Jesus, the Hebrew scriptures and #SH2011 – another excursus

Anyway, where were we? Ah, yes. The Bible.

One thing that I have heard a number of times from conservative evangelicals is the argument that, because Jesus apparently believed in the “literal truth” of the Hebrew scriptures, then we should too. They point to the various places in the Gospels where Jesus, in conversation with various groups and individuals, takes Old Testament passages at their face value to make a point. At first sight this seems like a reasonable argument. After all, Jesus was God, the second person of the Trinity. So he should know. Right?

I recently heard a version of this argument from the lips of Krish Kandiah at a seminar I attended at Spring Harvest 2011 in Skegness. I blogged about my (one day) attendance here. The occasion was a seminar on the Tough Texts of the Bible, in this case the Genocidal Texts particularly Deuteronomy 20, where God appears not only to sanction but to command the obliteration of the nations living in the Promised Land. Parts of the seminar were actually quite good, and the problems these texts present were well acknowledged. However I was disappointed to hear Krish bring up this argument to bolster his claim that we should not just conclude that the writers of these texts either misheard God or were pursuing their own agendas.

At the event there was not the opportunity or the time to argue the toss with Krish – there were several hundred people present, and judging by the nodding of heads when he said this, and the few responses that made it to the microphone, many of them were in agreement with him.

However, regardless of one’s view of the historicity of the Hebrew scriptures or of one’s position regarding infallibility or inerrancy, I think that there are a number of weaknesses with this argument. I would say that there are two broad areas where the argument falls down – the first theological, the second rhetorical.

Firstly, although I agree with Krish that Jesus Christ was God incarnate, he was also fully human. Paul in his letter to the Philippians outlines this process:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. (Philippians 2:5-7 NRSV, my emphasis)

Now I will be the first to admit that what this emptying exactly means in practice has been the subject of study, conversation and dispute among theologians and Bible scholars for centuries. But there is agreement that Jesus was in some way limited by becoming human. He learned his (Hebrew) Bible in a human way (we get a glimpse of this in the childhood incident recorded in Luke 2:421ff.). Jesus is nowhere presented as possessing the omniscience we often ascribe to God. Indeed, at the Ascension it appears that there may be things that even the post-resurrection Jesus may not know – the times and seasons that will bring in the fullness of the kingdom of God (Acts 1:7) – certainly things he is not at liberty to disclose to the disciples. Furthermore, in the Gospel narrative, what Jesus does know about other people (the secrets of human hearts) could easily be the result of a highly developed, Holy Spirit-guided intuition.

To argue then, as many do, that Jesus necessarily had a greater understanding of the historicity of the Hebrew scriptures than his contemporaries seems simply to ignore the kenosis involved in Jesus’ incarnation.

Secondly, we come to the rhetorical point: namely, what was it that Jesus was trying to communicate to his contemporaries? Even if we were to allow that Jesus DID know that much more about the historicity of the Hebrew scriptures, would it have been helpful or profitable for him to begin arguing this particular point with the Jewish people (whether the intellectuals or the common people) of his day? Would this not have been a distraction to his primary teaching and purposes which was to give them a clearer understanding and experience of the Kingdom of God/Heaven? Given the reluctance of some to embrace what he did say, wouldn’t teaching that the Hebrew scriptures were not what they appeared and were understood to be have given the excuse for more widespread rejection of the core of his teaching?

When Jesus teaches, he does so from what he and his interlocutors have in common. The wise Christian missionary has always worked in this way. Within the NT writings, Paul looks for things he has in common with his audience – the Hebrew scriptures with his Jewish and “God-fearing” audiences, pagan philosophers and poets with Gentile intellectuals, creation with the populations of Iconium, Lystra and Derbe. Today, it would be unwise for, say, a missionary to Muslims to begin by attacking their understanding of the Qur’an. There are far more important issues at stake. So with Jesus, the historicity of the OT is not an issue germane to his purposes. Indeed, it is unlikely that his audience could have understood him at all had he approached the issue the way we might do so in the early twenty-first century.

Nor, to my mind, does it make a significant difference to the points he does make. Take, for instance, his use of the story of Jonah. Does it make a difference to his point if the story is not history? Preachers often use imaginary stories without an historical foundation to convey truth, indeed Jesus’ own parables are prime examples. Jesus’ reference to the story of Jonah to draw parallels with his own suffering, death and resurrection do not rely on the story’s historicity but takes something that is well known and uses it to illuminate their understanding and expectation of what being Messiah actually involves.

So can we, perhaps, agree to stop trying to use this as a killer argument? The premise may or may not be a valid one, but if it is, it is so on quite other grounds and this argument does little or nothing to advance our understanding of the Hebrew scriptures.

What the Bible means (to me) – a brief excursus

Here is a brief question as an aside to the main posts:

In the light of Paul’s words in 2 Timothy 3:16-17 (“All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching…”), and assuming that Acts can be understood to be now included in this category, consider this verse from Acts 17, where Paul is preaching in Athens and quotes two pagan poets, Epimenides and Aratus:

For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we too are his offspring.’ (Acts 17:28, NRSV)

My question is this – at what point, exactly, were the words “In him we live  and move and have our being” and “For we too are his offspring” inspired by God? Was it (a) when the poets wrote them? (b) when Paul quoted them in his address? or (c) when Luke made the editorial decision to include them in his book?

