Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone – we find it with another. We do not discover the secret of our lives merely by study and calculation in our own isolated meditations. The meaning of our life is a secret that has to be revealed to us in love, by the one we love. And if this love is unreal, the secret will not be found, the meaning will never reveal itself, the message will never be decoded. At best, we will receive a scrambled and partial message, one that will deceive and confuse us. We will never be fully real until we let ourselves fall in love – either with another human person or with God. Thomas Merton
To extend a previous post, the theological meaning of the ascension of Jesus can be summarised as: (a) Jesus has the authority of God (so listen to him!) (b) Because Jesus reigns with the Father, when the Father sends the Spirit it is impregnated with the crucified-risen one. Because of the ascension Jesus is no longer bound to a single geographical/chronological dot, but is universally present as saviour to the whole of the creation, continuously.
There are many consequences flowing from this theological meaning. Two for starters. First, stardust is now resurrected and ascended; the beginning of the fulfilment of all stardust has begun. Second, everything that is encapsulated in the terms 'crucified-risen' is now present to all creation, including both the absence (and mysterious presence) of God in the godforsakenness of the cross, and the liberation of the victory of resurrection.
Part of the trick of reading the Bible is knowing what to read literally. The ascension, if by that we mean Luke's picture of Jesus zooming off on a cloud and on this cloud reaching heaven, is a case in point. It is not necessary to believe this happened literally. Ascension, like resurrection, is on the edge of history as we usually think of it. The resurrection and ascension are history-like in the narratives, but are not of the same historical character as the crucifixion. This is not meant as a way to wriggle out of the bodily resurrection and ascension of Jesus. Rather, it is to recognise that resurrection (and ascension) is beyond our usual experience. Like the resurrection of Jesus, the account of the ascension tries to communicate what is beyond our usual experience with language and experiences within our grasp. Resurrection is like becoming alive again (the resuscitation of Lazarus as a symbol of resurrection); resurrection is not literally coming back to life, it is a new and transformed existence. So too the story in Luke-Acts of the ascension of Jesus. It is like he was lifted up, but not exactly. God is 'up there', but not literally. God is within us, but not literally. Jesus really is raised and ascended; he departed 'on a cloud' in the same way that he 'came back to life' like Lazarus.
"Easter is surely the ground of hope for human beings and the cosmos rather than an example of life's self-perpetuation; for it identifies God, and God alone, as the one who makes death's defeat possible, and gives new existence to the terminated. (Rom 4:17) Jesus was dead and buried; his life was finished and done with. No rhythm of nature, no innate capacity of humanness, could return him from the grave. Only God's grace and power, accomplishing a new act with and upon a man totally deceased, could win that victory." (Alan E. Lewis)
The shocking nature of the death and resurrection of Jesus leads to the temptation of domesticating its impact. A popular method in this regard is making his death and resurrection one more example or expression (no matter how important) of an inner spiritual principle, historical process, or cycle of nature. Using cocoons as a metaphor for the death and resurrection, while of some use perhaps with the kids, has the effect of making his death and resurrection understandable. And it is a short step from this to the resurrection of Jesus becoming the metaphor of a natural human capacity, inherent within each and every one of us. Accompanying this move is the superficial acceptance of death as the door we must go through, or something of that kind. None of this takes into account the finality of death, the annihilation of Jesus' identity and God on the cross, and the revolution in thinking that the resurrection of this Jesus brings.
In a similar way there is the temptation to make the dying and rising Jesus a symbol of a great historical process within history itself. Again, just too easy. A little more difficult to avoid is the spiritual 'law' of death and resurrection. While the dying and rising Jesus is a the model of a lives now, Jesus' death and resurrection is not an example of this spiritual principle. If there is a spiritual principle, Jesus is it. (The same applies to making the dying and rising of Jesus an expression of the nature of the trinitarian God. This is all well and good, except that he is not an expression of it, but is it.) and once we make Jesus' death and resurrection the principle which we follow, it becomes a lot more scarier, with the sting of death truly to be confronted, and the despair of the cross a reality not easily glossed over.
