There must be some misunderstanding

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Peter has reached the point of sheer exasperation in our discussion of the meaning of Jesus’ parable of the wise and foolish virgins, so it is time to stop, apologize, and perhaps try to understand why it can be so difficult to reach agreement over matters of biblical interpretation.

Part of the explanation, I’m sure, has to do with the psychology of debate. It doesn’t take much to trigger a defensive or aggressive or facetious or disparaging reaction (I cite this damp squib of a discussion about doubt from the Pyromaniacs site as an example), and as soon as we get into that state of mind, it becomes very difficult to give the other side a fair hearing. I speak from experience, though I would say in my defence that I spent a lot of time working through Peter’s responses to my commentary on Matthew 25:1-13 and I thought I was addressing his critique in some detail.

I also suspect that people rarely change their minds in the course of intense debate. Again, I know that this is true for me – a change of perspective, the correction of details, adjustments to the controlling story-line usually come a little later, when the dust of battle has settled.

But what about the actual substance of the disagreement? My intention here is not to revisit the presented arguments; it is rather to understand what drives the disagreement.

Exegetical disagreements

Interpretation of the parable appears, on the face of it, to be a matter of attention to exegetical detail: the meaning of the terms, the cultural background, the scope and nature of the story being told, its context in Matthew, the relationship of its imagery and language to other passages in Matthew, elsewhere in scripture, or even outside scripture. There may also be redactional questions to take account of, though evangelical exegesis tends to work with the text as it is.

So we may consider, for example, how the parable is integrated into the logical and temporal structure of Jesus’ argument in these chapters. I have argued that Matthew takes the trouble to tie this all into a single, coherent narrative regarding events which Jesus expected to take place within the lifetime of his disciples, and I argue that this should weigh quite heavily in our interpretation. Peter disagrees.

There has also been some secondary discussion about the interpretation of what may or may not be intertextually relevant passages in Exodus, the prophets, Ephesians and Revelation. There are some differences of approach here that I struggle to make sense of. The interpretation of the obscure story of Zipporah’s circumcision of her son in Exodus 4:24-25 is an example. Peter is able to find in it the idea that Zipporah ‘has been betrothed (or has confirmed her betrothal) to God’. I can’t see it – or for that matter why it is relevant to the reading of Jesus’ parable – but it ought in principle to be a straightforward exegetical question: either there is evidence in the passage for such an interpretation, or there is not. I don’t think this can be explained simply as an obstinate refusal on my part to admit that there are flaws in my argument.

Respect for boundaries

But how we perceive and make sense of these details is still heavily dependent on some much broader hermeneutical assumptions, which is where it gets more interesting.

In this case, there appears to be a crucial difference in the way we deal with contextual boundaries. Roughly speaking, Peter is inclined to make less of the contextual boundaries of a text than I am. For example, he feels that a much wider body of biblical material is relevant intertextually than I do. His argument, if I have understood him correctly, is that when Jesus tells a story about a wedding feast, we may assume that the whole theme of the ‘marital’ relationship between God and his people is exegetically relevant. My view is that Jesus’ teaching is more focused and particular, and that it draws on a narrower theme in which the wedding feast is a celebration of the restoration of Israel following judgment.

Peter thinks (at least, this is how I have interpreted his comments – he may want to correct me) that Paul’s teaching about marriage and the relationship between Christ and the church in Ephesians 5:25-27 is as relevant for understanding the parable as the story of the guests who refuse to come to a wedding feast in honour of the king’s sin (Matt. 22:1-14). I think it is a mistake to attempt to read the parable in the light of a later argument from a different context and with a different literary background.

Similarly, Peter emphasizes the continuity between the marriage imagery in Revelation 19:7-8 and the marriage imagery in Revelation 21:2. I prefer to highlight the differences (actually, I only said ‘a little differently’), drawing the frustrated retort: ‘You can’t just say that the imagery means something different because you want it to!’

Underlying this difference of emphasis are probably divergent ideas about how literary differentiation at levels of text and genre is affected by canon. In general terms, a high regard for canon as a theologically significant category is likely to override the distinctives and discrepancies that might otherwise be detected in the texts. It seems to me important to safeguard those distinctives and discrepancies, the boundaries and horizons; Peter gives priority to the integrity of themes at a canonical level, arguing in effect for a sensus plenior, a meaning that is more than the sum of the differentiated parts.

