Allan is a primarily New Testament trained preacher who has decided to take on some major passages in [...]]]> I have somewhat of a tradition of reflecting somewhere on my blogs about books I am about to publish. So today I want to look at Allan R. Bevere’s new book The Character of Our Discontent.

Allan is a primarily New Testament trained preacher who has decided to take on some major passages in the Old Testament in preaching to his congregation. In turn, he has collected them to share with others.

My friend Alden Thompson, who is author of Who’s Afraid of the Old Testament God?, also from my company, generally leads off weekends of discussion of the Old Testament with a litany of the reasons that people don’t like the Old Testament. He then takes a look at the Old Testament in the New, and especially in the teachings of Jesus and then he’ll say something like: “So you may not like the Old Testament, but Jesus did!” Now he says it so nicely that nobody is offended, but he certainly catches people’s attention.

I specialized in Hebrew and ancient near eastern literature, so I tend to lean toward the Old Testament in my own study and teaching. But amongst those who teach outside the seminary, that is all too rare.

I had a conversation just days before I accepted this manuscript for publication. A pastor with many years of experience lamented the lack of collections of good sermons, sermons that could provide an example to new preachers. I had to agree with him. In my experience, many people end up as pastors with much too limited knowledge and experience in some of the basics. I think preaching is better taught in most seminaries than subjects such as prayer, spiritual gifts, or even church management, but nonetheless there is a great value in having more material that covers some of the basics. So I found this combination irresistible, even though sermon collections often have poor track records for sales.

There are two values in this collection that I want to emphasize. First, these sermons introduce some Old Testament characters and situations in a way that is easy to understand. They are worth reading on their own. This book isn’t heavy reading. You could read one of these sermons for a quite reasonable devotional. Second, they provide examples for people who may be afraid to start preaching from the Old Testament because they didn’t specialize in it. Now these are not sermons that come from hasty or light preparation. What they are is solid sermons that come from a non-specialist who put in the time to produce a good sermon on each topic.

The presentation is easy to follow. The illustrations are good and to the point. You’ll find yourself directed to some good resources as you read. Allan doesn’t try to solve all the problems of Old Testament interpretation. What he does is apply some of the principles and lessons of these passages to the people found in the pews today.

I’ve mentioned some books that I agonized over before publishing. I’ve even had some I expected would offend some folks. I didn’t have to agonize over this one. I was certain almost from the start that I was going to publish it. Oh, it might offend you in some places, though if so I’d take it as conviction. Some of those Old Testament characters provide quite a challenge to our very un-heavenly way of life here in the American church.

So if you’ve been neglecting the Old Testament, here’s a chance to remedy that situation. My wife tells me that she feels that before she started getting involved in reading and studying the Old Testament she feels she was missing out on half the power God had for her in his Word.

Or, as Dave Black said in commenting on the release of The Character of Our Discontent:

An Old Testament-neglecting Christian is a contradiction in terms.

The apparent starting point for this was a video of [...]]]> Reformed Theological Seminary has announced that Dr. Bruce Waltke has resigned his position as professor of Old Testament at their Orlando campus. The blogosphere is pretty active on this story, including a story at Inside Higher Ed and a note on the BioLogos blog.

The apparent starting point for this was a video of Dr. Waltke endorsing evolutionary theory in a conference sponsored by BioLogos. (Please note that the RTS statement does not mention this reason.) The video has since been removed. As noted again on the BioLogos site, Dr. Waltke stands by what he said, but was concerned about the way in which he expressed it.

I want to note here that RTS is a confessional seminary, and I believe they have a right to hire seminary professors who will teach in accord with their confession. Others, of course, have the right to judge the education provided based on that criterion as well, and for those who support RTS, that sort of doctrinal protection is expected.

I personally find it unfortunate, as I would like to see Christians agree to disagree agreeably on the issues of creation and evolution. Within the church we should, I believe, have some freedom to discuss this sort of issue. Since Dr. Waltke is by just about any measure someone more conservative than I am, I have to feel some concern about this kind of issue. (Note that I am self-employed, so nobody is going to ask for my resignation, and I’m a member of the United Methodist Church, which has many ministers who make me look very conservative.)

In 2008 I reviewed, or more accurately wrote a few notes on Dr. Waltke’s An Old Testament Theology. My view was not entirely favorable, including some of his comments on naturalism and evolution. It appears that I may have been a bit more critical than I should have. I would note, as I did there, that it is perhaps a bit arrogant of me to be so critical of someone with Dr. Waltke’s stature. I keep his An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax within arm’s reach when I’m studying, and his scholarship is outstanding.

I guess what I’m saying here is that if Dr. Waltke can’t be part of the conversation in evangelical Christianity, then we’re in some trouble. I certainly hope he continues to write and speak. I would like to continue to be challenged by his scholarship, and I’m sure there are many, many others.

As is usual, note that I’m calling this book notes, and to some extent a response, rather than a review. That is more necessary in this case than most because the book is not aimed at a popular [...]]]> Brueggemann, Walter. Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1997. ISBN: 0-8006-3087-4.

As is usual, note that I’m calling this book notes, and to some extent a response, rather than a review. That is more necessary in this case than most because the book is not aimed at a popular audience, and I am not a theologian, much less a specialist in Old Testament theology, and thus not qualified to write a formal review. I’d also be rather late, given publication in 1997!

That’s one of the key things that struck me while reading this book–the rather substantial difference between Biblical exegesis and even hermeneutics used in its broadest sense and theology. To many, the term “theology” simply refers to any kind of religious studies, but as a technical term it is much more specific than that.