What the Bible means (to me) – part the first

For some time now I have felt that I wanted to post a series about the Bible. We read the Bible a lot in our churches. In the Church of England, not only do we read an Old Testament portion, maybe a Psalm, a New Testament reading and one from the Gospels at the Eucharist; we also read an Old Testament reading, one from the New Testament as well as one or more Psalms and canticles usually drawn from Old and New Testaments at Morning and Evening Prayer. That is a lot of Bible.

In addition, classically, we use Scripture along with tradition, reason and experience to determine doctrine and praxis. Synod papers and reports will (if we are lucky) have considered what scripture has to say about the principles relating to matters under discussion. And the theological formation and training of our clergy and lay ministers will have included some elements of Biblical Studies.

However, it is clear that when we talk to each other, especially about the more controversial issues that face the church in our times, that there is a wide divergence of opinion not only about the issues themselves but about the part that our reading of scripture should play in our attempt to come to a common mind. It becomes clear the Bible means different things to different people. Not only that, but groupings have coalesced around these differences of approach, which can then lead to talking past each other as the lack of shared assumptions makes itself felt. As an example of one extreme, take this comment from a recent blog discussion relating to the State of Israel:

The Bible is a book that was written to be taken literally. To read it with your clever eyes and your education is to adapt it for your own end.

Christian Zionists see what is there and interpret all things by the light of the Biblical prophecies, numerologies, and modern prophetic utterances.

For this commentator, there was little or no doubt that the Bible is the word of God, and should determine our attitudes and actions today. But I have lots of questions about the assumptions behind the statements. At the other extreme, of course, are those for whom the Bible is at best a collection of interesting ancient documents, but of little or no relevance in determining how one should live life today. And I have questions about that, too.

So in (some of) the next few blog posts here, I want to consider what the Bible is, how we read and interpret it and what place it should occupy in the life of the individual Christian and the church.

I should perhaps add that my views on this subject have changed considerably over the years – as will no doubt become clear. Comments will be very welcome if they contribute to a fruitful discussion.

God’s PPS?

One of the marks of a teacher who really understands their subject is that they can explain it in simple, straightforward language to a lay person in the field. Thanks to a facebook friend, I came across this report from Damian Thompson of an article in the Times.

Apparently, the father of Lulu Renton, a six-year Scottish girl, sent a letter she had written to God to a number of influential church people. The letter asked, “To God, who invented you?” There was no reply from the Scottish Episcopal church or the Presbyterians and a rather complex reply from the Scottish Catholics.

However, the copy sent to “the head of theology of the Anglican Communion, based at Lambeth Palace.” This drew the following reply from the Archbishop of Canterbury:

Dear Lulu,

Your dad has sent on your letter and asked if I have any answers. It’s a difficult one! But I think God might reply a bit like this –

‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.

Then they invented ideas about me – some of them sensible and some of them not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints – specially in the life of Jesus – to help them get closer to what I’m really like.

But there was nothing and nobody around before me to invent me. Rather like somebody who writes a story in a book, I started making up the story of the world and eventually invented human beings like you who could ask me awkward questions!’

And then he’d send you lots of love and sign off.

I know he doesn’t usually write letters, so I have to do the best I can on his behalf. Lots of love from me too.

+Archbishop Rowan

This has obviously been written by Rowan himself – you can almost hear him speaking it as you read. I think he has done a commendable job in addressing the question in terms that a six -year-old might understand and without any condescension. He takes the enquiry seriously, admits it is a difficult question and then gives a good personal answer with great warmth.

It makes me feel very proud of my Archbishop.

What’s it all about? Really?

Over at Phil’s Treehouse, Phil Ritchie is asking questions about the strap-lines that several CofE dioceses have adopted to proclaim their mission statements: Missionary Diocese of…, Going for Growth etc. I think he raises important questions about these, not least the issue about giving a hostage to the future. So many of these things seem like a good idea at the time, only to look rather naff a few years down the line.

However, one question I think the dioceses ought to ask seriously before adopting these statements is to whom such straplines are directed. Is it to remind those who are currently members what they are about? Or is it to say something to those currently outside the fold?

I rather suspect that many of them are the former. Who currently outside or s phere of influence really wants to know that Wakefield diocese is missionary, or that Lichfield is going for growth? In many ways I suspect these could be rather off-putting, making the outsider or casual visitorfeel like they are perceived as evangelism fodder, one element of the vision for “growth”.

For those of us who are already members of the CofE there are plenty of other ways in which the internal message could be put across. And it will take more than such strap-lines across every diocesan publication to change the culture of a diocese and the national church as a whole.

So let’s see something more empathetic and imaginative, that tells others what we are about. How about “Good news to the poor”? Or would that be just TOO radical?

