(Ir)religiosity

You know that another semester is gearing up when I don’t have time to write up a blog post.  I have been writing though.  One of my tasks this semester in my constructive theology class is to comment upon various theological concepts and to, as much as I am suspicious of the enterprise, develop a systematic of sorts.  So I will be sharing some of my statements periodically in hopes that they will spark some conversation.  I hope you will excuse the more scholarly form and academic tone.  Keep in mind that all this is provisional, unfinished, and ad hoc. I have no interest in dogmatism or I wouldn’t be studying theology; I’d be enrolled in a “Bible School.”  Each section begins, in true Barthian form, with a summary sentence of the following discussion.  I look forward to the dialogue.

The locus of Christian authority and the centerpiece of revelation lies in the God who was revealed in the  incarnation of Jesus Christ — Scripture bears witness to this reality; as such the bible is the primary source of revelation and it becomes the contextual word of God through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit as it is responsibly interpreted and faithfully performed in the community called church.

God is the locus of Christian theological authority, more specifically, the God that was revealed in the historical incarnation of Jesus Christ. But what is the nature of that authority? Often in public theologizing appeals to religious authority are made in order to validate and legitimize specific truth claims to simply settle the issue in hand. In that sense, such authorities are more authoritarian than they are authoritative. This is problematic because theology, as a finite discipline, “is always potentially vulnerable”¹ and therefore can make no completely absolute or objective claims. Authority in the strict sense must therefore be abandoned lest theology be relegated to the sphere of modern, post-Enlightenment science, a move that has become all too popular since Descartes and Kant. Furthermore, since religious and theological authorities always require responsible interpretation, the order and placement of authority in the line of normative argumentation must be reversed so that it is not at the end of theologizing as a validator of certain claims, but rather at the beginning as the starting point from which all theologizing emerges.²

What then, are the sources of theological authority? Scripture is without a doubt the prime source of authority and the primary source of God’s special revelation insofar as it points to the person and work of Jesus Christ. It is not, however, the only source nor does it exist in a vacuum; like any other text, it requires responsible interpretation. In our time the claim that “Scripture interprets Scripture” without any subjective mediation is wholly untenable and makes for a wholly irresponsible hermeneutic. Here the so-called “Wesleyan quadrilateral” is helpful. If Scripture is the primary source of theological authority and the locus of Christian revelation then tradition, reason, and experience — helpful sources of authority and revelation in their own right — constitute a sort of hermeneutical triad by which Scripture is responsibly interpreted in various contexts and performed, that is made incarnate, by various communities.

Through responsible, communal interpretation, Scripture becomes the Word of God and is thus authoritative for Christian thought and practice. As Karl Barth writes, “The Bible is God’s Word to the extent that God causes it to be His [sic] Word, to the extent that He [sic] speaks through it.”³  Through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit the text becomes the word of God as it is read, interpreted, and performed by the church. This does not mean, however, that the text (each passage, chapter, or verse) as a single, fixed, objective, and determined meaning for all places and in all times. Such an illusion is unsustainable for at least three main reasons.⁴  First, as finite persons each of us is socially, historically, and culturally situated in a such a way that is hardly impartial, disinterested, or purely objective. Each person, whether they are completely conscious of it or not possesses what Heidegger calls a “hermeneutic pre-understanding,” which is inextricably woven into the fabric of that person’s subjectivity and serves as a sort of “implicit fore-structure [guiding] all interpretation in advance, upon which all interpretation draws, [and] by which every inquiry which is anything more than an ‘unphenomenological construction’ is nourished.”⁵   Even if there is such a thing as “objectivity” no human being would be able interpret it purely and without bias or prejudice. In other words, we are human, all too human. A white, American male from the rural south will read the bible very differently than a woman in sub-Saharan Africa. The question is whether Christians are making room in their theology for the bible to become the word of God for both persons, perhaps with different meanings, purposes, and ramifications. Read the rest of this entry »

1. Robert C. Neville, A Theology Primer (New York, New York:  State University of New York Press, 1991), 13. [↩]
2. Ibid. [↩]
3. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, I.1, edited and translated by Thomas Forsyth Torrance and Geoffrey W. Bromiley (New York, New York:  T&T Clark, 2004). [↩]
4. There are many more reasons which draw upon the insight of 20^th century continental thought, but this is not the place to explore them in depth. [↩]
5. John D. Caputo, The Weakness of God:  A Theology of the Event (Bloomington, Indiana:  Indiana University Press, 2006), 113. [↩]

Tony Jones hits the nail on the head in this video.