For example, I can study Isaiah or Ezekiel, look at their historical situation, inquire as to the meaning of particular texts and passages, view them sociologically as a phenomenon of their time(s), and yet not get down to their theology, what they said or tried to say about God. In fact, it’s not even quite that simple, in that one can dispute whether theology is primarily a study about God, or more a study of what certain people said about God.

In the case of Old Testament theology the question gets thornier, as one asks whether one is studying about God, what individual authors had to say about God, or an overall Old Testament view of God. To divide this further, is one studying the “Old Testament”, which has a name indicating its an element of Christian scripture, or is one studying the Hebrew Bible, in which case one’s study lenses might be quite different. One can even differentiate, I think, between studying the Hebrew Bible as Israelite theology as opposed to Jewish theology, modern Rabbinic Judaism being different from Israelite religion.

Several elements of my immediate past reading came into play as I read this volume. First, through an accident of how interlibrary loan books arrive, I read Brueggemann’s work shortly after that of Bruce Waltke. It is nearly impossible to compare the two books, though I will try. First, Waltke writes at a more basic level. Neither work is popular, but Waltke’s would more suitably address beginning students in theology than would Brueggemann.

Waltke is more conservative and traditional. In fact, despite his conservative credentials, Waltke gives more credit to historical-critical methologies than does Brueggemann, though it would be hard to nail that down. Both give some credit to the methodologies, and both criticize them. Despite statements regarding such methodologies, however, I think Brueggemann was more dependent on the results. The division of Isaiah into at least First (1-35[36-39]) and Second (40-55 or 40-66) Isaiah, and possibly Third Isaiah (56-66) is a critical element of Brueggemann’s theology, which he places at the time of the exile. Situating those texts elsewhere, for example in the traditional dating, would make a hash of his theological plan which assumes formation of the canon around the experience of the exile. That is, of course, one of the more obvious results of critical scholarship, but I think it demonstrates that no matter how much we may want to escape the historical questions, it is impossible to do so. More minor examples abound throughout the book.

In addition, Waltke’s form, which includes individual theologies of the various books, as well as basic introductory material, would work well for a textbook for those without a strong background in Old Testament. Brueggemann, on the other hand, would not be suitable for students who had not worked through a good Old Testament introduction first.

There was only one negative for me about this book, so I’m going to mention it first. A great deal of the post-modern vocabulary simply gets on my nerves. This may be a personal problem, as I was generally agreeing with the major points made, but I found the vocabulary a bit heavy in comparison to the freight it was carrying. Frequently, I would find that a passage that was quite convoluted in form, and mega-multi-syllabic in vocabulary, produced a fairly straightforward point. (Note to self: Do I do this unto others???) This included the double metaphor of testimony and grammar around which the book is woven. On the other hand, while many of the points were simple and straightforward, they were simultaneously quite profound.

The organizing metaphor of the book is stated in the subtitle: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy. Brueggemann reads the Old Testament as Israel’s testimony regarding Yahweh. That oversimplifies it a bit, so let me expand. He sees Israel testifying in various voices, and he places this specifically as courtroom testimony. (Please leave all atonement theories out of this; the purpose is different!) In a courtroom an attorney weaves a case out of the testimony of many people, no one of which knows the whole case, but each of which has some piece to add. They may not all meet smoothly at the edges, but the attorney making the case pulls them together.

Well, not so much with the pulling it together part. Though he uses the metaphor, Brueggemann does not pretend to pull Old Testament theology into a coherent whole in the sense of making a unified case about God. Thus he avoids my usual criticism of Biblical theology, which is to say that the more systematic the theology, the less Biblical. The Bible is simply not systematic in its theology. He uses the term “thematization” as opposed to “systematization” in what may be one of the most profound suggestions of the book.

He does this by first looking at Israel’s core testimony. I would note again, in passing, that in locating Israel’s core testimony, Brueggemann is most dependent on historical criticism. He then responds with Israel’s countertestimony. This is a very helpful approach, because there is a tension in scripture between the testimony of who God is and how God is experienced. We talk about loving heavenly parent, and at the same time experience the times of God’s silence and even abandonment.

Israel’s experience in the exile testifies against their core testimony that God is eternally faithful and will not abandon them. It’s profoundly important in understanding Israelite theology, I think, to recognize that many of the strongest proclamations of the faithfulness of Yahweh to Israel were made in the face of actual experience. Some of the strongest statements come from Second Isaiah, for example, and are made from exile in Babylon. This countertestimony is discussed in the second section, from page 317-403.

Part III discusses Israel’s unsolicited testimony, following the same courtroom metaphor, in which a witness adds things that he things are important, but which were not requested in order to make the original case. The key theme here is partnership, along with the suggestion that Israel comes to demand of God the faithfulness reflected in the core testimony. Brueggeman sees Israel in exile essentially waking God up to his obligations.

I think this latter point, which is intricately woven into the book through the testimony metaphor, is quite important. Theologians, especially of the more systematic type, often subjugate the actual statements in the text to the demands of the theological system. For example, God can’t possibly change is mind (Genesis 6:6 / repent) or forget something and then remember it (Genesis 8:1). People can’t really be righteous, as was Job. So we try to make the text mean something else. Brueggemann let’s it say what it says, even in some cases where that grates.

In a final section, Brueggemann discusses how the testimony is embodied, looking at worship, the canon, kings, priests, and so forth. This is probably the most straightforward section of the book, but is a necessary effort to tie things together.

