If you follow debates between liberal and conservative evangelicals, you will often see an exchange come down to the conservative accusing the liberal of selectively reading scripture -- of ignoring or downplaying the parts he doesn't like, while accentuating the bits that he does. To which the liberal will often retort that selectivity is unavoidable. That "we all pick and choose." The upshot being that there is no extra-hermeneutical vantage to occupy, and that the meaning of scripture isn't entirely self-disclosing.
While it's true that our presuppositions and biases will inevitably affect how scripture is understood, and that there is no neutral, assumption-less space from which to view the Bible, it doesn't follow that "we all must pick and choose." This is only the case if you believe that the individual and his conscience is the ultimate authority with regard to the meaning of the text. While this approach is standard within Protestantism, it isn't the only option available to us. Rather than selectively reading the Bible according to our own biases, we can also choose to submit our understanding to the authority of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church that Christ founded, and to whom was given the Holy Spirit to guide it "into all truth" (John 16:13).
What the conservative evangelical often doesn't realize is that he's wisely, but unconsciously, appealing to tradition in these arguments. Though he might deny it, he isn't appealing exclusively to the text itself, but to what he perceives to be the traditional understandings of the text. He (again, wisely) feels there's something unsettling about novel interpretations of scripture and has a visceral reaction against it, but can't really do anything about it if his only recourse is to the Bible itself, since the Bible itself can be twisted and manipulated, as the Bible itself warns. (2 Peter 3:16) And if it can, then who's to say who's doing the twisting and manipulating and who isn't?
Blessedly, Our Lord Jesus Christ didn't hand down a book to the Apostles that could be interpreted in various contradictory ways, nor did the Apostles hand one down to their followers. What was handed down was the gospel of Christ -- His life and His commandments -- and the Holy Spirit. This was transmitted by oral and written apostolic tradition (2 Thess. 2:15), with the written tradition eventually becoming the New Testament. But just as the New Testament was written, compiled, and canonized by the Church with the seal and guidance of the Holy Spirit, so must the New Testament be read, interpreted, and lived within the Church according to the Holy Spirit. If you adopt the Church as hermeneutic, the question is no longer "what do I think about this passage?", but "what does the Church teach that this passage means?"
Admittedly, this approach to the question somewhat short-circuits the entire dialogue. If evangelicals did this they wouldn't be evangelicals. Nevertheless, it's critical to point out that not all hermeneutical approaches leave us equally "picking and choosing" from the Bible.
Showing posts with label Bible. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bible. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
(Evangelical) Doctrine and Historical-Critical Exegesis
Within a tradition committed to the doctrine of sola scripura, some issues arise regarding the source of doctrine, its malleability, and the relationship between doctrine and academic conclusions. What role does academic inquiry and discovery have in informing Christian doctrine? Conversely, does Christian doctrine place limitations on what sorts of academic conclusions are possible or acceptable?
In a recent post titled The Deeper Scandal of the Evangelical Mind: We Are Not Allowed to Use it, Peter Enns decries the fact that, within Evangelicalism, "doctrine determines academic conclusions." That frustration is perhaps understandable (given Evangelicalism), but does Enns believe that doctrine should be as fluid as the current archaeological, linguistic, and historical academic consensus on various issues? One suspects he wouldn't fully reverse the formula and declare that "academic conclusions determine doctrine", so what is the correct relationship between the two?
My sympathies are split on the matter: on the one hand, I think evangelicals are right to be highly suspicious of current trends in academia affecting or altering received doctrine and tradition. If Christ is the source of true doctrine, which he handed down to the Apostles, and which has been faithfully preserved within the life of the Church by the Holy Spirit, then no academic finding or conclusion can possibly affect doctrine. This general disposition of Evangelicals is the proper one.
The problem is that this general disposition is at odds with what they believe to be the source of doctrine. If "the Bible alone" is the source of doctrine, then doctrine will necessarily be subject to revision as academic discoveries are made regarding the cultural context of the original text, comparative linguistic studies are done, and archaeological discoveries are made. This cautions against making doctrine out of issues that are not inherently doctrinal in nature, but that is only part of the problem. With "the Bible alone", doctrine is already varying according to the many ways people interpret "the Bible alone" (see: the thousands of denominations within Protestantism). And so it isn't clear just which or whose doctrine(s) we're talking about.
Evangelicals should follow their gut and conclude that doctrine ought not be subject to the whims of academia. They should also follow their gut in endeavoring to hold fast to tradition over and against innovation. But this ultimately means rejecting traditions and doctrines which they have received that were at one point innovations and a departure from the faith once delivered to the saints (and which thus can possibly come into conflict with sound academic research). Such as sola scriptura.
Historical-critical exegesis of scripture can be a valuable tool for deepening and broadening our knowledge of the scriptures, but the doctrines of the faith are not subject to change, addition, or subtraction. The doctrines of the faith can be articulated more precisely in order to combat heresy, but they don't change as they were given by Christ who is "the same yesterday, today, and forever." (Heb. 13:8).
In a recent post titled The Deeper Scandal of the Evangelical Mind: We Are Not Allowed to Use it, Peter Enns decries the fact that, within Evangelicalism, "doctrine determines academic conclusions." That frustration is perhaps understandable (given Evangelicalism), but does Enns believe that doctrine should be as fluid as the current archaeological, linguistic, and historical academic consensus on various issues? One suspects he wouldn't fully reverse the formula and declare that "academic conclusions determine doctrine", so what is the correct relationship between the two?
My sympathies are split on the matter: on the one hand, I think evangelicals are right to be highly suspicious of current trends in academia affecting or altering received doctrine and tradition. If Christ is the source of true doctrine, which he handed down to the Apostles, and which has been faithfully preserved within the life of the Church by the Holy Spirit, then no academic finding or conclusion can possibly affect doctrine. This general disposition of Evangelicals is the proper one.
The problem is that this general disposition is at odds with what they believe to be the source of doctrine. If "the Bible alone" is the source of doctrine, then doctrine will necessarily be subject to revision as academic discoveries are made regarding the cultural context of the original text, comparative linguistic studies are done, and archaeological discoveries are made. This cautions against making doctrine out of issues that are not inherently doctrinal in nature, but that is only part of the problem. With "the Bible alone", doctrine is already varying according to the many ways people interpret "the Bible alone" (see: the thousands of denominations within Protestantism). And so it isn't clear just which or whose doctrine(s) we're talking about.
Evangelicals should follow their gut and conclude that doctrine ought not be subject to the whims of academia. They should also follow their gut in endeavoring to hold fast to tradition over and against innovation. But this ultimately means rejecting traditions and doctrines which they have received that were at one point innovations and a departure from the faith once delivered to the saints (and which thus can possibly come into conflict with sound academic research). Such as sola scriptura.
