Threads from Henry's Web

Category: Bible Study

  • A Bowdlerized Lectionary Passage

    There are a number of lectionary selections that skip part of a passage. Sometimes this is for time. Sometimes it relates to topic, but sometimes it is simply used to remove material that might offend.

    I like lectionary preaching and teaching. I think it forces pastors to get out of their comfort zones and expound on passages they might otherwise not read. I don’t think it’s the only way to go. I think preaching through the Bible has a place, as does topical preaching. But topical preaching is especially subject to the limitations of a pastor’s particular interests.

    Further, I like a worship service that includes all four passages of the lectionary. As Christians we have remarkably little patience for hearing the scripture. I sometimes get the feeling that people prefer the sermon because it has less Bible in it. I have encountered very few services that do include all the passages, but I have truly been blessed by those that do.

    But having said all of that, the Revised Common Lectionary can get no my nerves, and this week was a case in point. The Old Testament passage is from 2 Samuel 6. The story, as told in 2 Samuel, brings out many aspects of worship as seen then in Israel.

    We start with the ark of the covenant in exile, away from the center of Israelite life. David wants to bring the ark to Jerusalem, so he proceeds to do so joyfully. But joy is turned to sorrow when Uzzah tries to steady the ark and is struck dead.

    Now I know that’s a difficult passage in the Old Testament, but you might as well not try to understand the Old Testament/Hebrew Scriptures at all if you don’t want to recognize that the writers viewed contact with the holy as a very dangerous thing. (This is one of the difficult passages that my friend Alden Thompson discusses in his book Who’s Afraid of the Old Testament God?.

    After the ark is kept in a home for a time, David again comes to move it to Jerusalem with better preparation. The story ends with David dancing before the Lord, and his wife Michal despises him for it.

    Besides the inherent danger of approaching that which is holy, this story also illustrates the combination of fear and joy. We want to separate the fear of the Lord from the joy of the Lord these days. We don’t understand how these things can co-exist. But the Bible writers had no such problem.

    Now what about the lectionary passage? Proper 10B gives us 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19. This splits the story as all the people are making merry and before Uzzah touches the ark in 6:6, then resumes it when David starts taking the ark on from the house of Obed-Edom. It skips 6:12a which tells us how David is motivated to do so when he sees that Obed-Edom is blessed while the ark is present.

    We now continue the joyful procession, with our scripture reading skipping a funeral and three months of time, heading on into Jerusalem. Presumably, the congregation is not supposed to ask just why the ark is in Obed-Edom’s house.

    Finally, the story ends with verse 19 as everyone goes home happy, and skips Michal’s story, which provides the other counterpoint. Worship can be destroyed by disobedience to God, but it can also be destroyed by those who despise the joy.

    You may tell me that people can read these additional passages for themselves, and that the extra reading will not contribute to the service. I don’t think one can be certain of these things. For many church people these days, the scripture reading is pretty much all the scripture they get.

    In this case, I think the story is made to say something completely different than it does in its full context. It’s like a different story all together.

  • Interpreting the Bible VIII: Biblical Literalism, Attitude, and Avoidance

    This is a continuation of my series on interpreting the Bible. The first post in the series is Interpreting the Bible I: Obvious Exegesis, while the most recent one was Interpreting the Bible VII: Christians Contribute to Confusion.

    As a reminder, my starting point was a number of comments that suggested that those who take the Bible less literally are thereby less serious Christians. These suggestions were not coming from conservative Christians, but from non-Christians. In some cases, I question the motivation of such suggestions. I believe that Richard Dawkins, for example, prefers to debate hard-line fundamentalists, and so would like to dismiss the rest of us from the Christian faith.

    What I believe I have done so far is to show that interpreting the Bible, broadly called hermeneutics, is a bit more complex than these folks would like, and that just taking the Bible literally, as best as I can understand what they mean by “literally,” is not the way Christians have read the Bible historically. I have further noted that even basic exegesis, which I define as looking for the text as it was intended to be understood by the original audience, is more complex than these folks let on.

    Those who are eagerly waiting for me to solve issues such as the violent passages in the Bible or gay and lesbian marriage will still have to wait. While I will discuss those issues, my primary purpose here is to look at the method. I believe that our discussions of the Bible would be much more profitable if we would simply think and talk more about how we come to our understanding, rather than simply trying to defend that understanding. Two people may mean very different things by saying that a concept is “Biblical.”

    Let me reiterate here, as I believe has been demonstrated previously with the help of commenters, that the issues I’m discussing do not hinge on belief in inerrancy. Belief that the Bible is inerrant does not limit one with reference to determining what type of literature a particular passage is.