One point Brueggemann attempts to avoid is reading the Old Testament through supercessionist eyes. He does not see Christianity as a necessary result of Israelite religion as would Eichrodt, for example. He also resists the Christological interpretation of the Old Testament that is espoused by Brevard Childs, with his canonical approach. I would have to say, however, that Childs does have a very strong point to make, in that if one’s canon includes the New Testament, there is no way to conduct canonical criticism without seeing Old Testament passages as part of that canon.

My own solution here is to use two terms. I use “Hebrew Bible” when looking at it as a document of the historical Israelite religion, and “Old Testament” only when reading it as an element of Christian canon. I believe one’s reading in those two cases is sufficiently different that one must practically regard the source as two different books. Though they contain the same words, those words take on a sufficiently different meaning that dangerous confusion results from pretending they are the same.

I still regard both uses as legitimate, however, because I see canon as a product of community, rather than the reverse. Each book had its own place in history, but when they are made into a canon, they change roles. This applies even to smaller sections. Isaiah, Ezekiel, or Jeremiah, read as part of the canon, make very different points from what they would read as individual texts from their own historical time.

In general, I found this book useful, but it also made me quite glad that I specialize more in exegesis than in theology. At the same time it reminds me of how much my role as a popularizer forces me to do theology on a daily basis no matter how I feel.

Since for similar reasons (messed up time and all) I didn’t record, but it looks like the [...]]]> I had an unfortunate brain failure (probably need to reboot!) and missed the first part, then I was interrupted twice more, but what I did see of the Nova show The Bible’s Buried Secrets looked pretty good.

Since for similar reasons (messed up time and all) I didn’t record, but it looks like the site will have the full program available online tomorrow. Once I watch the rest, I may comment some more. In the meantime, it looks like it might not be a bad idea to watch this.

Bauckham provides a much more coherent account of the principles that it appears Witherington is using, partially [...]]]> I have delayed the final post in my notes on Ben Witherington’s book What Have They Done with Jesus? for quite some time. In the meantime I have read Backham’s book Jesus and the Eyewitnesses [my review].

Bauckham provides a much more coherent account of the principles that it appears Witherington is using, partially because he writes for a somewhat more scholarly audience. His purpose is to lay out the nuts and bolts. As I read it, Witherington’s purpose is to use those principles to paint a portrait of Jesus. For an extended discussion of Bauckham, see my review above. In summary, however, while I believe there is some point to the method, I don’t think it accomplishes what Bauckham (or Witherington) think it does.

Frequently when I’m discussing the historical Jesus I suggest that the best antidote to any portrait painted by a scholar is to read another scholar. They tend to do a pretty good job of critiquing one another. In general, however, someone else can do the same to them in turn. This has resulted in a certain amount of agnosticism on my part regarding our ability to perceive the historical Jesus, and I also question the need for any level of precision.

Witherington is a good writer, and I confess to enjoying a great deal of this book even when I was disagreeing. He does not lay out the principles as clearly as does Bauckham, but that is not his purpose. There are elements of the book that I found very helpful, others not so convincing, and a few annoying.

What is most helpful in the book is the very thorough examination of the evidence that we have regarding very early figures in the church. Whether one agrees with conclusions or not, the information is quite good for a book aimed at non-scholars (though at educated non-scholars!). I found the two chapters on Paul and those on James most helpful in their combined look at the major divisions (factions? groups?) in early Christianity. I found those chapters generally sensible and balanced, probably meaning no more than that they suited my prejudices.

I do think that Witherington paints a more unified view of the early church than was most likely the case, and was more critical of those who date non-canonical gospels early than I would find justified. Nonetheless, most early dates for those gospels are unjustified in my view, and some serious critical examination is called for.

The “not so convincing” part is what appears to be the intent of the book–presenting a historically probable picture of Jesus. The subtitle suggests the goal: “BEYOND STRANGE THEORIES AND BAD HISTORY–WHY WE CAN TRUST THE BIBLE.” As a matter of history, I remain unconvinced. I trust the Bible with my faith, but I question historical details. For more details on this, find the links to earlier posts at the end of this one.

For what I find slightly annoying, let me simply quote a paragraph from the Appendix:

It is not a good historical principle to rule out causes of events in advance of examining the evidence, especially when none of us has an exhaustive knowledge of either historical or natural causation. The proverbial anti-supernatural bias is no more a good historical presupposition than the naive assumption some people make that everything requires a miraculous explanation, as when someone talks about a demon or spirit causing him to catch a cold, and so on. All data needs to be critically analyzed, of course, but no one should rule out the miraculous from the outset.

On its face this sounds so objective, but I believe it presents some grave difficulties. The first sentence reminds us that we do not know all natural causes. But that should suggest that we might hold out for a natural cause that we don’t know before we resort to a supernatural explanation. Witherington instead uses this excellent principle to suggest that we should be open to supernatural causes.

Now I believe that we should leave open the possibility of supernatural occurrences, as long as we do not possess exhaustive knowledge of the natural world. But at the same time miraculous causes simply can never be the most probable explanation for an event. If a miracle were probable, it would cease to be a miracle.

The assumption that no miracles are possible is not the equivalent of the reverse–the assumption that everything requires a miracle. We do know the causes of colds (Witherington’s example) and thus we know that no specific miracle is required. We know of many other things that are naturally caused (at least in a contingent sense, but that’s way beyond the scope of this post).

