The Bible Talk: Postscripts
Postscript 1 (Scholars Only?)
“So, Reed, this is a lot. It seems like you’re saying that I have to have advanced degrees in ancient languages and literature, ancient history and culture, archaeology and manuscripts to even begin to understand the Bible. Help!”
Here is what I want to say: it is a lot. There’s no getting around it. Interpretation, discerning, deciding about meaning is actually unavoidable. Those who appeal to a straightforward “plain reading of scripture” think they exist outside a spectrum of opinions about how to read the Bible, but in fact that is a part of that spectrum like any other. Go read about how Jews were reading the Bible long before anyone else got their hands on it and you will see that “plain reading” was a sensibility that came along much later.
With The Wall Street Journal and The Onion and Where the Wild Things Are and The Lord of the Rings, we know innately what sorts of things these are and what sort of truth to expect from them. In other words, we instinctively know how to read them. Sure, scholars can help illuminate some things, but the gap is much much smaller because they are from our own world.
But the Bible is just indisputably not from our world, which means that it takes some work to figure it out. This is what I mean when I say that it’s more than just the language that needs translation.
Welcome to the world of biblical studies! We love our popular preachers, pastors, authors, and podcast hosts, but Bible study does not begin and end with them. In reality, they are bringing up what is more like the caboose of a long train of very specialized experts. The Bible has to be dug up, pieced together, translated, contextualized, and interpreted, and so we have archaeologists, manuscript specialists, linguists, historians, scholars of ancient literature, and theologians. Oh and it also has to be manufactured, sold, and bought, so we also have publishers and booksellers. And young motherhood devotional versions of The Message.
Like I said, it’s a lot! But it’s okay! Don’t be discouraged: the way of the world in so many regards is that we are forced to trust authorities and experts. That, too, is unavoidable, and we’re getting along ok. We know that there are people who earnestly dedicate their lives to honest investigation of all kinds of things and we trust them, often with our lives. No sane person would pull out a technical manual of a Boeing 747 and after one “plain reading” tell the pilot to move over. Or think of it this way: if you have a supreme court case coming up, you get a constitutional lawyer and historian. I mean, you have the right to be your own defense, but I’m guessing it won’t go well.
So, sorry to say it, but if you take the Bible seriously, you are going to have to listen to what people say about it (even translation itself is people saying something about it).
Gregory the Great said scripture is like a river: shallow enough here for the lamb to go wading, but deep enough there for the elephant to swim.
I take this to mean that, whether you’re a heavily invested Bible examiner or not, there is still a throughline, a story that I think is understandable in the shallow and deep ends. (If I had to summarize it in one sentence, I would say it is “The steadfast love of God endures forever.”) The Bible can be life-giving to anyone. Mystery of mysteries: it’s living! Through it God can and has encountered people educated and uneducated alike!
My advice is, if you want to dive deep, find someone who resonates with you even as they challenge you. And find someone you don’t agree with and see what they say. Give them an honest chance. Engage their thoughts and arguments openly. Don’t be afraid. And then ask yourself why so-and-so resonates with you and why you find such-and-such disagreeable. If you come around to someone you really trust, follow the rabbit hole of voices behind them. No one person stands on a stage alone. There’s a whole host they’re in conversation with back in the green room. If you like them, go see who they’re talking to. And so on and so on.
Finally on this point, if you’re scuba diving in the depths of the Bible, please don’t bully people who aren’t. Please don’t take folks who are learning to swim or just enjoying wading and shove their heads under the current, waterboarding them until they see things like you do.
If you’re one who doesn’t want to dive deep, that’s ok, but be aware that’s the way you’re deciding to do it, and please don’t tell people who struggling in the deep end that their doubts and confusions need not be so by insisting they’re not really drowning because the whole thing is really as shallow as a wading pool, and then calling the acceptance of this idea childlike faith.
Postscript 2 (On Dangers and Reading Well)
“But Reed, isn’t it dangerous to think of the Bible this way? If it’s just a story, can’t anyone make it say whatever they want?”
Two things.
First, it seems like there’s an assumption here that, if we think of the Bible exclusively as a collection of accurate factual reports and/or pure theological propositions, we can somehow avoid the act of interpretation altogether and therefore make ourselves immune to the danger of getting things wrong. As if we are jurors dispassionately observing and analyzing evidence that automatically renders a verdict. We do not interpret anything, we suppose; we simply believe or reject it.
But aren’t there already tons of people who think of the Bible in this way and yet arrive at radically different conclusions about all kinds of matters related to theology, humanity, faith, etc.?