    I want to clarify this further by using a couple of examples. Two controversial books amongst conservatives are Jonah and Job. There are quite a number of people, even conservatives, who will claim that these books are fiction. To make that claim doesn’t mean that the books contain error. Rather, it means that they intentionally present whatever it is they present in fictional form. Now there are those who regard fiction itself as evil, but that is a different argument.

    Let’s say you have a historical novel, written with the intent of accurately portraying a certain place and time in history, but doing so using fictional characters in a fictional narrative. What would constitute an error? Well, if one introduced an historical event connecting to the story, and placed this event at the wrong time, it might be an error. Suppose one had an historical building, and it didn’t exist at the time in question. That might be an error as well.

    The key in all of these points would be the author’s intent. Such an author might well introduce a house or a small street that was not historical, but wouldn’t presumably introduce a new city hall. There are things that the historical novel wishes to convey that are facts, and there is a story to be enjoyed along the way. Similarly, C. S. Lewis is not in error in the Screwtape Letters if there is no demon named Screwtape, nor is he in error in the Chronicles of Narnia if there is no Narnia.

    I find this comparison to be of interest in the books of Jonah and Job, because I think we often get to argument about little houses and back streets in the story, while missing the big things.

    In Jonah, I frequently hear discussions of two major issues: First, was Jonah really swallowed by a “great fish” or a “whale”? Second, was Nineveh really so big it would take three days to walk across it. (Those who know some Hebrew may laugh a bit at the particular rendering there–I’m using the form in which I normally hear the question.) But are those really the questions?

    I would suggest several themes in the book of Jonah:

    1. God can call you to uncomfortable places and missions on which you would rather not go.
    2. Even when you’re going the other direction, God is likely to take note.
    3. Intervention may be uncomfortable–note how Jonah ends up on shore.
    4. God offers repentance even to people I may hate.
    5. God is gracious and merciful, even to the worst of sinners.

    … and a few more, none of which are really impacted by whether the story is fictional. All of these points have annoyed someone at some time, and indeed according to the story, they annoyed Jonah, and presumably were controversial amongst the readers of the book. I am not here trying to argue these points. I’m simply saying that finding fiction in the Bible is not the same thing as finding error.

    I consider Job even more interesting. If the book is historical, then we have an individual who suffered because God allowed him to be attacked and tormented. This may, of course, be extended by analogy or in principle to others. On the other hand, if the story is fictional, then one would have to assume that Job is presented as a type of sufferer, and that it is quite possible that God might call on me–or you–to suffer to make a demonstration for him. Are you concerned that bad things seem to happen to good and bad people alike? Here are some bad things that happen specifically to good people.

    Now you can get that second idea while reading Job as historical, though I have heard some folks argue that this is something that happened only once (they forget about Jesus, apparently), but I think that if you read it as a fictional account, you are forced to the conclusion that it applies broadly in principle–God’s servants may be called to suffer in the fight against evil, and they may never know just why. Note that Job never receives an explanation of his suffering.

    So you note here that the issue is not whether the text is in error or not, or whether one takes it literally or not, but rather just what are the literary characteristics, what is meant by them, and just how that might apply. If I could delete one statement from the vocabulary of Christian conservatives it would be: “I take the Bible literally.” If I could delete one statement from the vocabulary of liberal Christians: “I don’t take the Bible that literally.” Both are misleading. (As I note in my review of his book How to Study the Bible for Yourself, Tim LaHaye makes this his first rule of hermeneutics. Needless to say, I disagree; in fact, I regard it as one of the worst rules.)

    If I might pound this point into the ground a bit, some interpreters, including LaHaye, have applied this to the book of Revelation. But just what should one take “literally” in the book of Revelation? Personally, I tend to take the introduction quite literally when it uses a variety of literary indicators to show that John saw a vision. Once we’re in a vision, I take things as a vision, which may have varying degrees of attachment to physical things, and I believe that is the correct way to take them. Even where there are likely literal connections, such as with the churches, or with a number of symbols, the vision context warns us to look for more than meets the eye. Revelation 12 & 13, for example, while containing symbols that may be attached to specifics, also provide a very good general appreciation of the battle between good and evil, and numerous principles for living in the midst of such a battle. The literal/non-literal dichotomy is terribly inadequate to the task of understanding such a passage.

    Some may be wondering how one would take the vision framework non-literally. There are many commentators who would treat the “vision” as a literary device used to present a set of symbols. It is quite possible to understand it in that way, though I disagree. In fact, I think assuming an ecstatic state, in vision, for some of the writing of Revelation will explain some literary and linguistic peculiarities, but that is a completely different topic.