Historical-critical exegesis of scripture can be a valuable tool for deepening and broadening our knowledge of the scriptures, but the doctrines of the faith are not subject to change, addition, or subtraction. The doctrines of the faith can be articulated more precisely in order to combat heresy, but they don't change as they were given by Christ who is "the same yesterday, today, and forever." (Heb. 13:8).
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Mystery and Marriage Revisionism
I honestly don't have a great interest in issues of Christian feminism and egalitarianism, as my previous entry and this one might suggest. But this seems to be the front from which the left is staging its assault on traditional Christian teaching, and I am a great fan of Christ, His Church, and the traditions they have established and handed down. That being the case, this stuff becomes difficult to avoid.
Being Orthodox, I suppose you can avoid it by simply resting in the assurance that there is no such thing as a completely novel understanding of any Christian doctrine that is also correct, therefore being assured that egalitarianism is false and anathema, for example. The problem is that there is a nation of Christians being confronted with these challenges to traditionalist Christianity who have no such bulwark. They might really be open to persuasion, which would spiritually harm not only them, but also the broader culture and the Christian witness to the world.
All that to preface my response to this guest column by Kristen Rosser on Rachel Held Evans' blog, in which Rosser marshals historical-critical exegesis to call into question whether Paul really meant what he said about marriage being "a great mystery" which "concerns Christ and the Church." Or, she would say, whether he means what most claim that he means.
Let's start at the end where she attempts to allay fears that the motivation for such convoluted interpretations of Scripture is unbiblical conformance to modern culture. No, she assures us, because she and her husband are "best friends" just like they want to be. Are you waiting for the scriptural citation that says that marriage is a kind of sanctified best-friendship-with-benefits? Me too. Not to mention everything the Bible teaches about marriage that belies that denuded, small understanding utterly -- such as the very passage she is interrogating.
Her chief claim -- that in Ephesians 5:21-32, Paul either isn't using Christ and the Church as an illustration for marriage, or if he is it's not about authority and submission but about giving and sacrifice -- is partly correct, part straw-man, and partly incorrect. Correct is that the relationship of husband to wife and Christ to the Church is not solely -- or even necessarily centrally -- about authority and submission. This is also the straw-man because no complementarians or traditionalists claim that these relationships are solely about that. This being the case, her supposed corrective -- explaining that Christ sacrificially, lovingly, and in all humility gives his life for the Church, thereby coming down to her station and raising her up to glory -- is no corrective at all. No complementarians or marriage traditionalists deny this aspect of Christ's relationship to the Church, or that it is a template for marriage. Her implicit, unstated premise is that this understanding is mutually exclusive with headship, authority, and submission, which of course doesn't follow. Christ both humbly dies for and serves the Church, raising her up to glory and is her head to whom she lovingly submits.
She expends some energy explaining literary "chiastic sandwiches", which -- even if one accepts as the proper literary framework for the passage -- doesn't really get her any purchase in the argument because, again, the central point -- "That He might present to Himself the church in all her glory" -- is not one that any traditionalist misses, downplays, or denies anyway.
Part of the problem is Kristen's myopic focus on this single passage. Even setting aside the game of hermeneutical Twister she plays, a simple cross-reference could have saved her from making such errors. Take 1st Corinthians 11:3, for instance, which says that "the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God." If Ephesians 5:21-32 wasn't clear enough, this fortifies its obvious, unmistakable meaning (as does the rest of Scripture and Holy Tradition).
She starts to make a somewhat interesting point, pointing out that Paul uses the word "mystery" to describe the way marriage is a reflection of Christ and the Church. But she immediately goes astray, reducing this great mystery to a one-way illustration that shows marriage being kinda, sorta like Christ and the Church in one specific, narrowly circumscribed way. Whereas the traditional understanding of the great mystery is much more holistic and mutually reinforcing i.e. that Christian marriage images forth Christ and the Church, just as Christ and the Church shows us what marriage is all about. Bizarrely, she points out that "illustration" isn't used in the passage, only to reduce this great mystery to precisely a simple illustration.
If you compare her understanding of this great mystery to the other great mysteries of the Church, such as Holy Baptism and the Eucharist, it becomes clear that her understanding is much too small, reductionist, and narrow to possibly be correct. As Metropolitan Kallistos Ware says in his book The Orthodox Way:
Marriage revisionists are right to view passages like this one from Ephesians -- if understood simply, straightforwardly, and in accordance with the rest of the Bible and the traditions of the Church -- as incompatible with their desire to re-imagine marriage. It's amusing to watch them tap-dance around the obvious, but it's also too dangerous to let go by without serious challenge.
Being Orthodox, I suppose you can avoid it by simply resting in the assurance that there is no such thing as a completely novel understanding of any Christian doctrine that is also correct, therefore being assured that egalitarianism is false and anathema, for example. The problem is that there is a nation of Christians being confronted with these challenges to traditionalist Christianity who have no such bulwark. They might really be open to persuasion, which would spiritually harm not only them, but also the broader culture and the Christian witness to the world.
All that to preface my response to this guest column by Kristen Rosser on Rachel Held Evans' blog, in which Rosser marshals historical-critical exegesis to call into question whether Paul really meant what he said about marriage being "a great mystery" which "concerns Christ and the Church." Or, she would say, whether he means what most claim that he means.
Let's start at the end where she attempts to allay fears that the motivation for such convoluted interpretations of Scripture is unbiblical conformance to modern culture. No, she assures us, because she and her husband are "best friends" just like they want to be. Are you waiting for the scriptural citation that says that marriage is a kind of sanctified best-friendship-with-benefits? Me too. Not to mention everything the Bible teaches about marriage that belies that denuded, small understanding utterly -- such as the very passage she is interrogating.
Her chief claim -- that in Ephesians 5:21-32, Paul either isn't using Christ and the Church as an illustration for marriage, or if he is it's not about authority and submission but about giving and sacrifice -- is partly correct, part straw-man, and partly incorrect. Correct is that the relationship of husband to wife and Christ to the Church is not solely -- or even necessarily centrally -- about authority and submission. This is also the straw-man because no complementarians or traditionalists claim that these relationships are solely about that. This being the case, her supposed corrective -- explaining that Christ sacrificially, lovingly, and in all humility gives his life for the Church, thereby coming down to her station and raising her up to glory -- is no corrective at all. No complementarians or marriage traditionalists deny this aspect of Christ's relationship to the Church, or that it is a template for marriage. Her implicit, unstated premise is that this understanding is mutually exclusive with headship, authority, and submission, which of course doesn't follow. Christ both humbly dies for and serves the Church, raising her up to glory and is her head to whom she lovingly submits.
She expends some energy explaining literary "chiastic sandwiches", which -- even if one accepts as the proper literary framework for the passage -- doesn't really get her any purchase in the argument because, again, the central point -- "That He might present to Himself the church in all her glory" -- is not one that any traditionalist misses, downplays, or denies anyway.
Part of the problem is Kristen's myopic focus on this single passage. Even setting aside the game of hermeneutical Twister she plays, a simple cross-reference could have saved her from making such errors. Take 1st Corinthians 11:3, for instance, which says that "the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God." If Ephesians 5:21-32 wasn't clear enough, this fortifies its obvious, unmistakable meaning (as does the rest of Scripture and Holy Tradition).
She starts to make a somewhat interesting point, pointing out that Paul uses the word "mystery" to describe the way marriage is a reflection of Christ and the Church. But she immediately goes astray, reducing this great mystery to a one-way illustration that shows marriage being kinda, sorta like Christ and the Church in one specific, narrowly circumscribed way. Whereas the traditional understanding of the great mystery is much more holistic and mutually reinforcing i.e. that Christian marriage images forth Christ and the Church, just as Christ and the Church shows us what marriage is all about. Bizarrely, she points out that "illustration" isn't used in the passage, only to reduce this great mystery to precisely a simple illustration.
If you compare her understanding of this great mystery to the other great mysteries of the Church, such as Holy Baptism and the Eucharist, it becomes clear that her understanding is much too small, reductionist, and narrow to possibly be correct. As Metropolitan Kallistos Ware says in his book The Orthodox Way:
In the proper religious sense of the term, “mystery” signifies not only hiddenness but disclosure. The Greek noun mysterion [from which we get the word 'sacrament'] is linked with the verb myein, meaning “to close the eyes or mouth.” The candidate for initiation into certain of the pagan mystery religions was first blindfolded and led through a maze of passages; then suddenly his eyes were uncovered and he saw, displayed all round him, the secret emblems of the cult. So, in the Christian context, we do not mean by a “mystery” merely that which is baffling and mysterious, an enigma or insoluble problem. A mystery is, on the contrary, something that is revealed for our understanding, but which we never understand exhaustively because it leads into the depth or the darkness of God. The eyes are closed—but they are also opened.This proper understanding of the sacraments of the Church (marriage being one) can't be reconciled with her systematization of the mystery wherein she claims that the mystery is all hiddenness now, and only disclosure in the eschaton.
Marriage revisionists are right to view passages like this one from Ephesians -- if understood simply, straightforwardly, and in accordance with the rest of the Bible and the traditions of the Church -- as incompatible with their desire to re-imagine marriage. It's amusing to watch them tap-dance around the obvious, but it's also too dangerous to let go by without serious challenge.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Richard Dawkins: Biblical Scholar
In a recent interview with Playboy, the world's most famous atheist, Richard Dawkins, answered a few questions. Couched among the dross of the merely banal or lame was this gem of absurdity:
Let's pass over the breathtaking hubris of declaring one's self sufficiently knowledgeable of a book that one hasn't even read in its entirety in withering silence. Well, not in silence.
On one level, it's flatly absurd to suggest that Paul "wasn't interested" in whether Jesus existed -- as somehow evidenced by the Epistles being written before the Gospels -- since Paul's entire ministry is founded on the reality of Christ's life, death, and resurrection, as anyone who has read Paul attentively knows. Everything Paul teaches hinges on this. Over at Uncommon Descent they have an effective little riposte to Dawkins on this count.
On another level, Dawkins is intuiting something true, but not what he thinks. Namely that Paul isn't greatly concerned about proving Jesus' existence because it wasn't in question. Neither in his own mind nor in that of the churches he was writing to. Paul didn't know he was writing something that would come to be called "the New Testament", which would be a document modern inquirers, millenia in the future, would use to examine the "truth" of Jesus' existence -- a truth he took for granted, as did all of his hearers. He was preaching and expounding on who Jesus was, the true nature of the Faith, calling out the errors of misguided followers of Jesus, spreading the Gospel, pastoring Christ's flock etc. Contrary to what Dawkins seems to think, it's not at all surprising that this would be the first order of apostolic business, rather than documenting the narrative of Christ's life which was everywhere around in oral form or in first-hand experiences.
These are exactly the conditions we would expect to be present if there was no question about Jesus' existence because it was taken as a given. How would it come to be taken as a given so widely, so assuredly, and so quickly unless -- at the very least -- Jesus existed? Of course, even to this day in virtually all serious first-century historical and Biblical scholarship -- even that of a strongly secular bent -- Jesus' existence still isn't questioned -- as it wasn't in the first century -- precisely because such a theory doesn't comport with reason and the evidence at all. You know, reason and evidence, those things that Dawkins follows unwaveringly, wherever they may lead.
DAWKINS: The evidence [Jesus] existed is surprisingly shaky. The earliest books in the New Testament to be written were the Epistles, not the Gospels. It’s almost as though Saint Paul and others who wrote the Epistles weren’t that interested in whether Jesus was real. Even if he’s fictional, whoever wrote his lines was ahead of his time in terms of moral philosophy.
PLAYBOY: You’ve read the Bible.
DAWKINS: I haven’t read it all, but my knowledge of the Bible is a lot better than most fundamentalist Christians.
Let's pass over the breathtaking hubris of declaring one's self sufficiently knowledgeable of a book that one hasn't even read in its entirety in withering silence. Well, not in silence.
On one level, it's flatly absurd to suggest that Paul "wasn't interested" in whether Jesus existed -- as somehow evidenced by the Epistles being written before the Gospels -- since Paul's entire ministry is founded on the reality of Christ's life, death, and resurrection, as anyone who has read Paul attentively knows. Everything Paul teaches hinges on this. Over at Uncommon Descent they have an effective little riposte to Dawkins on this count.
On another level, Dawkins is intuiting something true, but not what he thinks. Namely that Paul isn't greatly concerned about proving Jesus' existence because it wasn't in question. Neither in his own mind nor in that of the churches he was writing to. Paul didn't know he was writing something that would come to be called "the New Testament", which would be a document modern inquirers, millenia in the future, would use to examine the "truth" of Jesus' existence -- a truth he took for granted, as did all of his hearers. He was preaching and expounding on who Jesus was, the true nature of the Faith, calling out the errors of misguided followers of Jesus, spreading the Gospel, pastoring Christ's flock etc. Contrary to what Dawkins seems to think, it's not at all surprising that this would be the first order of apostolic business, rather than documenting the narrative of Christ's life which was everywhere around in oral form or in first-hand experiences.
These are exactly the conditions we would expect to be present if there was no question about Jesus' existence because it was taken as a given. How would it come to be taken as a given so widely, so assuredly, and so quickly unless -- at the very least -- Jesus existed? Of course, even to this day in virtually all serious first-century historical and Biblical scholarship -- even that of a strongly secular bent -- Jesus' existence still isn't questioned -- as it wasn't in the first century -- precisely because such a theory doesn't comport with reason and the evidence at all. You know, reason and evidence, those things that Dawkins follows unwaveringly, wherever they may lead.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
David Bentley Hart's Translation of the New Testament (and other news)
About 4 months ago I posted an inquiry on Google+ (which, as it happens, I enthusiastically support as the premiere social network) to Giles Anderson of The Anderson Literary Agency, which represents David Bentley Hart, as to whether he had any information on what his next project would be. A few months later Anderson informed me that they would have an announcement concerning the details of his next project shortly. Hart had mentioned that he had written (or was writing) a novella with the character of the Devil appearing in it. I was expecting Anderson's announcement to be with regard to this novella.
In the meantime, a collection of short stories by Hart titled The Devil and Pierre Gernet appeared on Amazon along with pre-order information. There was no announcement from Anderson or his agency, so I assumed this was an outside project for Hart. Due to arrive sometime in February, the prospect of David Bentley Hart's imagination and erudition being applied to a proper work of fiction was cause for legitimate excitement.
Then, a few days ago, Anderson messaged me on Google+ with what appeared to be an excerpt of an email from Anderson to Yale University Press regarding Hart's next project. Here is what he sent:
"Author of Atheist Delusions and recent winner of the Michael Ramsey Prize David Bentley Hart's THE NEW TESTAMENT: A New Translation, a version that promises to awaken readers to the mysteries and ambiguities in the original text, to Jennifer Banks at Yale University Press, by Giles Anderson at Anderson Literary Agency."
For Hart enthusiasts, such as myself, that is one colossal, exhilirating announcement! Coming, as it does, on the heels of another translation by a public Christian intellectual -- N.T. Wright -- it also could mark the beginning of a contemporary trend of sorts.
In addition to both these bits of news, Hart recently contributed a piece to The New Criterion's "Future Tense" series with an exquisite, brilliant essay on religion in America, in addition to an excoriating article at First Thing's online dismantling "the Oxfordian hypothesis", which is the basis for the seemingly ridiculous film Anonymous.
All of this following the demise of his regular On the Square column and a few months of troubling silence. I have both been edified and left in a state of great anticipation.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
The Tragic-Utopian Spectrum and Authority
Theology and Politics are distinct spheres of reality which, ipso facto, shouldn't necessarily have many common points of intersection. In the Christian tradition, governments and politics are a source of idolatry. They are a pale, worldly substitute for God's authority and rule. Still, they have to be understood and responded to in appropriate ways, and they themselves must act within certain parameters to be considered legitimate and enjoy being God's ordained, temporary administers of justice and order in the social realm. With this in mind, is there any reason we should suspect that the left-right divide in politics should share any commonality with the left-right divide in theology? On the surface, there doesn't seem to be any reason to suspect this, but let's pursue the question further.
While many people feel that the traditional left-right political spectrum is an insufficient, oversimplified means of representing reality, I think there's more to it than that. Many claim that there is no reason why someone who feels one way about the death penalty should also think something specific about taxation, and these people therefore feel that the political spectrum amounts to an arbitrary clumping together of views that are a product of a trenchant two-party system.
Thomas Sowell has done an excellent job of illustrating what it is that truly informs the left-right divide, and that it isn't actually arbitrary at all. It is the product two fundamentally distinct views of humanity, which he most fully outlines in his book A Conflict of Visions. The Tragic Vision of humanity sees men as fundamentally weak, as sinful, as incapable of conquering their own nature, and therefore believes that government's primary job should be applying restraints to the governing authorities and systems that arise among men (as well as accepting certain desirable trade-offs). The Tragic Vision sees men as easily corruptible, and power as a corrupting process, and so supports a system which fundamentally restrains and divides power. While the Utopian Vision of mankind sees man as fundamentally good, and capable of overcoming all (or most) of the things that hold him back through education, striving, and cooperation, which will lead to progress. Progress in turn leads to greater progress, as mankind learns from the mistakes of the past, and builds on the knowledge of the present, ultimately resulting in greater mastery over our condition.
Clearly the Tragic Vision is the vision of the right and conservatism, while the Utopian vision is the vision of the left and (modern) liberalism, generally speaking. With these visions outlined, you can see how these contrasting views of Man inform just about every position that we would traditionally call conservative or liberal, with some exceptions. These distinctions aren't really arbitrary, and the positions associated with the sides of the spectrum don't just 'happen' to clump together, but the differences are born out of legitimately divergent views of human nature.
It's fairly easy to see how this understanding of human nature also affects -- or is born out of -- Christian's theological views. Those with the Tragic vision will to tend to be more conservative theologically, and those with the Utopian vision will also tend to be more liberal theologically, in obvious ways. Conservatives will focus more on sin and God's judgment; liberals will focus more on his love and mercy. Conservatives will more quickly emphasize the inability of works to save; liberals will more readily emphasize the fact that works are fruits of the spirit. The implications are endless, and while they don't necessarily result in hard divisions (in the previous sentence, for example, both views are completely compatible with each other), but are rather a matter of focus and emphasis which can determine the character of our theological beliefs and practices.
My purpose for this post isn't to explore this issue fully and completely, but only to apply this understanding to one issue and it's the issue of authority and scripture (for the political sphere of the U.S., I hold that The Constitution is analogous to our secular scripture).
The observation I'd like to make is just how similar a manner liberals treat authority and foundational documents in both realms. In the U.S., political liberals are more apt to treat The Constitution as a 'living document', the meaning of which changes with time as humanity and society progresses in wisdom. As humanity advances, we can view The Constitution from the standpoint of the future, as more enlightened beings, and try to understand the Constitution, not merely by its words and what the words meant to those who wrote them, but as a document whose meaning depends on when and how it is being read. Of course, The Constitution has a built-in means of updating and altering itself: the amendment process. But liberals think that the meaning of much of what is there can change without needing to amend it, simply by reading it from a new, "enlightened" vantage.
While conservatives, being very wary of the impulses of the moment and how prone to error humans are, are much more likely to give the benefit of the doubt to time-tested wisdom and the principles of governmental restraint pronounced in the Constitution. Conservatives would also be less likely to amend the Constitution, or to interpret in any way other than what the founders intended. Which is not to say that conservatives are oblivious to the reality of legitimate progress and change in society, but that they believe when such change occurs it is either irrelevant to how the Constitution is read, or if the change cuts to some Constitutional principle that changing the meaning of the Constitution requires actually amending it, rather than simply 'understanding it anew'.
The founders envisioned a government of "laws and not men", which is why they constructed a system of checks and balances and divisions of power. Conservatives are much more likely to affirm this vision completely, while liberals would be more prone to want to override certain systematic constraints, allowing the understanding of the moment to rule over the wisdom of the past, including over certain restraints of the Constitution.
Thus instead of seeing the Establishment clause of the First Amendment as a restraint on the government from establishing a state religion, liberals re-interpret the amendment to mean that the government has absolute duty and license to also restrict religious free speech, in certain public spaces. Thus instead of seeing the Commerce Clause as limiting the federal government's role in commerce to one specific exception of interstate commerce, liberals creatively 're-think' what the Commerce Clause means and use it for the exact opposite purpose: to extend the control and jurisdiction of the federal government into all commerce. Meanwhile, conservatives read the Constitution as it was meant to be read, are very wary about changing it, and believe that if a change is needed it should go through the intentionally difficult and rigorous amendment process.
The analogy to Christianity should be clear. Theological liberals are more apt to view the Bible in the exact same way that political liberals view the Constitution, while theological conservatives are more likely to be more "originalist" in their interpretation. Theological liberals view the Bible more as a "living document", while conservatives tend to view it more as unchanging and settled. It's a slightly different situation because both liberals and conservative Christians tend to have a higher, more reverenced view of both authority and tradition than secular liberals do. Thus the divide isn't as large as it is in the political realm, as both sides of the spectrum agree about a larger array of issues, but the analogy is still illustrative of the fundamental underpinnings of ideology that color both spheres of life.
Because man is weak, broken, and prone to error and misdeeds, his power over others must be limited and restrained as much as possible, and because of this there should be a great reverence for the principles which do the restraining and transcend any living man, woman, or even majority of people in a democracy. Therefore the Constitution should be held in high esteem and we should alter it only in the most unusual circumstances. Therefore the Bible should be held in high esteem and we should alter our understanding of its plain, established meaning only in the most unusual circumstances, with proper reflection, prayer and consideration.
Alternatively:
Because man is evolving, learning, and progressing throughout history, our understanding of the Constitution and what it means should also be evolving and progressing. Therefore the Constitution should act as a vague, general signpost, but if our advancement as a society or species seems to be hindered at all by it, we must find ways to reduce its impact or otherwise circumvent it. Therefore, while the Bible should be esteemed, we must not limit ourselves to traditional understandings, but allow ourselves to buttress our understandings of the Bible with the gains of wisdom and knowledge of the world, and always re-think the Bible in the light of the moment, which is the peak of our understanding.
Some of those on the left might complain about the language I've used to frame the discussion, but I can only say it's my honest conclusion. Also, just because this is what I think that conservative and liberal principles dictate doesn't necessarily mean that it applies to how conservative and liberal people actually behave, respectively. So if you can think of a plethora of examples in which certain conservatives or liberals do the opposite of these dictates, I would probably respond by simply noting that those are instances of conservatives doing something liberal and vice versa.
In addition to my language betraying my conviction in favor of the validity of The Tragic Vision, I must also call attention to the fact that Steven Pinker -- a cognitive scientist, linguist, and liberal -- points out in his book on human nature The Blank Slate, the most recent findings of the sciences of human nature -- genetics, neuroscience and such -- are largely vindicating The Tragic Vision of human nature, over and against The Utopian Vision. He accepts Sowell's formulation of the divide, and addresses the issue of political beliefs in the light of these new findings. Pinker isn't willing to concede that this is a complete triumph for the right, but he thinks that the discussion has to advance and evolve with new ideas and terms framing the left-right divide, and that the left will mostly have to abandon The Utopian Vision. But it's clear that, at this point in time, they haven't yet done so.
As I've written elsewhere, the modern, secular world seems to have a problem with authority in general which results in the political spectrum being much broader than the theological spectrum. When man is his own ruler and own end, this will result in a greater diversity of views and much greater folly. When man submits himself to an authority greater than himself, diversity is permitted but limited by the constraints of authority, tradition, and scripture. American politics should take notes from theology and narrow its own diversity by willfully submitting to our secular authority, The Constitution.
While many people feel that the traditional left-right political spectrum is an insufficient, oversimplified means of representing reality, I think there's more to it than that. Many claim that there is no reason why someone who feels one way about the death penalty should also think something specific about taxation, and these people therefore feel that the political spectrum amounts to an arbitrary clumping together of views that are a product of a trenchant two-party system.
Thomas Sowell has done an excellent job of illustrating what it is that truly informs the left-right divide, and that it isn't actually arbitrary at all. It is the product two fundamentally distinct views of humanity, which he most fully outlines in his book A Conflict of Visions. The Tragic Vision of humanity sees men as fundamentally weak, as sinful, as incapable of conquering their own nature, and therefore believes that government's primary job should be applying restraints to the governing authorities and systems that arise among men (as well as accepting certain desirable trade-offs). The Tragic Vision sees men as easily corruptible, and power as a corrupting process, and so supports a system which fundamentally restrains and divides power. While the Utopian Vision of mankind sees man as fundamentally good, and capable of overcoming all (or most) of the things that hold him back through education, striving, and cooperation, which will lead to progress. Progress in turn leads to greater progress, as mankind learns from the mistakes of the past, and builds on the knowledge of the present, ultimately resulting in greater mastery over our condition.
Clearly the Tragic Vision is the vision of the right and conservatism, while the Utopian vision is the vision of the left and (modern) liberalism, generally speaking. With these visions outlined, you can see how these contrasting views of Man inform just about every position that we would traditionally call conservative or liberal, with some exceptions. These distinctions aren't really arbitrary, and the positions associated with the sides of the spectrum don't just 'happen' to clump together, but the differences are born out of legitimately divergent views of human nature.
It's fairly easy to see how this understanding of human nature also affects -- or is born out of -- Christian's theological views. Those with the Tragic vision will to tend to be more conservative theologically, and those with the Utopian vision will also tend to be more liberal theologically, in obvious ways. Conservatives will focus more on sin and God's judgment; liberals will focus more on his love and mercy. Conservatives will more quickly emphasize the inability of works to save; liberals will more readily emphasize the fact that works are fruits of the spirit. The implications are endless, and while they don't necessarily result in hard divisions (in the previous sentence, for example, both views are completely compatible with each other), but are rather a matter of focus and emphasis which can determine the character of our theological beliefs and practices.
My purpose for this post isn't to explore this issue fully and completely, but only to apply this understanding to one issue and it's the issue of authority and scripture (for the political sphere of the U.S., I hold that The Constitution is analogous to our secular scripture).
The observation I'd like to make is just how similar a manner liberals treat authority and foundational documents in both realms. In the U.S., political liberals are more apt to treat The Constitution as a 'living document', the meaning of which changes with time as humanity and society progresses in wisdom. As humanity advances, we can view The Constitution from the standpoint of the future, as more enlightened beings, and try to understand the Constitution, not merely by its words and what the words meant to those who wrote them, but as a document whose meaning depends on when and how it is being read. Of course, The Constitution has a built-in means of updating and altering itself: the amendment process. But liberals think that the meaning of much of what is there can change without needing to amend it, simply by reading it from a new, "enlightened" vantage.
While conservatives, being very wary of the impulses of the moment and how prone to error humans are, are much more likely to give the benefit of the doubt to time-tested wisdom and the principles of governmental restraint pronounced in the Constitution. Conservatives would also be less likely to amend the Constitution, or to interpret in any way other than what the founders intended. Which is not to say that conservatives are oblivious to the reality of legitimate progress and change in society, but that they believe when such change occurs it is either irrelevant to how the Constitution is read, or if the change cuts to some Constitutional principle that changing the meaning of the Constitution requires actually amending it, rather than simply 'understanding it anew'.
The founders envisioned a government of "laws and not men", which is why they constructed a system of checks and balances and divisions of power. Conservatives are much more likely to affirm this vision completely, while liberals would be more prone to want to override certain systematic constraints, allowing the understanding of the moment to rule over the wisdom of the past, including over certain restraints of the Constitution.
Thus instead of seeing the Establishment clause of the First Amendment as a restraint on the government from establishing a state religion, liberals re-interpret the amendment to mean that the government has absolute duty and license to also restrict religious free speech, in certain public spaces. Thus instead of seeing the Commerce Clause as limiting the federal government's role in commerce to one specific exception of interstate commerce, liberals creatively 're-think' what the Commerce Clause means and use it for the exact opposite purpose: to extend the control and jurisdiction of the federal government into all commerce. Meanwhile, conservatives read the Constitution as it was meant to be read, are very wary about changing it, and believe that if a change is needed it should go through the intentionally difficult and rigorous amendment process.
The analogy to Christianity should be clear. Theological liberals are more apt to view the Bible in the exact same way that political liberals view the Constitution, while theological conservatives are more likely to be more "originalist" in their interpretation. Theological liberals view the Bible more as a "living document", while conservatives tend to view it more as unchanging and settled. It's a slightly different situation because both liberals and conservative Christians tend to have a higher, more reverenced view of both authority and tradition than secular liberals do. Thus the divide isn't as large as it is in the political realm, as both sides of the spectrum agree about a larger array of issues, but the analogy is still illustrative of the fundamental underpinnings of ideology that color both spheres of life.
Because man is weak, broken, and prone to error and misdeeds, his power over others must be limited and restrained as much as possible, and because of this there should be a great reverence for the principles which do the restraining and transcend any living man, woman, or even majority of people in a democracy. Therefore the Constitution should be held in high esteem and we should alter it only in the most unusual circumstances. Therefore the Bible should be held in high esteem and we should alter our understanding of its plain, established meaning only in the most unusual circumstances, with proper reflection, prayer and consideration.
Alternatively:
Because man is evolving, learning, and progressing throughout history, our understanding of the Constitution and what it means should also be evolving and progressing. Therefore the Constitution should act as a vague, general signpost, but if our advancement as a society or species seems to be hindered at all by it, we must find ways to reduce its impact or otherwise circumvent it. Therefore, while the Bible should be esteemed, we must not limit ourselves to traditional understandings, but allow ourselves to buttress our understandings of the Bible with the gains of wisdom and knowledge of the world, and always re-think the Bible in the light of the moment, which is the peak of our understanding.
Some of those on the left might complain about the language I've used to frame the discussion, but I can only say it's my honest conclusion. Also, just because this is what I think that conservative and liberal principles dictate doesn't necessarily mean that it applies to how conservative and liberal people actually behave, respectively. So if you can think of a plethora of examples in which certain conservatives or liberals do the opposite of these dictates, I would probably respond by simply noting that those are instances of conservatives doing something liberal and vice versa.
In addition to my language betraying my conviction in favor of the validity of The Tragic Vision, I must also call attention to the fact that Steven Pinker -- a cognitive scientist, linguist, and liberal -- points out in his book on human nature The Blank Slate, the most recent findings of the sciences of human nature -- genetics, neuroscience and such -- are largely vindicating The Tragic Vision of human nature, over and against The Utopian Vision. He accepts Sowell's formulation of the divide, and addresses the issue of political beliefs in the light of these new findings. Pinker isn't willing to concede that this is a complete triumph for the right, but he thinks that the discussion has to advance and evolve with new ideas and terms framing the left-right divide, and that the left will mostly have to abandon The Utopian Vision. But it's clear that, at this point in time, they haven't yet done so.
As I've written elsewhere, the modern, secular world seems to have a problem with authority in general which results in the political spectrum being much broader than the theological spectrum. When man is his own ruler and own end, this will result in a greater diversity of views and much greater folly. When man submits himself to an authority greater than himself, diversity is permitted but limited by the constraints of authority, tradition, and scripture. American politics should take notes from theology and narrow its own diversity by willfully submitting to our secular authority, The Constitution.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
The New NIV and Matthew 4:19
While I didn't have a strong opinion on the recent controversy surrounding the 2011 translation of the NIV and its use of gender inclusive language -- as I didn't think it had much significance one way or another -- the issue has hit home for me now, in some small measure.
Last night, while reading to my daughter from her new NIV Adventure Bible, and without the recent controversy even crossing my mind, I read Matthew 4:18-19 aloud: ".. and I will make you fishers of me- .. er .. people?"
Clearly "men" in this context was always meant to be understood as all people, so while the new translation is unobjectionable in this sense, I take issue with it on other grounds. The first reason is precisely because the use of "men" in this verse is already understood to be effectively gender inclusive, due to the context and usage, and therefore I see no real need to alter it. No one reads the verse and honestly thinks to themselves "Are they only going to preach the gospel to men and not women?", because the meaning is clear despite the use of the masculine. On the other hand, one can make the argument that the pervasive use of masculine terms to describe gender-neutral humanity can subtly signify an inequality or inferiority of women in God's kingdom, which can also be problematic. This is why I had no strong opinion on the matter in general, because reasonable arguments can be made both ways, and in the end it doesn't seem to make a huge difference, whichever way you go.
However, the specifics of the context of this verse made me cringe at the use of the gender inclusive "people". Compare the two translations.
Matt 4:18-19, NIV 1984
Last night, while reading to my daughter from her new NIV Adventure Bible, and without the recent controversy even crossing my mind, I read Matthew 4:18-19 aloud: ".. and I will make you fishers of me- .. er .. people?"
Clearly "men" in this context was always meant to be understood as all people, so while the new translation is unobjectionable in this sense, I take issue with it on other grounds. The first reason is precisely because the use of "men" in this verse is already understood to be effectively gender inclusive, due to the context and usage, and therefore I see no real need to alter it. No one reads the verse and honestly thinks to themselves "Are they only going to preach the gospel to men and not women?", because the meaning is clear despite the use of the masculine. On the other hand, one can make the argument that the pervasive use of masculine terms to describe gender-neutral humanity can subtly signify an inequality or inferiority of women in God's kingdom, which can also be problematic. This is why I had no strong opinion on the matter in general, because reasonable arguments can be made both ways, and in the end it doesn't seem to make a huge difference, whichever way you go.
However, the specifics of the context of this verse made me cringe at the use of the gender inclusive "people". Compare the two translations.
Matt 4:18-19, NIV 1984
18 As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. 19 “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.”Matt. 4:18-19, NIV 2011
18 As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. 19 “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.”The new translation seems tone deaf to the literary symmetry of taking "fishermen" and making them into "fishers of men". You could also retain that symmetry by taking "fisherpeople" and making them into "fishers of people", but that seems a bit silly. While the meaning of the verse is unaltered in the new translation, the quality and vibrancy of the expression is injured. For this reason, in the case of this particular verse, I strongly prefer the translation in the old NIV (and just about every other translation) to the new NIV.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Osama and Death Celebration
Many of the Christian blogs and posts on social media sites that I've been reading over the last few days have shared a common theme; either one of struggling with the proper response to the news of Osama's death, or simply renouncing the celebration of his death that many Americans are participating in, while citing scriptural reasons for this (. I'm not sure that I fall into either of these camps.
In my mind, there's a distinction to be made between enemies of yours, as an individual, and how the Bible says you are to treat them -- turning the other cheek when they wrong you (Matt. 5:39), loving them (Matt. 5:44), clothing and feeding them (Rom 12:20, Prov. 25:21), not wishing death upon them etc. -- and how governments should respond to their enemies. The Bible teaches that the governments of Earth are ordained by God and wield the sword as an instrument of God's authority and judgment on Earth (Rom. 13:1). The commandments to us, as individuals, about how to treat our enemies don't apply to enemies of the government in the same fashion.
I didn't consider Osama bin Laden a personal enemy of mine to begin with. Did you? I never met the man nor had I ever met any of his victims. I always only considered him an enemy of my country and an enemy of civilization at large, and as such I saw that it was important to stop him if we could. Not as a matter of vengeance, which the Bible teaches belongs to God alone (Rom. 12:19), but as a matter of justice and as a matter of protecting the citizens of our nation (and others) from this person's murderous reign of terror.
Is it improper, then, to root for my government to wield the sword wisely and carry out justice? Is it only acceptable to do so before they succeed at it? The instant that they succeed, must I then become sorrowful that they did in fact succeed? If I am holding my attitude for the right reasons, if I'm not delighting in my heart at the demise of a human being, then I see no reason I should not celebrate the success of my nation acting as the duly appointed administer of divine justice that it is.
This, admittedly, is a fine line. At what point does my celebration of the achievements of the brave men and women who defend this nation become a matter of unearned personal pride in my heart? Am I really only celebrating the act of justice, the achievements of the heroes, the relief at a threat to civilization being defeated, or do I harbor a personal satisfaction in another human's death? Certainly it's difficult to keep the matters properly separated in our hearts and minds. Because of this I think it's appropriate for Christians to either make quite clear exactly what it is that they are celebrating -- and that it isn't someone's death, but the bravery of the troops, the relief for families, the increased security of the nation, the lives ultimately that will be saved etc. -- or to simply not celebrate at all.
The only reason I felt compelled to address the issue is in response to those who condemn the act of celebrations as necessarily entailing the celebration or delight in the death of a fellow fallen human, which doesn't follow necessarily. There are many things in this news and its implications worth celebrating, the death of a human being just isn't one of them. The death of Hitler entailed that many fewer human beings in Germany would be mercilessly slaughtered because of their ethnic and religious heritage. I would argue that if you don't celebrate this consequence of the death of this particular human being -- though not the death itself -- that this refusal to celebrate would itself be a quite grave sin.
In my mind, there's a distinction to be made between enemies of yours, as an individual, and how the Bible says you are to treat them -- turning the other cheek when they wrong you (Matt. 5:39), loving them (Matt. 5:44), clothing and feeding them (Rom 12:20, Prov. 25:21), not wishing death upon them etc. -- and how governments should respond to their enemies. The Bible teaches that the governments of Earth are ordained by God and wield the sword as an instrument of God's authority and judgment on Earth (Rom. 13:1). The commandments to us, as individuals, about how to treat our enemies don't apply to enemies of the government in the same fashion.
I didn't consider Osama bin Laden a personal enemy of mine to begin with. Did you? I never met the man nor had I ever met any of his victims. I always only considered him an enemy of my country and an enemy of civilization at large, and as such I saw that it was important to stop him if we could. Not as a matter of vengeance, which the Bible teaches belongs to God alone (Rom. 12:19), but as a matter of justice and as a matter of protecting the citizens of our nation (and others) from this person's murderous reign of terror.
Is it improper, then, to root for my government to wield the sword wisely and carry out justice? Is it only acceptable to do so before they succeed at it? The instant that they succeed, must I then become sorrowful that they did in fact succeed? If I am holding my attitude for the right reasons, if I'm not delighting in my heart at the demise of a human being, then I see no reason I should not celebrate the success of my nation acting as the duly appointed administer of divine justice that it is.
This, admittedly, is a fine line. At what point does my celebration of the achievements of the brave men and women who defend this nation become a matter of unearned personal pride in my heart? Am I really only celebrating the act of justice, the achievements of the heroes, the relief at a threat to civilization being defeated, or do I harbor a personal satisfaction in another human's death? Certainly it's difficult to keep the matters properly separated in our hearts and minds. Because of this I think it's appropriate for Christians to either make quite clear exactly what it is that they are celebrating -- and that it isn't someone's death, but the bravery of the troops, the relief for families, the increased security of the nation, the lives ultimately that will be saved etc. -- or to simply not celebrate at all.
The only reason I felt compelled to address the issue is in response to those who condemn the act of celebrations as necessarily entailing the celebration or delight in the death of a fellow fallen human, which doesn't follow necessarily. There are many things in this news and its implications worth celebrating, the death of a human being just isn't one of them. The death of Hitler entailed that many fewer human beings in Germany would be mercilessly slaughtered because of their ethnic and religious heritage. I would argue that if you don't celebrate this consequence of the death of this particular human being -- though not the death itself -- that this refusal to celebrate would itself be a quite grave sin.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Questions, Allegory, History and Genesis
I just read a provocative blog by Ron Offringa about the types of questions we should and shouldn't be asking. I think he makes a good point about secondary questions about the Biblical text displacing the more important, primary concerns. We certainly expend too much energy doing this when the most important things about the text are plain enough to all, and what we should generally be focused on as far as the text's significance and applicability to how we should live and what we should believe.
However, in his response to questions about Genesis he has done the very thing he is cautioning against when he asserts, fairly dogmatically, the way in which the Genesis accounts must be read, or at least can't be read. Yes, the Genesis creation account can be read as allegorical, or at least not as containing literal history or scientific truths, as many of the early church fathers read them. And certainly the authors of Genesis and other ancient Scriptures weren't consciously transmitting modern-scientific truths in their writings. But that doesn't mean the text could not contain truths that would only make sense in the light of modern science (unbeknownst to the author), though of course that still isn't the primary intention of the text. Which, as it happens, is what I hold to be the case. That is; that the events can be read as literal history, though not necessarily as literal 24-hour days.
The creation accounts, almost inexplicably, make near perfect sense in the light of modern science once certain things are accounted for (Hebrew 'day' can mean 'era'/'age', the perspective shift in Gen 1:2, etc.). This doesn't displace an allegorical reading as illegitimate, or alter the main point of the story at all, only reveals the perfection, infallibility and dynamism of God's word.
When the authors of biblical texts were writing, they didn't know how their writings would fit within the Biblical canon. And yet the texts take on greater, richer meanings within the canon, despite the fact that the authors had no clue this would happen and it was not part of their intention when writing. The texts enliven each other, give context to one another, and tell a fully formed narrative in a way that each author working separately, in his individual historical context, and solely in the light of their own conscious intentions never could accomplish. Only the Holy Spirit working through them, and within history, could accomplish this, which is why limiting the truths the Bible is allowed to reveal to those truths that reside in the conscious intentions of the authors working in their specific historical context is too restricting of a hermeneutic. Similarly the text can contain other types of truths -- such as scientific ones -- that have nothing to do with the author's conscious thoughts, historical context or intentions.
Modern science determined -- contrary to most educated belief throughout history -- that the universe has a definite beginning at a finite time in the past. The Bible is the only Holy book to make this very claim in multiple places, and big-bang cosmology has confirmed this is true. This is just one example, but they are numerous.
It is certainly very important to understand context and the author's intention and cultural differences when reading the texts. It's also important to realize that it is not only through the author's conscious thoughts that the Holy Spirit speaks through the text.
In any case, just because I hold this view I don't think that other views are completely untenable. For example, someone may hold that the Genesis text is meant to be taken allegorically and can not be reconciled as literal history in any sense. This, as Ron rightly pointed out, is a disagreement, but not one that should be elevated to a level of greater importance than those truths which are beyond dispute: God created the universe and saw that it was good, God created the universe for the main purpose of being the domain of man and giving him the gift of existence as an act of infinite grace, God made man in His likeness, man is now fallen and sinful which separates us from God etc.
While we should avoid unnecessarily rigid dogma on matters of relatively small importance, we also need to be wary of slipping into counter-dogmas of our own on those very same secondary matters.
However, in his response to questions about Genesis he has done the very thing he is cautioning against when he asserts, fairly dogmatically, the way in which the Genesis accounts must be read, or at least can't be read. Yes, the Genesis creation account can be read as allegorical, or at least not as containing literal history or scientific truths, as many of the early church fathers read them. And certainly the authors of Genesis and other ancient Scriptures weren't consciously transmitting modern-scientific truths in their writings. But that doesn't mean the text could not contain truths that would only make sense in the light of modern science (unbeknownst to the author), though of course that still isn't the primary intention of the text. Which, as it happens, is what I hold to be the case. That is; that the events can be read as literal history, though not necessarily as literal 24-hour days.
The creation accounts, almost inexplicably, make near perfect sense in the light of modern science once certain things are accounted for (Hebrew 'day' can mean 'era'/'age', the perspective shift in Gen 1:2, etc.). This doesn't displace an allegorical reading as illegitimate, or alter the main point of the story at all, only reveals the perfection, infallibility and dynamism of God's word.
When the authors of biblical texts were writing, they didn't know how their writings would fit within the Biblical canon. And yet the texts take on greater, richer meanings within the canon, despite the fact that the authors had no clue this would happen and it was not part of their intention when writing. The texts enliven each other, give context to one another, and tell a fully formed narrative in a way that each author working separately, in his individual historical context, and solely in the light of their own conscious intentions never could accomplish. Only the Holy Spirit working through them, and within history, could accomplish this, which is why limiting the truths the Bible is allowed to reveal to those truths that reside in the conscious intentions of the authors working in their specific historical context is too restricting of a hermeneutic. Similarly the text can contain other types of truths -- such as scientific ones -- that have nothing to do with the author's conscious thoughts, historical context or intentions.
Modern science determined -- contrary to most educated belief throughout history -- that the universe has a definite beginning at a finite time in the past. The Bible is the only Holy book to make this very claim in multiple places, and big-bang cosmology has confirmed this is true. This is just one example, but they are numerous.
It is certainly very important to understand context and the author's intention and cultural differences when reading the texts. It's also important to realize that it is not only through the author's conscious thoughts that the Holy Spirit speaks through the text.
In any case, just because I hold this view I don't think that other views are completely untenable. For example, someone may hold that the Genesis text is meant to be taken allegorically and can not be reconciled as literal history in any sense. This, as Ron rightly pointed out, is a disagreement, but not one that should be elevated to a level of greater importance than those truths which are beyond dispute: God created the universe and saw that it was good, God created the universe for the main purpose of being the domain of man and giving him the gift of existence as an act of infinite grace, God made man in His likeness, man is now fallen and sinful which separates us from God etc.
While we should avoid unnecessarily rigid dogma on matters of relatively small importance, we also need to be wary of slipping into counter-dogmas of our own on those very same secondary matters.
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