical interpretation.  Rabbinic exegesis remained heavily dependent on traditional understandings of given texts, and the practice of midrash, while revealing a commendable pastoral heart, at times easily degenerated into mere allegorical interpretation.  Finally, it should be noted that the Qumran tendency to atomize the text, used to reinterpret scripture to suit that communities’ needs, was also present in rabbinic exegesis.

So as we end our brief exploration of Jewish interpretation, it is clear that a diverse group of interpreters existed whose respective approaches serve as archetypes of the same general orientations and concerns faced by interpreters today.  The tension between literal and allegorical approaches to scripture, behind which lay clear disagreements regarding the role culture should play in biblical and theological reflection, are clearly seen here.  Also, it is fascinating to note that the rejection of Philo’s approach by rabbinic interpreters did not save them from reading their agendas into the texts, while those who fully embraced their perceptions of current events as a grid for interpretation (the qumran community) were also guilty of seeing their own reflection in their readings.  In this period we observe that having a canon within the canon was common (Rabbinic: Law of Moses, Qumran: Prophets).  Thus the inevitable short-sightedness that comes with one’s unique situatedness is evident in Judaism, prior to Christian interpretation. 

Klein, Blomberg, & Hubbard summarize these themes:

In sum, Judaism sought to relate its ancient scriptures to the realities of its contemporary experience.  Rabbinic Judaism found in the application of the Mosaic Law a refuge to protect Jewish identity.  Rather than resist outside influences, Hellenistic Judaism tried to accomodate its beliefs to those of platonic philosophy.  And the ascetic Qumranians mined OT prophecies to explain their involvement in the events of their own day.  In part drawing on this rich, complex stream of interpretation, and in part parallel to it, flowed a new interpretive current-Christian interpretation (28).

It remains to be seen in the course of this brief survey whether Christian interpretation really ever diverges from these fundamental tensions and concerns present in Jewish interpretation.  As we end this first historical epoch, one thing is clear: one’s conception of the purpose of scripture plays a key role in interpretation.  What exactly is scripture supposed to do?  Until someone comes to terms with that question, they cannot properly interpret scripture.  We will begin to examine different answers Christians have given regarding the function of scripture as we turn to the apostolic period (30-100 AD).

The History of Biblical Interpretation: Jewish Interpretation, Part 2

This is the 2nd installment of a series I started forever ago.  I though it might be fun to pick it back up.  So here goes:

The 2nd major “method” of Jewish Interpretation, was founded at Qumran, a site on the shores of the Dead Sea that flourished during the period of 150 B.C.-68 A.D.   The group there-thought to be the Essenes-was a radical group which denounced the current religious powers in Jerusalem and withdrew into seclusion, where they awaited God’s judgment on mainstream Judaism. 

For this apocalyptic-minded group, the hebrew bible was a flexible document, one that could be tugged at, refashioned, and reinterpreted in order to meet the current needs of their community.  Their pesher method of interpretation allowed them to (1) manipulate the actual words in the text, (2) contemporize it to their time (ex: Babylon actually refers to Rome), and (3) break down texts to smaller segments, interpreting each segment as they saw fit. 

Viewed today, much of the approach of the qumran community seems disastrous, particularly so for more conservative -minded evangelicals.  It is important to remember that the community sought to unpack the text’s significance for their own day.  If a couple thousand years has taught us anything, it is that this is no easy task.  Further, while many evangelicals may be dismayed at their manipulation of the text to address contemporary matters, this is something they do as well.  While the intentional contortion of texts may not be justified, reading “Rome” when you see “Babylon” is practically no different than reading Genesis 1 as an argument against modern science.  Lastly, while the qumran community perhaps overvalued the prophetic literature, this “canon within a canon” approach is prevalent throughout the history of the church, and frankly shouldn’t be seen as a capitol offense.   While some cannot stomach such a fast and loose handling of the hebrew bible, we can all be reminded of the difficulty of understanding how the bible applies to our lives.

Rethinking Fasting

For many Christians, fasting is ultimately about (1) losing wieght in a “spiritual” way or (2) approaching God in a manner akin to health and wealth advocates, assuming that obedient fasting earns one God’s favor anda positive response to their query.  One’s fasting often reduces to a narcissistic drive for a hollywood (or at least an improved) physique or to an attempt to bully God.

In Scot McKnight’s book Fasting he challenges his readers to rethink the spiritual discipline of fasting.  Growing out of his background as a biblical scholar, he re-examines the biblical data & exposes these improper views of fasting, arguing instead that fasting is fundamentally a response to a grievous sacred moment.  While these sacred moments can occur in multiple ways (consciousness of sin, death, social injustice, and the absense of God’s presence to name a few), it is these moments in which the Christian is overcome where a mere “spiritual” response is not strong enough: rather, one wants to engage in “body talk” as well, which is where fasting provides a powerful bodily response to sacred moments. 

