Category Archives: Theology

“Alive & Powerful” – The Old Testament as the Word of God?

Scripture, Theology, , ,

Bible Reading

The other day one of our students posted this on the student Facebook page:

Good quote from Keller: “God acts through his words, the Word is “alive and active” (Heb 4:12) and therefore the way to have God dynamically active in our lives is through the Bible. To understand the Scripture is not simply to get information about God. If attended to with trust and faith, the Bible is the way to actually hear God speaking and also to meet God himself.” (Timothy Keller, Prayer p 54)

Another student responded:

On what grounds do you claim that ‘word of God’ in Heb 4 refers to the Bible? … I don’t think that the writer of Hebrews can possibly be talking about the Bible. I have to say that I don’t know what it means to say that the Bible is alive and active. However I do believe that God is alive and active and that he speaks through the Bible.

I found this a very interesting question. Hebrews 1:1 sets the theme of the whole book: God has spoken in many ways, and has now done so decisively through his Son. Yet Hebrews 2:11-13 says that Jesus (implied subject) speaks – and then cites Psalms and Isaiah as Jesus’ words. Psalm 95 is counted as “it is said,” the Holy Spirit said, God said, David said (3:7; 3:15; 4:3; 4:7). All the way through the “it” that speaks seems to refer to the Bible. Jesus’ word is then cited as biblical texts. “God said” is applied to biblical texts. “The Holy Spirit said” again references a biblical text. Over and over the writer of Hebrews cites biblical texts as authoritative and in a number of places attributes it to God. So when we get to 4:12-13, it seems we must do two things:

(a) Read it in the light of this overarching theme or practice in the book, especially deriving from 1:1; and
(b) recognise that verse 13 then personifies the “word of God” – nothing is hidden from his sight.

Yes, 4:12-13 are a difficult text. No, it couldn’t mean the Bible as we have it today – it was not in existence at that time. But it is not beyond imagining that the author has the Old Testament scriptures – the Hebrew Bible – in mind when he uses the phrase, but the Hebrew Bible finding its goal, completion, climax in Jesus, and indeed being seen as the message of Jesus. It would be an interesting study in Hebrews to check every time it references a biblical text, the words “Word”, “says”, “message”, and any other term which signifies speech, proclamation, etc.

This is an outstanding example of theological interpretation and a christological reading of the Old Testament, already in the New Testament period, and an indication that historical-literary approaches, so dominant today (and not without good methodological warrant) are not the only way to read Scripture, and perhaps not the most “biblical” way to read Scripture. People in the Bible didn’t read the Bible the way we often insist on reading the Bible!

The second student continued the dialogue:

Right. As I understand it, the phrase “word of God” means a message from God. God spoke, “the word of God came to John, son of Zechariah, in the wilderness”. Michael – my understanding is that NT writers referring to the OT usually use phrases like “the law and the prophets” or “scripture” or “writings”. Is there another instance of an NT writer using this phrase to mean the OT?

Perhaps there are several. In Acts 17 Paul goes to Thessalonica and reasons with them “from the Scriptures” (v. 2). Verse 11 speaks of those, then, in Berea who “received the word” searching “the Scriptures” to affirm the proclamation. Then verse 13 says that the Thessalonians heard that “the word of God had been proclaimed in Berea also.” This narrative text appears to link your phrase directly with the Scriptures – the Hebrew Bible. Finally in 1 Thessalonians 2:13, Paul reflects on this experience and again says that his proclamation – “from the Scriptures” – was the word of God. (See also Paul’s proclamation in Acts 13:13-49 which includes the biblical narrative generally, specific biblical texts, the Jesus story – and which all is called “the word of God.”)

2 Timothy 3:14 – 4:2 links the terms “Scripture” and “Word.” 1 Peter 1:23-25 speaks of the “living and enduring word of God” which “endures forever,” and which was preached to the hearers. The question arises, how does this word perdure? Peter is citing Scripture and continues to do so into ch. 2, also speaking of those who are disobedient “to the Word.”

Perhaps Jesus’ words in Matthew 4:4 are also relevant where he speaks of every word which proceeds from the mouth of God – and in the entire incident is citing Deuteronomy. In Matthew 15:4-6 he refers to legal texts in Exodus as the word of God. In John 10:34-35 the “law” (actually the Psalms) are called the word of God, with the additional proviso that the “Scriptures” cannot be broken.