    Now I would maintain that conservatives, liberals, and those between are all susceptible to coming up with ad hoc interpretations that allow one to avoid the impact of a text, or to make a text have an inappropriate impact. Let me start with a controversial one.

    Leviticus 18:22 is commonly presented as a text demonstrating that homosexuality is sin and unacceptable. (Note that “I don’t take it that literally” doesn’t seem to work here. It’s pretty literal.) I like to present people with Leviticus 19:33-34, which says to treat an alien living among you as one of your own citizen. Now I’m not arguing what applies here and what doesn’t. Both are literal commands given in the same general body of law. A valid approach would be to ask just how commands given to Israel in Leviticus apply to others.

    But avoiding all of those issues, it’s very interesting to watch people’s responses to this connection. First, it is almost universally assumed that simply because I present Leviticus 19:33-34 I believe that Leviticus 18:22 is not applicable. Liberal audiences often assume that because they want to; conservative audiences assume that because they can’t imagine why I would present them with such an alternative text if it isn’t to undermine the impact of the first text.

    But the real question here is why and how either text should apply. I would suggest that there are similar tasks of interpretation and application that need to be used in both cases. In actuality, however, with most lay audiences I find that these two texts apply according to cultural inclinations. Those who favor gay and lesbian inclusion exclude 18:22 and very often the same people are delighted to include 19:33-34. Those who oppose homosexuality accept 18:22 as applicable, but will explain that 19:33-34 was for a different time and place.

    I would suggest that the processes of interpretation and application for both are complex, and that in neither case is the best approach simply trying to interpret the individual text. If your question is how should our nation treat aliens residing in the country, I doubt you will find clear direction as to what the law should be. If the question is how you, as an individual Christian, should treat aliens, I think you will find many scriptures that you can group together in finding the proper principles to guide your behavior. Similarly with homosexuality, I think the approach that says, essentially, “How many texts are there that forbid homosexual acts, and how can I (or can I not) explain them,” is precisely the wrong approach. A better approach to any question is to try to discover God’s ideal, and then look at how we might approach that.

    To continue with my examples, however, let me look at another passage:

    32Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. 33With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. 34There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. 35They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need. — Acts 4:32-35

    Here again you have a verse that can split interpreters right in the middle! Out of the characteristics of the early church just what are we supposed to apply today. Many of my more liberal brethren are pretty happy with the common ownership thing, and there being nobody in need in the church. They will take various attitudes toward the rest, such as whether this should be done entirely by the church, testimony to the resurrection, and so forth. There are many who would make Christianity a matter of the distribution of wealth, without any regard for the testimony to the resurrection.

    On the other hand, I can cite my own uncle, Don F. Neufeld, an interpreter in the Seventh-day Adventist Church, associate editor of the SDA Bible Commentary and editor of the SDA Bible Dictionary. In a personal conversation he was quick to point out to me that this practice was quickly abandoned by the church and didn’t appear to be the norm in Paul’s congregations, for example. This strikes me as an example of finding trajectories in scripture, something I think is quite appropriate, yet is often criticized as too subjective.

    I have heard many other explanations for common ownership, most aimed at keeping the early church from being too socialist. So here we have otherwise conservative interpreters finding the exit ramp in the middle of this verse. But liberals need not crow, because Christian unity, power, and mutual support is inextricably linked to the testimony of Jesus risen from the dead, and I think it would be difficult to build a case that the author of Luke-Acts would think it possible for it to be any other way.

    (I am aware that liberals do not necessarily deny the resurrection, though many do deny a physical resurrection. I am called liberal, and I personally accept a physcial–or bodily–resurrection. Nonetheless I believe that it is a liberal weakness to attempt to separate good works from the incarnation, and that is a weakness I see as ultimately fatal to Christianity.)

    The issue, I think, is our attitude in approaching scripture. There can be quite a variety of approaches to understanding scripture, and none of them are necessarily related to whether we take scripture seriously. What I would say characterizes a distinctly Christian approach to (Christian) scripture is the attitude of openness to correction. Each approach to interpretation can be used as a means of avoiding things I don’t like, i.e. of making scripture simply the excuse for what I wanted to do anyway.

    Liberal and conservative Christians don’t differ so much on the basic desire to avoid certain passages as on which passages they avoid and how they go about avoiding them.

    (I will continue next time by trying to look faithfully at some of the violent passages in the Old Testament. Don’t get impatient–this series will go on for a long time. Apologies to those who want a quick answer; I don’t believe in quick answers.)

  • Biblical Studies Carnival #41 Posted

    … at Exploring our Matrix, and an exceptional carnival it is, even by the rather high standards of the Biblical Studies Carnival.