The point of fasting is not about whether God responds the way we want to our fasting, but whether in the serious moments in life we make a holistic turn to God, not letting our tendency for dualistic thinking to stop us from responding to God with every facet of our being.  As McKnight argues, for the Christian who is not held captive to a dualistic anthropology fasting is an inevitable & natural response to these watershed moments.  Fasting then, is ultimately about identification & communion.  McKnight’s thoughts are a compelling re-presentation of a classic spiritual discipline, and is to be commended.

The Parables of Jesus & a Theology of Scripture

In McGowan’s recent book on the nature of Scripture he attempts to redefine the concept of the “perspicuity” of Scripture.  He argues that we should alter our vocabulary to comprehension as opposed to perspicuity.  This is b/c McGowan believes that perspicuity “can be understood to imply an access to the Scriptures that is entirely human and natural (46-7).”

McGowan seeks to prevent detaching Scripture from the doctrine of God, saying that “understanding the things of God is a God-given ability and not a natural human ability (47).”  In support of this he appeals to Mt 13:11-13, where Jesus speaks of the incomprehensibility of his parables.  McGowan argues that despite attempts to twist the text to say that Jesus’ parables are capable of being grasped, the text is clear: they are not.  Thus, we must rely on the Holy Spirit to help us understand Scripture.

Now, with the disclaimer that this is only a small snippet of a larger argument McGowan is making, I am curious as to what others make of this use of Matthew 13 in developing a theology of scripture.  While I appreciate McGowan’s stated goal of relocating Scripture within the doctrine of God, I am troubled by this move because within the larger narrative of the Gospels who Jesus is and what he came to do is very revealed.  I think McGowan has misused this text due to not appreciating the Gospel’s genre.  This is not to say his affinity with Calvin’s concept of illumination has no merit, but that I find his use of this text unhelpful.  For my money, John 5 would have been much more compelling.

Book Review: Adopted into God’s Family

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Burke, Trevor J.  Adopted into God’s Family: Exploring a Pauline Metaphor.  New Studies in Biblical Theology 22.  Downers Grove: IVP, 2006.  233 pgs.

In this work author Trevor Burke contends that one of Paul’s soteriological metaphors is often over overlooked, that of huiothesia, or adoption.  Contending that adopting should not merely be subsumed under justification or regeneration, Burke sets out to demonstrate the uniqueness of this metaphor onyl used in a handful of passages by Paul.

Burke begins by laying out his case for the separate treatment of adoption, arguing that it contains a unique emphasis that gets lost when it is subsumed under other categories of the ordo salutis and that when adoption has been studied it has been too limited, mainly concerned with discerning the  cultural milieu Paul was drawing upon (chapter 1).

In chapter 2 Burke discusses the nature of metaphors and the unique interpretative challnges they bring.  He cites some standard thinkers in this discussion (Lakoff and Johnson, McFague), and argues that both the literary and social contexts are key for discerning the proper “field of associations” which grounds Paul’s use of huiothesia.  Burke ends with the claim that despite the scarcity of references, adoption actually serves as “an organizing soteriological metaphor” for Paul.

The next logical step in Burke’s presentation is to try to understand the background to Paul’s adoption metaphor.  He examines the OT, Greek, and Roman backgrounds.  In the end he nearly completely endorses the Roman view, while minimizing Hebrew influence and denying any Greek associations (Chapter 3).

Chapters 4-6 form the heart of the book, where Burke analyzes nearly every Pauline passage on adoption, with the exception of Romans 9:4.  He discerns a Trinitarian structure to adoption, and thus the fundamental passages are each explored to varying degrees three separate times, with an eye to the role of the Father (chapter 4), the Son (chapter 5), and the Spirit (chapter 6). 

The main functions of the Triune persons, according to Burke, are as follows: the Father is the believers new paterfamilias, who like the Roman head of the household adoptes one by his sovereign choice.  The Son is the agent through which this adoption takes place in union with him.  Burke points out that while this has no direct correlation to the Roman practice of adoption, the idea of redemption from slavery discussed in chapter four fits within the conceptual scheme of Roman adoption.  In Paul’s thought one is bought out of slavery, thus making adoption possible, not through money but through a person.  For Paul the tye of currency necessary is changed.  Lastly, Burke’s treatment of the Spirit reflects the mutual perichoretic coactivity (to use Elmer Colyer’s term) between the Son and Spirit, so that the work of the Spirit and the Son in adoption cannot in the end divided.  Also, the moral significance and the method of believer’s assurance are dealt with here.