I wonder if Paul’s references to the “word of God” and his exposition concerning the Scriptures in 2 Cor 2:17 – 4:2 are relevant? Here he explicitly refers to Moses being read, though the reader is only “unveiled” in Christ. Then, they are beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord. Certainly the glory of God is in the face of Christ (4:6); but where is that face set forth for us?

There is no doubt that many NT references are to the proclamation of the gospel, but some do seem to refer to the written accounts where God’s prior words have been preserved for succeeding generations. Further, as already noted above, the author of Hebrews reads the Old Testament through a christological lens, as finding its goal, completion and climax in Jesus. It seems likely, too, that at least some of the New Testament authors referred to the Old Testament as “the Word of God.”

Can Science Determine Morality? Part 1

Culture, Theology, , ,

Thank you to Vicki Lorrimar for this post. The full version of this essay with references and notes can be found at Vicki’s Academia.edu page.

sam_harris_by_obviouslycloe-d31edw6
Picture by obviouslycloe; see obviouslycloe.org

Many consider morality to be the purview of religion and not science. Stephen Jay Gouldarticulated this thinking best in his argument that science and religion each have “a legitimate magisterium, or domain of teaching authority,” and that these magisteria do not overlap. For those who subscribe to this view, science deals with facts about the natural realm, while questions of morality or purpose fall exclusively within the domain of theologians and philosophers.

Sam Harris, in The Moral Landscape, challenges this prevailing understanding that science has little to contribute to moral discourse. Instead, Harris defines morality in terms of human flourishing and locates a moral compass in biological sources. According to Harris, “only a rational understanding of human well-being will allow billions of us to co-exist peacefully” – and such a rational understanding precludes any input from religion. Drawing momentum from the current popularity of behavioural economics and the science of ’happiness,’ Harris argues that an increasing understanding of neurophysiology promises a morality that is entirely determined by science.

Harris departs from traditional atheist arguments concerning morality, which often invoke evolutionary pressures as the source of our moral code. Rather, Harris argues that we must often oppose these natural tendencies and transcend them through reason, for “our modern concerns about meaning and morality have flown the perch built by evolution.” He spurns moral relativism, the notion that moral truth does not exist and that right and wrong are merely constructions. The title Harris gives to his work represents his own understanding of morality – that there are multiple answers to moral questioning. For Harris, ‘the moral landscape’ describes “a space of real and potential outcomes whose peaks correspond to the heights of potential well-being and whose valleys represent the deepest possible human suffering.”

Harris challenges the “firewall” that has been in place between facts and values ever since Hume drew his ‘is/ought’ distinction. Values, according to Harris, translate into facts that can be scientifically understood. As a neuroscientist, Harris considers the human brain to be the nexus of social, emotional and moral development. Beliefs about values and beliefs about facts seem to arise from similar brain processes – therefore values are derived from facts about how our brains interact with the world.

Harris proposes that advances in our knowledge in areas such as the neurophysiology of happiness and suffering, the effects of social institutions on relationships, and retributive impulses will provide all the necessary tools to identify right and wrong with respect to human values. This leads him to suggest that morality is not philosophical or religious in essence but rather an undeveloped branch of science. “If there are objective truths to be known about human well-being… then science should one day be able to make very precise claims about which of our behaviours and uses of attention are morally good, which are neutral, and which are worth abandoning.”

Harris contends that “science can help us find a path leading away from the lowest depths of misery and toward the heights of happiness for the greatest number of people.” Chopra is quite right when he describes Harris’ account as “gussied up old-fashioned utilitarianism.” The inherent problems in such an approach have long been established in the literature. Ewing, for example, posed the question: “Suppose we could slightly increase the collective happiness of ten men by taking away all happiness from one of them, would it be right to do so?” Harris would answer ’yes’ – in fact he poses an even more extreme version of this question himself and answers in the affirmative. Harris does acknowledge the dilemmas arising from consequentialism, however persists in his belief that it must form the basis of morality.

The issue of individual justice aside, there remains in the utilitarian approach the challenge of discerning which actions will result in the greatest happiness for the greatest number. According to Harris, science is much more clear-sighted in determining the consequences of behaviour than we are! In reality, it is often difficult to weigh the far-reaching effects of any given action, another problem acknowledged yet not addressed by Harris.

If a consequential approach to ethics were to be accepted, is well-being the most appropriate criteria by which actions are assessed? The term itself is rather vague, although Harris appears to employ it interchangeably with happiness and human flourishing. All religious and philosophical notions of morality are reduced to a common concern for well-being. Harris imagines an unlikely scenario in which an honour culture might result in a high level of human flourishing, and concludes that killing for the sake of honour would then be morally acceptable. This moral reasoning appears dubious at best.

