Monthly Archives: February 2020

As A New Semester Begins…

Spirituality, Theology, , , , ,

I wonder what the apostle Paul might make of the critical study of the Scriptures?

In my mind there is no doubt that this mode of study is a double-edged sword. Critical studies of Scripture have expanded our knowledge of the Bible, its backgrounds and contexts, its grammatical and rhetorical features, its varied interpretive possibilities, and so on, with the result that our understanding of it can now be better supported than perhaps ever before in history.

Yet critical studies of Scripture can so multiply theories of backgrounds and contexts, and ideas concerning interpretive approaches, that the unsuspecting reader is somehow set adrift, rudderless, in a great ocean of interpretive possibilities. In some cases this leads not to the strengthening of Christian faith and witness but to its diminution.

This is a very real risk faced by all seminarians as they commence their theological studies: will their studies build their faith and contribute to a robust life of faithful Christian discipleship, or will their study have a more corrosive effect, undermining their faith and perhaps lead them away from Christ and his church?

The problem has several aspects, notably the unique dynamics of the knowledge of God who is never an ‘object’ under our control. We know God only as God gives himself to be known by us. This knowledge is on God’s own terms, so to speak, and is a knowledge grounded in humble faith. Because of this we must be careful to distinguish between knowledge of Scripture or about Scripture, and knowledge of God; the one does not equate to the other.

It is not unusual for students to be thrilled in the knowledge of and about Scripture that they gain in their studies—truly a ground for rejoicing. But if this knowledge is merely intellectual development without a corresponding and deepening participation in and with God, its effect may be more to ‘puff up than to build up’ (1 Corinthians 8:1). Jesus’ words in John 5:39 are instructive: “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; it is these that testify about me.” We study, therefore, not merely to establish doctrine, explore history, identify life principles, or find ideological support for a cultural—or even ‘Christian’—programme of action. The ultimate aim of the study of Scripture is to bear witness to, and lead us into a faith-relationship with, Jesus Christ.

Second, critical study introduces a ‘distance’ between the biblical text and the interpreter in which the reader ‘stands over’ the text, examining and questioning it, treating it as an artefact or an object of enquiry, weighing and evaluating its features, and assessing its various interpretive possibilities. In this process, the interpreter becomes the master and primary agent with respect to the Scripture. And it becomes possible that the habit of thought that one learns in critical study—this ‘distance’—may turn out to be also a controlling feature of one’s relationship with God. Indeed, sometimes this is the point, as Richard Bauckham (paraphrasing Søren Kierkegaard) has warned:

Biblical scholarship is the human race’s prodigious invention to defend itself against the New Testament, to ensure that one can continue to be a Christian without letting the New Testament come too close, or to ensure that one can continue not to be a Christian by not letting the New Testament come too close (Bauckham, James, 2; see my post on Kierkegaard and Christian Scholarship).

How might seminary students navigate this inherent danger in theological study? Some quite obvious responses come quickly to mind: by maintaining a consistent devotional life of prayer, praise, corporate worship, and Christian service; by applying different and complementary practices with respect to Scripture such as lectio divina, a slow, prayerful and meditative reading of the Bible in which we sit ‘under’ the Scripture, listening and waiting to see what it might speak to us; by retaining a sense of the Bible as Scripture, as holy, as inspired by God, and not merely as ‘text’; and by becoming at least as self-critical of one’s own presuppositions, purposes, and power, as one is of the tradition and others’ interpretations.

I began this post by asking about what Paul might make of critical study. Although I will not presume to answer that question, it arose for me as I reflected on his writings in 1&2 Timothy—although critical scholarship wonders whether in fact Paul is actually the author of these books! In these letters to his protégé Paul (let’s assume) continually exhorts Timothy to the preaching and teaching of sound doctrine, and to resist

A morbid interest in controversial questions and disputes about words, out of which arise envy, strife, abusive language, evil suspicions… (1 Timothy 6:4)

Rather, Timothy is to guard

What has been entrusted to you, avoiding worldly and empty chatter (“godless philosophical discussions” Jerusalem Bible) and the opposing arguments of what is falsely called ‘knowledge’—which some have professed and thus gone astray from the faith (6:20-21; cf. 2 Timothy 2:16-18).

He is to remember that

The goal of our instruction is love from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith. For some, straying from these things, have turned aside to fruitless discussion (1 Timothy 1:5-6).

He is also to

Remember Jesus Christ . . . according to my gospel. Remind them of these things, and solemnly charge them in the presence of God not to wrangle about words, which is useless and leads to the ruin of the hearers. . . . Refuse foolish and ignorant speculations, knowing that they produce quarrels (2 Timothy 2:8, 14, 23).