But even if I do not rule out the miraculous from the outset, it seems difficult to make it the most probable explanation. I recall a conversation of the virgin birth in which one of the participants was a OB-GYN specialist. He made an off-hand remark that in his office there were a couple of virgin conceptions reported each week. The point here is that out of these many reports even those of us who are believing Christians would reject every one out of hand–except one.

Would we suggest that the OB-GYN consider seriously the option of a miracle every time a pregnant young patient suggests she has never had sex? Probably not. But in one case we make an exception. And while I am willing as a matter of faith to make an exception, there is no way that I will claim that is either history or science. In fact, I see no merit in making such a claim.

I believe that Jesus rose from the dead (to move on to another big one!) not because I believe that missing bodies are best explained miraculously, but rather because my prior faith and spiritual experience inclines me to that belief. I don’t call this rational. I’d prefer it not be called irrational, but rather non-rational, but I understand that many who don’t share my faith won’t be that kind!

I think Witherington is doing much the same thing. I don’t think he would be as kind to claims of the miraculous in other ancient cultures. But in the case of Jesus, miracles get a higher probability rating.

Irrespective of any other factor, this one fact would mean that I would find it difficult to produce a picture of Jesus that was both historically probably as a whole, and also in accord with orthodox Christology. Face it, the idea of God in the form of a human is inherently improbable, extremely improbable, and the orthodox picture of Jesus simply doesn’t make sense unless one believes that picture is true even though it is improbable.

Thus from an historical perspective I remain skeptical, while at the same time remaining a believer. It is faith and the witness of the Holy Spirit, not any sort of historical reconstruction that convinces me. History convinces me that there is room for the physical events such miracles provide (the body of Jesus was not there, the disciples did indeed change their character as they might had they encountered the risen Jesus), but history cannot make the impossible probable.

Previous posts on What Have They Done with Jesus? in reverse order:

• Lazarus: The Beloved Disciple
• The Historical Virgin Mary II
• The Historical Virgin Mary I
• Search for the Historical Simon Peter II
• Search for the Historical Simon Peter
• What Have They Done with Jesus III
• What Have They Done with Jesus II
• Witherington: What Have They Done with Jesus?

I have previously noted that Bart Ehrman’s books are much more controversial on their jackets than on their pages (see notes on The Lost Gospel of Judas Iscariot and [...]]]> Ehrman, Bart D. God’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question-Why We Suffer. New York: HarperCollins, 2008. ISBN: 978-0-06-117397-4. 294 pp.

I have previously noted that Bart Ehrman’s books are much more controversial on their jackets than on their pages (see notes on The Lost Gospel of Judas Iscariot and Response to Misquoting Jesus). This is not to say that there is nothing controversial. Rather, well-known issues are stated in a stark and controversial way.

This book is no exception to this prior experience. I was both amused and annoyed that my copy from the library had been “annotated” by some previous user. That always annoys me, because defacing library books is vandalism and I don’t like it. But the form it took is interesting.

On the title page the words “fails to” are crossed out of the subtitle, and and “s” is added to “answer” to that it says “How the Bible Answers Our Most Important Question.” Then there is a note that says simply “sin, In the 1st Book Genesis 3.” Of course, as any competent scholar would, Ehrman covers the role of sin in human suffering according to various Biblical authors.

In the conclusion he also notes how people are divided between two groups. Those who announce their answer as though it was conclusive and obvious, as this annotator did, and those who really don’t want to discuss the topic at all.

I have thought a great deal about the problem of suffering and am willing to talk about it a great deal, but I don’t actually think I have any very good answers. It was interesting to me that neither Ehrman nor I will give a definitive answer, but we have a certain amount of affinity for similar answers. The bottom line for me is simply, “That’s the way the universe works.”

Of course there is also suffering caused by human evil, so the “sin” solution is certainly a part of suffering. But any of these leaves one with the question of just how God fits in. And there I would differ with Ehrman considerably. The problem of suffering itself is one thing; one can even ask the question why we should not suffer. The problem of suffering when one also believes in a “good” God is another matter entirely.

And that’s why the book is titled “God’s Problem.” On one level this is simply a summary of how the various Bible writers answer the question of why we suffer. On another, it is Dr. Ehrman’s journey in dealing with the fact that we do suffer and the implications of that fact for our understanding of God. Some may dislike the idea of mixing one’s personal experience with a book of scholarship, even a popular one. I would disagree. I think the personal reflections, however much they differ from my own, enhance the book and help one to connect the various scriptural responses to real life.

Let me look at these two levels separately. It was interesting to read this book nearly simultaneously with Bruce Waltke’s An Old Testament Theology. The books differ a great deal in size, intended audience, style, and the level of presentation, yet they very clearly illustrate a significant divide in Biblical scholarship. Do we look try to see the scriptures as ultimately unified, and thus reconcile apparent differences theologically or do we lay out those difficulties as starkly as possible?

That question outlines extremes. There are many variations along the way, including a kind of unity in diversity. I like to refer to the unity of a large river system, rather than that of a carefully delineated pathway. But Waltke approaches the Bible as a unity to be brought into subjection to his christology, while Ehrman sees the Bible as many individual schools of thought and tends to demarcate these schools rather strictly.

As an outline, I’m rather happy with Ehrman’s work. He points out what the major positions are. I think there could be some more work done on seeing how those positions might coexist. For example, the view that suffering is a punishment for sin can co-exist with the apocalyptic view that sees suffering as something inflicted by evil forces. I know people in real life who will respond with either of these options according to the circumstances. They don’t always have any logic other than whether they feel that a particular person is deserving of “discipline” or is demonstrating strength as they face the forces of evil.