Even if maximal well-being were considered a sufficient basis for morality, we must ask how this end goal is selected in the first place. Harris claims that “once we begin thinking seriously about human well-being, we will find that science can resolve specific questions about morality and human values.” However, what directs us to consider human-wellbeing seriously? Science does not supply us with the notion that well-being should be our ultimate concern – Harris has arrived at this conclusion by some other means.

Let us again assume for now that the optimisation of human well-being is indeed an adequate foundation upon which we may construct an ethic. In yet another statement of his thesis, Harris argues that “science can, in principle, help us understand what we should do and should want – and, therefore, what other people should do and should want in order to live the best lives possible.” Having attained such knowledge, how do we then put it into practice? We already know that driving our cars at reduced speeds, or removing unhealthy sugars from our diet, has a positive impact on well-being – but this does not stop many people from speeding on a regular basis or reaching for the slice of cake instead of the piece of fruit. There is a significant gap between knowing what is right and doing what is right.

Continued tomorrow

Women Apologists

Culture, Theology,
Image: Jeremy Cowart
Image: Jeremy Cowart

The April issue of Christianity Today has two interesting articles on women engaged in teaching and practicing apologetics. Apparently this is somewhat unusual since apologetics has often or even usually been a male domain. The first article, “The Unexpected Defenders” tells the story of five women, all associated with the Master of Arts (Apologetics) degree at Houston Baptist University. Part of the interest in the article concerns the unique approach to apologetics adopted by these women (cultural apologetics),  as well as exploring what these women bring to the practice of apologetics as women.

Ultimately, apologetics is driven by love. You have to love people enough to listen to their questions and do the hard work of finding answers for them (Nancy Pearcey).

The second article, “The Oxford Revivalist,” shifts attention to the UK and to the work of Oxford Centre for Christian Apologetics program director, Amy Orr-Ewing. Her story is quite amazing and well worth reading.

“Without women we wouldn’t know what happened at the Cross,” says Orr-Ewing. “John’s there, but all the other witnesses to the words from the cross are female. And women are the first witnesses to the Resurrection. If you’re a Christian, you believe the Lord arranged for that. That’s not unintentional. That’s amazing.”

A Wonderful Resource: The Wheaton Theology Conference

Books, Theology,

Jesus SculptureThis year’s Wheaton Theology Conference, was conducted just a couple of weeks ago. The theme this year was The Image of God in an Image Driven Age. The audio and video are not on their website yet, but hopefully they will appear before too long. As usual, the list of speakers includes some newcomers as well as seasoned scholars with distinguished careers.

For several years now, one of my favourite resources has been to download the audio lectures from the Wheaton Theology Conference and listen to them over and over as I walk or cycle. The quality of the lecture series is excellent, with well-regarded scholars bringing high-quality content.  My favourite series so far are the series on Bonhoeffer and Life in the Spirit. But there are excellent lectures/essays in all the series.

I also collect the books, which are published about a year later.  I have about nine of the series in published format. The books go back further than the audio available, and Vose library has copies of the books that go back probably to the beginning of the series – more than twenty years now.

Whether via the books, the audio or the video, you will encouraged, inspired and challenged by this wonderful resource.

Why Study Theology?

Culture, Theology,
The Evangelist St. Matthew with his symbol, the angel (The National Library of the Netherlands)
The Evangelist St. Matthew with his symbol, the angel (The National Library of the Netherlands)

I found the link to this story which appeared a couple of years ago in The Atlantic on the ACT website. Entitled “Study Theology Even if You Don’t Believe in God,” it argues that theology is still the “Queen of the Humanities” because “theology is the closest thing we have at the moment to the kind of general study of all aspects of human culture that was once very common, but is now quite rare.”

To study theology well requires not faith, but empathy. If history and comparative religion alike offer us perspective on world events from the “outside,” the study of theology offers us a chance to study those same events “from within”: an opportunity to get inside the heads of those whose beliefs and choices shaped so much of our history, and who—in the world outside the ivory tower—still shape plenty of the world today.