    For those who may not follow it, the Biblical Studies Carnival is posted monthly, and its hosts have tended to make it very creative, rather than just listing the posts. Thus it requires extra work to rate “exceptional” in carnival terms.

    Oh, and I’m not just saying this because I had a post included, one I didn’t even submit. I have to be honest and say that while I read the carnival every month, and follow many links from it, I have never actually submitted anything. I rarely regard what I write here and elsewhere as Biblical scholarship–it’s more popularization. But I have definitely gotten much information through the carnival.

    Thanks to James McGrath for the excellent hosting work.

  • Best Sermon on the Bible

    … that I’ve heard, at least, and in my opinion!

    It’s by Dr. Wesley Wachob. Let me give you the link first: The Strange New World within the Bible. Those of you who are acquainted with Karl Barth will recognize the title. (You can subscribe to the First UMC Pensacola podcast here, or via iTunes.) As Dr. Wachob takes some jabs at seminary professors remember that he himself is no slouch in the academic sense. One could note, for example, his book The Voice of Jesus in the Social Rhetoric of James (Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series), though I suggest you learn Greek first!

    One of the great difficulties of my life comes from the distinction between my devotional reading and study that is aimed at data. I’m quite fond of both activities, but I believe they are very different. It’s very nice to know the history and background of a text as I read. To do so, I must have looked for data at some time. But if I stop with the data, while I get intellectual satisfaction, I don’t truly experience the scriptures as the word of God.

    Perhaps not surprisingly, my morning Bible study time is both an essential of my life, one that I will notice both mentally and physically should I neglect it, and also my greatest temptation toward neglect. It’s so easy to tell myself that I will be reading a very good spiritual book today as an editor, and thus I will be doing my Bible study. But searching a book for stylistic problems is not the same as letting God speak to you directly from the scriptures.

    It is difficult for me to describe the experience of reading the scriptures in such a way that prayer, worship, reading, listening, and enjoying God’s presence merge. I suppose there are spiritual disciplines involved, though I’m not that good at those things. I think it truly is a gift of grace brought by the Holy Spirit. Dr. Wachob described what I feel.

  • How to Keep Religion in the Public Square

    Every so often there’s another outburst of complaints about how religion is being suppressed in this country, and how it no longer has its place in the public square. And there are the occasional really silly incidents that actually support such a claim. I note, for example, that our local public library here in Pensacola, Florida refuses to permit religious groups to conduct meetings, which is simply a lawsuit waiting to happen.

    On the other hand, many, and I suspect most, of the complaints arise more from inconvenience, and the legitimate requirements that people use some kind of etiquette in the way in which they use the public square. The complaint of suppression is frequently actually a complaint that one is not getting the proper strokes, or that the government is not funding one’s favorite religious cause.

    WorldNetDaily has an article complaining that a clause forbidding the use of stimulus money to build buildings whose main use is religious. For example, you can’t build a seminary with the money. (HT: Dispatches.) They do this with the ridiculous headline, Stimulus to ban religious worship. Yeah, right. Either from the church or the state side, I very much do not want the government constructing buildings for religious purposes.

    But if we Christians do not have what we think is our proper place in the public square, why is that? Is it because of suppression? Christianity is, after all, the majority religion. I do note, however, that when this is limited to True ChristiansTM, no matter who gets to make the definition, the number drops substantially.

    But it seems to me that we’re so busy complaining about the opportunities we don’t have (and I’m not prejudicing the issue of what privileges we should have) that we aren’t really taking advantage of the privileges and opportunities we do have.

    If you are a parent who complains that children can’t pray at school, let me ask a couple of questions. Did you take the time to pray with your children before you sent them out to the bus stop? Will you pray with them when they get home? Will you take time out of your schedule today to pray for your children during their time at school? And even more, have you investigated just where and when at school your children can pray? Have you taught them how to pray for themselves?

    If you are complaining that our young people aren’t getting enough Biblical education, again let me ask you a few questions. Have you read your Bible today? Have you chosen a passage and really studied it, so that if someone referenced it in literature you’d “get” it? Have you or will you take time with your children to study the Bible or something about your faith? Do you encourage your children to read the Bible? Do you see to it that they know something about their church community?

    And more importantly, have you let that life of prayer and Bible study impact the way you act in the public square? When you ask “what would Jesus do?” does it come out to something other than your own inclinations? Do people who meet you know you’re a Christian? If they find out you’re a Christian will their opinion of Christians improve?

    If you don’t relate to many of the things I’m suggesting, I think you should reconsider complaints about being restricted in your religious activities. You aren’t taking advantage of the many opportunities that are available.

    If you or your children aren’t praying enough or studying the Bible enough, is it the fault of the much maligned ACLU? Or is it a result of your desire to have somebody else take care of your children’s religious education because you don’t actually care enough to take the time to do it yourself?