Scholars tend to try to keep things more logically disciplined than that, which is probably a good attitude for a scholar to have. But it can get in the way of describing real people who are quite frequently a great deal messier.

In particular, I question some of Ehrman’s work on Job. I think he takes a view on Job that would require the final redactor to be some sort of idiot. See my notes on this on my Participatory Bible Study Blog.

Those who would be very critical of Ehrman’s approach, however, should consider the almost casual way theologians often try to brush aside such objections. I did not include this topic in my notes on his book, but Waltke brushes aside major issues in this fashion, particularly when talking about genocide in Joshua.

There he dismisses the problem by suggesting that those who were willing to repent and convert, such as Rahab were subject to destruction, while those in Israel who failed to maintain the standards, such as Achan, were also destroyed. Many people, myself included, would not see a “convert or die” approach as substantially more acceptable than genocide. In fact, any theory of inspiration that does not take adequate account of human failings and ideas runs aground on this problem. If God in fact said “kill them all, even babies” and intended this as a good thing, then God is monstrous. It is possible that God allowed them to think that, because that was what they were inclined to do. It is sufficiently difficult to explain God allowing such a thing, much less explaining why he would positively demand it.

Yet of course the text says that God did just that. For me, that is a strong sign of how the Bible deals with people, still steeped in the culture and moral standards of the time, struggling with what God would have them to do. This is an aspect of the problem that Ehrman only touches on as part of the punishment for sin view.

As for Ehrman, just as I noted in my review of his book Misquoting Jesus, I think he responds largely to a fairly conservative evangelical view of Biblical inspiration, such as would be espoused by Waltke. I don’t mean that a bit of adjustment in one’s view of inspiration solves all the problems. Hardly! But it does make the discussion much more interesting and offer more avenues for a solution.

And this is where we come to the more personal issue. While I did not go on to get a doctoral degree, nor have I written such popular books, I really empathize with Ehrman’s experience. I came out of seminary with a “this can’t be” kind of feeling, and departed the faith at that point. Twelve years later I came back, but to a much more liberal theology. I came to the realization that I did believe in God, however much I might prefer not to, and thus I would have to deal more with my concept of God.

I’m not trying to present my position as the better option, though obviously I prefer it since it’s mine! But if I’m to believe that the physical universe reveals its creator, then I have to be willing to adjust either the adjectives I use in referring to God or the meanings of those adjectives. In general, it may be more honest to use different adjectives.

That’s why I have written that God is more interested in freedom than comfort. Ehrman discusses the “freedom of the will” explanation for suffering, though he correctly points out that the Bible isn’t that much concerned with such an explanation, and also that it fails to deal with natural disasters that are chosen by nobody. At the same time the Bible does address this issue from the direction of responsibility. Sin comes through one man and thus death (Romans 5:12). But the Bible tends to lay responsibility without really acknowledging freedom, something that puts Paul into contortions in chapter 9, from which he extracts himself (if one is generous) by breaking into a bit of doxology.

By freedom, however, I mean something more than freedom of choice. Rather, God constrains the universe within laws rather than directing particulars. God didn’t want Hurricane Ike to destroy so many homes on the gulf coast; he wanted each hurricane to behave as hurricanes do. If you want to see God as loving, you also have to see him as willing to allow hurricanes to be hurricanes.

Is that a solution? All I can say is that it works for me, but I know plenty of people, my wife being one, who do not find that very satisfying. I found it interesting that Dr. Ehrman and his wife also differ, more profoundly than I do with my wife, on the very issues involved.

The bottom line here is that I deeply appreciate this effort to discuss such a difficult problem, and to relate it to one’s personal struggle. I disagree substantially with the conclusions, but largely because I start with different premises. My belief in God, with the kernel being “ground of all being” (Tillich) is fundamental, while my concept of God is more flexible. I’m much less likely to say, “I see that my old concept of God won’t fit with the suffering in the world, so there must not be a God” than to say, “My concept of God doesn’t fit with the suffering in the world, so I must have misunderstood God.”

That difference is personal and experiential at root, I think, and would be very hard to reconcile. It lies way too far outside the realm of “mostly certain” knowledge. In the meantime, you could do worse than to read this book and see how it helps you think about the problem of suffering.

I’m going to complain a bit about this book, so first let me tell you the good things about it. It provides a solid [...]]]> Waltke, Bruce K. with Charles Yu. An Old Testament Theology: an exegetical, canonical, and thematic approach. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007. ISBN: 0-310-21897-7. 1040 pp (940 excluding front and back matter).

I’m going to complain a bit about this book, so first let me tell you the good things about it. It provides a solid introduction to the scope and theology of the Old Testament from a confessional point of view, starting from Christian orthodoxy. The tendency is the conservative edge of evangelicalism. It is not fundamentalist, and struggles with many issues that one might expect fundamentalists to ignore.

In addition, there are several very strong points about this:

• Waltke clearly expounds his approach and the understanding of inspiration on which he bases it. He then consistently applies that throughout.
• The discussion of narrative theology and how one goes from narrative all the way to application. I don’t always agree, but the discussion is enlightening.
• The chapter on creation has much to commend it, though it features in my complaints as well.
• Chapter 16, The Gift of Liturgy is again excellent.
• The overall theme of covenant theology is well-done and will be very helpful along with the discussion of alternatives.

A substantial portion of the book is taken up simply narrating the story of the various Old Testament books and providing an introduction and background. Thus there is less on the theology of a book than there is simply bringing the reader to the point of understanding. This is probably required in an introduction of this sort, though ideally I would hope someone would take an Old Testament introduction before taking Old Testament theology.