I do not agree that one can study theology well without faith. Without faith, I think theology devolves to religious studies rather than theology. But here I am showing my bias. Her central point, I think, still stands, all the more in a world where the humanities are marginalised in favour of other more robust and ever-so-practical disciplines, such as business, law, and the sciences. I am all for business, law and the sciences, but I fear the loss of the humanities threatens us with the loss of our humanity. While instrumental reason can effect vast changes in our understanding and utilisation of the world and its resources, it may do so at the expense of those very factors which constitute us as truly human. According to businessdictionary.com, instrumental rationality is the dominant mode of thought in the industrialised world, and works by reducing all factors in any situation to “variables to be controlled.” Such reductionism sounds somewhat like the unjust judge of Jesus’ parable: “I fear not God nor respect man.”

Theology protests such reductionism by insisting that humanity is created in the image of God, to serve as a steward in God’s creation, ordering all things to God’s good purposes. Theology reflects upon the nature, origin and destiny of humanity and the human community within the orders of creation and redemption. Such reflections serve to limit human greed and hubris, and so the uses toward which instrumental reason may be devoted. The study of theology can serve as a bulwark against the dehumanising features of modern technological society, helping us retain a vision of what it means to be human, instead of seeking to be gods.

Karl Barth, “The Gift of Freedom” Pt. 2

Books, Theology, , ,

hercules-at-the-crossroads-4226Last week I posted the first part of this summary/reflection on Barth’s essay here.

Christian freedom—and therefore according to Barth, human freedom—is not simply the human capacity to choose between alternatives, nor a vision of the autonomous person standing aloof from all other circumstances, powers and persons. True freedom is not freedom from, but freedom for. It is not realised in solitary detachment from others, but only in encounter and communion with them. It is not the power to assert one’s own desire and will, and so to preserve, justify and therefore save oneself. Rather, true freedom and thus true humanity consists in joyful obedience and thankful response to God.

Human freedom is freedom only within the limitations of God’s own freedom. … It awakens the receiver to true selfhood and new life. It is a gift from God, from the source of all goodness … Through this gift man who was irretrievably separated and alienated from God is called into discipleship. This is why freedom is joy! … Freedom is the joy whereby man acknowledges and confesses this divine election by willing, deciding, and determining himself to be the echo and mirror of the divine act.[1]

Freedom, for Barth, is not autonomy, but precisely its opposite: dependence upon God. It consists not in isolation from God but in being bound to God, in relation with God, and in correspondence to the divine way of being revealed in Jesus Christ. In this relation we are set free to be and become truly human: God’s creature, God’s partner, God’s child. These three categories of human being and freedom correspond to God’s relation to humanity as creator, reconciler and redeemer. As God’s creature we are freed to be truly human, living in dependence upon the gracious God, and in right relation with others. As God’s partner we are freed to echo God’s Yes and God’s No in our own decision and act, and so live a life of faith and love as a pilgrim and witness to the reality of God and the freedom God gives. As God’s child we are freed to live in this fallen and darkened world according to hope in the as yet unseen future which will be ours through God’s promise. On the basis of this promise we are freed to live toward this future, to pray, to work and ultimately to die. “A Christian is one who makes use of this freedom to pray and to live in the hope of the end which will be the revelation of the beginning.”[2] Freedom, in Barth’s vision, is the gift from God by which unfree and enslaved humanity is set free for the service of thankful obedience, for participation in the causa Dei, for the joy and hope of being God’s child both here and hereafter.

In the third section of the lecture Barth addresses the nature of “evangelical ethics.” A person does the good when she obeys the divine command implicit in the gift of freedom, and with which she is confronted in every new moment. The divine command is the immediate encounter between God and the human agent. God does not deal with us through the intermediary of a rule, a principle, a natural law, reason, conscience, or even the Bible. Certainly ethical reflection, pastoral exhortation, brotherly admonition, study and doctrine are all appropriate as preliminary words, but none of these in and of themselves constitute the divine command. The final word belongs to God in the moment of encounter with the free human agent. Ethics, therefore, may search for and point toward the will of God as it has been revealed and known in different times, places and circumstances. Its task, however, can never be to mediate the divine command, to take the place of God, of human freedom, of the encounter between the two; that is, it can never become a law.