If you follow his blog then you’re aware that Tony has been blogging about homosexuality lately and called for an open and honest discussion without reference to the six clobber verses that are all too often taken out of context.

The problem, of course, isn’t that Tony wants to abandon scripture and rigorous exegesis as he and others are accused of suggesting. The problem is that too many of us are limiting our hermeneutic to a handful of verses, the immediate context of which is either replete with other off the wall stipulations that we have long since abandoned, as in the Hebrew bible, or uses vocabulary which is ambiguous at best and more than likely refers to sexual behavior that is hardly analogous to those in long-term monogamous homosexual relationships in today’s context, as in the case of Paul’s letters. The problem is that we are guilty of a dangerous selective literalism that not only creates a highly myopic and repressive ‘canon-within-the-canon,’ (we are all guilty of our varying emphases) but that it blatantly ignores, as Tony points out, the overall trajectory of scripture — a trajectory of liberation, redemption, and restoration in which God’s interaction within humankind and all of creation is steeped with grace tempered with justice.

There is a meaningful, constructive debate to be had here. But until we find a way to mend this gap it seems that communication is at a standstill. We’ll just keep going around in circles rehashing the same old points and probably yelling louder and getting more emotional in the process. Most of the comments on Tony’s blog are a case point.

So, as far as I can tell (and I’ve read most of the comments) Tony’s question is still an open and unanswered one:

If you are one who thinks that homosexual sex is sinful, can you please explain to me WHY a gay or lesbian person who is in a long-term, monogamous relationship would not be able to wholeheartedly follow Christ?

My only stipulation is this: You may not quote one of the six verses in scripture that mentions homosexuality. Instead, you must use theological and/or philosophical arguments to attempt to convince me that when you have genital contact with someone of your own gender, it somehow inhibits your relationship with Christ.

Last week I posted an article over at Emergent Village titled “What Happens After Sola Scriptura?” exploring what I believe is viable alternative to a traditional view of Scripture.  An alternative that maintains a deep respect for Scripture and takes it very seriously while admitting our limitations as human beings who cannot read Scripture (or anything for that matter) in a vacuum.  My contention was that reading is always already interpretation and interpretation is always already situational.  The history of hermeneutics is indicative of that and I think it demonstrative that Scripture is not infallible or inerrant.  Even if it was, our ability to read it without biases or prejudices is permanently inhibited — we are human after all.  And I believe that is part of the human condition.

The article received a quite a bit of feedback, some positive and some negative.  However, I great deal of the responses fell into one of two categories, both of which I feel missed the larger point I was trying to get across.  So I want to take a minute and address each of them.

First, the original post was not written from a historical perspective nor was it meant to evaluated as such.  I understand that Luther and other Reformers posited a different idea of Sola Scriptura than what I delineated.  I also understand that Luther lived in a different time than we do, more specifically a period prior to the Enlightenment.  I’m sure that Luther et al. meant well and I believe that Sola Scriptura was helpful and useful for them during the Reformation.  But as post-Enlightenment individuals, I don’t believe we can hold such ideas in the same manner as we once could.  And I think the various ways in which Sola Scriptura has been abused and misused since then are demonstrative of that fact.  We have a different type of consciousness and Sola Scriptura today means something wholly different than it did in the 16th century.  We can’t help that.  There is no going back in my view.  And because our understand has changed, so must our response.  Which is why I suggest Prima Scriptura as an alternative to Sola Scriptura as it has come to be understood.  I have no desire to take on the entire Reformation.  I believe it was helpful and I admire it, which is why I refuse to let it crust over into dogma.  I believe we must always be reforming.  For some of us who can no longer hold Sola Scriptura, I suggested a different alternative (an alternative that is by no means new by the way) as a means why which we can continue to reform.