Factual accounts and doctrinal expositions have the same potential pitfalls as stories, poems, songs, and all the rest. Precluding any narrative, artistic, evocative, or suggestive aspects does not remove the need to discern and decide what texts are saying. There is never getting around discerning and deciding, both at the level of what genre a text is and what it means. Interpretation is inevitable. It can always go badly. The ‘danger’ is inescapable.
Second, to the question: if it is a suprafactual expression, as in the case of mythology or poetry, say, does that mean we can just make it say anything we want?
Forgive me, but this seems to be the thinking of someone who doesn’t have a lot of experience critically engaging different kinds of texts. It’s a common enough issue — we live in a society that prizes productivity, practicality, science, technology, data, etc. So we tend to belittle the arts, saying “aw that’s cute” as we hang their picture on the fridge, then pat them on the head and scooch them back off to their coloring books, leaving science, logic, reason, deduction and the rest to sit at the grownup table. And, not taking them seriously as powerful vessels of meaning, we do not make it a priority to know how to read them well.
But that doesn’t mean they can’t be read well or poorly, better or worse.
Critical reading of artistic texts (novels, paintings, songs, movies, etc.) is indeed a learned skill. This is often overlooked, probably because many people are regularly exposed to the arts in a way they’re not exposed to, say, Boeing 747 manuals. But just because everyone has lots of experience watching films, say, and also has lots of strong opinions about them, does not mean that they know what they are talking about. It doesn’t mean they can’t have an opinion. It just means that we shouldn’t give as much credibility to their opinion (as, say, to a professional critic’s) as a valid reading when evaluating what a movie is actually saying, or indeed, if it says it well.
At any rate, interpretations (or “readings”) of texts can be better and worse, more credible and less, nearer to the mark and more amiss. One can try to make a text say anything they want (which, again, can also be done with even pure facts, as lawyers can tell you) but one can be wrong. This is as true for the Bible as anything else.
So what makes a reading better or worse? I suggest two considerations.
Is it plausible?
Is it compelling?
Think of these considerations as forming a punnett square, where a reading on the plausibility axis can be “plausible” or “farfetched” and on the compelling axis “compelling” or “dry/flat/downright confusing.” (Really these axes represent spectrums, a range from plausible to farfetched or from compelling to flat; it’s not either/or.)
As to the first question: “Is it plausible?” which is really another way of saying, “Does it respect context?”
And I suggest that the context for the whole act of reading is not just the history/culture/etc. surrounding the text itself but rather the complex interplay of the “three worlds” of the text, and the reader’s job is to understand this the best they can.
The first is the world behind the text. This is the world of the author. In the case of the Bible, this world is very far removed from us. What language did they speak? What idioms and metaphors were a part of that language? Where did they live? What religions and ideologies were they engaged with? What kinds of technology did they have? Who were they in conversation with? What government did they live under? How was their society organized? What modes of communication did they know? What might have been their purposes for writing? Etc etc etc.
The second is the world of the text. What are the words on the page? What form/structure are they in? What’s the tone? What’s the style? Does this text have any relationship to other parts of the Bible? Who are the characters of this text, if any? Where are they? What happens? What’s the driving tension or conflict? Etc etc etc.
And the third is the world before the text. This is the world of you, the reader. All the same questions from the world behind the text apply. But also more that have to do with the history you already have with the text. What have you been told about it? What experiences do you associate with it? What do you already think particular words mean? Etc etc etc.
For a reading to be as good/reasonable/accurate as possible, the reader ought to have done the best they can to discover and pay attention to each of these worlds and their interplay with one another. Is my reading closer or farther to what the original author and audience might have thought? Is it anchored well in the text itself? Is it aware of what I am bringing to the table from my own experience?
Being honestly aware of and humbly acknowledging these worlds and their interplay makes for what I’d call the plausibility of a reading.
But, importantly, I don’t think good readings are strictly a matter of plausibility, as if the point is to ultimately arrive at a single most “valid” or “correct” reading of something like Psalm 137 or one of Jesus’s parables, for example. So, the other thing I think we should look for when considering a particular reading of a text is — is it compelling? Does it hum? Does it yield wise living? Does it bear good fruit? Does it make us more Christlike?
Artistic texts are multivalent — they can open up many thought-provoking, heart-molding, powerful readings. Perhaps a reading is what the original author intended. Perhaps it is something else. I know this positively fries our Western, scientific, analytic circuits, but for Jewish readers (whose text this originally was) this is a strength, not a weakness. Just think of the parables. Their power is not in their ability to tell the hearer an answer. It’s in their power to draw the hearer in and let them explore possibilities and discover truths that are transformative. Parables are like rooms with a view out onto the world. We can take up residence inside them and look out from different windows. “What if I am the Good Samaritan here? What if I am the guy dying on the side of the road? What if I am the Levite?” The juice, the hum, the life, the transformation is in the active wrestling, conversing, arguing, and questioning of the text that we do (and never come to the end of) with one another.
So, perhaps a plausible, compelling reading is best and farfetched, dry readings are best avoided But again, it’s not strictly about always finding just the one reading that lands in the optimal square. For example, I find Frederick Buechner’s reading of the parable of the talents in his piece “Adolescence and the Stewardship of Pain” to be not so plausible (I don’t think it’s what Jesus or his hearers were likely thinking of) but incredibly compelling. Ok, then. Let’s not throw it out; let’s recognize that for what it is, and to the extent that it helps me be more like Christ, lean into it.
I could go on and on here, but I’ll leave that for another full book on its own and just cap it this way for now: we are always discerning and deciding both what kind of communication a text is and what it means. And there can be both poorer and better (compelling/plausible —> dry/farfetched) readings of both factual and suprafactual accounts.
Postscript 3 (How Then Shall We Read?)
“Reed, this is interesting. But I’m not sure how I’m supposed to read in light of this new paradigm. Beyond exploring some scholarship possibilities, got any tips?”
Yes! Here’s a nice numbered list.
Don’t merely read the Bible more — read more than the Bible. Read poetry, picture books, films, music. art shows, cookbooks, and all the rest. Try to become a better critical reader of all different kinds of things and then bring those skills back to the Bible.
But also, read the Bible more. And when you do, read literarily, not (blindly) literally. Your first question shouldn’t be what does this say or what does this mean but how does it say it?
Read in community. Read out loud. Read together. Read with imagination. Read in conversation. Don’t just be an echo chamber. And don’t be judgmental, either. Allow any questions and explore any rabbit trails. But also, investigate ideas, interpretations, and readings rigorously. Have a conscience, literally — know together. If you feel like someone is way off, say it and explore why. If you feel like they’re onto something valid and/or compelling, encourage them to keep going.
Be aware of your first-order language when it comes to the Bible. First-order language refers to ideas that are “obviously true” to a group and so go unquestioned. It’s learned early, repeated constantly, emotionally loaded, socially reinforced, and rarely examined for assumptions. Words get used so often that they eventually become empty vessels, no longer referring to anything other than themselves and what people assume they mean. This is “Christianese.” It happens to really important words: “righteousness,” “salvation,” “faith,” even “God.” We’ve got to keep asking “What do we mean when we say that?” This is second-order language, and it’s the antidote — it exercises reflection, curiosity, examination, and self-criticality.
Consider the fruit your reading bears — fear or love? If your reading/interpretation/way holding of scripture has consistently had destructive effects (on your relationships, on your psyche, on your faithfulness to the way of Jesus), question the soundness of that reading/interpretation/way of holding.
Let Jesus be your ultimate hermeneutic. Even as you get better at discerning texts and deciding on better reading, there will always be hard things in the text. Like for me, I’m still figuring out what to do with Joshua and it’s divine decrees for genocide. Until I find a way I can hold it with total confidence and integrity, I try to hold it in tension (“maybe this, maybe that…”). And I default to Jesus as my lens for interpreting it. So, if Jesus says “love your enemies” and “let the children come to me,” then I will assume I’ve got something wrong if I think Joshua is saying that God genuinely wanted Israel to slaughter the Canaanite kids. It’s not only that Jesus is Godlike, but also that God is Jesuslike. I guess I believe that, when truly and properly understood for what God genuinely intends the Scripture to say, then the Bible will turn out to be Jesuslike, too.
Postscript 4 (What More Then Shall I Read?)
Two things.
A) I don’t like the thing where we read who someone has been reading and immediately google those names (sometimes followed by “heretic??”) and see what the internet has to say about them without having to actually engage their work. Or, if we are already familiar with those names, whether we love or hate them, we do the same thing: resort to judgments we’ve already made and still not engage their work.
B) I also don’t like the thing where you see who someone has been reading and then think “I bet those two are best friends and Reed agrees with everything that other person says.” Of course I don’t agree with everything anyone says (except Freddy, of course). The works I would recommend have been helpful for some reasons, have made good arguments about some things, but obviously not everything (in my opinion).
So, to avoid those pitfalls, how about this: if you want recommendations because you genuinely want to learn more for yourself and thoughtfully engage arguments, use the contact page to get ahold of me, let me know where you’re at and where you’re coming from with the Bible, and say, “Reed I want Bible things to read!” and I will be glad to pass some things along.
Ok, I’ve spilled enough words on this here.
Hopefully it’s enough on its own to make plain how I see things.
To the hilt,
Reed