For a number of reasons people miss the continuity in the New Testament narrative between the pre- and post-resurrected Christ. The New Testament does not make the appearances of the risen Jesus any less historical than the ministry of the pre-risen Jesus. For sceptics the constrast in the pre-/post- resurrected narrative is between history (no matter if exact details of the ministry of Jesus are disputed) and the non-historical resurrection appearances. This leads to all kinds of psychological/spiritual explanations of the appearances of the resurrected Jesus. I can't see it in the text myself, and seems to me an alien preconception forced onto the text. The resurrection appearances as narrated in the New Testament are to be thought of as history-like. (e.g. Ac 2:23-24)
Does the New Testament encourage us to entertain a contrast within the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus? Yes, and it revolves around the enormity of the rejection of Jesus, and specifically his desolation on the cross. The God before the cross is not possible to believe in. The Father delivered up the Son; in reality, and this is deeply shocking, even to Jesus himself. Who is the resurrected Christ and the God who raised him? is belief even possible after the cross? If the resurrection is not merely the cancellation of the cross, but includes it (remembering that resurrection has nail holes in it), who is God? The answer to that question makes Christianity possible, and stands in contrast to ordinary religion. this is the contrast the new Testament is asking of us.
One of the ironies of the "liberal" wing of the church is that when it theologises it jettisons Christianity's best resources to achieve what it wants! The identity of Jesus is a good example. In reaction to smug and conservative Christianity 'liberal' theology reduces the messianic self-knowledge of Jesus, making him the prophet who delivers the message, rather than the message itself. It appears to me a kind of visceral counter-reaction to the misuse of the titles of Jesus by conservative forces. But retaining the messianic self-consciousness of Jesus radicalizes Jesus, uniting him even more fully with the downtrodden of history and sinners than "liberal" theology's great prophet.
Two examples of what I mean. First, if Jesus is 'Son of God' in a unique way, bringing the presence of God's reign in his very person, indeed, if he is God's very own flesh, then Jesus' option for the poor and sinner is a stinging critique of the forces of death, oppression and ordinary religion. "Liberal" theology emphasises the solidarity of Jesus with the underside of history; retaining his titles radicalises the solidarity we see in his teaching, ministry and death.
Second, 'liberal' theology attempts to maintain the deep shock of the cross to ordinary religion, and emphasise the solidarity of the crucified Jesus with all the crosses of history. Exactly right, except that by retaining the titles of Jesus and his self-conscious knowledge of them the rupture of the cross is deepened not removed. This Jesus, who has relied upon and utterly defined himself in terms of his filial relationship, is abandoned. That's the end of ordinary religion's god.
The scandal of the cross and tomb of Jesus is the annihilation of his personal identity. Despite the contention that Jesus made no claims about himself, but preached the kingdom alone, the words and actions of the Jesus of all four Gospels are woven into his personal identity. John's Gospel is explicit int his regard; the other three at times explicit, but often more implicit or elliptical. The death of Jesus is the failure of his kingdom project; the God of love and forgiveness, the loving Father of the Son, has abandoned Jesus, or perhaps never existed int he firs place. The scandalous death of Jesus makes either possible, perhaps even likely. And with the failure of his kingdom project, so too the personal identity of Jesus disappears when his corpse is placed in the tomb. The most poignant and terrible contrast in the death of Jesus is not between his innocence and the sin of those who betrayed, deserted, scourged, mocked and killed him, but between the claims Jesus made regarding his relationship to God, and his ignoble end. The cry of dereliction from Jesus on the cross, "My God, my God, why have you deserted me?" is Jesus himself questioning his personal identity, and therefore, his whole life, including its purpose and meaning.
Let's stay with this a while longer. What if the cry of dereliction, rather than only being an expression of how he feels, expresses actual abandonment? This is difficult, and it lies at the beginning of the doctrine of the Trinity, and all the theologies of atonement that in someway try to take seriously the abandonment of Jesus for our sins. Could this be possible? Could God abandon Jesus? Is he truly at one with all the godforsaken of history? Indeed, actually abandoned, and therefore untied with those estranged from God by their own sin and wickedness? Is he not just a victim of sin, but also, in the sense above, a sinner? Yes. And the resurrection is not the cancellation of the scandal of the Father's abandonment of the Son. Knowledge of the resurrection only intensifies the question about the identity of the crucified one, and more importantly, the nature of God and God's relationship to creation.
Christians have a complex relationship with their bodies, perhaps more complex than general society.
A few reasons why:
The crucified Jesus (a crucifixion not cancelled out by resurrection).
The resurrection of Jesus
The 'missing' body of Jesus (people struggle with belief in bodily resurrection without seeing the body of Jesus, and tend toward resurrection as a bodyless spiritual state, but then imp0rt all the problems of that kind of dualism.)