Ethics according to our assumptions can only be evangelical ethics. The question of good and evil is never answered by man’s pointing to the authoritative Word of God in terms of a set of rules. It is never discovered by man or imposed on the self and others as a code of good and evil actions, a sort of yardstick of what is good and evil. Holy Scripture defies being forced into a set of rules; it is a mistake to use it as such. The ethicist cannot take the place either of the free God or of the free man, even less of both together.[3]

The task of ethics, therefore, is to remind us of and direct us to our responsibility before God. It emphasises the reality and conditioning of human existence. It may offer provisional conclusions and conditional imperatives but will leave the pronouncement of unconditional imperatives to God.[4]

Ethics is reflection upon what man is required to do in and with the gift of freedom. The ethicist should not want to attempt too little either. He must want to realize his calling and his talents. It is not enough to insist that human life is to be lived under the divine imperative. Ethical reflection must go further and ask the question to what extent this is so. Neither the freedom of God’s commandment nor that of man’s obedience is an empty form. Human action takes place at the point of contact between these two spheres of freedom. Each of these is characterised by its own content, tone, and extent. Ethical reflection has to concentrate upon these. It has to begin with the recognition that the free God is the free man’s Lord, Creator, Reconciler, and Redeemer, and that free man is God’s creature, partner, and child. This insight will be gained at the very source of Christian thinking, in Holy Scripture, where ethical reflection will also renew, sharpen, and correct its findings in continuous searching. In addition, ethical reflection may and must consult the Christian community in its past and present history. It must do this in order to be admonished, nourished, enriched, perhaps also stirred and warned, by the use which the fathers and brethren made and still are making of Christian freedom.

Therefore, ethics is not without signposts in its attempt to point to God’s authoritative word of judgment. If it is based on the knowledge of God and of man, it will receive its contour. It will not point to a vacuum, but to the true God, the real man, and the real encounter between them. The ethical quest is and remains a quest and yet is not totally devoid of fulfilment. Indirect as it may be, the quest is a witness to God’s concrete word. Ethical reflection may and must be genuine search and genuine doctrine, genuine because true ethics does not deprive God, its object, of His due power and glory. It leaves the uttering of the essential and final word to God Himself. But it does not shrink away from the preliminary words which are necessary to focus man’s wandering thoughts on the one center where he, himself free, shall hear the word of the free God, the commandment addressed to him, the judgment falling upon him, and the promise waiting for him.[5]

This long citation is very important in understanding Barth’s view of the divine command. The command is not simply equated with the commands of Scripture. Further, many commentators on Barth’s ethics have worried about the possibility of an immediate command coming to each person in each instance of their lives. They worry that human ethical reason is evacuated of any significance, that Barth’s concept is simply irrational, and that actual people are most unlikely to hear such a command in the to-and-froing of their daily existence. This passage makes it clear, however, that the divine command comes not as a bolt out of the blue, nor is it so alien to us as to be unrecognisable. Christian ethics may prepare for the command through reflection on the particular cases and circumstances confronting us; through reflection on Scripture and history, through pastoral exhortation, study, brotherly admonition, etc. But ultimately, ethical existence is the free response the person makes to God in the moment of encounter.

Barth appends a final section to his essay which functions as a sort of illustration or application of his view of freedom specifically with reference to the work of theology. Nevertheless, the categories of thought used here serve to illustrate how the work of ethics also proceeds. He lays out his thought in five points;

  1. Begin at the beginning, that is, in prayer, liturgy and devotion as a response to God’s prior action, especially his revelation in Christ and culminating in the resurrection;
  2. Begin too with Scripture where this revelation is witnessed and heard;
  3. Be free to draw on other frameworks of understanding, other approaches to the issues at hand;
  4. Reflect in dialogue with the church and for the church, drawing in peers, confessions, the fathers, governing authorities, etc.;
  5. Reflect in joyful, critical and free dialogue with other contemporaries, even and especially those with whom you disagree.

When Barth does ethics, he refuses to tell us what to do. Rather he describes in thoroughly theological terms, the moral field in which our existence takes place, and in which we are called to act. The great and central reality of this field is God himself. In him we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28). In every moment of our lives we are confronted by a reality from beyond ourselves, by which we are addressed, and to whom we are responsible. This “whom” has reached out to us in Jesus Christ and called us to himself. This is evangelical ethics.

*****

[1] Ibid., 78-79.

[2] Ibid., 83.

[3] Ibid., 85, original emphasis.

[4] Ibid., 86.

[5] Ibid., 87-88.

Karl Barth, “The Gift of Freedom” Pt. 1

Theology, , ,
hercules-at-the-crossroads-4226
Hercules at the Crossroads between Virtue and Vice (Annibale Carracci, 1596)

On September 21, 1953 Karl Barth gave an address at a meeting in Bielefeld of the Gesellschaft für Evangelische Theologie (Society for Evangelical Theology). It was published in a little collection of three essays entitled The Humanity of God. I am away from home at the moment and so cannot check Busch to find out what was going on at the time, but there is clear evidence in the lecture that Barth is engaging with some contemporary conversations and issues.