From here Burke backtracks a bit to explore the socio-cultural issues of honor and shame, and their relation to adoption (chapter 7).  In chapter 8 adoption is explored eschatologically through the prism of Romans 8:18-27.  Finally, after a brief summary of the entire book Burke explores what he calls some “alleged cases of adoption in the Old Testament” in his apendix.

First a few structural comments.  One of books greatest strengths is in its summaries.  Whether the summary at the end of each chapter or for the book as a whole at its conclusion, Burke’s summaries are extremely helpful.  Concise and higlighting the major point of each section in a chapter chronologically, they made the book more understandable.  This may seem insignificant, but not every author knows how to summarize well.

Negatively, while there were footnotes, they were mostly tangential to the point at hand.  In the text the actual citations were in APA format, which i found cumbersome and unhelpful.  Lastly, the chapter on honor and shame would have made more sense before the exploration of the Trinitarian nature of adoption.  Four of the last five chapters are more textually and theologically focused, and sandwiched inbetween the Spirit and Eschatology Burke moves back to cultural background issues.  

In terms of critical analysis, i will limit myself to two particular examples:

  1. Burke’s method is overly rigid at times.  This is particularly the case with Romans 9:4, which speak of Israel as God’s adoption children.  Burke devotes less than two pages to this use of huiothesia.  The ratnionale: there is no OT background to the practice of adoption, and the word is never used there.  While i understand that Burke is unashamedly coming from a biblical-theology approach, using the lack of precise verbal and cultural symmetry as an excuse to effectively filter out one of only a handful of relevant passages is extreme.  While it would make the review too long to argue against this approach in more detail and present an affirmative case, i would note in passing that conceptually the OT concept of covenant corresponds very nicely to more than one major element in the Roman cultural practice of adoption, thus giving the Jews, who by and large would have known the Roman practice of adoptio, a metaphorical launching pad to understand Paul.
  2. Slightly related to number 1, at times Burke’s bias for reformed theology slants his readings of both the background for the texts and the texts themselves.  One example will have to suffice.  In arguing against Paul’s use of a Greek background for huiothesia,  Burke states that Paul couldn’t have been drawing on this background since in Greek culture adoption wasn’t “absolute” and irrevocable (59).  To be clear overall Burke’s case is strong and there is little doubt that Roman culture was the primary field of associations for Paul.  That said, the “provisional” nature of Greek adoption is not a problem for arminian or other free will theists who believe that one can lose their salvation. 

Despite these criticisms, Burke has produced a fine work.  His stated goal was to show that Paul’s metaphor of adoption “is worthy of greater consideration . . . it should occupy a more vital role in our theological reflection and understanding (28).”  Burke’s monograph has accomplished this goal.  The writing is clear, concise, and each chapter has a clear flow and train of thought.  Despite some points of methodological and theological disagreement, i find most of Burke’s positions sound.  This book is definitely worth a read.

Book Review: War & the Christian Conscience

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Joseph J. Fahey.  War and the Christian Conscience: Where Do You Stand?  Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2005.  xviii + 194 p.

In the past decade Christians in America have had to confront a perennially vexing question; what should one believe about the Christian’s relationship to war?  Sadly, too many Christians simply believe that their government’s (or their particular wing of the church’s) posture on war is the Christian response, rather than examining the issue themselves.

In this work Joseph Fahey hopes to engage those who have never given much thought to their convictions on war (xv).  The book divides neatly into three parts.  The first part seeks to articulate a rudimentary understanding of conscience and its development.  Before doing so though, Fahey creates a fictional story that centers on a college student named Nicole.  Nicole and her classmates are thinking through their beliefs about war in light of their president’s reinstituting of the military draft for preventative warfare.  While the story is not going to win any awards, it does meet Fahey’s goal of providing a more concrete context in which to think through the subject, which he will return to at different points throughout the work.

Fahey defines conscience as

the innate ability to determine the ethics of actions as morally good, bad, or indifferent (12).

For Fahey this “innate ability” is not an “inner voice” inherent in all humans, but rather refers to the potential to develop an understanding of good and bad subsequent to birth.  From this Fahey explicates several “perspectives that form conscience.”  These perspectives are culture (specific and general social groups one belongs to), duty, egoism, gender, religion, science, and utilitarianism.  The discussion here is very general, so general at points it seems to undercut its usefulness.  For example, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are lumped together as “theistic religions,” and receive one paragraph.  Little theological resources are provided at this point.