The 'general' resurrection
Imago Dei (Genesis 1:27)
Creation as good (Genesis 1) and the resurrection of all creation
The Incarnation, specifically the hypostatic union
The sacraments
The call to sexual purity, especially in a society that views sexual expression as the defining personal freedom (1Cor: 6-7)
Following the thread of our inclusion into God's own life because God came amongst us in the incarnate Son, Jesus of Nazareth, provides some deeper theological thinking about some key elements of the Christian faith. Take the resurrection as an example. With some biblical warrant, the West has understood the cross of Jesus as salvific, that is, bringing salvation. But what there is no biblical warrant for is excluding the resurrection of Jesus from his great action of salvation. The West became hooked on a juridical view of salvation, with the need for satisfaction for sin to be made through the death of the God-man. Resurrection didn't fit this particular view of salvation, and became more a consequence of the salvation won for us. Jesus' resurrection became the hope of the faithful who believed in the saving effect of his death on the cross. However, the cross and the resurrection saves us; what God has united let no one tear asunder!
The resurrection of Jesus saves us; and indeed, should be thought of as the culmination of the salvation won for us through Christ. The resurrection does not cancel the cross; this would be to commit the opposite theological sin! We must see each of the cross and resurrection in the light of the other.
The key is the self-offering love of Jesus in the cross to the Father (and simultaneously for the world, but that is another thread to follow) as the culmination of his whole life and identity as Son. (This is the point that John hammers time and again explicitly in his Gospel, but is clearly visible and apparent in the narrative of the Synoptics.) The same self-giving love of the Son in eternity is lived by the Son as Jesus of Nazareth. In the resurrection Jesus as Son is taken into the eternity of the Father; raised by the Spirit he receives the Father's love transforming his humanity. And this is nothing less than the eternal action of the Father in generating the Son in eternity; history, through the resurrection, is finally included, through the Son, in the eternal life of God.
My hermeneutical key to reading Scripture is the regula fidei as expressed in the Creeds, and generally the four key doctrines of Trinity, Incarnation, transcendence and grace. Is this another set of preconceptions that need to be put aside like the conservative preconception of inerrancy and the liberals' expressivism? (See previous post here.) I don't think so, and for two reasons.
First, inerrancy and expressivism seem to me to be alien to the Scriptures, plucked from another set of agendas. From the beginning the regula fidei is internal to the church, always present and developing, and used as the hermeneutical key, in the debates that raged in the patristic period. It is this rule of faith that internal to the church's reading of Scripture from the beginning, and its refinement parallels the formation of the Creeds and the canon of Scripture.
Second, I came to this position after being converted from a diametrically opposed position, indeed the outright rejection of the doctrines of Trinity and Incarnation. What converted me was the way in which these doctrines opened up the Scriptures from the inside, and brought back together what some modern biblical scholarship tears apart. But the rule of faith does this from the inside. Inerrancy is an alien principle that is believed and applied before Scripture is read (or eisegeted into Scripture itself), and expressivism's source of truth lies outside Scripture. The Trinity and Incarnation (and grace and transcendence) are internal readings. Give it a go; read the Scripture from the point of veiw of these four key doctrines. You will find that you replicate the debates of the early church that resulted in these creedal type beliefs, and come to the same kind of splits that the early church came to. Are you willing to affirm your humanity, as it is? Or do you try to split your humanity from God ever so subtly? How comfortable are you with a God who forgives so generously? And how do you feel about God's unity with a corpse? God dead in the flesh? Ask these questions, apply the doctrines, and read Scripture.
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which is my sin, though it were done before? Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run, And do run still: though still I do deplore? When thou hast done, thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more.
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won Others to sin? And, made my sin their door? Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun A year, or two, but wallowed in score? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more.
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun My last thread, I shall perish on the shore; But swear by thy self, that at my death thy son Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore; And, having done that, thou hast done, I fear no more.
We all bring pre-understandings to Scripture, but how to let Scripture do its work of shattering those preconceptions? The two most prolific preconceptions in need of shattering are represented by the two opposite ends of the spectrum, the trajectories of right-wing fundamentalism and socially minded liberalism. The right's commitment to inerrancy prior to reading and interpreting any particular part of Scripture is an example of Scripture squeezed into an ideological mould. It needs to be shattered for it will miss the unnatural truth of God's unity with a corpse that is the key to Easter. What kind of God does the fundamentalist trajectory impress upon Scripture with inerrancy? A God who can't make 'mistakes', by which I mean be part of the actual history of humanity, speak through th imperfections of individuals and communities of faith? The god of inerrancy is not the God of Jesus immersed in our human history. While inerrancy might hold out an attractive sense of consistency, it is a consistency won at the expense of the humanity of God. There are other ways of grasping Scripture's inner thread of consistency.
Liberal theology's commitment to expressivism, where the truths of Scripture are just one more expression of a timeless truth available to all at all times, is the left's version of ideological moulding. Jesus is not one more example of God's love to be found similarly in Hinduism, Socrates, or a modern Che Guevara. Teh universal significance of the call of Abraham, leading to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, is played out on the canvas of universal history, but comes to that history as something new and unique.