The most important thing to note at the outset is the subtitle of the lecture: “Foundation of Evangelical Ethics.” When Barth uses the term “Evangelical” he is referring to Protestant theology rather than evangelicalism as it is commonly known today. It may be, however, that Barth has in mind evangelical as gospel; what is beyond question, however, is that Barth is arguing for an ecclesial ethics, one specifically for the Christian community, rather than for humanity generally. Indeed, his ethics are possible only as an evangelical ethics and not otherwise.

The lecture progresses in four sections, the final section serving almost as an excursus. Although it seems natural to discuss the seeming reality of human freedom, Barth asks, “Why deny priority to God in the realm of knowing when it is uncontested in the realm of being? If God is the first reality, how can man be the first truth?”[1] Barth insists that beginning with God does not in any way imply the abrogation of human freedom, although some may want to argue the point with him. God’s freedom is not naked sovereignty or bare omnipotence, but relational freedom, the freedom in which God in covenantal grace gave and gives himself to humanity to be humanity’s God. God’s freedom is not freedom from, but freedom for. God is free to determine his own being to be God for us in and through Jesus Christ. God’s freedom was and is expressed in the gospel, and although surely God’s vision and purpose includes all his creatures, God’s particular interest concerns his human creature, indicated in his becoming human in his Son.

The well-known definitions of the essence of God and in particular of His freedom, containing such terms as “wholly other,” “transcendence,” or “non-worldly,” stand in need of thorough clarification if fatal misconceptions of human freedom as well are to be avoided. The above definitions might just as well fit a dead idol. Negative as they are, they most certainly miss the very center of the Christian concept of God, the radiant affirmation of free grace, whereby God bound and committed Himself to man, making Himself in His Son a man of Israel and the brother of all men, appropriating human nature into the unity of his own being.[2]

In the second section of the lecture, Barth turns his attention to human freedom and here his exposition runs entirely counter to modern expectations. Human freedom is indeed the gift of God, grounded in God’s own freedom. But God is not simply the source of human freedom; he is also its object and goal. The natural freedom given to humanity in creation has been lost through sin, by which humanity is alienated from God and self. Humanity does not now know its original freedom, nor indeed what it means to be human.[3] Barth therefore implies that we cannot know what freedom is and entails by phenomenological analysis of human existence and action. We can, of course, understand the human capacity of choice, decision, and action, but this in itself is not freedom.

The concept of freedom as man’s rightful claim and due is equally contradictory and impossible. … Man has no real will power. Nor does he get it by himself. His power lies in receiving and in appropriating God’s gift. … God does not put man into the situation of Hercules at the crossroads. The opposite is true. God frees man from this false situation. He lifts him from appearance to reality. … It would be a strange freedom that would leave man neutral, able equally to choose, decide, and act rightly or wrongly! What kind of power would that be! Man becomes free and is free by choosing, deciding, and determining himself in accordance with the freedom of God. … Trying to escape from being in accord with God’s own freedom is not human freedom. Rather, it is a compulsion wrought by powers of darkness or by man’s own helplessness. Sin as an alternative is not anticipated or included in the freedom given to man by God.[4]

Apart from the gospel, then, humanity is “unfree.” What freedom is can be known only by understanding Christian freedom, that freedom which is given to humanity in Jesus Christ. Barth, echoing Luther, insists that freedom can be understood only in terms of “the freedom of the Christian.”[5]

To Be Continued …

[1] Karl Barth, The Humanity of God, trans., J. N. Thomas & T. Weiser (St. Louis: John Knox, 1960), 70.

[2] Ibid., 72.

[3] Ibid., 80.

[4] Ibid., 76-77.

[5] Ibid., 75, 82.

Paul Helm, Rationalising the Spirit?

Theology, , ,
Paul Helm
Paul Helm

In his discussion of Calvin’s doctrine of Scripture, Paul Helm betrays a somewhat rationalist approach to the internal witness of the Spirit:

Calvin is not here saying that the activity of the Spirit which is sufficient to establish the authority of the Word of God is unreasonable or irrational or non-rational in character. How could that be when the Spirit is the Spirit of the most wise and all-knowing God? “Scripture is its own evidence” means what it says. The Spirit’s work is not purely subjective persuasion, a groundless feeling of conviction. It is rather that the Spirit testifies to or illumines the cognitive content of the objectively true Scripture. Strictly speaking, such illumination does not need any rational or empirical considerations external to the message of Scripture to add further support to it even though such data may be provided.

