"Literalism" a modern invention?

[Afterthought]

This is partly an historical and partly an apologetics question. Some liberals like to accuse us Protestants of innovating the literal approach to interpreting the bible. That is, that "literalism" is fairly modern; the church used to take the Scriptures non-literally. How should one respond to this claim, especially if it is true in some sense? And if it is true in some sense, in what sense is it true? I'll be willing to do a bit of online reading, if there are recommendations. So far as I know about this claim, there was an allegorical method that was popular, but I'm also fairly sure there were literal schools of thought too, though I don't recall the extent, influence, or relations of these methods.

 

[irresistible_grace]

Not to sound stupid BUT...
Is "literalism" the same thing as the "historical-grammatical [hermeneutical] method" of interpreting Scripture?
Also, "non-literally" is confusing (for the slower folk on the board like myself). I guess where I get a little confused with "non-literally" is that... Isn't one of the four methods of Allegorical interpretation, "literal" interpretation? Not "literalism" but "literal"?
I've heard a similar argument just using the words "historical-critical" (Liberal Biblical Scholars) vs "historical-grammatical" (Conservative Biblical Literalism)...

 

[Semper Fidelis]

THE INTERPRETIVE METHODS OF THE EARLY CHURCH FATHERS

The interpretation of the patristic period of the early Christian centuries tended to fall into three main schools: the Alexandrian, the Antiochian, and the Western.

Alexandrian

The first great teacher of the Alexandrian school was Titus Flavius Clement. Clement adopted the allegorical method of Philo and propounded the principle that all Scripture must be understood allegorically. “For many reasons,” he argued, “the Scriptures hide the sense … wherefore the holy mysteries of the prophecies are veiled in parables” (Miscellanies 6.15). Elsewhere, he taught, “Almost the whole of Scripture is expressed in enigmas” (Stromata 6124.5–6). The motto of the Alexandrian School was, “Unless you believe, you will not understand” (a mistranslation and misapplication of Isa. 7:9 in the Septuagint).
Clement’s disciple Origen (ca. A.D. 185–253/54), was probably the greatest theologian of his day. He is more to be honored for his prodigious work in the area of textual criticism than for his work in biblical interpretation. Origen also followed Philo’s allegorical method, but he gave it a biblical basis and declared that Scripture had a threefold sense: the corporeal or fleshly, the psychical, and the spiritual. He outlines these senses in On First Principles, the first technical treatise on Christian hermeneutical theory:

Indeed, it seems to us that the correct method of approaching the Scriptures and grasping their sense is the following, taking it from the texts themselves. In the Proverbs of Solomon we find this kind of directive concerning divine doctrines in Scripture: “And you, write down those things threefold in your counsel and wisdom that you may reply with words of truth to those who ask you [so the Septuagint and Latin of Prov. 22:20–21]. This means, one should inscribe on one’s soul the intentions of the holy literature in a threefold manner; the simpler person might be edified by the flesh of Scripture, as it were (flesh is our designation for the obvious understanding), the somewhat more advanced by its soul, as it were; but the person who is perfect and approaches the apostle’s description: “Among the perfect we impart wisdom although it is not a wisdom of this age.…” [1 Cor. 2:6–7], by the spiritual law which contains “a shadow of the good things to come” [Heb. 10:1]. For just as the human being consists of body, soul, and spirit, so does Scripture which God has arranged to be given for the salvation of humankind. (4.2.4)

All biblical texts, according to Origen, have a spiritual sense, but not all have a literal sense as well. The fact that there were so many stumbling blocks with a strictly literal rendering of the Old Testament forced Origen into reading the text for a deeper understanding. The method Origen used for his biblical hermeneutics was that of anagōgē (“ascent”), the ascent of the soul upward from the level of the flesh to the realm of the spirit.
Origen’s successors built on the foundations he had laid. When Origen was driven from Alexandria by persecution, he made his home in Caesarea, in Israel. The most distinguished in this new school at Caesarea was Gregory Thaumaturgus, followed by Pamphilus and Eusebius. So devoted was Eusebius of Caesarea to Pamphilus that he is also known as Eusebius Pamphilus. Eusebius of Caesarea went so far as to claim that Moses and the prophets did not speak to their day at all. Gregory of Nyssa (ca. 335–94) wrote Life of Moses, which illustrates the anagogical or mystical understanding of biblical texts in probably its purest form.