So where might we begin to shatter our preconceptions? Reflection on the most unnatural truth of Scripture: God's union with a corpse.
It is rather a great surprise to me that while so many Christians look to the Cross as the source of forgiveness and reconciliation, they do so without any real formed thought as to how it all works. While some may feel this to be unimportant, the reality is quite different. For far too long, the populist view of the Atonement is that Jesus did something for us that we are unable to do for ourselves. Whilst that is partly so, there is also the element in the whole Faith that Jesus also shows us the way to work towards reconciliation, and that we as Christians should be agents of reconciliation ourselves.
To get a clearer picture, it may well be useful to understand something of how and why the Judaic-Christian Faiths came into existence. All religions and isms, of whatever sort are attempts to understand what it means to be human and alive on Planet Earth. Whilst this human process may well have begun in an atmosphere of fear and ignorance, our Faith – amongst others - has moved a long way from that position. From the earliest time from Abraham on, this search has persisted, and the process needs to continue as well. Those ancient creation stories, do you see, whilst not as early in the Biblical tradition as sometimes perceived, are hugely significant even now as they are part of that hugely significant search. They are not to be understood literally, for they are myths (i.e. a story meant to be understood, not literally but with imagination; true, but not historically true. For instance the Flood narrative is not history, but may well be based on an actual event) - from which the reader (or listener in millennia past) was expected to draw the lessons.
This all means that the faith once delivered is offered as a (the!) answer to why human life and relationships seem to marred and damaged, and what are their goals and possibilities anyhow. Far from irrelevant to modern life, here lie the sorts of answers that everyone is searching for, but sadly few manage to find. That sadness lies, not in the inadequacy of the Biblical faith, but in other issues.
Quite a lot of misunderstanding revolves around the Cross. Whilst many Christians see this action as the means of forgiveness and reconciliation, (accomplished with no effort from us) there is rather more to the Cross than just that. May I tell a story first and then ask you to see how things fit together. All this is simply to uncover the fact that there is far more to forgiveness than either forgetting or vicarious punishment.
When we begin to look at the cross in terms of the real-life situation, an almost new world for some people will open up. We might take a move past the traditional and religious expression of the Atonement to a rather wider, all-embracing view. It does not require anything more than a thoughtful reading of the Gospels to see how our Lord was painfully aware of the nature of the challenge that He put in front of his antagonists. Jesus was not being belligerent about it; He was simply being honest. In doing so, however, he presented a total threat to the power and control of both religious and political leaders. In line with Isaiah’s expectation of the Suffering Servant, and His refusal to follow or express common Messianic expectations, Jesus pointed, in word and deed, to the leadership pattern of the servant. Ephed Jahweh; the Servant of the Lord. This was not in order to be nice, but to be relevant. As someone rather later in history than Jesus has said: power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. It does not take much to see how recent world history has multitudes of illustrations of that!
Why though did Jesus submit to the cross, when He must have known that his enemies would see such an attitude as the expression of utter weakness? And remember that He turned His back on the ‘offer’ of twelve legions of angels. Have you ever wondered why?
We humans tend to operate on the assumption that the most powerful person or response is the right one. While we know that to be untrue when someone stronger opposes us, we still tend to think that we still need to overcome their strength. Power, do you see? And when does power really work, when does control do anything other than diminish the other person or people?
Come back with me to the Story of the Fall, and ponder perhaps more closely the old and familiar words. ‘You shall be like gods’ was the nub of the temptation.’ (My notes on Genesis offer rather more complete explanation than this – and may be worth following up.) In other words, the Biblical view of sin can be expressed as the assumption of the person (or people) the power of the Divinity. Then I can demand that you do as I tell you, without appeal from you. Power, control, demand, all make the assumption that mere male me can do anything that I like. And as Genesis 3 points out oh! So terribly clearly, that once I follow such a path, the first casualty is the truth, the second is my relationship with you, and alongside all that is the breakdown of any relationship I may have had with God. They discovered that they were naked, and made themselves fig leaves ...... hiding their real selves from God, the other person and even from themselves. Those ancient Jewish writers were absolutely remarkable in their capacity to tell such powerful stories.
In other words, the entire human dilemma has to do with breakdown of relationships, individual, corporate, national, and these days international. The Biblical assessment of the cause of the breakdown is illustrated there in Genes 3 and in the rest of Scripture. The whole of the Biblical emphasis, from Genesis 3 on, is to find the means of restoration from that breakdown. Reconciliation. Repentance and forgiveness, restoration. How do we get there?