In Calvin’s employment of both internal and external proofs of this fundamental feature of his theology, we must note the tension between what we may call the “orderly” versus the “disorderly” aspects of Calvin’s thought. Appealing to the external proofs is “orderly”: such “proofs” can be studied, taught and argued about. By the use of them in preaching and teaching the authority of the Scripture can be safeguarded in the churches. By contrast the internal testimony of the Holy Spirit to the Word is “disorderly”, or at least potentially so; it is granted personally, at the behest of the Spirit who is, as Calvin stresses, sovereign in dispensing this gift. Such a gift and its reception cannot be built into the educational and political structures of the church: it cannot be bequeathed by the church’s ministry to the next generation in any way that guarantees success (Helm, Calvin: A Guide for the Perplexed, 33).

Again, on page 31 Helm argues that,

Self-authentication is a consequence or corollary of Calvin’s emphasis that only God can witness to God and that only if God directly witnesses to himself is that witness thoroughly trustworthy. … How does the Spirit witness? … By powerfully disclosing to us the cognitive and affective content of Scripture, its “message” (original emphasis).

In this instance Helm reports what he wishes Calvin had said rather than what Calvin actually said. In Institutes 1.7.4 Calvin asserts,

Thus, the highest proof of Scripture derives in general from the fact that God in person speaks in it. … We ought to seek our conviction in a higher place than human reasons, judgments, or conjectures, that is, in the secret testimony of the Spirit. … For as God alone is a fit witness of himself in his Word, so also the Word will not find acceptance in men’s hearts before it is sealed by the inward testimony of the Spirit. The same Spirit, therefore, who has spoken through the mouths of the prophets must penetrate into our hearts to persuade us that they faithfully proclaimed what had been divinely commanded.

Calvin’s reference to the Spirit is not that the Spirit illumines the content of Scripture to modern readers as Helm suggests, but that the Spirit convinces the heart of the divine origin of Scripture:

Let this point therefore stand: that those whom the Holy Spirit has inwardly taught truly rest upon Scripture, and that Scripture indeed is self-authenticated; hence, it is not right to subject it to proof and reasoning. And the certainty it deserves with us, it attains by the testimony of the Spirit. For even if it wins reverence for itself by its own majesty, it seriously affects us only when it is sealed upon our hearts through the Spirit. Therefore, illumined by his power, we believe neither by our own nor by anyone else’s judgment that Scripture is from God; but above human judgment we affirm with utter certainty…that it has flowed to us from the very mouth of God by the ministry of men. We seek no proofs, no marks of genuineness upon which our judgment may lean; but we subject our judgment and wit to it as to a thing far beyond any guesswork! … We feel that the undoubted power of his divine majesty lives and breathes there (1.7.5).

01v/11/arve/G2582/020

It is true that in chapter eight Calvin does detail a number of reasons for regarding the Scripture as inspired and authoritative. But his argument is framed at the beginning and end with statements which insist that such reasons are not authoritative, and are not proofs by which to convince the unbeliever, although they do serve to strengthen the faith of those who are already convinced of Scripture’s authority:

Unless this certainty, higher and stronger than any human judgment, be present, it will be vain to fortify the authority of Scripture by arguments, to establish it by common agreement of the church or to confirm it with other helps. For unless this foundation is laid, its authority will always remain in doubt. Conversely, once we have embraced it devoutly as its dignity deserves…those arguments—not strong enough before to engraft and fix the certainty of Scripture in our minds—become very useful aids (1.8.1).

Calvin’s conclusion to the chapter is similar:

There are other reasons, neither few nor weak, for which the dignity and majesty of Scripture are not only affirmed in godly hearts, but brilliantly vindicated against the wiles of its disparagers; yet of themselves these are not strong enough to provide a firm faith, until our Heavenly Father, revealing his majesty there, lifts reverence for Scripture beyond the realm of controversy. Therefore Scripture will ultimately suffice for a saving knowledge of God only when its certainty is founded upon the inward persuasion of the Holy Spirit. Indeed, these human testimonies which exist to confirm it will not be vain if, as secondary aids to our feebleness, they follow that chief and highest testimony. But those who wish to prove to unbelievers that Scripture is the Word of God are acting foolishly, for only by faith can this be known (1.8.13).