Theology and history

Another key hermeneutical and theological factor in the discussion has to do with how we relate or balance out theology and history in our reading of the New Testament. Again at risk of over-simplification, and quite possibly of misrepresentation, it seems to me that Peter tends to take the mainstream evangelical approach of prioritizing theology over history, whereas in books and posts I have consistently pursued the thesis that New Testament theology (including eschatology and soteriology) interacts closely with history and is in important ways contingent upon history. In other words, I am inclined to prioritize the particularities of history over the generalities of theological discourse.

So in the case of Jesus’ parable about ten virgins and the marriage feast, my argument is that Jesus is here focused on the outworking of the wrath of God against Israel, which will culminate in the destructive war of AD 66-70, and on the implications of this historical process for the embattled but faithful community of his disciples. I think that he is speaking about real historical events (albeit prophetically and symbolically conceived events) in the foreseeable future of his immediate audience. Peter does not entirely disagree with this, but he argues that there is something in the theological content of the parable that overreaches the immediate context and leads us to think that Jesus is speaking both about the circumstances of AD 70 and about a remote and ultimate consummation.

Behind this distinction are some more fundamental disagreements about how we should understand the place and nature of fulfilment in the biblical narrative. It seems to me, for example, that ‘kingdom’ language in the New Testament refers to critical but proximate historical conflicts and transitions, pretty much as it does in the Old Testament; Peter believes that a parable that begins ‘the kingdom of heaven will be like…’ may properly have reference to a final restoration of the relationship between God and his people.

Can we trust our instincts?

It’s difficult to know in the end what this all comes down to – or what to do about it. In some ways these seem little more than different habits of reading, different hermeneutical instincts.

My instinct is to delimit the scope of a text’s meaning; Peter’s instinct is to extend it. My instinct has been to recover the particularity of the text; Peter’s is to assert its universality. I am much more disposed to read texts under the constraints of the narrative-historical conditions that they appear to presuppose; Peter reads the texts as expressions or instances of general theological truths, so that if Jesus speaks of a marriage feast it must somehow have reference to the final marriage alluded to in Revelation 21:2. I think that evangelical theology currently overwhelms and seriously misdirects our reading of scripture, and that there is a pressing need to respect the differentiation that is produced by literary and historical contexts; Peter believes that evangelicalism holds to its central convictions for good reasons and that we can trust its unifying, consolidating and homogenizing function. I think that he is too beholden to dogmatic tradition; he thinks that I simply don’t want to listen to any other view than my own.

But of course these ‘instincts’ reflect deeper commitments, and may prove in the long run to lead to radically different outcomes. What interests me at the moment is whether a consistent narrative-historical reading of scripture can be shown to be genuinely and powerfully evangelical, which is why I write this stuff and engage in these conversations.

We should bear in mind, too, that this is a disagreement broadly within the New Perspective approach to the New Testament. Peter is certainly at the more cautious and conservative end of the spectrum; I find myself compelled to explore its implications in a more radical fashion. It would be an interesting exercise to do a similar analysis of the theoretical and instinctive differences that divide the New Perspective hermeneutic from classical Reformed and Fundamentalist approaches to the construction of theological meaning from the biblical texts. Perhaps someone has already tried it.

Thanks for these enlightening words that explain a lot about the relation of Worldview, History and Hermeneutics in my opinion! I hope they help to clearify the discussion at hand - you folks know each other, right?

@Andrew Perriman:

Andrew, your instincts are good. The difference is how you see the bible. Is it a collection of individual writings whose meaning can be determined by the context and intent of the authors? Or is it one long book whose meaning can be discerned only by trying to connect everything? That would have to be done by decoding hidden meanings, since certainly on the surface Genesis and Ephesians and Kings and Amos and Revelation have little connection.

In trying to connect the books, which has to be done by coming to a position and working backwards to justify that position in the books, I think the real meanings of the writings are lost. There is a long tradition of doing this, going back to the days the books were written.

peter wilkinson | Wed, 10/20/2010 - 22:50 | Permalink

After my last post, I thought 'Well, that's it. End of any form of further discussion.' Then I came across this eirenic attempt to look at the wider issues raised in the disagreement between Andrew and myself. It's very gracious. I am after all a guest on this website, through which Andrew is attempting to promote his own ideas, so I need to mind my p's and q's; and keep my feet off the furniture, as it were. Without wishing to sound presumptuous, I think Andrew needs people who disagree thoughtfully with him. But speaking for myself, I need somewhere to go where I can explore things interactively with others, and quite simply, there isn't anywhere else quite like this where I can go! I don't know how sustainable it is to be developing and furthering my own understanding through disagreeing with someone, especially when they are your host and you are their guest, as on the website, but it's where I thrive, and I'd be sorry to lose the opportunity.