Which leads me to the second point I want to make and one that may be the most important. I have absolutely no interest in imperialism of whatever form, be it cultural, historical, social, or theological.  I can say that without equivocation.  I find such an idea to be not only arrogant and destructive, but also decidedly un-Christians and completely counter-intuitive to the way of Jesus.  So when I privilege Prima Scriptura over Sola Scriptura I am by no means suggest that anyone who holds the latter dearly should immediately reject it for the sake of the former.  Not at all.  What I am trying to do is speak for those of us who can no longer hold Sola Scriptura and wish to explore another alternative.  I am not out to win everyone over to my side.  In my view, if Sola Scriptura works for you, if it helps you to better love God and neighbor in your context, if it helps you to participate in God’s kingdom of restoration and renewal, if it helps you bear witness to the good news, and if it helps you embody the fruits of the Spirit in your life, then I have no reason to dismantle it for you.  I would say the same of the alternative.  In the words of William Barclay, “No man can disregard a religion and a faith and a power which is able to make bad men good.”  If that involves Sola Scriptura, more power to you.  Go in peace to bear witness to God’s kingdom.  If it doesn’t, my hope in the original article was that I provide an alternative (again, not at all an original one!) that might you to do that.

My point here is that we should hold our views of Scripture, whatever they are, honestly understanding that they are only efficacious insofar as they push us toward transformation and restoration into the image of God.  If you can hold Sola Scriptura honestly and it does that, wonderful. Let us join together to do the work with which we have been charged.  Personally, I cannot hold Sola Scriptura in such a way.  And it is my hope that others who cannot will find a useful alternative.  For me, that alternative is Prima Scriptura, it is that sentiment that I sought to convey in the original post.

I wrote an article exploring a viable alternative to Sola Scriptura over at the Emergent Village blog.  Here’s a little taste.

“You emergent-y, postmodern-ish types just want to do away with Scripture! You don’t want to take the time to seriously wrestle with the Bible!”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard those lines or something similar. You would think I developed a good answer a long, long time ago but I didn’t. For far too long I only spoke about the ways I didn’t want to view Scripture, which really only exacerbated the problem. Too many of us do that. I would like to suggest an alternative descriptive to our view of Scripture, something that is both positive and constructive.

Phyllis Tickle has suggested that it’s not if Sola Scriptura ends, but when. So what comes next? As much as I love to tag the “p word” before words, I’m not so sure it is sufficient for us to simply say we are post-Sola Scriptura. The Bible is too important for us to only strike-through the “sola.” And I think that many of us who resonate very deeply with Tickle’s sentiment take Scripture too seriously to only be reactionary. Frankly, we can’t afford to.

Read the rest at Emergent Village.

That’s the claim that Tony Jones makes in The New Christians.  I first read the book last year when it came out (read my short review here), but I’m re-reading it now for a class I’m taking on the Emergent/ing church at ANTS (Oh, and Tony is actually teaching it.  So that’s cool) and that quote really jumped out at my this time.

“The Bible is propaganda.”  Pretty provocative.  But it makes more sense when you think about it.  Tony explains further:

Propaganda has a point and a purpose.  It doesn’t claim to be objective.  It’s trying to convince someone of something.  It’s trying to get people to join a cause, join a movement.  Isn’t that exactly what the Bible is? . . .It is a living, breathing document that makes a claim on its readers’ lives.  It’s like the pamphlets surreptitiously printed by Paul Revere and his compatriots in 1776 — propaganda in that sense.  It’s God’s manifesto, Jesus’ Little Red Book.

I think Tony is right.  The bible is propaganda.  Maybe if we actually owned up to the fact that we have an agenda — of realizing God’s kingdom, of pursuing justice, promoting peace, and participating in cosmic restoration and renewal — we might be more effective in bearing witness to the hope that lies within us.

What think ye?

I was watching this video of the 2004 Emergent Conversation the other day and I was immediately struck by a quote from Walter Brueggemann about the violence attributed to God in the Hebrew bible.

“God is a recovering practitioner of violence.”