  • Interpreting the Bible – Mid-Course Focus

    This isn’t a summary of previous posts, but rather an attempt to focus on the issue I’m trying to address with this series before I continue. The problem with a series like this is that the examples begin to take over the topic. Since I have used complementarianism and theistic evolution as examples, and brought inerrancy into the discussion in order to demonstrate that it is not the key issue involved, it is easy for a reader to decide that I’m trying to debate any one of those issues, or perhaps to prefer that I debate them and try to redirect the topic.

    Since the posts to which I responded brought up two more issues, homosexuality and violent passages in the Bible, which are again controversial issues, I want to focus back on the point I’m trying to make: It’s both difficult and inappropriate to tell your opponent what his or her position ought to be. In this case I’m responding to the charge that a Christian who accepts the theory of evolution is less Biblical because the “obvious exegesis” of Genesis favors a young earth creationist position.

    Also, though I believe that theistic evolution is the best position to take at the moment, I am not attempting to demonstrate that. Rather, I’m attempting to show that it, along with a number of other positions on Genesis, can be held plausibly as interpretations of the Biblical text. The particular position one adopts depends on other factors, including the particular approach one takes to Biblical interpretation. After this mid-course focus I’m going to look at other issues and ask whether the exegesis is so obvious that an opponent of some particular brand of theology can easily dismiss it as “not real Christianity.” Within some limits, Christianity allows, and has always allowed, some flexibility.

    The problem often starts with a charge that goes something like this:

    1) The Bible clearly teaches X
    2) X is unthinkable or false
    3) So Christianity must be false

    Now there are numerous and huge gaps in the logic as I have written it, but I think those gaps generally exist in the argument as presented by critics of Christianity. (Note to my philosophically inclined friends: To avoid general implosion with possible damage to the space-time continuum, do not try to critique that as a syllogism. Did I say it was a syllogism? I did not!) Let me apply this to a couple of relevant issues:

    1) The Bible clearly teaches that the earth was created in seven literal days 6,000 years ago
    2) That teaching is false
    3) Christianity must be false

    One obviously missing element here is “Christianity actually teaches X” but that is generally assumed, as is the direct connection between “The Bible clearly teaches X” and “Christianity accepts X as true.”

    For example, one could say that the Bible teaches that an animal must be brought as a sacrifice if one sins, but Christianity does not teach this, for reasons that seem good and proper to pretty much all Christians. Here we have a teaching that is fairly clear, but that Christians believe applied to a particular set of times and places, not including the present. You can try to use this to demonstrate that Christians don’t really follow the Bible, but it’s not going to help as an argument against Christianity because it teaches animal sacrifice. (PETA beware!)

    That would fit more with another form of the argument:

    1) The Bible teaches that God condones and even commands violence
    2) Condoning violence is unthinkable (but where is the demonstration that it is wrong?)
    3) Therefore Christianity is false

    Now supposing this argument is used against a Christian who is a pacifist. Clearly the conclusion is false with reference to that person’s belief.

    The point I am trying to make here is not primarily whether the Bible teaches any of these things, or whether they are true or false, but whether a Christian can believe or disbelieve them and still be a Christian. Is it proper to dismiss theistic evolutionists and even old earth creationists as “not real Christians,” rather than to respond to their actual position?

    Dawkins, in his book The God Delusion, clearly wants to argue with fundamentalists and then dismiss all Christians based on his arguments against fundamentalists. I blogged about that starting in From the Land of the Deluded, where I make some similar points.

    I have two suggestions here. First, that Christianity is not defined by American fundamentalism. I have supported that partially and will continue to do so as the series progresses. Second, that it is better to respond to an opponent based on what that opponent actually believes rather than what you imagine them to believe or what you think they ought to believe.

    It is inevitable that this will sometimes fail, but it is an admirable goal in any case, and trying to define your opponent out of existence as the first step to a debate is probably not going to get you very far.

    Christians do this to atheists from time to time as well, in particular by concluding that an atheist actually hates God or does not desire to be under authority. This suggests that an atheist isn’t really an atheist, but is rather a rebellious theist. Perhaps it would be a good idea to stretch our Christian imaginations a little bit, and allow that someone might just not find the idea of God convincing, or might not see sufficient evidence to believe. Imagine, in other words, that the atheist is honestly stating his or her beliefs.