Without going over all the details, Andrew has provided a very thoughtful indeed reflection on differences in approach between us. I'm surprised, challenged even, that he wanted to spend so much time and thought reflecting in this way. It makes me feel very valued.

I wouldn't say Andrew's reflection is simple - but I think things aren't quite so simple as even he attempts to draw them! I appreciate Andrew's rigorous attention to context. I am not actually trying to say that any texts referring to a particular theme, such as weddings/marriage/bride/bridegroom/husband/wife etc can be strung together and formed into an overarching whole. I'm also very wary of applying sensus plenior to the meaning of a text. But I won't dogmatically exclude or include the possibility of it.

I am saying, though I'm beginning to doubt it, that both scripturally and in commonly accepted tradition, YHWH and then Jesus are understood as husbands to Israel and then the church. I was trawling the internet, the lazy person's guide to digging out dubious information, on the subject, and have to say there are some very dodgy religious groups of people out there with dubious interpretations of scripture on offer, but Dr Jonathan Sacks, the Chief Rabbi of the UK, was recently saying this very thing of Israel and the Jews - that Israel and YHWH in the OT were bound together in a marriage covenant, of which the Torah is the marriage contract. That doesn't make it scriptural, but obviously he thinks it it is, and so do many others.

It is commonly accepted then (this doesn't make it right, but the idea must come from somewhere!) that the Passover/Exodus/Sinai occurrences were when YHWH took Israel as his bride, and that the Torah was equivalent to a wedding contract. This is why Israel's subsequent faithlessness was seen as adultery by the prophets.

When Jesus came, adulterous Israel (the people) were given a fresh opportunity to renew their marriage with YHWH - which was also no less than a marriage with Jesus. Actually, the overarching picture is that the Passover/Exodus/Sinai betrothal was only ever provisional and incomplete, and that God's intention always was to complete the marriage with Jesus. Hence numerous references in the NT - gospels, epistles and Revelation, drawing attention to a marriage between Jesus and his people. The wedding feast itself, in this framework, is not now, but future.

This is the lens through which I am looking at different references to the wedding/marriage of God and his people, and not least those references  which depict or suggest a final consummation of the marriage, inaugurated by Jesus at his (first) coming, but completed at his return. This is, I guess, the traditional view of Jesus's coming. I find it difficult to believe that Andrew was not aware of this vein of scriptural interpretation, and had not looked carefully at how it has been exposited, before coming to his own very different conclusions. But maybe I'm wrong?

When we look carefully at different references to wedding feasts, bride/bridegroom imagery, etc, of course they all have different contexts. But it would be odd, if my understanding is correct, that such an important theme throughout scripture and Israel's history and that of the church, should be fragmented into completely different and totally disconnected meanings and significances. And quite simply, there are connections, eg between the parallel statements about the bride being said to prepare herself, in Revelation 19 and 21 (in my opinion!). Likewise the similar thought of Jesus preparing the bride for himself in Ephesians 5, which, also in my opinion, does break out of the immediate context into something like a wider generalisation, not part of the immediate context, in the way Paul presents it. 

Likewise John the Baptist's role is as 'the best man' to Jesus 'the bridegroom' in John 3:25-30. And so on. Likewise even circumcision, which is a symbol of devotion, and is applied to hearts and even ears (hearing) in the OT, is nevertheless a symbol represented by the reproductive organ, whose home, if I can put it that way, is covenantally located within the marrriage covenant. Can Israel the bride also be Israel the bearer of the male member, male and female at the same time? Yes, because she is both bride and son, in the imagery used of her in the OT. However, the bridal imagery, in my estimation, tends to have a future dimension. Even the Sinai covenant was not complete in itself and needed 'covenant renewal', or circumcision of the heart - Deuteronomy 30:6. The son imagery describes, in OT and NT, the on-going relationship with YHWH/Jesus, although the NT brings a fulfilment to the term not realised in the OT.