Part 2 of the book examines “War and Christian Conscience in Christian History,” and comprises the heart of the book.  Four main positions, each receiving a separate chapter, are articulated: pacifism, just war, total war, and world community.  Beginning in scripture and working its way up to contemporary society, Fahey ends with a summary of each model’s salient  points and encourages the reader to write Nicole a letter in reference to the position.

The chapter’s dealings with scripture are not as deep as one would like, but they do provide the major battle grounds for the bible’s endorsement of each respective postion.  The strength of the chapters are in the focus on historical figures who are stand outside consideration for most white protestants, like Bartolome de Las Casas.  Also, at times Fahey’s historical analysis challenges (rightly in my estimation) traditional American opinions of certain historical figures and developments (eg Columbus is not someone to celebrate).   

At times, Fahey’s analysis reveals his preference for both the pacifism and world community models.  The biblical arguments for “just war” proponents are shot down with an intensity that is not matched in other chapters.  This contributes the overall rhetoric behind Fahey’s understanding of the historical development of the church’s beliefs on war, revealing an anti-war bias.  I have no problem with this in and of itself, but it is worth noting because Fahey’s book is endorsed by Patrick Coy specifically because it

doesn’t tell anyone what to think about war, but teaches readers how to think about it on their own.

Due to its genre as a survey text that attempts to be nonpersuasive, one must understand that despite Fahey’s noble intentions, he has, like anyone else, been unable to remove his opinion from his work.  However, occasionally it seems that this could have been avoided.

The last part of the book simply calls for the reader to make a choice regarding her/his opinion on war and the Christian conscience.  He asks the reader to decide how moral decisions should be made, based on his perspectives in part one, and to decide which model, or combination of models, one holds regarding the Christian and war.

The major strength in this book is its historical explications of the church’s beliefs on war.  For the novice, the historical overviews provided will enrich the believer’s understanding of both the Christian faith and its complex relationship with the issue of war.  Further, the push towards making a decision on this issue, and the encouragement to continue wrestling with it are commendable attributes (193-194).  Lastly, despite lapses the overall tenor of Fahey’s book is charitable in tone, making it a good place for the beginner.

The absense of any real theological depth is the main weakness of Fahey’s text.  For Fahey the process of forming one’s conscience on war is little more than determining how one prefers to form their conscience, and then make a decision based on those criteria.  It is a very modern, mechanical, individualistic approach that gives little attention to communal dynamics and frankly to the actual opinion of God.  The scriptures are more like pedagogical ethical treatises rather than a witness to the Triune God and His work today.

This is a helpful “first book” for someone on the subject in that it provides the broad historical contexts in which someone can engage the issue.  That being Fahey’s goal, he has for the most part succeeded.  Beyond that, one should look elsewhere for more sustained, theological adept reflections on this troublesome issue.

Review of Article: Authorship of the Pastoral Epistles

Wilder, Terry L.  “A Brief Defense of the Pastoral Epistle’s Authenticity.”  Midwestern Journal of Theology 2, no. 1 (Fall 2003): 38-42.

Abstract/Synopsis

In this article professor Wilder briefly surveys the dominant arguments against Pauline authorship of the Pastoral Epistles.  The standard issues of language, style, church order, and coherency with Acts are all explicated.  After each section is explained Wilder seeks to demonstrate the lack of effectiveness of the standard arguments, arguing for the traditional view of Pauline authorship.  Wilder concludes by stating his conviction that the burden of proof is still with those who wish to affirm the pseudonymity of the Pastoral Epistles.

Contributions to Understanding

Many of Wilder’s insights are also found within other defenders of the traditional view (see the chapter on the Pastorals in David DeSilva’s NT Introduction, which I recently reviewed).  Despite this, i discovered a few unique pieces of argumentation.  For example, regarding stylistic differences Wilder points out how such a criticism cannot be maintained due to the sheer brevity of the Pastoral Corpus.  There is in Wilder’s view inadequate data for such a position (39).  Another insight gained from Wilder is that since elders were to be appointed by Titus in every town (1:5-7), this text can hardly be understood as referring to a “monarchial government (39).”  The efficacy of these arguments are up for the individual reader to decide.

Aside from these and other more tangential insights, the primary value of Wilder’s article is in how he demonstrates the seriousness with which the early church took accusations of pseudonymity within their canon; it was vigorously rejected, to the point where leaders were dismissed for attempting it, thereby giving the early church’s testimony of the authentic Pauline authorship of the Pastorals more validity (41-2). 