    Further, we need to realize that what seems to us a certain result of a particular belief might not be so certain for someone else. In talking about grief, I am likely to mention that my relationship with Jesus Christ and spiritual disciplines including prayer and fasting have been critical to me in facing loss. Do I mean that someone without those particular beliefs will not be able to handle what I have handled? Not at all! From personal experience I know persons from other faith traditions who have found their beliefs and spiritual practices critical, and I know non-believers who have also endured and come out of such trials successfully. I mention this particular case because it is very common for Christians to believe that atheists will be unable to endure hardship and loss.

    One last illustration might help. I speak frequently to Methodist groups, as I’m a member of a United Methodist congregation. Every Methodist group with whom I have discussed Calvinism has come to the conclusion that Calvinists will not engage in evangelism. Why? If Calvinists believe in predestination–that God has determined who will be saved or lost–what purpose is their for evangelism? The result is already determined!

    Now I have always pointed out that Calvinists do, in fact, practice evangelism, and thus attacking them for a failure in outreach would be inappropriate. A few years ago, however, I had the experience of hearing John Blanchard, a Calvinist evangelist (something many Methodists would regard as an oxymoron), who was asked this very question: Why, if you believe in predestination, are you an evangelist?

    His answer, as I remember it, was this: Predestination is a doctrine, and I believe it; evangelism is a command, and I obey it.

    Hmmm. A bit different logic than we Methodists were assuming he would use, but here we have him believing both things. He is not the person we assumed he would be.

    Neither is the theistic evolutionist the person you assumed him to be. He is not necessarily a scientist whose religion is loosely pasted on. He might be a devout believer and a scientist. On the other hand, his training might be in Biblical studies, like mine is, and the church and faith might be the stuff of his daily life. In any case, he (or she) not likely to be impressed when you claim he’s not who he says he is.

    As I move forward I’m going to discuss views on homosexuality and the church. It may surprise some to know that many advocates of acceptance of gays and lesbians in the full fellowship of the church are actually quite conservative in their understanding of exegesis. One can fault their results in a number of passages, in my view, but one can hardly say that they lack the intent or a conservative approach, even as one charges them with special pleading in particular cases.

    And so as not to disappoint, let me note right now that my intention will not be to argue one side or another here, but rather to look at the types of Biblical interpretation involved.

    Previous posts in this series were:

  • Interpreting the Bible IV – Scientific Statements

    In my daily reading I encounter many different types of literature, each of which relates to the science I know in a different way. For example, I might read a newspaper, in which case the question is just what is an article about. Is it about art? I will look at it through one set of glasses. A report on a scientific discovery? My expectations change substantially. I might read a book of fantasy, in which case I expect very little relationship to real science. If I read a science text, however, I am going to judge it very critically on how well it conveys scientific information.

    In each of these cases, what constitutes a “mistake” is going to differ greatly. “The sun sets in the west” is very proper in popular speech, in art, or in poetry. It’s questionable in a story about science, and in general would only be used as an example of how inaccurate popular speech can be in a science text.

    If one criticized a poem for its scientific inaccuracy for such a statement, one would be viewed as odd. Viewing the Bible that way is pretty standard. Now I’m not denying here that the Bible has different types of literature in which scientific statements might be seen differently. What I will say, however, is that the Bible has nothing in it that qualifies even as a popular news story about a scientific discovery. It certainly has in it nothing close to a textbook on a scientific topic.

    Yet many people expect a specifically scientific type of accuracy when they read the Bible. I believe this comes to some extent from the modern view of scientific knowledge as the best type of knowledge available. We want scientific proof that God exists or that miracles happen, because we believe that’s the best category of evidence available. We think the Bible should talk about science in some way, because science (in the modern science, not the older “general knowledge”) is the best type of knowledge there is.

    Of course, God may have a different idea. Personally I would argue that God does talk about science, and he does so in the fabric of the universe. We hear that message through scientific study. I don’t want to get into the details of such a view here; suffice it to say it exists.

    But we still must be careful in saying that the Bible does not make scientific statements. I’ve gotten into trouble on this before, because people often hear that as “The Bible doesn’t say anything correct about the physical world.” That’s not the case and it’s not my point. What I mean is that the Bible doesn’t make statements either with scientific precision, i.e. intended as testable hypotheses properly qualified, nor does it attempt to advance specifically scientific knowledge.

    Now there’s a lot of room for disagreement there. Just how precisely must the Biblical statements agree with a modern scientific view? Laying aside the question of whether the modern scientific understanding of any topic is correct (what will people think of our current knowledge in another 200 years, not to mention 2,000 or 4,000?), one can at least divide that between those who believe that the Bible need not agree with scientific knowledge in any particular way (though it may) or those who believe that where the Bible makes a statement that impinges on science in any way, it must be accurate.