It seems quite possible that lists of allegorical equivalents existed for many teachers and preachers who belonged to the Alexandrian school. Such allegorical keys existed in Philo’s works, and now the Greek Papyrus Inventory 3718 of the University of Michigan, dated by paleographers to the seventh century A.D., has been uncovered and seems to confirm further the existence of such lists. From this document we learn, for example, that John 2:1 (“On the third day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee”) has the following allegorical values: “the day” is Christ; “the third” is faith; “a wedding” is the calling of the Gentiles; and “Cana” is the church. Proverbs 10:1 (“A wise son brings joy to his father, but a foolish son grief to his mother”) is allegorized as follows: “a wise son” is Paul; the “father” is the Savior; the “foolish son” is Judas; and the “mother” is the church. Surely this document, though later than most evidences for the Alexandrian school, belongs to the same tradition.

The allegorical system of interpretation is built on a doctrine of correspondences. Simply stated, it claims that for every natural or earthly object or event, there is a corresponding spiritual or heavenly analogue that goes with it. The idea was derived in the main from Plato, who divided the world into two worlds: one was visible and the other emblematic; one was actual and the other invisible. In its broadest application, it asserts that all of life and all of secular history is allegorical and descriptive of spiritual or heavenly things; some restrict its application only to Scripture. However, it must be noted that the Bible nowhere teaches such a doctrine of shadows and images or a doctrine of correspondences. Those doctrines are drawn directly from the secular philosophy of the day; therefore, Scripture must not be blamed for advocating such a view.

The allegorical system of interpretation is built on a doctrine of correspondences, which claims that for every natural or earthly object or event, there is a corresponding spiritual or heavenly analogue that goes with it.


Antiochian

Over against the Alexandrian school was the Antiochian. The actual founder of the Antiochian school was probably Lucian of Samosata, around the end of the third century A.D. Others regard the distinguished presbyter Diodorus as the founder around 290. Whichever it may be, there is no doubt about the two greatest disciples of this school: Theodore of Mopsuestia and John Chrysostom.

The watchword of the Antiochian school was theōria, from a Greek word meaning “to see.” They contended that the spiritual sense was in no way separable from the literal sense, as it was in the Alexandrian school. The exegetes of the Antiochian school were united in their single-minded concern to preserve the integrity of history and the natural sense of a passage. But they were just as concerned about being overly literalistic as about the excesses of allegory and what they called “Judaism.” Both extremes were equally dangerous; only theōria could offer the middle road out of the dangers on both sides.

Whereas the Alexandrians saw at least two distinct meanings juxtaposed in every event, the Antiochians claimed that an event in Scripture had only one meaning—a meaning that, to the trained eye of the “theoretic” exegete, was at once both literal and spiritual, historical and typological. The Antiochians placed great emphasis on the idea that theōria referred primarily to the fact that there was a vision or perception of spiritual truth at the heart of a historical event that the writers of Scripture were recording, and that this linking of the historical event with the spiritual truth was not a double sense or meaning but a single sense as originally intended by the writers of Scripture.

The fathers of Antioch would not have shared the basic assumptions of modern historical criticism that the science or art of exegesis is essentially a historical discipline rather than a theological one. Instead, theōria contended that the historical event itself was the necessary vehicle for that spiritual and theological truth. But unlike allegory, it insisted that the historical event was indispensable as the means God had chosen to bring his eternal truth to expression. Therefore, the aim of exegesis was just as involved with spiritual and doctrinal enlightenment as it was with historical and philological facts.


Western

The third school in the patristic period was called the Western school. It appeared to be more eclectic in its methods of interpretation, for it harbored some elements of the allegorical school of Alexandria but also embodied some principles from the Antiochian. Its most distinctive feature, however, was that it advanced an element that heretofore had not been a major issue: the authority of tradition in interpreting the Bible.

The key representatives of this school are Hilary, Ambrose, and especially Jerome and Augustine. Jerome is famous because of his translation of the Vulgate Bible. Jerome knew Greek and Hebrew, whereas Augustine’s knowledge of the original languages was deficient. Accordingly, Augustine specialized more in systematizing the truths of the Bible than in their exegesis.

Augustine worked out his hermeneutical principles in his De Doctrina Christiana. He stressed there the need for the literal sense as the necessary basis for the allegorical meaning. But Augustine was not hesitant to indulge in a rather free use of the allegorical method. The deciding factor for Augustine, whenever the sense of Scripture was doubtful, was the regula fidei (“rule of faith”), by which he meant the collection of doctrines of the church. It is at this point that the authority of tradition began to play a major part in Augustine’s interpretive skills, for the proper use of the regula fidei pre-supposes that the meaning of the text has already been established sufficiently in order to recognize that the passage being considered does belong to the doctrine being used as a “rule of faith” to measure it; otherwise, the danger of eisegesis is enormous.

The standard illustration of the Western fourfold sense appeared in John Cassian’s Conferences: Jerusalem literally means the city of the Jews; allegorically, it is the church; tropologically, it is the soul; and anagogically, it is our heavenly home.

Unfortunately, Augustine argued for a fourfold sense of Scripture: historical, aetiological (an inquiry into the origins or causes of things), analogical, and allegorical. The set of four terms that eventually won out in the Western school of allegorical.hermeneutics was literal, allegorical, tropological (moral), and anagogical (mystical or eschatological). The standard illustration of this fourfold sense first appeared around A.D. 420 in John Cassian’s Conferences (14.8): Jerusalem literally means the city of the Jews; allegorically, it is the church (Ps. 46:4–5); tropologically, it is the soul (Ps. 147:1–2, 12); and anagogically, it is our heavenly home (Gal. 4:26). Cassian made it clear that the fourfold sense would not fit every passage of Scripture; attention must always be given first to the literal sense as emphasized by the Antiochian school. But the anagogical and allegorical senses kept alive the central concerns of the Alexandrians for the mystical and spiritual aspects of the text, while the tropological sense allowed Jewish and Christian moralists to uncover moral and ethical teachings from the text.

The Middle Ages

The Middle Ages were not the most brilliant of times for the church or for biblical hermeneutics. In fact, many of the clergy, not to mention the laity, remained in ignorance of even what the Bible said. But to the degree that there was an awareness of the Scriptures, the fourfold sense of interpretation continued as it had been set forth by the Western church fathers.

What did increase in importance, however, was the principle that the interpretation of the Bible had to adapt itself to the traditions and doctrines of the church. For example, Hugo of St. Victor (1096?–1141), one of the most learned interpreters of Scripture in this period, declared, “Learn first what you should believe, and then go to the Bible to find it there!” However, even though Hugo lived more than a hundred years before Aquinas, he seems to have grasped one of Thomas Aquinas’s principles that the clue to the meaning of prophecy and metaphor was the writer’s intention, for the literal sense included everything the writer of the sacred text meant to say.

The key figures during the long years between 600 and 1500 were the Victorines from the Abbey of St. Victor in Paris. Hugo, as already mentioned, was probably the greatest of that school, but his disciple Andrew of St. Victor was also rather remarkable in that he furthered this emphasis on the literal meaning by utilizing the Vulgate text for his Christian meaning of the Bible and the Hebrew text for his Jewish explanation.

Another leading light in this period was Stephen Langdon (1150–228), archbishop of Canterbury. It was he who divided the Bible into its present chapters. But he also interpreted the Bible to conform to the doctrines of the church. For him the spiritual meaning was preferred over the literal meaning, since he thought it more helpful for preaching purposes and for the growth of the church.

The major figure of this whole era, however, was Thomas Aquinas (1225–74). He defended the literal sense as the basis for all the other senses of Scripture. But, he argued, the interpreter must realize that the Bible has symbolic meanings as well, since heavenly things cannot be put in earthly terms without using some form of symbolism. Furthermore, the history of Israel was leading up to the New Covenant. Thus the old doctrine of correspondences, which had been so much at the heart of the allegorical sense of Scripture, was still a major factor in exegesis during the Middle Ages.

One other person stands out in this time frame: Nicholas of Lyra (1270–340). As a Jewish convert to Christianity, Nicholas had a thorough knowledge of Hebrew. What made his work distinctive was that he, more than any others since the days of the Antiochian school, gave preference to the literal sense of Scripture. Constantly Nicholas urged that the original languages be consulted, and he complained that the mystical sense was being “allowed to choke the literal.” Only the literal, he insisted, should be used to prove any doctrine. It was his work that influenced Luther and affected the Reformation so profoundly. As the aphorism says, “Si Lyra non lyrasset, Lutherus non saltasset” (If Lyra had not piped, Luther would not have danced).


Kaiser, W. C., Jr. (2007). A Short History of Interpretation. In W. C. Kaiser, Jr. & M. Silva (Eds.), Introduction to Biblical Hermeneutics: The Search for Meaning (W. C. Kaiser, Jr. & M. Silva, Ed.) (264–269). Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

 

[Contra_Mundum]

What is interesting to me is how each of these schools-of-thought stumbles in one direction or another.

--The Alexandrian school, in an attempt (say I) to imitate the Christocentric pattern of the Apostles, errs by a formulaic approach to the hermeneutical task. By losing their grip on the OT world of thought (by losing Hebrew language acquaintance, and by social conflict with the Jews), they ended up unable to stay connected and grounded in the OT narrative and mode of expression. Christ had become for them disjunctive, rather than connective and the ideal fulfillment of exactly what the OT said on its face.

--The Antiochean school was factually closer to the OT world both of thought and geography (Egypt was both more foreign to Israel culturally, as well in the NT age, more philosophically Greek). As the "literal" school, they emphasized connection to the narrative details of the OT text. However, they also succumbed to a hard division between the NT age and the OT. But in defending the plain-sense, they were too fearful of finding Christ anticipated in the OT. It was this tendency to "read Christ out" of the OT, that led to the official condemnation of that methodology.

It took me a long time to understand this point. These weren't just rival schools, and the Alexandrines had more political clout and could shut the other side down, and discredit them. And so, the church was plunged into the allegorical darkness of the Middle Ages. No, already certain Antiocheans were interpreting the OT as if it were not Christian Scripture. That is a big, big problem.

And, I'm willing to say it: if the worst form of Anteochean reductionism had carried the day, the church would have lost even more significantly over the following centuries. If you doubt me, I invite you to look at what took place in Germany beginning in the 18th century. The dominant Rationalism took the Reformers return to the love of the literal sense, and carried it right to where the ancient church feared the Antiocheans were taking interpretation--straight into comparative religions, the treatment of the Bible as "just another piece of ancient literature, chronicling the evolution of ideas."

--Finally, let me address the Western school (as Kaiser styles that development). This is a new "school" to me, since I previously found Augustin classed among the Alexandrians, being one of the heirs to their successful suppression of the Antoicheans.

If we accept Kaiser's comment that an outworking of this school was a dependence on "tradition," let me simply point out that reference to the history of interpretation is absolutely vital to sound exegesis. History serves as some kind of "check" on our human tendency otherwise to spin out into flights of interpretive fancy. Even pastors and professors are not as widely informed geniuses as we too often think we are. Only this week, I had to reprimand myself for a too-hasty interpretation that paid insufficient heed to wisdom from the past. I still think I was generally on target in dealing with the passage, but I missed an opportunity to preach more accurately. I fumbled a description as well as missing a helpful cross-reference. I wouldn't have made this mistake if I had been more attentive to at least one of my commentary aids.

That is the value of tradition. It is OK to disagree with the past, or the present. It is OK to stake out a minority position, or even a unique one--assuming life and death are not on the line, and that one has an argument for his opinion that has evidently taken into account the other, more dominant views. A stance that says the audience should listen and accept my views on my authority is actually a virulent form of unchecked traditionalism.


Sound exegesis is concerned
1) for the actual literary content of a passage, according to its classification, in its written and original social context;
2) for the religious--that is, the Christocentric--understanding of any passage you like, OT or NT;
3) for the history of interpretation, what and how and why a passage has been interpreted in various ways in the past; the accumulated wisdom of one or more streams of godly men's reflections on the divine deposit of revelation.

 

[Christusregnat]

To the issue of a modern liberal claiming patristic roots, that is totally untenable. While a form of non-literal interpretation may have been used by one school or another, they all accepted that the Bible is God's authoritative, and inspired Word, unable to lead us astray. THAT is the most important issue, vs. the secondary issues of typology, degrees of literality, etc.

 

[Semper Fidelis]

If we accept Kaiser's comment that an outworking of this school was a dependence on "tradition," let me simply point out that reference to the history of interpretation is absolutely vital to sound exegesis. History serves as some kind of "check" on our human tendency otherwise to spin out into flights of interpretive fancy. Even pastors and professors are not as widely informed geniuses as we too often think we are. Only this week, I had to reprimand myself for a too-hasty interpretation that paid insufficient heed to wisdom from the past. I still think I was generally on target in dealing with the passage, but I missed an opportunity to preach more accurately. I fumbled a description as well as missing a helpful cross-reference. I wouldn't have made this mistake if I had been more attentive to at least one of my commentary aids.

That is the value of tradition. It is OK to disagree with the past, or the present. It is OK to stake out a minority position, or even a unique one--assuming life and death are not on the line, and that one has an argument for his opinion that has evidently taken into account the other, more dominant views. A stance that says the audience should listen and accept my views on my authority is actually a virulent form of unchecked traditionalism.


Sound exegesis is concerned
1) for the actual literary content of a passage, according to its classification, in its written and original social context;
2) for the religious--that is, the Christocentric--understanding of any passage you like, OT or NT;
3) for the history of interpretation, what and how and why a passage has been interpreted in various ways in the past; the accumulated wisdom of one or more streams of godly men's reflections on the divine deposit of revelation.

Bruce,

First of all, great interaction overall. Kaiser and Silva certainly agree that it's not a link to the past but I think they (along with folks like Osbourne) see Exegesis as ending at a certain point and then it is "checked" against Biblical, Historical, and Systematic Theology. That is to say that exegesis determines what a passage actually says after you've investigated syntax, pericope, chapter, book, and the overarching sense of how the words are used. The understanding from that is then brought up the the theological level where one brings to bear the disciplines of Biblical, Historical, and Systematic Theology.

Kaiser says:

...hermeneutical practice involves both an exegetical and a theological component if it is to be carried out to its completion. The exegetical part of the interpretive process examines the grammatical, historical, and literary aspects of the individual text of the Bible. But once these tasks have been concluded, they need to be related, by way of summary or conclusions, to the overall thought of the individual book being studied and to the whole canon of Scripture. It is at this juncture that the theological component of the interpretive enterprise comes to the forefront, typically introducing the often-abused concept of the analogy of faith.

The analogy of faith (analogia fidei) is a concept that has many advocates, but few have paused long enough to define it carefully. This concept comes from a phrase in Romans 12:6—“We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man’s gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith [kata tēn analogian tēs pisteōs].” Two other passages are usually cited: Romans 12:3, where Paul says that one is not to think of oneself more highly than one should, but rather each is to think “so as to have sound judgment, as God has allotted to each a measure of faith [metron pisteōs]” (NASB); and 2 Timothy 1:13—“What you have heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus [hupotuposin eche hugianonton logon].”

In Romans 12:6, Paul makes the point that the gift of prophecy must be “in agreement with” or “in proportion to” the faith. Three main ways of interpreting this phrase have been suggested. It could refer to one’s personal faith in Christ. Accordingly, prophets should prophesy in accordance with the standard of their own apprehension and response to God’s grace in the gospel. Second, it could refer to what is mathematically proportional; the prophet’s gift is to be exercised within the limits of faith as restricted to the prophet’s own purpose and sphere.4 The third view understands Paul as requiring the prophet to speak in accord with previously revealed truth found in the Word of God. This third definition would support the often-used rule that a true prophet was never to contradict existing revelation (Deut. 13:1–5; 18:20–22; Acts 17:11; 1 Cor. 14:37; 1 John 4:1–6).


Kaiser, W. C., Jr. (2007). Putting It All Together: The Theological Use of the Bible. In W. C. Kaiser, Jr. & M. Silva (Eds.), Introduction to Biblical Hermeneutics: The Search for Meaning (W. C. Kaiser, Jr. & M. Silva, Ed.) (241–242). Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

Attached is Osborne's view of the matter.


Anyway, I love thinking about these kinds of things because it really gets you to think about how you determine the meaning of Scripture.

 

[timmopussycat]

If we accept Kaiser's comment that an outworking of this school was a dependence on "tradition," let me simply point out that reference to the history of interpretation is absolutely vital to sound exegesis. History serves as some kind of "check" on our human tendency otherwise to spin out into flights of interpretive fancy. Even pastors and professors are not as widely informed geniuses as we too often think we are. Only this week, I had to reprimand myself for a too-hasty interpretation that paid insufficient heed to wisdom from the past. I still think I was generally on target in dealing with the passage, but I missed an opportunity to preach more accurately. I fumbled a description as well as missing a helpful cross-reference. I wouldn't have made this mistake if I had been more attentive to at least one of my commentary aids.

Which reminds me of the first thing my Instructor in Christian History said to our class, which was: "The primary purpose of Church Historians is to keep Systematic Theologians honest."

 

[Afterthought]

Thank you everyone, very helpful! I too like thinking about topics related to hermeneutics.

Is "literalism" the same thing as the "historical-grammatical [hermeneutical] method" of interpreting Scripture?
Also, "non-literally" is confusing (for the slower folk on the board like myself). I guess where I get a little confused with "non-literally" is that... Isn't one of the four methods of Allegorical interpretation, "literal" interpretation? Not "literalism" but "literal"?
I've heard a similar argument just using the words "historical-critical" (Liberal Biblical Scholars) vs "historical-grammatical" (Conservative Biblical Literalism)...

Well, you probably already had your questions answered from the responses on the thread, but I'll go ahead anyway. From what I've been able to tell, "Literalism", as used by those who speak of it negatively, tends to be used equivocally for what we call "wooden-literalism" (most notably found in forms of dispensationalism) and the "historical-grammatical method", so the meaning of the term depends on what the person who said it intended to express (and what they intended to express is not always obvious). By "Non-literally", I meant a way to interpret the Bible that is not according to the Bible's literal meaning, whether that be wooden-literal or the "literal" we're used to thinking of when we say we interpret the Bible literally. Yes, allegorical interpretation--in the sense of interpreting Scripture allegorically (as opposed to interpreting an allegorical part of Scripture allegorically)--is a non-literal form of interpretation, though there are other forms.

 

[py3ak]

This is partly an historical and partly an apologetics question. Some liberals like to accuse us Protestants of innovating the literal approach to interpreting the bible. That is, that "literalism" is fairly modern; the church used to take the Scriptures non-literally. How should one respond to this claim, especially if it is true in some sense? And if it is true in some sense, in what sense is it true? I'll be willing to do a bit of online reading, if there are recommendations. So far as I know about this claim, there was an allegorical method that was popular, but I'm also fairly sure there were literal schools of thought too, though I don't recall the extent, influence, or relations of these methods.

Raymond, I think there is a very genuine sense in which "literalism" is a modern invention (that is, a child of the Enlightenment). Rationalist critics drew up a measuring rod divorced from Scripture, and also from the patterns of typical speech. It was unsurprising that Scripture didn't "measure up" to their views; whereas the reality is that Scripture sat in judgment on their views and called them nonsense. But a lot of people began to think that if Scripture didn't speak "scientifically" that it could be condemned as untruthful. Among many other critiques of that sort of ideas, I'll mention one that people may be less likely to have already seen: Owen Barfield's History, Guilt and Habit.

And, of course, a link to Steinmetz' "Superiority of Pre-Critical Exegesis".

Rich, I think Kaiser's account may be a little overstated. I like Bruce's sympathy towards the people we sometimes consider villainous, as well as his caution that not all was rosy on the other side. Kaiser mentions Lyra as exceptional in stating that only the literal sense could be used as a basis for doctrine, but Aquinas says the same thing:

The multiplicity of these senses does not produce equivocation or any other kind of multiplicity, seeing that these senses are not multiplied because one word signifies several things, but because the things signified by the words can be themselves types of other things. Thus in Holy Writ no confusion results, for all the senses are founded on one — the literal — from which alone can any argument be drawn, and not from those intended in allegory, as Augustine says (Epis. 48). Nevertheless, nothing of Holy Scripture perishes on account of this, since nothing necessary to faith is contained under the spiritual sense which is not elsewhere put forward by the Scripture in its literal sense.

I am reading Kline, Blomberg, and Hubbard's Introduction to Biblical Interpretation and it is apparent in it that there is still a reductionist mindset in some of evangelicalism, slow to really believe that Moses and the prophets wrote of Christ.

 

[Afterthought]

Raymond, I think there is a very genuine sense in which "literalism" is a modern invention (that is, a child of the Enlightenment). Rationalist critics drew up a measuring rod divorced from Scripture, and also from the patterns of typical speech. It was unsurprising that Scripture didn't "measure up" to their views; whereas the reality is that Scripture sat in judgment on their views and called them nonsense. But a lot of people began to think that if Scripture didn't speak "scientifically" that it could be condemned as untruthful.

Thank you. I certainly agree there is a hermeneutical shift that happened, though I hadn't thought of it in that manner before. The place you linked to was very interesting. I'm not sure how it fits in with people like Perkins who insisted that the text had only one sense to it, subsuming other "meanings" into applications of the text. Though I suppose "sense" may be different from "meaning"? But anyway, it's interesting that James Durham wrote in his Key to the Song:

Object. 3. If any should yet doubt, if Solomon knew, or intended such Doctrines as these, and that therefore, they cannot be well digested, if drawn from this Song, beyond his mind and meaning. I Answ. 1. Our great purpose is to know what the Spirit intended, and not what Solomon understood; and if this be the Spirit's intention, to set out Christ's way with his church; then such Doctrines as agree therewith, must be agreeable to his meaning.

 

[mhseal]

The thesis I turned in last semester is called "A Hermeneutical Critique of Premillennial Dispensationalism". About 20 pages were a survey of interpretive methods from the patristic period to the reformation. If anyone is interested just PM me.

 

[py3ak]

Thank you. I certainly agree there is a hermeneutical shift that happened, though I hadn't thought of it in that manner before. The place you linked to was very interesting. I'm not sure how it fits in with people like Perkins who insisted that the text had only one sense to it, subsuming other "meanings" into applications of the text. Though I suppose "sense" may be different from "meaning"? But anyway, it's interesting that James Durham wrote in his Key to the Song:

Object. 3. If any should yet doubt, if Solomon knew, or intended such Doctrines as these, and that therefore, they cannot be well digested, if drawn from this Song, beyond his mind and meaning. I Answ. 1. Our great purpose is to know what the Spirit intended, and not what Solomon understood; and if this be the Spirit's intention, to set out Christ's way with his church; then such Doctrines as agree therewith, must be agreeable to his meaning.

The sense of Scripture is not manifold but one. But that one sense doesn't have to be (indeed, I don't think it is too bold to say that it usually is not) a dry and withered fragment of banality and boredom. I think Perkins and Durham (and Steinmetz) can be held together by bearing in mind that what you emphasize depends in some measure on the situation you're facing. To someone who believes that the reader creates meaning on the occasion of encountering the text naturally you emphasize the unity of the sense; but to someone who holds that if something is not stated expressly it is not meant, it's natural to emphasize that this is not how even uninspired writings work.

There has been an insistence in some circles on interpreting the Bible as you would any other book. Peter Masters wrote a short work opposing that, called, bluntly enough, Not Like Any Other Book. While it is true that the Bible uses language in ordinary ways, it can't be treated like any other book, because only its author is omniscient. It would be unfair to charge Aristotle with holding all the implications that his language contains; he can't have thought of them all. It is not unfair to charge the Holy Spirit with understanding everything his words implied. We may suppose that even Dante occasionally overlooked something; we may not suppose that of God. But we must also not act as though God cared about modern standards, or wished to use language like a chemical formula; the essential Word knows better than to speak like that!

 

[Afterthought]

Thank you. That sounds fair to me!