If you watch the video, the quote comes at about 29:00.  For some of the context behind what he is saying and the question he is responding to start at about 25:00.  Or watch the whole thing.  It’s definitely worth it.  There’s also a part two here.

But I want to return to that quote.  The problem of God and violence, be it in the Hebrew Bible or in the atonement, is not new.  And I am by no means have the answer, or an answer at all really.

I have to admit that I was put off by that quote when I first heard.  But I’ve been thinking about it since then and it has grown on me.  This of course questions the traditional view that God is static and completely unchanged.  I know that.  To be honest,  I don’t really have much vested interest in defending that claim that God is wholly static.  But I want to set that and any knee-jerk reactions we might of God being disrespected aside here if we can.

The main rebuttal of any suggestion that God might be participating in violence is that an text that attributes violence to God is simply the projection of human desire onto God.  So, the x group of people wants to kill and dominate y group of people.  So x group imagines that God commands them to kill y group.  That may make sense, but I don’t know that I am satisfied with that answer.  Neither is Brueggemann.  He thinks, and I tend to agree with him, that such an argument is a very slippery slope.  So, at what point do actions/virtues attributed to God in scripture cease to be human projections?  Or, are all attributes to God projected?  That may very well be true.  But we still have to deal with the violent projections.  What makes a projection of love better than a projection of violence?  The answer to that seems obvious, but it must be dealt with.

Things start to get really hairy really quick.

What do you think of Brueggemann’s quote?  Do you think that God might be “a recovering practitioner of violence?”  Is there any truth to that?  If so, what does what are the ramifications?  If not, why not?

A few months ago, I wrote a little series on my thoughts about the narrative of scripture, my view of hermeneutics and the bible overall. I realized that I never posted all of those links together. There weren’t that many and the series is far from complete, it’s an ongoing thing, but as a blog reader I think it’s helpful to have a complete list to refer to. So here you go: my humble, incomplete, and quite possibly heretical thoughts about the bible.

Introduction: Where I Find Myself
Part I: Narrative, Not Systematic
Part II: (t)ruth, Not Historicity
Part III: My Ongoing, Emerging Trajectory

Part I | Part II | Part III

Let me apologize up front. This has been a horrible attempt at a blog series. I guess it started well, but other things have happened (like Christmas, New Year’s…) and I haven’t had the time to write the last part of the series. So now, here we are a month later and I haven’t finished. What’s really bad is with all the holiday traveling and whatnot, I’ve kind of lost my train of thought. But I need to wrap things up, so here we go.

In the three preceding parts, I made an attempt to articulate my view of the bible. To summarize, I said that I believe we need a view of scripture that transcends the traditional, conventional view in which historicity and (t)ruth are inextricably linked because that view poses several problems. First and most obvious is the fact that modern science, medicine, cosmology, etc. completely fly in the face of many of the claims in the bible. As people living in today’s world some of us just can’t bring ourselves to believe some of those unreasonable things. Second and more importantly, to focus too much on historicity, indeed to reduce (t)ruth to be synonymous with historicity is to miss the larger question. Again, I would use the example brought up in the comments in part I of this series. Instead of preoccupying ourselves with questions like “Was there really, literally an actual historical man named Adam or a woman named Eve?” (from which all questions concerning scripture from the traditional/conventional vantage point are rooted and derived in my opinion) perhaps we should ask “What sort of experience did these pre-modern persons have that caused them to write this particular story in this particular way? And how can we learn more about ultimate reality through this story?” These questions do not hinge upon historicity, but they are deeply penetrating and provocative nonetheless (indeed, even more penetrating and provocative than the previous questions) . Ultimately, I believe we need to trade our set of questions concerning literalism and historicity for a set of questions concerning (t)ruth and mytho-poetic symbolism; we need a hermeneutics of generosity and post-naiveté re-affirmation a higher and deeper level of consciousness that not only rejects the ignorance of pre-modern blindness, but also the arrogance of modern criticism. We need a postmodern methodology that trancends both of these.

Now, critics of this view will be quick to point out that this is can be a very slippery slope ultimately leading us down into the evil valley of subjectivity and relativism. How do you interpret the bible if every word cannot be taken literally they might ask. What is your standard if you cannot accept The Standard of Gawd’s Word? What gives?