    Let’s take a quick example, which I already mentioned previously. We know that the Bible is not a mathematics text, yet it almost accidentally mentions the ratio that is PI, though not providing us with a number calculated to any decimal places in 1 Kings 7:23:

    Then he made the molten sea; it was round, ten cubits from brim to brim, and five cubits high. A line of thirty cubits would encircle it completely. (NRSV)

    I know of some Biblical critics who are embarrassed that people bring this up as an objection to the Bible, and well they should be, because it really causes nobody any actual problems. On the other hand, it illustrates what I am talking about quite nicely.

    There are several things that one might think about this statement:

    1. The writer is using approximations in his numbers
    2. The brazen sea isn’t precisely round, but perhaps oval, another type of approximation
    3. These are not builder’s plans, and thus the precise number is unnecessary
    4. There is no particular reason for the writer to provide us with the value of PI

    All of which are quite possibly true. Some others have brought up issues such as measuring from the outside or the inside of the rim. I would note that Biblical Hebrew doesn’t have an easy means of expressing decimal places, and fractions are a mite wordy. So what is the difference here? PI is 3.1416, which is itself rounded from 3.14159, which is rounded from… Why do I choose a particular precision? I do so according to my need, in this case my need to show how we approximate numbers on a regular basis.

    One could quite reasonably read the passage as “The sea was round, about 10 cubits across and about 30 cubits around the rim.”

    My point? The precision of our statements of such topics depends on the need. I heard a similar example yesterday in a store. One of the clerks was giving directions. He said, “You turn right and then go 2 or 3 miles, and you’ll find Walmart on the left.” Is he giving lousy directions if Walmart is 3.3 miles? 2.7? 1.9? Actually, if he follows the directions he’ll find where he’s going.

    Now compare this to directions I got about a year ago to find someone’s house. I was told to turn right and then check my odometer, because I needed to go precisely 1.1 miles and turn right on a road that didn’t have a clear road sign. I did so, and at 1.1 miles I turned right onto the specified road, and only saw the sign with the road name on it after I made the turn. The clerk’s directions were good for his circumstances, but would have failed for mine. On the other hand, giving a precise number to the tenth for finding Walmart would simply be distracting.

    To get back to Genesis 1, if one assumes it is intended as a scientific treatise, one should be concerned with things like how days would be calculated before the fourth day when the sun was created. (Though I would note that one does not have to conclude from the text that the sun was actually created on the fourth day; it might be a case of revelation.) One might also be concerned with what “day” was before the fourth day. After all, the sun is created to “rule the day” suggesting that “day” already existed before the sun was there. But now I’m descending into silliness.

    If, on the other hand, Genesis 1 is liturgy, there is no reason to expect a logical and scientific progression in the events. But between these views we have any number of senses in which Genesis might be heard as a form of narrative history, in which case, while it need not make scientifically precise statements, it could well make statements that would impact scientific data. For example, if the story says, “the sun set,” even if we allow the non-scientific nature of the way of indicating the end of the day, if there is no sun, the statement would be false–no sun, no setting.

    In each case one must look at the particular genre and the nature of what the author is trying to communicate within that genre (witness my two instances, both of giving directions, but with different requirements), in order to determine what type of statements to expect, and the precision one must expect of them. A man describing the temple has no need to communicate the precise value of PI, while someone celebrating God’s creation of the world has no need to describe orbits or solar fusion.

    Now I personally believe that not only does the Bible not make scientific statements as I have described, but that it speaks its message into a context of the knowledge of the audience. In other words, as God wishes to communicate things about his order, his control of creation, and his plan for humanity, he doesn’t distract them by saying that they don’t understand yet that the world is a sphere (though they did think it was round like a dinner plate), that the earth revolves around the sun rather than the reverse, or that stars were light years away.

    Those points, as interesting as they would be to us today, would be a distraction. In fact, I would suggest that they would completely take over the more important message that the Bible has to deliver.

    We think scientific knowledge is the most important; God doesn’t agree, and he communicated according to his priorities, not ours.

  • Interpreting the Bible II: Excursus on the Plain Sense

    I want to tie up a few loose ends in my first post on this series as well as point out some things on which I will need to comment further. In particular, I read this post by John Hobbins that references a post by Wayne Leman regarding complementarianism and the “plain sense” of scripture. I want to distinguish what I mean by “obvious exegesis” from the idea of “plain sense” and define what I would mean by either one. One should note, of course, that what I mean by those terms may differ from the way others use similar terms.

    One might ask why I would bring in a second controversial topic when I started with evolution. Here, at least, there is a method to my madness. I think it’s very important to check out methods of interpretation by applying them to other texts and other topics. Very often we change our approach to interpretation when the topic or text changes–always a bad sign.