In this article Wilder’s agenda is clear, and so the reader must be wary of potential bias.  With that in mind, this article remains an excellent introduction to the issues surrounding the authorship of the Pastoral Epistles from a traditional view point.

David A. DeSilva: An Introduction to the New Testament

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David A. DeSilva

An Introduction to the New Testament: Contexts, Methods, & Ministry Formation.  Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2004.  975 pgs. 

Over the past year, I have had the opportunity to read a great deal of David DeSilva’s introduction to the New Testament.  In this book DeSilva seeks to equip Christian leaders to

(1) more fully engage the critical and prayerful study of the New Testament, and (2) more reliably discern the direction the Spirit would give through these texts for nurturing disciples and building communities of faith that reflect the heart and character of their Lord [20].

DeSilva seeks to achieve these two goals through by (1) taking a text-centered approach (as opposed to primarily pursuing early church history and Christian origins), (2) presenting numerous interpretative strategies that cut across ideological boundaries, and (3) by reflecting on the spiritual and pastoral implications of each book of the New Testament [20-21].

Each chapter begins with the standard questions of New Testament scholarship, attending to matters of authorship, date, genre and the like.  DeSilva usually does an admirable  job of  giving the reader an ample survey of the salient points without getting bogged down in the finer minutiae that consumes the professional scholar.  Further, the language of this section is understandable for the beginner. 

Following this, DeSilva begins to expound the message and theology of the NT book in question.  What makes this section invaluable is that you can never quite “label” or pin him down: as soon as you think he is simply a theological conservative, he will write something that would make many conservatives bristle, and visa-versa.  At times DeSilva’s most impassioned arguments will be for a view he rejects.  Sometimes you end a chapter not completely sure what he thinks about certain features of a NT book.  Much like his subject matter, DeSilva’s views cannot be fit into one mold, and that makes for more engaging reading.

As DeSilva builds his case for his interpretation, there are occasional inserts that allow eager readers to receive fuller treatments of certain themes or issues surrounding the NT [eg “The New Perspective on Paul and Early Judaism (500-1),” “Wisdom Christology in Colossians 1:15-20 (695),” and “Sources and Stages in the Composition of Revelation (892),” to name a few].  These sidebars, while giving more detail, do not depart from the overall readability of the volume for the novice.

Usually near the end of the chapter, DeSilva includes at least one section focused on exegetical techniques [20].  This “Exegetical Skill” section introduces the reader to a wide array of exegetical techniques, and like the sidebars mentioned above contains its own bibliography.  These sections are usually between 5-10 pages, include practical exercises to begin applying the technique, and are usually placed within a study of a book where the technique is especially relevant (ex: Feminist Criticism in the chapter on the Pastoral Epistles).  These techniques span across the theological and idealogical spectrum, and there will be likely a section or two in DeSilva’s work that will make the reader uneasy, to his/her benefit [767].  While it is clear that DeSilva favors some techniques over others (Rhetorical Criticism receives treatment at least four separate times), each technique is explicated with charity, extolling the value of it for if nothing else the questions it raises (see 757-70).

At the conclusion of each chapter is a “Ministry Formation” section, similar in length and format to the “Exegetical Skill” section.  Here DeSilva attempts to tie the exegetical work done in the chapter to the life of ministry.  At times i was convicted reading this section, as it challenged me to wrestle with all the information i had just gathered in relationship to my concrete life as a minister. 

In this ambitious introduction DeSilva has attempted combine the disciplines of hermeneutics, exegesis, and spiritual and ministry formation.  It is little wonder that at nearly 1000 pages DeSilva readily admits that “the study of the New Testament is a broad field with many questions” and that he “does not pretend to write as an expert on every topic [21].”   Nevertheless, each chapter in essence is a “mini-commentary,” a great place to begin one’s research of a given book and text.  In my humble opinion, DeSilva has, as much as it is possible in one book, achieved his goal of providing an invaluable resource for thoughtful and prayerful study of the NT with the furtherance of the Gospel firmly in view.

What about Philemon?

This week i am studying the book of Philemon.  It has been quite enjoyable so far, and i find myself unsettled by the common assumption, whether spoken or evidenced in practice, that Philemon is of little or no relevance within the NT or Pauline canon.

So, i want to open this up to my readers with two (related) questions: what “role” does Philemon play within the NT?  Within Pauline thought?

Return and a Poll

I have been pretty inactive lately, but i am hoping to get back in the habit.  So to get back in the swing, i will throw a poll out there.  I have been doing a bit of reading on Pauline theology lately, and am curious what other bloggers think of the “of/in Christ” debate.  If you have time, throw your rationale for why you voted the way you did.  Here you go: