Monday, June 09, 2014
Photographic realism
This is a sequel to my earlier post:
From my reading, there is, in classical dispensationalism, a strong correlation between literal interpretation and the literal fulfillment of prophecy. This stands in contrast to "spiritualizing" or allegorizing the prophetic referent. For instance, that references to "Israel" necessarily mean ethnic Israel, rather than the church.
Related to this is the view that there's a one-to-one correspondence between what a prophecy means and what it points to. Single sense>single referent.
By contrast, progressive dispensationalists allow for multiple referents:
How Geisler et al. read narrative coheres with how they read prophecy. They have (at least in theory) a consistent hermeneutic, based on their definition of what constitutes a true account of events. They don't distinguish the narrative genre from the prophetic genre in that respect. The same rules apply to both.
The strong correlation between literal interpretation and literal fulfillment in turn conditions classic dispensationalists to define truth in terms of literality. A true historical description is a literal description. Representational (i.e. photographic realism). Take what Farnell considers to be violations of inerrancy:
2. The Commissioning of the Twelve in Matthew 10 is a group of instructions compiled on different occasions and organized by the author of Matthew. It was not spoken of by Jesus on a single occasion as presented.
3. The parables of Matthew 13 and Mark 4 are collections (i.e., anthologies) that Jesus uttered on different occasions rather than on a single occasion as the author of Matthew presented.
4. The Olivet Discourse in Matthew 24 did not happen in its entirety as is presented in Matthew. The writers artificially created this sermon and changed elements of it.
http://defendinginerrancy.com/can-still-trust-critical-evangelical-scholars/
The assumption here is that in order to be a true account or true report, a Gospel must record events such that, if the reader went back in time, he'd see and hear it as the Gospel describes it. There can be gaps in the account. The reader might see and hear more than what he finds in the account. But the narrative description directly corresponds to what happened as it happened. It may be incomplete, but what a time-traveler would see and hear would directly correspond to the narrative as it stands (making allowance for gaps).
On this view, harmonizing the Gospels involves intercalating the variants. Lining up two or more parallel accounts by determining what incident in one account occurred before or after an incident in the other account. What statement in one account was spoken before or after a statement in the other account.
Like arranging snapshots into a chronological series of still images which track the original order. Indeed, Geisler uses that metaphor:
…the Gospel record is more like a series of snapshots than it is like different portraits. However, on occasion the snapshots are at different angles with different lighting or through different lenses…Sometimes there is a topical rearrangement of the snapshots in order to fit the theme of the Gospel writer.
http://www.normangeisler.net/articles/Bible/Difficulties/GospelsPhotoOrPortrait.htm
That definition or standard of historical truth seems to be conditioned by a literal hermeneutic and literal view of fulfillment. The point is not to deny that some or many prophecies are literally fulfilled, or that a literal interpretation is often correct. Rather, the point is when, in principle, this must be the way it is. Otherwise, the representation is false. It's my impression that progressive dispensationalists reject that a priori standard.
If classical dispensationalism (in contrast to progressive dispensationalism) predisposes adherents to define inerrancy in terms of photographical realism, then that standard will apply across genres (e.g. prophecy, historical narrative), even though it has its impetus in their view of prophetic fulfillment.
By the same token, their targets will be broader than progressive dispensational opponents, but the classical/progressive dispensational debate will still be the epicenter of that wider offensive.
Paedocommunion and communion wine
In this post I'm not going to discuss the pros and cons of paedocommunion. instead, I'm going to raise a related question.
I take it as rationally indisputable that the NT church used wine rather than unfermented grape juice in communion. This means that if you espouse paedocommunion, and if you celebrate the Eucharist with biblical communion elements, your children will be drinking wine. The question, then, is whether or not that's problematic. I imagine a proponent of paedocommunion might respond in one or two different ways:
i) He might restrict participation to children eating communion bread rather than drinking communion wine.
ii) Perhaps he'd say the quantity of wine is so small as to be insignificant.
iii) However, the quantity of wine which the communicant imbibes is, to some degree, affected by the mode of administration. Many evangelical churches administer communion by filling plastic thimbles with grape juice. That effectively regulates the quantity of liquid which each communicant imbibes.
However, in liturgical churches, communicants drink from a common chalice. That, of course, raises the additional question of whether a common chalice is a more biblical way to administer communion.
If you use a chalice, then it's up to the individual communicant to regulate his intake.
iv) I don't know the average age at which European parents usually introduce their children to alcoholic beverages. I expect that's underreported. Even if there's polling data, what they tell a pollster and what they do in the privacy of their homes might be two very different things.
Sunday, June 08, 2014
"How did you know to come?"
The following is from What Makes Life Worth Living by W. Phillip Keller (who also authored A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23):
He does not bestow the generous gifts of His person apart from or detached from Himself. Christ comes to us Himself, and in the person of His own gracious Spirit imparts to us His very own life, so that life burns bright with the lovely hope of His presence. That is the way in which I overcome all the troubles of this day and every other day.
Just moments after penning those lines, a compelling, irresistible, inner conviction came to me that I should drive over the mountains some thirty miles to see a younger couple I had not seen in two years. The gracious Spirit of Christ constrained me to set aside every other duty and go at once.
It was a glorious, midwinter morning with sharp sunlight illuminating every crag and ridge in bright light. In the frosty clearings, cattle were munching on dry hay scattered by ranchers. But vultures soared against the blue sky on dark wings. They were like an omen of the awful agony that would engulf this glorious day in grief.
The instant I drove into the barnyard, I was met by a stranger with the explosive news: "Their son of seventeen hung himself. His dad found him before sunrise this morning."
Softly I stepped into the sprawling old ranch house. It was full of neighbors, friends, and clergy who gathered in its grand old room and who had come to weep and console the family.
The moment the distraught parents saw me through their tears, they leaped to their feet, cried out in anguish, "Phillip - Phillip," then rushed over to fling themselves into my outstretched arms. They simply sobbed, unable to stop . . . utterly shattered . . . utterly crushed . . . utterly devastated.
"How did you hear? How did you know to come?"
They pressed me close. They hugged me. They clung to me. All I could reply was that God, my Father, by His gentle Spirit had sent me to them in His compassion, clean over the mountains, by His loving care.
In the darkness of that dreadful hour I was able to assure these two precious people that Christ Himself was here. He could set their spirits free. He could pour the healing of His Spirit into their wounded souls. He would, in His time, bring great good out of this awful anguish.
A comforting hope in God began to fill that huge ranch house. We wept together. We prayed together in the wondrous compassion of our Father!
Over and over the remark was repeated, "Today, in truth, we have seen a miracle of God's grace in sending you to us."
Softly I slipped out of the crowd and drove away, floods of tears streaming down my burning cheeks. But those tears were commingled sorrow and joy. For in the intense stillness of that sweeping mountain valley an acute, palpable awareness of Christ's presence was all around, on and over the earth.
The fruits of fruits and nuts
The next step in transgender ideology:
http://www.nationalreview.com/node/379826/print
What happens if they change their mind? A tad too late to take it all back.
http://www.nationalreview.com/node/379826/print
What happens if they change their mind? A tad too late to take it all back.
Animals on day 6
24 And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures according to their kinds—livestock and creeping things and beasts of the earth according to their kinds.” And it was so. 25 And God made the beasts of the earth according to their kinds and the livestock according to their kinds, and everything that creeps on the ground according to its kind. And God saw that it was good (Gen 1:24-25).
i) On the face of it, the reference to livestock is odd. By definition, that refers to domesticated animals. At a minimum, taming wild animals, but often animals which are the product of selective breeding.
Yet in what sense did God create domestic animals on day 6? Is this like instant Jersey cows?
a) Perhaps the usage is deliberately or unavoidably anachronistic. In the nature of the case, most occurrences of the word date from a later time. Since, however, there's a contrast between livestock and wild animals, that's not the best explanation.
b) Another possibility is that the usage is proleptic. God created domesticable animals on day 6. Animals suitable for domestication. God leaves it to humans to tame them and artificially breed them (to suppress undesirable traits and enhance desirable traits).
ii) Commentators agree that the first category (Heb=behema) denotes livestock, like cattle.
There's general agreement on the fact that the third category (Heb=hayya) denotes wild animals, although Walton and Waltke think it has a more specific denotation (see below).
There's disagreement on the identity of the second category (Heb=remes). Currid thinks it denotes "small animals."
Hamilton thinks it denotes reptiles (e.g. snakes, lizards). This assumes the classification is based on modes of locomotion.
Based on cognate (Akkadian) usage, Walton thinks it denotes wild herd animals. He thinks this involves a contrast between wild prey and wild predators. (Waltke takes a similar position.)
iii) How the animals are classified has a bearing on whether Gen 1 indicates that all animals were originally herbivorous. If Walton and Waltke are correct, then carnivory was in place from the get-go.
Likewise, if the second category denotes reptiles, many reptiles are carnivorous. Of course, some Christians think that represents a subsequent development.
I'd say the textual evidence is inconclusive for either position.
Saturday, June 07, 2014
Putting the New Atheists out to pasture
In atheism, everybody is supremely disposable. Every human life is temporary, expendable, replaceable.
Not surprisingly, this circles back on atheists themselves. Welcome to the generation gap, where atheist heroes have all the longevity of boybands.
It’s surprising just how much media analysis, both mainstream and progressive, continues to take as given the notion that atheism can be defined and discussed solely by looking at the so-called “New Atheists” who emerged roughly between 2004 and 2007. It’s easy to understand the appeal: Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and Christopher Hitchens became prominent representatives of atheism because they were all erudite, entertaining and unafraid to say what they thought. A lot of people, myself included, were drawn to their works because they were forthright and articulated things we had kept locked away, or simply hadn’t found the words for.
But in 2014, Hitchens is dead, and using Dawkins or Harris to make a case for or against atheism is about as relevant as writing about how Nirvana and Public Enemy are going to change pop music forever.
James Croft, the research and education fellow at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard, says there are already generational differences in how they’re viewed. “Frankly, people like Richard Dawkins and even Sam Harris to some extent, are not viewed positively by young atheists now,” he says. “They actually don’t think that they’re that great. You still find people at the conventions who love them of course, but it does seem like they’re already a bit passé….They kind of pushed a door open, and that represents an opportunity, but the real task is to step through that door with some positive proposal of what life after religion has to look like.”
http://www.salon.com/2014/06/05/forget_christopher_hitchens_atheism_in_america_is_undergoing_a_radical_change_partner/
Exorcising the poltergeist of classical dispensationalism
I've noticed what seems to be a common denominator in the new inerrancy wars. I'm alluding to prominent members of the Geisler faction.
Perhaps this is just coincidental, but there are so many suggestive connections that it's worth tracing or tracking. To some extent (although by no means entirely), the current inerrancy debate seems to be haunted by the angry, noisy ghost of classical dispensationalism.
For starters, I wonder if the Master's Seminary is to Talbot Seminary what Westminster is to Princeton. After Princeton went liberal, Machen founded Westminster. Westminster existed to continue the legacy that Princeton relinquished.
Talbot used to be a dispensational seminary. Charles Lee Feinberg was the first dean of Talbot. Not only was Feinberg a dispensationalist, but a classic dispensationalist–in contrast to progressive dispensationalism.
What's more, Feinberg was a teacher and mentor of John MacArthur. In addition, Robert Thomas (another classical dispensationalist) taught at Talbot, before switching to TMS, right after MacArthur started TMS.
Although Talbot still has a dispensationalist on the faculty, Saucy is a leader of the progressive dispensationalists. So I wonder if this doesn't reflect a split or rivalry between the two competing institutions.
Back in 1998, Robert Thomas and David Farnell edited The Jesus Crisis. It's a precursor to Defending Inerrancy, by Norm Geisler and William Roach. Farnell is another TMS prof. And The Jesus Crisis had a forward by MacArthur.
In addition, from what I've read, Geisler is another critic of progressive dispensationalism.
Darrell Bock is a target of the Geisler faction. And Bock just so happens to be a leader of the progressive dispensationallists. Dan Wallace is yet another target of the Geisler faction. Both Bock and Wallace teach at Dallas Theological Seminary. So I wonder if this doesn't reflect rivalry between DTS and TMS. Competing visions of dispensationalism.
On another front, why does the Geisler faction continue to pound Robert Gundry? He's retired. He's in his 80s. His notorious commentary on Matthew was published over 30 years ago. Why keep fanning the embers of that old smoldering controversy?
Liberal Bible scholars are a dime a dozen. Why focus so much continued attention on Gundry? Surely there are comparable targets. What not train their guns on Charles Talbert, a liberal SBC survivor who found refuge at Baylor?
Perhaps it's just because Gundry was Geisler's prize trophy. His head is mounted over the mantelpiece of Geisler's living room.
However, there may be another explanation. Although Gundry is best known in some circles for his commentary on Matthew, he was also an influential critic of pretribulational dispensationalism. When it was published, The Church and the Tribulation was a bombshell in dispensational circles. And Gundry published a sequel: First the Antichrist: Why Christ Won’t Come Before the Antichrist Does.
The Church and the Tribulation came out nine years before his commentary on Matthew. His critique of pretribulational dispensationalism may explain the obsession of the Geisler faction with Gundry.
George Eldon Ladd is another target of the Geisler faction. A current target. Yet Ladd died over 30 years ago. So why keep him in the crosshairs?
Yes, he taught at Fuller, the bête noire of evangelical seminaries. But he wasn't especially liberal. If you're going to target dead Fuller faculty, why not go after David Hubbard or William LaSor? From what I can tell, LaSor was more liberal than Ladd, and in some ways a more formidable scholar.
For that matter, why go after dead Fuller faculty when living Fuller faculty like Daniel Kirk are such inviting targets?
Maybe because, in his heyday, Ladd was evangelicalism's most influential critic of dispensationalism. Ladd rehabilitated historical premillennialism.
By the same token, Craig Blomberg is another long-time target of the Geisler faction. And Blomberg is a fellow premil. But he's the wrong kind of premil. He's a classic premil rather than a dispensationalisr. And the wrong kind of premil is more dangerous than an amil, since the more two positions are alike, the more competitive they are.
Blomberg contributed to a book (A Case for Historic Premillennialism: An Alternative to "Left Behind" Eschatology) that critiques the pop pretribulational dispensationalism of Hal Lindsey, Tim LaHaye, and Jerry Jenkins.
Conversely, LaHaye and Jenkins endorsed MacArthur's Because the Time is Near (on a dustjacket blurb).
Now, I'm not suggesting that all the targets of the Geisler faction are opponents of their brand of dispensationalism. But there seems to be a pattern. They may think consistent inerrancy requires classical dispensational hermeneutics. That's their standard of comparison.
For those of us who defend inerrancy, but don't share their eschatological commitments, it's necessary to exorcise the poltergeist of classical dispensationalism. If we're busy ducking furniture which the angry ghost of classical dispensationalism hurls at us, that distracts us from the real threat.
Friday, June 06, 2014
Christian priorities
What I tell my students every year is that it is imperative that they pursue truth rather than protect their presuppositions. And they need to have a doctrinal taxonomy that distinguishes core beliefs from peripheral beliefs. When they place more peripheral doctrines such as inerrancy and verbal inspiration at the core, then when belief in these doctrines start to erode, it creates a domino effect: One falls down, they all fall down. It strikes me that something like this may be what happened to Bart Ehrman. His testimony in Misquoting Jesus discussed inerrancy as the prime mover in his studies. But when a glib comment from one of his conservative professors at Princeton was scribbled on a term paper, to the effect that perhaps the Bible is not inerrant, Ehrman’s faith began to crumble. One domino crashed into another until eventually he became ‘a fairly happy agnostic.’ I may be wrong about Ehrman’s own spiritual journey, but I have known too many students who have gone in that direction. The irony is that those who frontload their critical investigation of the text of the Bible with bibliological presuppositions often speak of a ‘slippery slope’ on which all theological convictions are tied to inerrancy. Their view is that if inerrancy goes, everything else begins to erode. I would say that if inerrancy is elevated to the status of a prime doctrine, that’s when one gets on a slippery slope. But if a student views doctrines as concentric circles, with the cardinal doctrines occupying the center, then if the more peripheral doctrines are challenged, this does not have an effect on the core.
http://evangelicaltextualcriticism.blogspot.com/2006/03/interview-with-dan-wallace.html
This argument seems to be increasingly popular among some scholars and apologists (e.g. Dan Wallace, Craig Blomberg, William Lane Craig, Mike Licona, Michael Patton). On this view, a dogmatic commitment to inerrancy is a "slippery slope" or "house of cards." Once you begin to question inerrancy, that has the "domino effect."
To this I'd say a few things:
i) Although we shouldn't make the Christian faith more demanding than God demands, by the same token, we shouldn't make the Christian faith less demanding than God demands. Indeed, we don't have the authority to tell people what biblical teachings they are free to jettison.
ii) Some professing Christians lose their faith because they had very crude notions of what inerrancy requires. Their false expectations were dashed. But there are nuanced models of inerrancy, viz.
Darrell Bock, “Precision and Accuracy: Making Distinctions in the Cultural Context That Give Us Pause in Pitting the Gospels against Each Other,” in Do Historical Matters Matter to Faith? A Critical Appraisal of Modern and Postmodern Approaches to Scripture, ed. James K. Hoffmeier and Dennis R. Magary (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012) 367-381.
iii) As scholars like Warfield have documented, verbal inspiration is the Bible's own doctrine of inspiration. That's not one among several theories of inspiration. That's not a "peripheral" doctrine. That's the "core" of divine communication.
iv) Finally, suppose, for the sake of argument, that Scripture is not inerrant. Suppose, when I die and go to heaven, I find out that I was wrong about inerrancy. Does that mean I was wrong to defend inerrancy in the here and now?
Although it's best to be right for the right reasons, it's better to be wrong for the right reasons than right for the wrong reasons. Let's take two examples:
a) Suppose I have a teenage daughter who's diagnosed with cancer. Unfortunately, it's a cancer with a 20% survival rate. Suppose I don't have her treated, because the odds are against her. Conversely, suppose I have her undergo treatment, but she dies anyway.
Which was the right thing to do? Well, if I have her undergo treatment, then, in a sense I was wrong, because the treatment was futile. Put another way, if I don't have her undergo treatment, there's a sense in which I was right, because even if she had undergone treatment, she was doomed.
But, of course, even though she only had a 1 out of 5 chance of survival, it was my parental duty to try to save her life. I didn't know ahead of time if therapy would be successful or unsuccessful. But there was so much to gain if it succeeded, and so little to lose if it failed.
If I deny her treatment, I'm factually right, but morally wrong. If I order treatment, I'm factually wrong but morally right.
We'd be justified in condemning a parent who denied her treatment, even if it might have proven futile.I didn't have the benefit of hindsight.
b) Let's take another example. Suppose I have a bedridden mother who lives with me. I have a nurse's aid visit everyday to change her or bathe her.
Suppose a category-5 hurricane is making a beeline for our neighborhood. It isn't feasible to evacuate my mother in her frail condition. I can stay behind, but I'd be risking my own life in the process. Or I can leave her behind and come back after the hurricane has passed over. It's possible that the hurricane will weaken or swerve before it makes landfall, but if I wait until the last minute to decide what to do, it will be too late to escape because the evacuation routes will be gridlocked. I'd be overtaken by the hurricane.
Suppose I stay behind. As it turns out, the hurricane swerved. My mother was never in danger. It was unnecessary for me to stay by her side.
Suppose I leave her behind. As it turns out, it was safe to leave her alone, then return a few hours later.
If I say behind, there's a sense in which I was wrong, since she was never actually threatened by the hurricane.
But, of course, it's my filial duty to stay behind, even if that means we both die. If I leave her behind, and no harm comes to her, we both got lucky. But that hardly excuses me for deserting her in a crisis.
If I leave her behind, I'm factually right, but morally wrong. If I stay behind, I'm factually wrong, but morally right.
Suppose, for the sake of argument, that some Christians have too much faith in Scripture. Suppose their excessive faith is misplaced.
Even if (ex hypothesi), they were wrong, they were wrong for the right reason. Their motives were God-honoring.
Even if (ex hypothesi), those who reject inerrancy turn out to be right, they were right for the wrong reason. Their motives were God-dishonoring.
Blomberg on pseudonymity
Unfortunately, we have a number of otherwise conservative Bible scholars and Christian apologists who feel the need to hedge their bets. In this post I'm going to comment on some statements by Craig Blomberg on pseudepigrapha, from his Can We Still Believe the Bible?
In fact, when it comes to postbiblical Jewish apocalypses, every known example is pseudonymous (173).
i) But isn't that observation counterproductive to his thesis? Why were no Intertestamental pseudepigrapha canonized? Did their pseudonymity ipso facto disqualify them from consideration?
To my knowledge, almost no Intertertestamental pseudepigrapha are named after Jews who lived during the Intertestamental Period. Why is that? Does that mean there were no acknowledge prophets during the Intertestmental period? If any Jew from that period presented himself as a prophet, Jewry at large would dismiss his claims out of hand.
ii) Conversely, canonical writers like Amos, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel (to name a few) were known to their contemporaries. Even if a later reader is coming to their works long after the prophet and his original audience lived and died, their works have a chain-of-custody.
By contrast, if a "prophecy," attributed to some luminary who lived and died centuries before, suddenly emerges out of the blue, that's inherently suspect. If it's authentic, where did it come from? If it originated in the distant past, why is it only coming to light just now? Nothing in the present connects it to the past. It wasn't discovered.
Plenty of other examples exist in ancient Jewish, Greek, and Roman circles for attributing a document to an author whom people would have known was no longer living, doing so as a way of crediting them for being a key resource or inspiration for the ideas contained in the newer work. Far from being deceptive, it was a way of not taking credit for the contents of a book when one's ideas were heavily indebted to others of a previous era (169).
i) That sounds almost admirable. But how does Blomberg know that's what motivated the pseudonymous author? In the nature of the case, the author couldn't maintain his pseudonymity if he named his real source. He'd had to drop the pose to credit the source. Since, therefore, the pseudonymous facade precludes him from naming his sources, what internal evidence is there from the document itself that his intention was not to take credit for the contents?
ii) Moreover, we have examples in Scripture (e.g. 1-2 Chronicles; Gospel of Luke) where the author explicitly names or alludes to sources of information. He doesn't resort to a pseudonymous guise. He's upfront about sources.
In addition, Blomberg footnotes his claim as follows:
Particularly frequently cited are Tertullian, Against Marcion 4.5 ("that which Mark published may be affirmed to be Peter's whose interpreter Mark was. For even Luke's form of the Gospel, men usually ascribed to Paul") and Mishnah, Berakot 5.5 ("a man's representative is himself") (262n102).
i) But doesn't that undercut rather than underwrite Blomberg's claim? Mark's Gospel isn't pseudonymous. Even if Peter is Mark's primary informant, the Gospel isn't named after Peter. Likewise, Paul is not the named author of Luke's Gospel.
ii) A problem with the Mishnaic quote is the failure to distinguish between a man's designated spokesman and someone who presumes to speak on behalf of another. Assuming (ex hypothesi) that some NT letters are pseudonymous, that's not because an apostle authorized them to speak for him.
On the other hand, it is an open question whether ancient Jews or Christians ever deemed the practice of pseudonymity acceptable for canonical Scripture (170).
i) Which is one of the problems. For instance, Paul signs his letters to authenticate his letters–a practice he began with 2 Thes 3:17. And that was apparently to forestall forgeries (2:2).
In that case, how could a deutero-Pauline epistle be morally innocent rather than inherently deceptive?
ii) Likewise, by OT criteria, a hallmark of a false prophet is speaking in God's name when God has not commissioned him and spoken to him. By that yardstick, a pseudonymous prophecy is ipso facto false prophecy.
iii) By the same token, Paul makes a big deal about his divine commission and direct revelation (Galatians 1-2). That's the basis of his apostolic authority. A deutero-Pauline epistle would lack those key credentials. The same considerations apply to 1-2 Peter.
iv) In addition, the author of 1 John claims to be a member of Christ's inner circle. An eyewitness to the ministry of Christ. (1 Jn 1:1-5). How can a pseudonymous author honestly feign that experience?
v) Why would anyone pay attention to Jude unless it was, in fact, written by one of Christ's stepbrothers?
vi) If NT pseudonymity was an accepted practice, why is Hebrews anonymous rather than pseudonymous?
David Aune conveniently summarizes…six different kinds of ancient pseudepigraphy: (1) works that are partly authentic but have been supplemented by later authors, (2) works written largely by later authors but relying on some material from the named authors, (3) works that are more generally influenced by the earlier authors who are named, (4) works from a "school" of writers ideologically descended from the named authors, (5) originally anonymous works later made pseudonymous for one of these previous reasons, and (6) genuine forgeries intended to deceive (172).
Take the case of Jude. Is there any reason to think (1)-(5) are applicable to Jude?
All the candidates for NT pseudonymity are letters. But that's easier said than done. As Bauckham explains:
All letters, including pseudepigraphal letters, must specify both the sender(s) and the recipient(s). In the case of pseudepigraphal letters the supposed author, named in the parties formula, is not the real author. But it is important to notice also, since the point is sometimes neglected, that the supposed addressee(s), specified in the parties formula, cannot be the real readers for whom the real author is writing. The supposed addressee(s) must (except in some special cases to be considered later) be a contemporary or contemporaries of the supposed author. Not only does the "I" in a pseudepigraphal letter not refer to the real author, but "you" does not refer to the read readers. The readers of a pseudepigraphal letter cannot read it as though they were being directly addressed either by the supposed author or by the real author (except in the special cases to be noted later); they must read it as a letter written to other people, in the past.
The authentic real letter (type A) is a form of direct address to specific addressee(s). The pseudepigraphal letter, it seems, can only be this fictionally. The real author of a pseudepigraphal letter can only address real readers indirectly, under cover of direct address to other people.
The problem for the author in this case is that he wants his pseudepigraphal letter to perform for him and his readers something like the function which an authentic real letter from him to his readers would perform. He wants, under cover of his pseudonym, to address his real readers, but his genre allows his letter to be addressed only to supposed addressees contemporary with the supposed author. Thus, he needs to find some way in which material that is ostensibly addressed to supposed addressees in the past can be taken by his real readers as actually or also addressed to them.
However, in themselves these two expedients (AP6 and BP) only enable the pseudepigraphal writer to address a general readership in general terms. They do not enable him to do what Paul did in his authentic letters, that is, to write material of specific relevance to specific churches in specific situations.
One way to do this was to address supposed addressees who were ancestors or predecessors of the real readers in a situation supposed not to have changed, in relevant respects, up to the present, so that the real readers are still in the same situation as the supposed addressees once were (type AP3). "Pseudo-Apostolic Letters," The Jewish World Around the New Testament (Baker 2010), 129-31.
An obvious obstacle to that strategy is the brevity of the NT era. Except for the Apostle John (according to tradition), the Apostles and stepbrothers of Christ were dead by the 60s. So how could a pseudonymous letter, directed at the author's contemporaries, be plausibly addressed to their Christian predecessors or ancestors? How many Christian generations does the NT era allow for?
Thursday, June 05, 2014
No place to hide
Most liberals rubberstamp whatever the Obama administration does. However, Noam Chomsky, doyen of the far left, is sounding the alarm:
http://www.alternet.org/print/civil-liberties/noam-chomsky-surveillance-state-beyond-imagination-being-created-one-freest
http://www.alternet.org/print/civil-liberties/noam-chomsky-surveillance-state-beyond-imagination-being-created-one-freest
The abomination of desolation
A few points about the "abomination of desolation," and related issues:
i) On the traditional view, at the time of writing this was future to Daniel.
ii) Even conservative commentators think the Danielic references include (but are not exclusive to) Antiochus Epiphanes. For instance, they may view Antiochus as a type of the eschatological Antichrist.
iii) What about 2 Thes 2 and the Olivet Discourse? I think it likely that these are both backward-looking and forward-looking. Given the fact that Antiochus was such a notorious figure in Jewish history, I assume the Danielic oracles would by that time carry Antiochean connotations. When Jesus and Paul quote these prophecies, with the Intertestamental Period behind them, I think there'd be unavoidable associations between the Danielic oracles and the Antiochean crisis–in the minds of Paul, Jesus, and a Jewish audience.
iv) In addition, as Gordon Fee points out in his commentary, by the time Paul penned 2 Thessalonians, the Second Temple had already been desecrated on three separate occasions: by Antiochus, Pompey, and Caligula.
v) On the other hand, Jesus and Paul obviously apply this to a future event. Typology can do justice to both a prospective and retrospective outlook. More than one person or event can exemplify the same repeatable principle.
Even if we accept the preterist identifications in 2 Thes 2 and the Olivet Discourse, that doesn't mean the prophecy is past–anymore than recognizing Antiochus or Pompey stepping into that role precludes future actors from reprising the same part.
Reacting to reactionaries
I'm continuing my interaction with Mike Licona's latest response to the Geisler faction. It's a sequel to my previous analysis:
Unfortunately, there almost seems to be a self-fulling prophecy at work. In the past, Geisler has leveled criticisms of Blomberg and Licona (among others) that are out of all proportion to the offense. Yet in reaction to Geisler, Blomberg and Licona are now making concessions which, to some extent, confirm the original allegation after the fact. It's as if they are moving to the left in reaction to the Geisler faction. Geisler is a reactionary, but there's a danger that some of his targets or opponents will respond by becoming reactionaries in the opposite direction.
The bottom line appears to be that Geisler and the New Fundamentalists do not like the historical-critical approach I employ and that is employed by the majority of today’s leading evangelical biblical scholars. He and those in his camp do not grasp the different tasks of theologians and biblical historians. Conservative theologians can approach the biblical texts with their presuppositions and conclude that such-and-such events occurred. So, Geisler, who is a philosopher and theologian, can come to the Gospels and say (a) The Bible is God’s Word. (b) The Bible says these events occurred. (c) Therefore, these events occurred. Case closed.
Of course, that's a caricature. A Christian commitment to the veracity of Scripture doesn't mean there is nothing further to be said. Although the fact that Scripture vouches for an event is sufficient reason to believe it occurred, that doesn't preclude corroborative evidence. Likewise, one can furnish supporting arguments for the veracity of Scripture.
The doctrines of the divine inspiration and inerrancy of the Gospels are faith doctrines that cannot be proven. That does not mean they are false. It means they cannot be proven. In order to prove the Gospels are inerrant, one would have to start by proving there are no errors (this means adequately resolving all discrepancies), and then corroborating everything reported in the Gospels as being true. Good luck with that task! But one can still believe the Gospels are divinely inspired and without error just as they can believe Jesus’s death can atone for one’s sins. Neither can be proven and both must be accepted on faith.
i) It isn't clear what Licona is denying. Is he saying there can be no evidence for the inspiration of Scripture? Or is he saying there is only so much we can show by means of argument?
ii) Moreover, Licona's invidious comparison is self-defeating. If "faith-doctrines" are unprovable, so are the reconstructions and conclusions of the critical-historical method–which, at best, only yields probabilities rather than certainties.
ii) Moreover, Licona's invidious comparison is self-defeating. If "faith-doctrines" are unprovable, so are the reconstructions and conclusions of the critical-historical method–which, at best, only yields probabilities rather than certainties.
Historians of the Bible do not have such a luxury. Historical investigation does not allow us to presuppose the inerrancy of the Bible in the course of a historical investigation. Otherwise, historians would just use the above argument, close shop and go home. However, when approaching the Gospels historically and making no theological assumptions pertaining to whether they are divinely inspired or inerrant, historians can apply the tools of historical investigation in order to see if a reported event can be confirmed. History and theology are not contradictory practices. But they are different.
This posits a false dichotomy between history and theology. Yet the Gospels are theological history. The Gospels bear witness to God's intimate involvement in human history.
How can a historian of the Bible leave God's activity in the world out of account when Biblical narratives report what God has done with, to, or for the human participants?
Of course, an unbeliever can simply deny the reality of that theological representation, but he must take the representation fully into account even to deem it false.
Perhaps Licona is distinguishing between the nature of the record (inspiration) and the nature of what it records (divine action). If so, that's an artificial distinction. It would be arbitrary to make allowance for divine revelation within the historical narrative (e.g. prophecies, revelatory dreams, angelic apparitions), but disallow divine inspiration or revelation in reference to the production of the record itself. If the Gospels can be a record of divine agency, they can also be a product of divine agency.
Licona's latest statement is especially odd because it seems to mark a regression from the position he took in The Resurrection of Jesus: A New Historiographical Approach.
We may still ask what it means to say, “The Bible is God’s Word.” Does it mean God must always speak with legal precision and describe events with photographic accuracy rather than within the bounds of the various genres in which the biblical literature is written?
Short answer: no. Vern Poythress has a good discussion of photographic realism in his Inerrancy and the Gospels:
http://www.frame-poythress.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/PoythressVernInerrancyAndTheGospels.pdf
http://www.frame-poythress.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/PoythressVernInerrancyAndTheGospels.pdf
Would it be possible for God to ensure that certain messages He regarded as having great importance were preserved accurately while He allowed the biblical authors freedom to write in their own words and style, even tolerating a lapse of memory on their part, their need to fill in the blanks, or even a deliberate altering of data for theological reasons resulting in a portrayal of events in ways not reflective of what we would have seen had we been there?
i) Licona seems to be proposing a denial of verbal inspiration. Was that his intention?
Verbal inspiration isn't a "New Fundamentalist" distinctive or innovation. That's the classic Protestant doctrine of Scripture. And it reflects the self-witness of Scripture–as Warfield has documented.
ii) "Tolerating a memory lapse" would clearly be incompatible with the inerrancy of the record.
I offer a few thoughts: First: CSBI and the doctrine of biblical inerrancy are not the same. CSBI is neither Scripture nor is it the product of a Church council. It is not authoritative. And with the exception of the faculty members at a few seminaries, evangelicals are not bound by it. One can hold to the inerrancy of Scripture without embracing CSBI. In fact, it’s worth observing that it may very well be the case that more evangelicals worldwide define biblical inerrancy as it’s articulated in the Lausanne Covenant than by CSBI.
It's true that the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy has no inherent authority. However, unless Licona thinks there's something wrong with the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy (or the companion document on hermeneutics), why does he bridle at that standard? If he thinks it's a defective formulation, he should explain why.
Perhaps, though, that's implicit in his contrast with Walton's new book:
In their new book The Lost World of Scripture, biblical scholars John Walton and Brent Sandy discuss ancient literary culture, its focus on orality, and biblical authority. Both authors teach at Wheaton College where all faculty members must affirm the doctrine of biblical inerrancy. It’s a wonderful book worth reading in its entirety. Consider the following statements made by Walton and Sandy:
Common definitions of inerrancy do not fit scenarios understood in light of orality (though some responsible constructive theological accounts come close). Yet orality was the way God chose, which must mean it was the right way. Evidently, we need to adjust our understanding of inerrancy to the evidence we find in Scripture.[20]
The point of this book is not to deconstruct inerrancy but to put it on surer footing by carefully accounting for the worldview of the biblical world, which is different from the worldview of modern Western culture. If Christians conceive of inerrancy from the vantage point of print culture and expect sacrosanct wording for the transmission of truth, then they may rightly conclude that understanding orality threatens inerrancy. The alternative is to recognize that inerrancy needs to be redefined in light of the literary culture of the Bible. Hopefully, this book is a step in the right direction.[21]
i) By itself, this fails to specify how inerrancy needs to be redefined. What does Licona think is the takeaway lesson from that book, which he recommends?
ii) One problem with Walton's book is neglecting evidence for literacy and textuality in the 1C. It was never just an oral culture. That's grossly simplistic. For instance:
iii) Consider how often in Scripture a prophet is commanded to write down his oracles.
iv) Walton seems to be assuming that the sayings of Jesus were transmitted by word-of-mouth long before they were committed to writing. Hence, the Gospels reflect a loose recollection of what he said. If that's Walton's contention, it disregards the role of inspiration, as if the record of Christ's sayings was solely dependent on the vicissitudes of unaided memory.
Jesus gave no indication that the [oral] culture was deficient or that his followers should move beyond orality and record his message in written form. Nothing in the Gospels suggests that the oral texts of Jesus' words and deeds would be inadequate for the Christian movement (144).
Walton's claim is self-refuting. The very fact that he appeals to written Gospels as his source of information directly belies his contention to the contrary.
Wednesday, June 04, 2014
Defining inerrancy
i) As the inerrancy wars reheat, let's revisit our definitions. Let's begin with a few definitions:
Inerrancy will then mean that at no point in what was originally given were the biblical writers allowed to make statements or endorse viewpoints which are not in conformity with objective truth. This applies at any level at which they make pronouncements (Roger Nicole).
Inerrancy means that when all facts are known, the Scriptures in their original autographs and properly interpreted will be shown to be wholly true in everything that they affirm, whether that has to do with doctrine or morality or with the social, physical, or life sciences (Paul Feinberg).
Being wholly and verbally God-given, Scripture is without error or fault in all its teaching, no less in what it states about God's acts in creation, about the events of world history, and about its own literary origins under God, than in its witness to God's saving grace in individual lives (Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy).
ii) These definitions are fine as far as they go. However, they contain an implicit loophole.
For instance, suppose a commentator on Acts says the Ascension never happened. Does that deny the inerrancy of Scripture? Depends on how he defends his interpretation.
If he says Luke affirms or teaches the reality of the Ascension, based on his antiquated cosmology, but we now know that couldn't happen, then his interpretation denies the inerrancy of Scripture.
If, however, he says Luke never intended to affirm the reality of the Ascension, that this was never meant to be more than a theological metaphor, then his interpretation is consistent with the definition of inerrancy. He doesn't say what Luke claimed to be the case was mistaken. Rather, he says it was never a truth-claim in the first place.
So this reflects a limitation concerning abstract definitions of inerrancy. There's only so much you can pack into a definition.
iii) But oftentimes, Christians use "inerrancy" more broadly, as shorthand for the kinds of things critics or unbelievers deny. In this broader sense, when we say Scripture is inerrant, we mean that when Scripture says something has happened (history) or will happen (prophecy), that's a fact. That corresponds to an objective state of affairs.
Or when Scripture says something is right or wrong, that's true. Or when Scripture quotes someone, he really said it.
Usually, "inerrancy" is getting at matters of historicity, factuality, or miraculosity. However, that's something you can't really capture in an abstract definition, because it alludes to a large number of specific examples or kinds of things.
This means inerrancy is not enough. A definition of inerrancy needs to be supplemented by a list of doctrines or events. In other words, you also need a creed or statement of faith to specify some key details. To fill the blanks. Show how the definition plays out at a concrete level.
Finally, even at that level, there's only so much you can put into a statement of faith. It's a summary of doctrine.
iv) In addition to creeds, members of a Christian community must operate in good faith. This includes an unwritten understanding and acceptance.
Take the statement of faith at Dallas Theological Seminary. From what I can tell, if a DTS prof. were to say the oracles of Daniel were prophecy ex eventu, that wouldn't violate the statement of faith.
Since, however, DTS is the flagship of dispensational seminaries, since DTS was founded by prophecy teachers, treating the oracles of Daniel as prophecy ex eventu would clearly be out-of-bounds. That violates the unwritten understanding of the DTS community. A DTS prof could only get away with that if, at some point, DTS liberalizes. Abandons its original vision.
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