May I take a simply ordinary human situation to illustrate where I am trying to lead to? Imagine if you will that I somehow managed to inflict enormous hurt on you, and damaged you dreadfully. It matters not if that action was deliberate or accidental; the outcome is the same. If however, I later realized the extent to which I caused the damage to you, and looked for some means of apologizing, how could I go about it? I could not imagine that any direct approach to you, the hurt one, would get any further than a powerful rebuff. It would be necessary, seems to me, to try and engage the services of a third party, preferably one known and trusted by you.
The only method of approach to you remains the apology, which can be seem as me reaching out in reconciliation, but also being highly aware of the fact that my part of that bridge is very minor, compared to the extent to which you would need to reach. And I cannot imagine that mere apology would be enough anyhow. If there is one thing that you would have every right to demand, is that my approach be honest and totally so, I cannot undo what I had done; I can only accept responsibility for what I have done, and offer what can only be called repentance. (Repentance is not ‘being sorry;’ it is far more significant than that. Repentance (in Greek it is metanoia - metanoia -change of mind, literally, change of direction, a moving away from my old attitude and action.
However, if you – by any stray chance – were of a mind to restore the relationship, you would need to be fairly certain of my metanoia, and forgive. (To forgivenever means to forget! It means simply to put what is past behind you. To forgive actually means that you forego your right of retaliation. Forgiveness is not something you feel; it is something you determine to do. So that means you carry the double hurt, if you follow me. I hurt you in the first place, and you bear the double whammy by refusing your right to belt the living daylights out of me. This is why the symbol of our Faith is the Cross: we have a God Who carries the double hurt. We do not have a God Who is forever looking to belt the living daylights out of us. Read that again please. Now and only now can reconciliation occur, because you bear most of the cost of reaching this point.
However it is important to notice that I have to take responsibility for my initial action, as well as for any apology of mine being completely serious. I cannot go back and remove the act that I caused, and in a way am really unable to offer a waterproof promise that I will not re-offend. (It is important to re-read Philippians 2 to see how Paul expresses the Gospel in terms of Jesus’ refusal to ‘be like Adam,’ and then the challenge that the Gospel puts in front of us to live and act like Jesus,in contrast to Adam.)
Can you now see how remarkably Jesus and His life and death reflects exactly that same process. No belting the living daylights out of His oppressors, and even His preparedness to give those perpetrators the chance to reflect on their actions (after the Resurrection) and change their direction, repent, metanoio.
The real challenge of following Christ is that of so embracing this reconciliation that He offers us as to reflect His pattern in our relationships with others. Mind you, those others will need to see the need for repentance, meatanoia, change of direction and attitude, without which the process falls to the ground.
The posts for the inaugural Adelaide Anglican Blog Conference are complete. (Comments are still welcome.) Many people have said that the pre-Easter timing was a bit difficult. So to make it easier to read a post here or there, here is a hyperlink index of all posts and responses:
Stephen, thanks for these thoughts on Inspiration and Inerrancy. I think it’s helpful to point to the connection between post-Reformation Protestantism and the emerging scientific culture. I think it is also important to show that the Scriptures have their authority within the community and that outside of the community the attempt to defend scriptural authority can lead to minimalist conclusions (as I sought to show in my post).
I’m certainly going to agree with you about inerrancy, but I want to raise one question in passing. Quoting from Ted Peters you say that what makes the Bible canon for Christians ‘is the church’s firm belief that it is trustworthy. The people of the church, gathered together under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, are confident that it will convey to us the gospel of Jesus Christ.’ Now I’m considering this proposal in light of what you write previously when you refer to the Belgic Confession. If I have understood you correctly, you are suggesting that Calvin’s reference to the inner witness of the Holy Spirit sends us along the road toward biblical inerrancy. Am I correct in thinking Calvin to the modern originator of double inspiration? In any event, I wonder where you see a difference—for presumably you do see a difference—between Calvin’s inner witness of the Spirit to readers of the text and the work of the Spirit convoking the community who are thereby ‘confident that it will convey to us the gospel of Jesus Christ.’
A second point is indebted to Bruggemann, The Book That Breathes New Life: Scriptural Authority and Biblical Theology, who prefers to speak of Inherency rather than Inerrancy. Migliore’s ‘liberating and reconciling’ function of Scripture seems to be given its proper space in Bruggemann’s notion of ‘inherency.’ He means by this that Scripture is the ‘live Word of God that addresses us concerning the character and will of the gospel-giving God, empowering us to an alternative life in the world.’ However this inherent Word of God in the biblical text ‘is, of course, refracted through many authors who were not disembodied voices of revealed truth. They were, rather, circumstance-situated men and women of faith…who said what their circumstance permitted and required them to speak, as they were able, of that which is truly inherent.’ When we read the text we bring to it a sense that some of these authors may have been more successful than others in their attempt to speak. So, for Bruggemann, these two factors: that the Bible is inherently the Word of God and also that the inherent Word of God in the text is refracted through authors who were all-too-human, indicate that the Scriptures are rightly called ‘strange and new’ as Barth once famously described them.