Timothy is reminded that “all Scripture is inspired by God and is profitable . . .” (3:16-17), and he is to “preach the word” for the time will come

When they will not endure sound doctrine; but wanting to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires, and will turn away their ears from the truth and will turn aside to myths (4:2-4).

Even though Paul is writing for a pastoral rather than academic context he has nevertheless quite accurately pinpointed the temptation and danger to which modern theological students are exposed. In formal theological study one will inevitably read and think through many different ‘disputes about words,’ and consider various ‘godless philosophies.’ This is as it should be, though hopefully we will never be enamoured with them. Nevertheless his words help the modern theological student ‘fight the good fight of faith’ (1 Timothy 1:18; 6:12) by reminding us of the goal of theological study, and by positing the gospel of Jesus Christ—as it has been mediated to us in the inspired Scriptures, and by the apostolic witness and tradition—as the canon within which we assess every teaching, and to which we adhere as a treasure that has been entrusted to us (2 Timothy 1:13-14).

Thus, at the beginning of a new semester, Remember Jesus Christ . . . according to my gospel.

4 3 2 1

Books, , 
Paul Auster, 4 3 2 1 (London: Faber & Faber, 2013) 1070pp.          
 ISBN: 978-0-571-32465-1

It seems I can only read a big novel when I am on holiday; life seems too busy otherwise. This is certainly the biggest novel I have read in some years, and although I enjoyed it, it is not as absorbing as I hoped it might be. Having said that, however, I should note that it was shortlisted for the Man Booker prize in 2017, has received some very positive reviews, and it is possible that I will read it again one day, albeit differently.

Auster has written a long, sprawling account of one young life—Archie Ferguson’s—who was born on March 3, 1947 and continues through to around his twenty-second year of life. Set primarily in New York, the novel provides a kaleidoscope of images from mid-century American history, especially in the 1960s, and especially to do politics, Vietnam, and inevitably, a young man’s sexual awakening and adventures.

The unique aspect of the novel, foreshadowed in the title, is that it is not a single account of young Archie’s life, but four quite distinct though related accounts, four possible lives marked by different fortunes, turns-of-event, and outcomes. Chapter one provides the pre-history leading up to Archie’s birth before subsequent chapters are each structured in four parts providing the distinct accounts of the life, development, and adventures of each persona in each of the periods in view.

Auster’s portrayals of the “different Archies” is the strength of the book, together with the careful inclusion of historical detail which makes the era live with the vividness of a contemporary newspaper. Archie is both very lucky and deeply unlucky, both likable and unlikable, very normal and quite exceptional. I did find the accounts of the very young Archie a little far-fetched, too mature for a young boy, but perhaps that is more a reflection of my own very ordinary and quite mediocre upbringing and experience. I know nothing of Auster himself, but I wonder if there is any sense of the autobiographical in the story.

No doubt the fourfold structure was necessary for Auster to develop the book as he intended, and to build the tensions that wind their ways through the story. While I can see the need for this structure I also found it frustrating for the very mundane reason that I would forget where I was up to with respect to this Archie’s life, or might confuse developments with this Archie with those of a previous or another Archie. Should I read the book again I may read the story of each Archie in full before moving on to the next one. But I wonder if that approach might dilute something of the drama of the story, and especially, the sense that one does not know and cannot tell in advance what directions one’s life might take. While we are certainly not pawns in some cosmic game of chess, our agency is constrained and sometimes overridden by the flow of circumstance and event in which we find ourselves. Auster has reminded me of this, and of the preciousness of the gift and opportunity that is our life, and of the need to thus live consciously, thoughtfully, purposefully, and perhaps most importantly, hopefully.

Journal of Baptist Theology in Context

Theology

John Olley, former Principal here at Vose Seminary, has alerted me to the launch of a new Baptist journal: the Journal of Baptist Theology in Context. The ‘in context’ part of the title locates the focus of the journal in the interface between theology and everyday life, and pastoral ministry in that location and context. According to the editors,

This new Journal of Baptist Theology in Context will be for Baptists engaged in theological disciplines — doctrine, ethics, bible, history, practice — to offer their work to the wider Baptist constituency and to a general audience of those who work or study in the world of theology. Most of the articles will be written by those who are pastor-theologians and many of the articles will arise out of their context and so the title of the Journal points to this.

I very much appreciate the focus on the pastor-theologian, and the idea of substantial theological reflection in the context of ministry and for ministry. The journal arises in the context of British Baptists, but perhaps they will be open to publishing the reflections of Australian pastor-theologians, especially where these reflections have a broader application.

A commitment on the part of the editorial team to assist emerging writers to get their articles into publishable form is a real plus, especially for those new to the publishing ‘game.’ Perhaps you have an article you might like to submit?

The first issue of the journal is available now.