I would gladly welcome and embrace such questions. Actually, I would propose 4 rules of measure with an overarching lens of interpretation. My own personal trajectory emerges from the United Methodist tradition. As such, I am compelled to employ what is known as the Wesleyan Quadrilateral, with some nuance. This quadrilateral consists of scripture, reason, tradition, and experience. Now, lots of people get really hung up on the interplay between these four, which one should be primary and which ones should be emphasized over others. Most people, although they have adopted the “quadrilateral language” are still enmeshed within the aforementioned view of literalism and conventionalism. They would argue that scripture of course is primary and that the other three, when standing in direct, literal contradiction with scripture should be subordinated to it.

Now we’ve just taken two steps back. This does me absolutely no good whatsoever. Those that hold this position are preoccupied with the same naiveté I mentioned earlier, they’re only disguising and camouflaging it with certain set of words.

Instead I would like to treat this quadrilateral like…well…like a quadrilateral–all sides receiving the same amount of attention. I had one professor described it to me like this. Each “point” of the quadrilateral could be described as a base (lst base, second base, and so on all the back to home plate). The point isn’t to leave yourself isolated on a particular base, it is to score runs; and the more you round all the bases, the more runs you score.

So I guess what I’m arguing for here is a larger theological method wherein I use scripture, reason, tradition and experience (both collective and individual) to arrive at conclusions and questions. Again, I have a great amount of respect for the bible. I learn something new each time and open its pages. And more often than not, it reads me, not vice versa.

But I do not worship it. I can’t bring myself to believe that it is infallible, inerrant, literal, whatever. I believe it is a record of ancient, pre-modern people’s experience of God and thus a record of God’s ongoing liberative and redemptive action within the narrative of history. But it’s not a history book, or a science book, or a strict rule book for that matter. It’s a narrative, a story. And the better, deeper and more penetrating question to ask, I think, is where do I find myself in this story?

Now for the interpretive lens. If I sat around by myself with scripture, reason, tradition, and experience I could probably come up with some really messed up theological suppositions. In fact, I know I would. I would need some accountability. That is why it is imperative that there be a community. All of this must be guided by the community. This quadrilateral cannot exist outside the community. To keep with the baseball allegory, as Tony Jones and others have suggested, the community could be seen as the umpire. The community calls the strikes. The community is the hub of authority so crazies like myself can’t go completely hog wild. The community guides the use of this quadrilateral and the navigation of the narrative of God. Furthermore, the community helps and guides individuals as they find their own trajectories and their own places within the story of God, becoming faithful partners with God participating in God’s liberative, transformative, and restorative action in history for the entire cosmos.

To me–that is the meaning of the bible.

~bh ><>

Part 1: Where I Find Myself | Part 2: Narrative Not Systematic

Again, the comments in part one go into this to some extent. It might be best to read them first, I don’t know.

First let me say that I’m really proud of my grammatical maneuvering in the subtitle of this post. Originally, it was going to be “truth Not Historicity,” but I’m a real stickler when it come to spelling and grammar and whatnot and I figured someone would just assume I forgot to capitalize the “t.” It’s not capitalized on purpose and I put the parentheses around it to hopefully draw attention to this fact that it is lower case. (Plus I think it just looks cool aesthetically). But I digress.

Or maybe I shouldn’t digress because my use of the word truth is important and deserves attention, especially when we’re talking about the bible, and its interpretation. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say something like this, “I believe the Bible. I just read it and believe what exactly what it says. I understand the absolute, objective Word of God and you will too if you just read the Bible.” And I’m thinking, really? Seriously? Is it really that simple? I mean, if it is that easy, then how come so many people disagree on interpretation? And if all I have to do is read it, then why have so many people spent so much time (some dedicating their whole lives) and put so much effort into studying the bible and writing commentaries?