Bruggemann suggests that these two factors, inherency and refraction entail that the Bible is not a fixed text with a firm and final meaning, frozen and only requiring explication, but rather a script which is ‘always reread, through which the Spirit makes new.’Accordingly no-one’s reading can be final or inerrant ‘precisely because the Key Character in the book who creates, redeems and consummates is always beyond us in holy hiddenness.’ Inherency, as opposed to inerrancy, is a reading which is inescapably provisional, thereby reminding us of Rowan Williams’ eschatological reading of the literal sense. Our attempts to turn inherency into inerrancy make the Scriptures ‘a playground for idolatry’ whereas they should be read as iconic.
‘Scripture is the unique and irreplaceable witness to the liberating and reconciling activity of God in the history of Israel and supremely in Jesus Christ’ (Migliore 1991:40). This proposal of Daniel Migliore provides a useful point of departure for this brief paper. A number of elements in his definition stand out. The key words ‘unique’ and ‘irreplaceable’ are worthy of note – nothing quite like it and nothing that can substitute for it. However beyond this Migliore invites us to consider scripture as a text that bears witness not to itself but to God’s activity in Israel and ‘supremely’ in Jesus Christ. Migliore thus gives a decidedly Christological focus for Scripture. As his discussion unfolds that particular focus is shown to be absolutely critical in the way the sacred text is heard and interpreted.
This has echoes of Karl Barth’s discussion of the threefold word of God: the incarnate living Word of God, Jesus Christ; scripture as the written word of God; and proclamation as the preached word on the basis of the written word pointing to the living word. Barth’s recognition of the dynamic and layered Word of God meant that scripture was dynamically related both to the God and Father of Jesus Christ and the community of faith that bore witness in word and deed to the gospel of God. Authority, and inspiration of the bible could not be abstracted from the web of relations in which it was received and functioned. There was no simple, pure and detached mode of authority; nor room for a doctrine of inspiration that could be secured apart from faith.
However Migliore’s definition refers to a ‘liberating and reconciling’ function of Scripture. This has a more contemporary ring about it. For Migliore scripture generates new freedom, overcomes estrangement and reconnects people and the world to each other and God. The liberative function of scripture is related to Jesus Christ and picks up an ancient biblical theme from the Exodus. It is one I shall return to at the end of this paper.
It is clear from the above that the authority of the bible is related to its place within the community of faith; it’s character as inspired and its liberative capacity for God’s world. Biblical authority cannot be abstracted from this web without fracturing the delicate and fragile ecology of its witness to Jesus Christ. Impatience with this reality and a desire to create a protected space for the bible within the disintegrating framework of modernity has led to the development of a variety of less adequate conceptions of biblical authority.
In this respect Migliore identifies the dead letter of biblicism. On this account the bible is authoritative by virtue of its supernatural origin. This approach developed in post reformation Protestantism. It was associated with the emerging scientific culture of seventeenth century Europe with its emphasis upon experimentation, observation, empirical evidence and the quest for certainty. In such an environment traditional theological claims for the veracity and authority of Scripture appeared tenuous if not fragile. Could Scripture deliver a certainty commensurate or better than that achievable in the sciences? In this context the doctrine of inspiration ‘became a theory of the supernatural origins of Scripture’ (Migliore p. 43). On this basis the bible was considered to be our canon. Thus the Westminster Confession of 1643 refered to the Old Testament written in Hebrew and the New Testament written in Greek as ‘immediately inspired by God’ and the Apocrypha ‘not being of divine inspiration, are not parts of the canon of Scripture (Peters 2000: 61). Yet such an approach begged the question; how do we know that these writings are inspired and thus authoritative? Calvin, following a long tradition including Origen, referred to the inner witness of the Holy Spirit. Thus the Belgic Confession 1561 and the Westminster Divines acknowledged the inward illumination of the Spirit of God ‘that leads to our full persuasion and assurance of the infallible truth and divine authority’ of the bible (Ibid).
The supernatural origin of the scripture required a doctrine of double inspiration. This secured the longed for certainty within an emerging enlightenment culture. It also led to the concept of the bible’s inerrancy ‘as a whole and in all its parts’: ’every book, every chapter, every verse, every word was directly inspired by God’ (Migliore, p. 43). The softer form of this refers to the bible being inerrant in its original form. Either way a claim is made for its infallibility and authority founded upon a theory of double inspiration. This doctrine of the plenary inspiration of scripture accords to all scripture equal authority.