The confessional approach is not precisely one that resonates all that well with me in the study of the Hebrew scriptures or the Old Testament. This should not be a complaint because one can hardly criticize a book for being what it sets out to be. One should, however, note that Waltke is quite serious about this and that the confessional approach shows through.

The book is also true to its title as an Old Testament theology, and not a theology of the Hebrew scriptures. In other words, the Old Testament passages are read Christologically, and chapters frequently conclude by discussing how these concepts carry through into the New Testament. Again, this is an approach that is clearly stated in the early stages of the book, and then carried through consistently.

Though I personally would prefer more discussion of the theology in the historical context rather than the context of Christian canon and theology, this is again a stated goal of the book as a whole. You will find the justification for that approach in the preface and the first several chapters.

Now for some complaints:

• The author affirms Biblical inerrancy. While I do not, that is not the complaint. In his support of inerrancy and the unity he expects as a result, he seems to gloss over differences in theology between various books with very limited explanations. For example, the difference in perspective on marriage outside of Israel between Ruth and Ezra/Nehemiah is not so much as given a routine dismissal.
• The author is very much opposed to the historical-critical method, but doesn’t really bother to explain very much of it. I would expect that if one dismisses a particular method in an introductory work, one needn’t go into depth on it, but he repeatedly references and disparages the method, almost exclusively by discussing naturalistic presuppositions, yet fails to provide sufficient foundation in my view.
• The discussion of creation is really quite good, but is marred by a dismissal of “evolutionism” based again on its supposed naturalistic assumptions. In fact, some varieties of theistic evolution would fit quite well with the interpretation of the early chapters of Genesis provided.
• Chapter 9, The Gift of the Bride is dismal throughout, in my view, as Waltke embraces patriarchy with both arms. That is too long of a discussion to go into here. Suffice it to say that I disagree with almost the entire chapter, including the notion that Deborah is the “exception that proves the rule” (p. 245).

I just reviewed DeSilva’s New Testament introduction, which is also from a more conservative perspective than my own, though not as conservative as Waltke’s. Yet DeSilva managed to present a variety of viewpoints while at the same time letting you know where he stood. He provided enough material for the student to evaluate without even going to the references. That is a quality I really appreciate in an introductory work.

I am not a fan of purported neutrality. The author does have a viewpoint, and I think it is better to let the reader know what that is. Yet advocacy can be combined with a broad coverage of alternatives that give the student a good perspective. I know a number of liberal works that write as though all conservative views can be dismissed. For example, one will search in vain for defenses of Mosaic authorship in many critical commentaries on the books of the Pentateuch, even defenses presented for the purpose of refutation. This book appears to be a good example of the reverse.

It’s a bit cheeky of me to review the work of so well-respected a scholar as Waltke, whose Biblical Hebrew Syntax I consult regularly (it’s on my “constantly available” shelf). But while I did find considerable here that was helpful, the items I mentioned detracted substantially from the value of this experience. Were I asked to teach Old Testament theology (much more likely than that I would be asked to teach New Testament intro!–see my comments on DeSilva), this would not be my text.

This is a bit out of place for review here and by me, but I wanted to write a few notes about it anyhow.

If I [...]]]> DeSilva, David A. An Introduction to the New Testament: Contexts, Methods, and Ministry Formation. Downers Grove, IL, 2004. ISBN 0-8308-2746-3. 974 pp. (904 without front matter and indexes).

This is a bit out of place for review here and by me, but I wanted to write a few notes about it anyhow.

If I were to teach an course in New Testament Introduction, admittedly not all that likely, I would want to use this text. I’m not an NT specialist, and this book is not well suited to the groups I usually teach. It’s designed for the seminary student, and I wish I’d had it as a text at that time. Alas, that was the 70s, and the copyright date is 2004.

Why do I like it? The primary reason is that it covers issues in New Testament criticism effectively and practically. By “effectively” I mean that various critical methods are described briefly and clearly so that the student can grasp both the origins of the method and how the method might be applied even by those who don’t accept all the presuppositions of those who originated it. The description is rounded out by examples. By “practically” I mean that each such section concludes with practical exercises.

I had to figure a great deal of this stuff out by working backward from commentaries. There are, of course, a number of rather good books which I discovered along the way (Augsburg Fortress’ series Guides to Biblical Scholarship comes to mind), but both my undergraduate and graduate experiences generally involved hearing or reading the claims, struggling with the material, and then finding the good explanations afterward.

These sections don’t just cover a few traditional critical skills. They range from textual criticism to feminist criticism with the positive and negative aspects of each, and all those between.

A secondary reason to like this book is the emphasis, indicated in the subtitle, on ministry formation. I work largely with lay audiences, but I do frequently get to talk with pastors, and one great weakness of seminary education, from my unscientific survey, is a lack of practical application. I can do [something taught in seminary], but how will I use it? Each book of the New Testament has a discussion of how it can be helpful in ministry formation.

These sections are good. I would think that a good seminary student would want to keep this one for his library shelves. If he or she did not, it would set off alarm bells for me.