Additionally, I hear a lot of people throwing the buzz words “biblical” and “scriptural” around quite a bit these days, almost to the point that the words have lost lost their meaning. What do people mean when they use them? I hear catch all phrases like “biblical Christianity” and “scriptural truth.” Biblical this and scriptural that. I wonder if people ever really take the time to stop and think about how they’re using the words and want exactly it is they mean by them. When pushed in these areas, I’ve observed that most people use the words “biblical” and “scriptural” to reinforce a worldview or a theology that they have been given by someone else (usually a pretty recent system of thought c. 200-300 years ago). This gets back to the issue proof-texting I mentioned in part one. Rather than viewing the bible as a story, people lift certain texts out and use them to prove their system. Then they call it “biblical” or “scriptural” because those words carry a great amount of weight and authority.

I just don’t think it’s that simple. The bible needs to be understood natively not from the vantage point of a pre-made, cookie cutter worldview or theology. Moreover, and this gets back to my previous point, the reality is, reading is interpretation. None of us can claim to simply read anything without interpreting, without bringing something of our own to the text. We do that whether we realize it or not. As a white, American, male living in the mid-west, I read and interpret the bible different than say an African woman living in Sudan. Now, that’s an over exaggerated example, but it’s true nonetheless. I’ve experienced this many times leading and participating in “bible studies.” On their own time, participants are to read a certain passage of scripture and then jot down their thoughts to share with the rest of the group. By the time everyone shares his or her ideas and interpretations, there are just about as many “readings” as there are people. Now, I know that is what commentaries are for, that’s why some people (like myself) go to seminary and call themselves theologians or biblical scholars, but even with those restrictions there is plethora of ideas, interpretations, and readings.

Now, I’m not rejecting the idea of truth. I’m not even rejecting the idea of absolute, objective truth. I am rejecting the idea that a finite human being can understand and comprehend that truth. We can only ever come so close, no matter how hard or how long we read the bible or any other book. If a person ever did understand that truth, then that person would be God, and would therefore cease to be a human being. I believe that’s just part of the human condition–the best we can ever do is catch a glimpse of that truth. Which is why I think we need to constantly be in dialogue with one another, creating empathetic dialectics between differing poles, because through that dialogue a closer glimpse of the truth can be caught.

Now I really am digressing.

So, what does this have to do with the bible? I think it comes down to this. No one–not even the most learned scholar–will ever understand absolute, objective truth by reading the bible, it was written by human beings too. Anyone that claims to do so is delusional and is likely not being very honest with himself.

But I still believe that the bible can convey truth. This is where I must distinguish between truth and historicity as I mentioned above. For a lot of people, indeed for conventional Christianity, truth and historicity have almost become synonymous. That is to say, if something that is written in the bible didn’t actually happen and cannot be categorized as a historical fact, it simply cannot be true. This is very problematic. I think we need to move past this truth naiveté and I think we need a definition of truth that transcends historicity. I could start talking about myths here, but I won’t because many people have a very skewed and jaded view of the word myth. Maybe I’ll pick that up later. This will seem trivial at first, but I think on a certain level, we need to view the bible with the same amount of respect that we give the stories we read in a great novel or see in a great film.

Stop.

Re-read that sentence.

Seriously. Read it again.

We know those stories didn’t actually, historically happen, but we learn something from them nonetheless. They illustrate, in ways we can tangibly understand and relate to, truth about humanity and sometimes, likely more times than we realize, about God. Here I could quote the subtitle of a Marcus Borg book when he says we should taken the bible seriously, but not literally or the Native-American storyteller who begins his story by saying, “Now, I don’t know if it happened this way or not, but I know this story is true….” We need to start moving beyond the simple, shallow question of historicity to the deeper more meaningful question of truth; truth of the human condition and truth about ultimate reality, of Being-itself.

Earlier, in part one, a commenter pushed me concerning the historicity of Genesis’ account of the encounter between Adam, Eve and the serpent. I’ll use it as an example because I think it best encapsulates what I’m trying to get across. This is what I said:

genesis 3:1. do i believe god actually, physically spoke? no. do i believe there was an actual serpent? no. i do believe this. someone, somewhere sometime had experience that caused him/her to write that story. a story where the writer or the storyteller could convey as best he/she could with mytho-poetic imagery the feeling of guilt and defilement that came as result of separation from god. to me, that’s the deeper meaning of the story. i couldn’t care less whether god or a snake actually, physically spoke those words. or whether they was actually a man named adam and a woman named eve. i think there is a deeper meaning, a deeper truth (not historicity) about god and the human condition. but now i’m getting into some later posts. so for now i’ll leave it at that.

i don’t think that challenges christianity at all. i think it challenges fundamentalism and conventionalism and rightly so. those are modern, post-enlightenment constructs.