    I recall one online discussion about plain text of scripture in which the texts were limited to the Sermon on the Mount. The individual with whom I was discussing started with Matthew 5:33-37. He told me I was in violation because I said I would take an oath as a juror, or in the unlikely event I took a public office.

    No discussion worked, even to the point of getting him to understand the possibility that someone else might understand the application of the text differently. He appealed to the “plain sense,” and after several rounds of discussion defined this as the way an average American high school student would understand the text.

    So I pointed him to Matthew 5:29-30 in which Jesus says to pluck out your right eye if it offends, or to cut off your hand. How would the average high school student understand that command? Now he had a very complex explanation which involved fulfillment of the command through the willingness to face martyrdom for one’s faith–a much more allegorical explanation than my view that 33-37 is a hyperbolic way of saying “Just tell the truth!”

    One point here is that the “plain sense,” however defined, is very often not all that plain, and the way in which one comes to a “plain sense” in one text may differ substantially from the way in which one discovers it in another.

    But further, the idea of plain sense is not the same as what I mean here by “obvious exegesis.” People have very little patience for distinguishing between the historical meaning of a text and it’s application, but the distinction is important. These terms are not always used consistently, but I’m using “exegesis” to refer to that historical meaning, or more precisely the meaning of the original author to his or her audience.

    That historical meaning is much easier to discern than is the application, but even so, one of the main points of this series is that it is not only difficult to define, such as whether one goes into the prehistory of a redacted text, but difficult to achieve once you’ve chosen the precise target. It simply isn’t always all that obvious what an ancient text means.

    Application, which is usually in view when one hears “plain sense,” is even more complex than is the historical meaning. The fact is that one cannot keep all the commands in scripture. Many of them are obviously intended for particular times, but even amongst the rest there are many commands that do not work well together, or which we would even regard as evil, such as the death penalty for sabbath breaking.

    This isn’t exactly a new problem, invented by modernist or liberal Christians (perhaps like me?) who want to avoid following the Bible, but don’t want to admit it. Acts 15 describes an early church conference at which the discussion was precisely about what commands would apply to what people, particularly gentiles. In 1 Corinthians, starting with chapter 8, Paul expresses a somewhat different theology on the issue. The arguments all around might be very similar to modern ones. One side might well have relied on the plain sense of scripture, while the other relied more on theological nuances.

    Now the topic of John Hobbins’ and Wayne Leman’s posts, the complementarian vs egalitarian debate, is a good test case. Let me limit myself to Paul as an illustration.

    There are egalitarians who believe Paul was actually an egalitarian, and that there are good explanations for all of his comments that make them consistent with egalitarianism. There are those who believe that Paul personally had a problem with women, but that egalitarianism is nonetheless the correct theological position today.

    Complementarians generally would regard Paul as supportive of their position, but this depends to large extent on the idea that we today should do the same thing as Paul did in this particular case.

    When I discussed my own position (very egalitarian), I cited Galatians 3:28, “no more . . . male or female” in support of my position. Do I think Paul intends here to support an egalitarian position? If so, why does he elsewhere forbid women to teach?

    The fact is that I don’t think Paul is an egalitarian, or that he intends to support egalitarianism here. I think he got pretty close to erasing the Jew or Greek boundary, and probably anticipated seeing slave or free become equal in practice. I doubt he thought of a day when women would be pastors on an equal basis with men.

    So how can I be egalitarian and also claim to give any authority to the Bible? Well, there are certainly many things that I think were appropriate for a particular time or place, but are not appropriate for others. What Paul taught in his pastoral messages to his churches is not good advice for he 21st century.

    So I’m arrogant enough to put myself above Paul? Well, yes, in the sense that I live in the 21st century, and he most definitely didn’t. I get to look at my situation and my time and try to apply the principles that come from the gospel to what I find here.

    I think Paul glimpsed this, and points to it in passages such as Galatians 3:28 or Romans 16:7 when he calls Junia as apostle. But the path to that application is nothing like direct, and nothing that I think anyone would define as the “plain sense.”

    I believe it permits me to express the historical meaning without having to bend it to modern practice, while at the same time letting the gospel guide me beyond the word to a more appropriate application today.

    In conclusion, let me reiterate that my point here is not to provide a substantial support for any particular position but rather to show that Biblical interpretation, from historical meaning to current application is much more complex in practice than most people believe, and that this complexity is not something new.

    In later posts I will provide further examples of cases in which multiple and perhaps odd interpretations of scripture have been made within scripture itself and in the history of the church. I also want to discuss both the definition of inerrancy and its application in interpretation.

  • Book Notes: Theology of the Old Testament (Brueggemann)

    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.

  • Book Notes: God’s Problem (Ehrman)

    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.