Just to give an example of the types of topics, let me look at the book of Romans, since it’s one I’m studying for personal devotions at the moment, as well as at church. We encounter a full page excursus on the literary integrity of Romans, a slightly longer one discussing faith in Romans, another titled “Grace and Justification in Jewish Sources”, one on “Paul’s Hermeneutics and the Pesharim of Qumran”, another on “The Enigma of Romans 7:7-25″ (he and I would disagree in part there, but it’s a pretty thorough discussion), and “The Law: Catalyst for Sin or Divine Remedy.” The “EXEGETICAL SKILL” section is a bit over 2 1/2 pages on social-scientific criticism discussing analysis of ritual. The Ministry formation section covers a bit over seven pages. All of this is the extras that frame an excellent introduction to the book and to tendencies in interpretation. DeSilva even manages to discuss homosexuality, though doubtless due to the nature of the topic, nobody will be satisfied!

Not being a specialist in this area, I really haven’t surveyed the full field of New Testament introductions–there are quite a number of them–but I have read a few, and none matched the quality of this one in all ways.

I should note that DeSilva is clearly more conservative theologically than I am and more negative on the values of some of the older forms of criticism–form, redaction, and source, for example. But that does not prevent him from presenting both the positive aspects and the nuts and bolts methodology, within the scope to be expected of a work of this size. I would not be uncomfortable basing a class discussion on his material on any of the topics, even homosexuality.

Unfortunately, as I said, I won’t get much opportunity to use this book, but I did enjoy reading it, and I do recommend it as a way to kind of round up your New Testament exegetical skills, especially if you’ve gotten stuck a bit in a specialist’s rut. If you are an NT specialist about to teach NT introduction, check it out.

I hesitate to call this a review. It’s more of an interaction with the text, a few thoughts as I read the book The Gospels for All Christians: Rethinking the Gospel [...]]]> Bauckham, Richard, ed. The Gospels for All Christians: Rethinking the Gospel Audiences. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1998. ISBN: 0-8028-4444-8.

I hesitate to call this a review. It’s more of an interaction with the text, a few thoughts as I read the book The Gospels for All Christians: Rethinking the Gospel Audiences. I’m going to allow myself to ramble! Also, as you will doubtless note, this was published in 1998, and thus is not “hot off the presses” and yet I think it is very relevant.

This was one of the four books that I noted arrived via interlibrary loan on the same day, something marginally inconvenient, considering the size of the books and the height of my “to be read” stack. I had added it into the list at the last minute, because it was edited by the author of Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, which was one that was already on my list, and because a friend had recommended it.

I will confess that I started reading this book with low expectations. The problem it addresses, as stated to me, did not appear incredibly urgent or gripping. I was tempted to start with a different book, but there was that return date staring at me, and I loathe returning interlibrary loan books that I have not completely read, so I dug in.

If you were educated in a liberal school, especially if you come from a conservative perspective, you will probably respond to this material differently. I compared notes with a friend who had used different texts than I did (I was educated by fairly conservative professors at Seventh-Day Adventist schools), and he certainly reacted differently on his initial read. Since I started conservative and moved more slowly left, I never took quite the extreme position which Bauckham is addressing.

In the first chapter, Bauckham addresses the consensus view, at least at the time of writing, though I think it largely continues, which is that the gospels were addressed to specific communities and that in interpreting them we must discover the beliefs and the situation addressed in the community in order to understand the message. A corollary of this is that we learn either largely or exclusively about the community, rather than about Jesus when reading the gospels.

To get the negative out of the way first, I felt that Bauckham overstated the nature of the consensus to some extent. Unfortunately, however, I can’t deny that there are folks around who exemplify precisely the attitude he is addressing. In turn, I think he overstates his case, practically eliminating any study of the audience from interpretation of the gospels. There are cracks in this extreme case, though they occur much more in the other essays, and he displays what strikes me as a slightly more moderate approach in chapter 5, John for Readers of Mark.

Since he is attempting to force a paradigm shift, perhaps all this is understandable. Paradigms rarely shift when only nudged; they have to be attacked with sledge hammers. Then moderates (perhaps like me!) come around and start playing “moderately,” but in the new paradigm.

I think this reflects a fairly common problem in Biblical studies (and perhaps other disciplines, but that’s their concern), in that when someone proposes a new approach or tool there is a tendency to apply it broadly to just about everything. Form criticism provides a useful tool for studying certain sayings that are transmitted orally, and then find themselves part of a written text. Form critics tended to make their tool the tool for Bible study, and soon they were studying things that probably never existed separately as part of the oral tradition using a tool that was really only well suited to that one task.

If a carpenter worked in this manner with his tools we’d call him crazy. When Biblical scholars do so, we call them pioneers. And to be honest, in general they are. Their critics reverse the situation and throw out the tool because it doesn’t do everything its initial practitioners claim for it. This would be much like observing a carpenter using a hammer in many places where it should not be used, and concluding that the best option would be to discard the hammer.

In turn, redaction critics come along and discard much work that goes with form criticism. Quite regularly they correctly criticize form critical work, yet at the same time they want redaction criticism to be the tool for Biblical studies, and soon we have it applied to texts that really show no signs of redaction.

My suggestion here is that we need to salvage something from each of these things and make it useful, as many commentators (Brevard Childs comes to mind quickly) have done, not dismissing the methodologies completely, but putting them in their place.

In the case of the gospel audiences, it strikes me that there would be significant impact of the author’s more immediate community, but that the broader audience would certainly reduce the amount that one could properly deduce about about the audience. Yes, it’s a moderating position, to which I am naturally attracted, but I think it is a valid one, a case in which a moderating position is precisely what is called for.

I would use one of my own sermons as an example. I am very likely to prepare a text, preach it to a specific congregation, and then also post it here on my blog. The sermon is designed with the congregation I’m addressing in mind, but my words are not exclusively for them, and you should not interpret all of my words in terms of addressing that congregation. My ideas have formed in conversation with many people who hold many differing views. Yet there would be points that would be specific to that group.