Is any of this overarching interpretation justified? Well, it's here that I find Andrew's rigorous deconstructive 'suspicion of (intertextual) metanarratives' both frustrating and energising. Energising, because it forces me back to the text. And very often (I won't say always) Andrew is able to justify his deconstructivism with contextual detail. So we cannot take anything for granted. All assumptions are open to question. The problem for me is that there seems to be a never-ending stream of questioned assumptions. It had never occurred to me that anyone would question the view of YHWH & Israel's relationship as bridegroom and bride, or that this forms a continuous theme throughout the OT and NT.

So I am forced back to the text. And never mind what the outcome is for the moment: that is a very healthy position to be forced into.  As it happens, I do not think that I am trying to force disparate texts into a misleadingly unified whole. I think the exercise is challenged when we look at the parables involving wedding feasts in the gospels, and especially when these parables touch on the contentious issue of Jesus's 'coming' in Matthew 24, Mark 13, Luke 17 etc. As it also happens, I am not convinced by the 'revisionist' arguments of J.S. Russell and the 19th century preterists and their followers, nor N.T. Wright, nor Andrew, entirely (not that I am uncritically tarring them all with the same brush). And not for reasons of dogma, but what, for me, are perfectly good, sound reasons of textual interpretation, which bring together detailed exegesis of the texts, but also locate the texts in the broader background of the context, and then the even broader context of the relationship of one textual setting to another across different writings and settings. I'll even include here, for instance, on the outer margins of context, the Jewish tradition of reading the Song of Songs as part of the Passover celebrations. Now why was that, I wonder?

But I'm not so convinced as to dismiss contrary views to my own. So I think Andrew makes a strong case, for instance, for interpreting Matthew 24 the way he does. I would like to agree with him. I can't, quite, for reasons of attention to context, which include the immediate context, and the broader context of neighbouring  texts, and texts from elsewhere in the NT, in that order. Then I have to look at where different interpretations take us. There are serious shortcomings with the place to which their interpretation takes the preterists, for instance. I have to say, in my opinion, the same could be said of Andrew, for different reasons.

This is frustrating, because in many respects I am on a similar journey as Andrew, in the sense of wanting to explore the texts through the narrative, and not by importing theological considerations to which the texts are, prehaps, somewhat uncritically subjected and interpreted. I think there is plenty of scope for agreement between us in approach, and to some extent in the conclusions we reach - such as, for instance, wishing to reintroduce a much more rigorous corporate understanding of the narrative, and a more rigorous attempt to enter into the world of the narrative in order to understand it, which includes rigour in entering the historical world of the text, and also the application of careful attention to a text's immdediate literary context. The latter is a fundamental principle of biblical interpretation, but when it is rigorously applied, can produce some startling and fresh understanding, as Andrew persistently and provocatively seeks to demonstrate (whether you agree with him or not).

Although I do think there are fundamental disagreements between Andrew and myself, I would, as Churchill said of opponents in a democracy, defend to the death Andrew's right to say things with which I disagree. Maybe from his perspective, there is always the hope that I will one day come to reason and see things his way. My outlook is that even (perhaps especially) if we disagree, I don't want to lose Andrew's friendship, even if it is a rather intermittently practised one. I value his provocations within the realms of the cyberworld, and enjoy also the fleeting chances we have to meet and catch up outside the two-dimensional relational world of cyber-space. The journey, in short, has been really important to me in my life, inestimably important, and I would like it to continue.

@peter wilkinson:

Peter, cool response. As you know, I enjoy a good debate, and have spent far too much time in my life thinking about the things you are discussing.

But -- and I say this with the utmost earnestness -- at some point don't you have to step back and begin to question how you got to the point where you are mining these ancient writings for concepts such as "adulterous Israel" or "Israel as the male member?"

If we get out of our serious theology mode for a minute, take a deep breath and smell the fresh autumn air and look at the pretty red and yellow trees, such concepts are a hair short of sheer insanity. (As are things like the four horsemen of the apocalypse and the rapture, but that's for another day.)

How does a person or a group of people marry a god who is supposed to have no physical characteristics? Male followers of the male god are therefore his "bride?" I hate to be crude, but if there is no sex, the marriage won't last long.

Take a step back and look at these references and realize that the authors were just making up illustrations to suit whatever position they wanted to make. The illustrations reflected their crude understanding of the world. People back then thought of gods a having physical manifestations. Nobody today would conceive of something like being wedded to a deity because we believe that gods are not tangible.

The illustrations in scripture reflect the changing understanding of who laid claim to being god's chosen people, not some underlying truth that can be gleaned if we only strain hard enough (or are clever enough) to detect the common thread between completely disparate writings.

Peace.