Helm seeks to avoid any subjectivity in the person’s relation to God, and to objectify and rationalise the work of the Spirit. His claim with respect to the nature of the internal witness of the Spirit is at odds with Calvin, and misrepresents his teaching. It is also at odds with the Apostle Paul’s concept of the internal work of the Spirit as an immediate inner witness in the believer’s heart (e.g. Romans 8:12-16 cf. 1 John 2:20, 27).

Of course, we should by all means preach and teach the Scriptures, and even the reasons we might give for trusting the Scriptures. Calvin, too, said this. He also taught the illuminating work of the Spirit with respect to doctrine in Institutes I.ix.1, where he asserts that the Spirit has the task of “sealing our minds with that very doctrine which is commended by the gospel.” But to limit the work of the Spirit to this cognitive-illumining work is to go beyond what Calvin said.

Rather than marginalise the work of the Spirit in the life of the church and the believer, we should teach it and pray for it, expect it and celebrate it, and truly trust that Scripture is indeed self-authenticated because God reveals his grace and power there, as Calvin taught. But never let us be guilty of having more confidence in our own ability to defend and interpret Scripture than in God’s grace and power to make himself known in and through these sacred writings.

Anthony Thiselton on Doctrine

Books, Theology

Anthony ThiseltonA book I have had for a while now and only dipped into from time to time is Anthony Thiselton’s The Hermeneutics of Doctrine. Those few chapters I have read have been so good, I keep saying to myself, “I must read that book through, one day.” But I haven’t because I know it will require an investment of many, many hours.

After recommending it to someone else this morning, I got it down from the shelf once more, browsed a little, and then read – for the first time – the acknowledgements and introduction. Here is what I found…

My purpose here is to acknowledge the very great debt of gratitude that I owe to my typist and to my two proofreaders, and to explain why this debt is so very great. My birth in 1937 was considerably premature, and meningitis then struck in infancy. These two factors left me with very poor eyesight. I have always needed a magnifying glass as well as glasses to read Hebrew, and by the providence of God the then Bishop of Southwark in 1958 chose to ignore my pre-ordination medical report, which read: “this man will never be able to read enough books to exercise a useful parish ministry.”

One can only give thanks for that bishop’s insight, for Thiselton has gone on to write many books and make a very valuable contribution to the ministry of the church and its theology. Then I came to the end of the acknowledgements and found a note from Rosemary Thiselton, Anthony’s wife:

My husband was devastated by a major stroke August 4, 2007, before he had completed the indexing and the correcting of the proofs for this volume…

It struck me that Thiselton has laboured all his life beset with difficulty and disability, and, in the grace of God, has given a great gift to the church. Fortunately, Thiselton survived the stroke and has continued to work, in hermeneutics, biblical studies and theology.

As I read the introduction I also found this, as Thiselton argued for the relevance of hermeneutics for doctrinal studies:

Karl Rahner speaks of the stagnation of our textbooks, and observes that people offer to doctrine a reverential bow without it making much difference to their lives. Doctrine is not very vividly alive. It tends to become esoteric, with little engagement with the Christian life. Yet, Rahner concludes, it ought to be an art or science of understanding and especially of listening, embodying truth, and actualising love [reproducing Rahner’s emphasis]. 

Christian doctrine is not simply a matter of individual belief but also of communal understanding, transmitted traditions, wisdom, commitment, and action (xvii).

Richard Heyduck provides incontrovertible evidence concerning the marginalization and neglect of doctrine, with careful documentation. He diagnoses the primary cause of this marginalization as the emergence of individualism and an individual-centred epistemology … I endorse Heyduck’s diagnosis of the mistaken reduction of corporate doctrine to individual-centered belief (xix).

I really must get to read this book…

The Promise and Peril of Theology

Theology,
Milan-Cathedral
Milan Cathedral

Of all disciplines theology is the fairest, the one that moves the head and heart most fully, the one that comes closest to human reality, the one that gives the clearest perspective on the truth which every disciple seeks. It is a landscape like those of Umbria and Tuscany with views which are distant and yet clear, a work of art which is as well planned and as bizarre as the cathedrals of Cologne or Milan … But of all disciplines theology is also the most difficult and the most dangerous, the one in which a man is most likely to end in despair, or – and this is almost worse – in arrogance. Theology can float off into thin air or turn to stone, and worst of all it can become a caricature of itself.

Karl Barth, cited in Busch, Karl Barth, 244.