This post is getting long. If you’ve quit reading by now I don’t blame you. Let me conclude by reiterating, I think if we remain hung up on the question of factuality and equate truth with historicity we will eventually run into a lot of problems, and ultimately miss the bigger point. If we come to terms with, 1) the reality that none of us will ever know or comprehend absolute objective truth, only parts, bits and pieces from our dialogue with others and, 2) that truth ultimately transcends, and in a sense eclipses, historicity and factuality we have come a long way in our journey of seeking truth as it is conveyed through the strange narrative of scripture.

~bh ><>

Part I: Where I Find Myself.

You may want to look over the comments in part one before reading. The discussion ended up covering some of this stuff and some of the things I’ll cover later.

Anyway, contrary to what most people would be inclined to think here in the buckle of the bible belt, scripture is, before anything, at least for me, a narrative; a group a narratives, or stories that comprise a larger narrative of the experience ancient people’s had with God and God’s action in history on behalf of the entire world as N.T Wright might say, or the entire cosmos as I would add. Now, I’m not saying this to knock systematic theology at all, I think there’s a place for that and I think that systematics can be done very effectively (although I tend to be a more non-linear type of person), but I’ve observed that many people abuse and misuse the word systematic and assume that the bible was written systematically, almost as if it were written by the same person (likely a man) and God was somehow dictating every stroke of that person’s pen.

Maybe that’s a little extreme and exaggerated. Ok, so some people won’t go that far, but still believe the bible is primarily linear and systematic, originally written and spoken with the intention of being systematic from start to finish, Genesis to Revelation. The thought that scripture was originally passed down orally through the form of story-telling never crosses their mind, much less that fact that systematic theology wasn’t even invented until Aquinas came along in the 11th century and wasn’t fully developed until after the advent of the printing press in the 13th by Gutenburg, not to mention the strenuous and highly politicized process of canonization itself.

When I study historical and literary criticism and some of the other higher types of criticism, this literal, rigid, linear, and systematic view begins begins to fall apart. I speak from personal experience as I used to hold a this view of scripture. Then when I study how the canon was formed, the result of many political power plays by many opposing groups offering the books they believed to be “orthodox”–which more often than not reinforced that group’s status quo–and rejecting the more “dangerous” or “heretical” books that challenged their conventional way of thinking, my thought beings to shift. When I read about how the books in the bible were redacted, edited, and even altered, by different groups and people it becomes all the more clear to me that scripture is not some inerrant, infallible dictation from “the mind of God,” but above all a narrative, a finite story of persons experience with God, with ultimate reality and a record of God’s redemptive and restoration action in history as recorded by imperfect, finite individuals and communities.

It seems to me that one of the only things linking me with a scripture writer some 2000 years ago is experience, specifically the experience of God and the experience of participation with God. I likely operate cognitively from a higher level of consciousness than the scripture writer. I have modern science, modern cosmology, modern medicine, modern technology and a host of other things the scripture writer didn’t have at his disposal. But I still experience God, perhaps, but maybe not, in the same sort of ways the scripture writer did. In this respect we are united and linked as human beings.

So when I read scripture I must first remember this writing was originally a story and an oral story at that. With that in mind I have to ask myself, how does this particular passage or narrative fit within the larger story of healing, renewal, peace, and reconciliation? What was the experience of the writer and of the community that brought this story to be written in this way and how can I learn more about ultimate reality through that? Where do I see myself in this story? Moreover, and perhaps most important, how can I learn to become a better human being through my interaction with this story and through my response to God’s grace, my synergetic participation in the life of the divine?

To me, those are the better question to ask when reading the bible. Not, how does this fit within my cute and clean systematic theology, but how does this fit within the larger story of God’s action in history for and with the cosmos.

~bh ><>