Similarly the form critical approach which heard the voice of the community in everything and the voice of Jesus in nothing needed some moderation. If you think about a modern preacher telling a story, ask yourself whether the preacher’s story is determined by the lesson he’s teaching the congregation or by the facts of the story as history.

For me, the answer would be that I am loathe to adjust a story. I seek one that fits the situation I’m addressing without too much fudging of the facts. Nonetheless I do adjust emphasis. I have used the same story in different situations to make different points. I also know preachers who are quite comfortable adapting a story quite substantially to their needs at the moment.

Would the disciples do this to the story of Jesus? Intentionally? I doubt it. But unintentionally I think they could apply stories in very different ways as time went on, and thus the audience and the situation of the early church would impact the message. It may be difficult or impossible to determine just how much, but given the possibility, it seems useful to me to try.

The second chapter, The Holy Internet: Communication Between Churches in the First Christian Generation (pp. 49-70, Michael B. Thompson) is probably one of the two most helpful chapters I’ve read in the last five years, and the other one is the third chapter, Ancient Book Production and the Circulation of the Gospels (pp. 71-112, Loveday Alexander). This information is available elsewhere, but not in such a compact and helpful format. It’s very easy to underestimate communications in the ancient world.

I’m reminded of the difference between the way my children communicate and the way I did when I was their age. We were in South America during my teen years, and it cost several dollars a minute to make international calls. You just didn’t do it, unless things were really, really critical. Now I get pictures and videos of my grandchildren moments after whatever great milestone–or merely interesting moment–has passed. When I talk about it, they’re likely to look blank and say something about how we must have really been out of touch! But we weren’t. Those snail-mail letters actually did communicate.

When you compare snapping a picture with your cell-phone and sending it to a list of folks from your contacts to taking the picture, getting it developed, waiting for it, writing a letter, mailing it, and waiting for it to travel the necessary distance, it might seem like nothing would get communicated. But we did precisely that all the time.

In the same way, we might imagine that if we had to walk from days to weeks in order to visit a neighboring church, we wouldn’t do it. Yet the folks in the early church did, and they did it quite a bit. We might also imagine that few books would be distributed if they were copied by hand, but again, we would assume incorrectly. People did go to all that trouble, and produced quite a few.

One further thought I got from chapter three was the close connection between oral and written forms. I have argued this before in terms of the New Testament autographs. It’s quite possible that texts were revised even by authors after they were written down. We consider something more set in stone once it is written, but they perhaps did not. Some variations in early manuscripts might be explained by such freedom rather than scurrilous scribes (Western non-interpolations?)

About People, by People, for People: Gospel Genre and Audiences (pp. 113-146, Richard A. Burridge) is more dense and less useful than the preceding two chapters, but nonetheless is rather helpful and provides some of the very balance I was requesting in the first chapter. I think I would still lean a little bit more toward seeing an impact of the audiences, but the argumentation here is definitely worth considering.

I found Bauckham’s second essay, John for Readers of Mark (pp. 147-172) to be more interesting than his first, but ultimately unconvincing. I say this not in the sense of having a ready refutation, but rather in the sense of having a tentative verdict of “not proven” regarding his case. There are some intriguing connections here, and I’m not going to try to summarize them. Bauckham provides a way to read John as complementary to Mark on the assumption that Mark could be expected to be available to his readers. I think some of his arguments would be considerably blunted if gospel stories were transmitted orally, and especially if Mark represents a great deal of that oral tradition. But that is too much to try to argue right here. Bauckham does address the issue of oral traditions, but rejects them as adequate explanations; I find his rejection premature.

The sixth essay, Can We Identify the Gospel Audiences (pp. 173-194, Stephen C. Barton), is a discussion of how accurately we can determine the gospel audiences. I think we do well to be skeptical, especially of our own reconstructions, but I also think that we will be saying something about audiences if we interpret at all. In general, however, the chapter is quite balanced in my view.

Finally we have Toward a Literal Reading of the Gospels (pp. 195-217, Francis Watson). Again, this probably pushes a little further than I would be comfortable with, but it is nonetheless a valid counterpoint to the tendency to believe the gospels have nothing to do with literal events. Note here that Watson is using the word “literal” as it would be used in literary discourse, not the more popular idea of “having greater truth value.” The literal reading that Watson is looking for is one that allows the gospel writers to talk about actual events and people, even if he also wishes to symbolize something else.

Nicodemus is a good example. One can understand him as symbolic of a particular group of people with whom the community had to deal, yet there is no particular reason to assume that there was no Nicodemus, or that there is no underlying actual story. This is an area again that calls for careful nuance. I’d like to quote Watson:

Is it possible to envisage a future Gospels scholarship in which person and text are reintegrated? This suggestion would not entail the naive positivistic assumption that the Gospels are to be understood, so far as possible, as a direct transcript of historical reality. Like the various incompatible models of the so-called historical Jesus, the Gospels are interpretations of the historical reality to which they refer. The Gospels represent the early Christian reception of the life and person of Jesus, and the eventual emergence of the fourfold Gospel canon represents the decision that the Christian community will henceforth appeal to this complex rendering of the received reality and no other. . . .

All in all, this is a worthwhile goal.

In conclusion I must say that while I approached this book without enthusiasm, it grew on me as I read, and I think that the authors and editor have done a great service. I commend it to those who are interested in the study of the gospels.