Not surprisingly the only sensible option within such a context is to adopt a practical or working ‘canon within a canon’ and privilege certain parts (e.g. Pauline texts; Gospels). However to the extent that this move is neither recognised nor defended but simply operates as a practical default the deeper hermeneutical reasons for such an approach remain masked and accordingly underdeveloped. What it also means is that theory and practice operate in a disjunctive manner. What it also points to is the difficulty of sustaining the notion that the normative status and authority of the bible is dependent upon its inspiration divorced from the community of faith and its witness to Jesus Christ. No longer is the bible taken as authoritative ‘because of what it says, or because of the transforming effect it has on human life, but simply because its words are identified without qualification with God’s words’ (Migliore p. 44). As a result scripture is prevented from operating in a liberating way.
Peters argues that the above account of inspiration changed how the doctrine of inspiration was held in the church. For example the early church fathers could affirm with 2 Timothy 3:16 that ‘all scripture is given by inspiration [literally ‘God-breathed]from God’ but could also use the term inspiration to describe an exposition on scripture. But Gregory of Nyssa could also describe Basil’s commentary on Genesis as an “exposition given by inspiration of God” (Peters p. 60). Following the result of an exhaustive survey of the early church fathers of the first four centuries Everett Kalin ‘failed to turn up a single instance in which any of these writers referred to an orthodox writing outside the New Testament as non-inspired’ (Ibid).
In more recent times the Anglican philosophical theologian, Austin Farrer, recognised the same multi layered approach to inspiration in his discussion of the relationship between sacred text of scripture and poetic writing and the role of the imagination (Farrer 1976: 37-53). Peter’s argues that inspiration alone was not the basis for the bible as canon. He states, ‘We think of the bible as canon or measure not because of some contrived doctrine of its inerrancy “as a whole and in all its parts”. What does in fact make it canon for Christians [and thus authoritative] is the church’s firm belief that it is trustworthy. The people of the church, gathered together under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, are confident that it will convey to us the gospel of Jesus Christ’ (Peters p. 60). This is a broader and richer approach to the authority of the bible than a narrow doctrine of inspiration.
Besides the ‘dead letter of biblicism’ Migliore identifies other less than satisfactory approaches to the authority of scripture. At the other end of the spectrum from biblicism is what he refers to as ‘the uncritical assumptions of historicism’. In this scenario the rationalism of the enlightenment and an emerging historical consciousness reduces the bible to an ‘historical source’. As Migliore notes this has brought many gains. But to the extent that it became preoccupied with ‘what really happened’ and what could be verified as ‘factual’ according to the canons of historical inquiry it displaced the received text as authoritative and in its place erected the ‘facts’ behind the text as reconstructed by the historian as authoritative. Biblical narrative as such disappears from view; ‘the meaning of the bible is separated from its literary form’ (Migliore p. 45). The biblical scholar becomes the arbiter of truth.
Gerard Loughlin discusses this development in terms of the transposition of scripture into history (Loughlin 1997: 45). Scripture is ‘no longer understood as mutually constituted by the story it narrates and the community to whom it is narrated …rather, the scripture is seen as unreliable, and that which it distorts only really available through the labours of historical science, which looks behind the scriptural narratives to the historical events they partially and quaintly disclose’ (Ibid). A variant of this approach treats the bible as a religious classic; a great literature worthy of study and meditation. On this account the tradition of disciplined pious reading and liturgical enactment are rendered superfluous.
Unsurprisingly a reaction to the above biblicist and historical approaches to the bible’s authority can be observed in the modern use of the scripture as a private devotional text ‘whose authority is located in the saving meaning it has for the individual’ (Migliore p. 45). Who can deny the importance of such an emphasis? The saving reality of Jesus Christ as unfolded in the sacred text is the clue for living in the world. The pious reading of scripture is a necessary component in the life of faith. The real danger with this approach can be observed when Christians seem preoccupied with their own salvation to the neglect of the bible’s significance for the community and for the world. The scripture illuminates more than the inner life of faith for the individual pilgrim. In this scenario scripture becomes authoritative for personal and private life but mute towards the world and the public realm.
As Migiore notes, beyond these reductivist approaches to biblical authority ‘lies the real authority of Scripture in the life of the community of faith’ (Migliore p. 46). This same note is struck by Ted Peters and Gerald Loughlin. Scripture read within the community of Jesus Christ; relating believers by the power of the Holy Spirit to the living God Jesus Christ in the world loved of God; this is the cauldron in which the inspiration and authority of the bible is to be located. For Christians the hermeneutical key is Jesus Christ read backward and forward through the great narratives of holy scripture. This occurs within the domain of the believing and worshipping community where the story of faith is held, lived and shared in the world. In this context scholars have their proper place but not pride of place. Much more could be said at this point but time and space preclude this.