Love Wins

I’ve nearly finished reading the book, and will post a short review of it here once ’tis done (really, really). But in the meantime, for those of you living in a time zone to the west of here (and even if you’re not) Don Miller’s review of Love Wins is worth a look.

Saying sorry – Canadian style

Our Christian faith is big on forgiveness – particularly on our need of God’s forgiveness, and on God’s willingness to extend it. In the Church of England, most of our liturgies include a section for confession of our sin and a declaration of God’s forgiveness for those who are truly penitent. In the 1662 Book of Common Prayer these prayers of confession rather dwell on our unworthiness and wretchedness; which may be true, but I have begun to wonder what the long-term effects of reciting this language week after week have been in congregations where this has been regular practice. To me though, New Testament doesn’t seem to encourage quite this level of introspection. Rather, it encourages us to receive and rejoice in the forgiveness freely offered. Is our liturgical practice part of the root of the lack of self-confidence one finds in many congregations and congregants?

On the other hand, we have recently seen the growth of the non-apology in public life – the sort of thing where a politician regrets that others have been hurt/offended by some words or action, but makes no real apology or change in behaviour or attitude.

Lesley Fellowes has some observations about saying sorry here, including this wonderful example (H/T  Simple Massing Priest):

Christmas 2.0

H/T Nancy Jane Johnson and Darryl Buckle

Telling the story through social media…

What did you think?

A little more on usury and the sexuality debate

I’ve just been trying to find out a little more about how it was that the Christian view on charging interest came to change so radically between the medieval period and the Enlightenment. Things are a little murky, but several online articles, including this one, seem to lay the blame at Calvin’s door. The main plank of his argument appears to have been the difference in conditions between the times and culture of ancient Israel and that of sixteenth century Europe.

Well, knock me down with a feather! I need to check this out, because if this is true then it sheds quite a different light on the current sexuality debates that are rocking the Anglican Communion. It rather begs the question as to what makes the difference between financial sins, in which social differences make definition changes OK, and sexual ones, which many seem to want to see as set in stone? Hmmm.

Can anyone point me in the direction of any recent work on this?

Christians against usury?

One of Tree’s saplings is involved in creating media for a number of charities and voluntary agencies in the land of the maple-leaf. One of his early contracts was to produce a film showing how one of these agencies was helping to meet the UN Millenium Development Goals in Rwanda. Interesting stuff, and I wish that the awareness of these goals was more widespread in our own country and especially in our churches. We in the global North are way short of delivering on our promises made to the poorest and most vulnerable people on this planet we share.

I posted earlier about how we Christians of all shapes and traditions seem to have become comfortable with the charging of interest which is the basis of much of the global economy. One of the biggest problems in the developing world is the sheer levels of debt that have accumulated over decades of aid and supposed investment in their economies and infrastructure by the developed economies. In many cases countries cannot even pay the accumulating interest on their loans, let alone begin to pay back the capital. Attempts have been made alleviate the effects of this through debt reduction and cancellation. Christian-based organisations, such as the Jubilee 2000 Campaign, together with coalitions like Make Poverty History (2006), have led the way in putting pressure on the governments of richer nations to make a new start and wipe the slate clean for the poorest nations.

While these campaigns have met with some success, there has been considerable resistance to these ideas. And no one as far as I can see (prove me wrong, someone!) has really questioned the whole basis of these problems in what, a few centuries ago, was called usury.

At the same time, personal debt in the developed world has reached record levels. David Keen tweeted this morning:

“…total UK personal debt is £1428bn, higher than annual GDP. Our consumption is a whole year ahead of our means to pay.”

Our grandparents had a great fear of personal debt. “If you can’t pay for it, don’t buy it,” used to be a common approach. To ask for credit was a sign of desperation, a last resort bearing something of a social stigma. Again, many churches and individual Christians do some brilliant work providing debt counselling services and helping those in greatest need. But is this simply applying first aid to a deeper malaise? What do we, as Christians, have to say about this? What theological resources do we bring to bear? What can we contribute to the debate that is distinctively Christian?

Within my own benefice lies one of the major Islamic educational institutions in Europe. They run diploma and degree courses in Islamic jurisprudence and finance, including Islamic banking. This is perhaps the one area of international finance that is NOT run on an interest-charging basis. Rather, as in medieval Europe, the basis of trade and finance lies in the principle of shared risk. I invest in a project or commercial venture, and share in the profits if it comes to a successful outcome. This puts the monetary element into something that adds value – manufacturing, bringing goods to market or achieving a specific goal – rather than in the often tail-chasing merry-go-round that happens in the Western banking system. Does the Islamic approach have anything to teach or challenge the churches and our society on this issue?

I am no economist (as some of you are no doubt thinking as you read). Maybe I am hopelessly naive. Maybe my grasp of the issues in not as it should be. I would like to know more. But I think there is a useful conversation to be had about the basis of our economy and whether there are other models which would more in line with Christian values and principles. Certainly that economy has been showing signs of strain of late, but I believe there is a (perhaps small) window of opportunity here for those who have the knowledge and (interdisciplinary) skills to re-imagine our systems.

What do you think?