I want to end by taking up an intriguing suggestion by the Roman Catholic scholar William Thompson. He proposes the cloud as a symbol for scripture to highlight how scripture functions in an authoritative way for Christian community. His starting point is the reference in Hebrews 12:1 to the cloud of witnesses which surround the church and the importance of this for the onward pilgrimage in faith. He sees the cloud as an archetypal symbol to express the witnessing role of scripture in Christian existence. From this he identifies the cloud in Exodus 13:21 – the pillar of cloud by day, to lead them along the way. Thomson states ‘Holy Writ is like that. The cloud of witnesses that constitutes it is the norming guide that leads as well as accompanies us. Its authority is derivative but real’ (Thomson 1996: 199) for the Lord speaks to them in the cloud (Psalm 99:7); so too at the transfiguration (Matt 17:5). ‘So too Scripture reflects the authority of Christ to whom it witnesses. From its cloud, the voice says…’ (Ibid).
Thomson also notes that the cloud not only leads but accompanies. Thus in Exodus 13:22: neither the pillar of cloud by day not the pillar of fire by night left its place in front of the people. In like manner Holy Writ accompanies, ‘again in a pale but adequate reflection of the Lord….Holy Writ has accompanied the Church on its long journey of sounding the depths of the Christological mysteries. It’s objective presence echoes and testifies to the objective presence of the Lord, the Emmanuel, the One Who Is With Us’ (Thomson p. 200).
However Thomson stresses that this accompanying is not at a distance but ‘profoundly interior’ and finds expression in the Transfiguration when the ‘cloud overshadowed the disciples as they entered it (Luke 9:34). Thus the Scripture are able to overshadow us ‘in such a way as we can enter them, as the disciples entered into the cloud of the Transfiguration’ (Thomson p. 201). There is also the darkness of the cloud (Exodus 14:20 – and so the cloud was there with darkness) which protects the Israel from the Egyptians. Thomson offers a fascinating reflection on the otherness of God manifest in the and through the cloud. This arises in a twofold sense: by virtue of our own limitations and sin we cannot see the cloud’s luminosity (we are all Egyptians; and from the side of God, God’s presence is ‘thick’ (Exodus 19:9, 16; 1 Kings 8:12). God’s transcendence is here symbolised and this generates an appropriate awe in the presence of the Holy God. ‘Now I began to wonder with myself, that God had a bigger mouth to speak with than I had heart to conceive with, “wrote John Bunyan (Thomson p. 202).
Another author speaks of the ‘bright mystery’ (Hardy 1997: 17-19) of faith which we might link to the way Scripture as cloud is both luminous yet resistant to being captured. Thomson calls this the opening ‘onto a larger mystery’ whereby God can be present through scripture as cloud like but cannot be captured by it e.g. Exodus 19:9 (Thomson p. 201). Finally Thomson points to the sense of movement in the cloud: Jeremiah 4:13 ‘He comes up like the clouds’; Psalm 68:4 ‘him who rides upon the clouds’. 'The cloud seems to symbolise the to-be-counted-on presence of God within history’s flow’ (Thomson p. 203). So too scripture and its witness belongs to the flow of history and point us towards an unfolding if unclear history. Thomson sharpens his reflections: ‘the Scriptures (as mediated and liturgically celebrated in the Church) can illuminate, tracing out the path for us into the future’ (Ibid).
Thomson’s insightful and provocative reflections are a good place to conclude this brief paper on scripture. His imaginative construal of scripture as cloud reminds us that above all else we are called to be a scripture formed people. This is at the heart of Anglican self-understanding and is most powerfully captured in the Anglican Collect:
Blessed Lord, You have created all Holy Scriptures to be written For our learning, grant that we may so hear them, Read, mark, learn and inwardly digest them, That by patience and comfort of your holy word, We may embrace and ever hold fast The blessed hope of everlasting life Which you have given us in our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen
Bibliography
Farrer, Austin. Interpretation and Belief, London: SPCK, 1976.
Hardy, Daniel. God’s Ways with the World, Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1997.
Loughlin Gerald, ‘The Basis and Authority of Doctrine’ in Colin Gunton, ed. The Cambridge Companion to Christian Doctrine, CUP, 1997.
Migliore, Daniel. Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1991, p. 40.
Peters, Ted. God The World’s Future: Systematic Theology for a New Era, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2000, p. 60
Thomson, William The Struggle for Theology’s Soul: Contesting Scripture in Christology, New York: Crossroad Pub., 1996.
