- I am hesitant to speak of Pentecost as “the birth of the church,” since this seems foreign to the Lukan message. If by “church” we mean followers of Jesus, then there have been followers before Pentecost. If by “church” we mean one group including Jews and non-Jews, then we are finding something in the narrative that doesn’t occur until several chapters later. It seems more appropriate to see Pentecost as the full inauguration of the New Covenant as depicted by the availability of the Spirit to all people, not a select few.
- It should be observed that this is not the first time people are filled with the Spirit. In Luke 1:15 John the Baptist is filled with the Spirit in his mother’s womb. In 1:41 Elizabeth is filled with the Spirit. In 1:67 Zacharias is filled with the Spirit. Old Covenant figures such Bezalel (Exodus 31:3; 35:31), Joshua (Deuteronomy 34:9), and Micah (3:8) receive the Spirit before Pentecost. This doesn’t detract from Pentecost, because Pentecost is the “democratization” of the Spirit (if you will). Moses imagined a day when all the people of God might be prophets (Numbers 11:29). In some sense (not to ignore that the New Covenant seems to include a new role of prophet distinct from that of the Old Covenant) Pentecost does make all the people of God a prophetic people. Similarly, as the prophet Joel foresaw, the Spirit would be poured out upon all sorts of people, many marginalized by society, including daughters and slaves (2:28-29). The apostle Peter interpreted the Day of Pentecost to be the fulfillment of Joel’s vision (Acts 2:16-21, though the exact nature of Peter’s interpretation is not as clear as we might like in that he includes much of the apocalyptic imagery).
- If we read Luke 24:49; Acts 1:4; 2:33; 13:23, 32 we find that Pentecost is a fulfillment of the Old Covenant: the Spirit has been “poured out” upon people; the Messiah have been revealed (through the resurrection). Pentecost is connected to the resurrection of Jesus as the two stage beginning of the “already, but not yet,” the eschaton before the eschaton.
As I was preparing for an upcoming exegetical paper in my hermeneutics class, I noticed an interesting pattern in our assigned text of Acts 8:26–40. The story of Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch follows precisely the same formula as the episode in Luke 24 in which Jesus chats with a couple disciples on the road to Emmaus:
1) Both narratives occur on a road leading out from Jerusalem (Emmaus/Wilderness Road);
2) Both involve a perplexed reader (two disciples/Ethiopian eunuch);
3) Both feature a enlightened authority who helps the reader reinterpret the Jewish scriptures to explain the Messiahship of Jesus (Jesus/Philip);
4) Both narratives feature an epiphany (disciples’ eyes are opened/eunuch desires to be baptized);
5) Each of the episodes culminates in a sacramental demonstration (eucharist/baptism);
6) Finally, if this weren’t enough, both passages end with the mysterious disappearance of the enlightened authority figure.
I think the key to both examples is the re-interpreting of Jewish scripture to account for ideas that aren’t necessarily in the text. When Jesus chides the disciples on the road for not knowing that it was “necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory” (Luke 24:26), he fails to mention that in fact no such prophecy or interpretation of Jewish scripture in which the expected Messiah was supposed to suffer existed at the time. This interpretation requires a reorientation of the Jewish hermeneutical lens.[1]
Unfortunately, this realization is a bit too broad to include in my short exegetical paper which will be strictly limited to the Acts 8 text. But I was wondering if anyone has read anything else about this literary cycle, or noticed its appearance elsewhere in Luke/Acts? I would love to read more about it.
[1] See Andy Johnson, “Our God Reigns: The Body of the Risen Lord in Luke 24,” Word & World 22/2 (2002) 136.
This morning I gave the homily at San Antonio Mennonite Church. For those who were present who would like to read my notes, or for those who weren’t present who may be interested, see below:
__________
First Sunday of Lent, February 17th, 2013
San Antonio Mennonite Church, San Antonio, TX
Text: Luke 4:1-13
Pretext:
In the Lukan narrative this event follows Jesus’ baptism (3:21-22). Jesus’ genealogy has been inserted in order to present the reader with Jesus’ identity: he was the “supposed” son of Joseph, whose lineage can be traced back through King David and the Patriarch Abraham to Adam, the proto-human (3:23-38). We can gather that the author wants us to know that God the Father has declared Jesus to be his “beloved Son”, and that the Spirit has descended upon him, signifying that he has been anointed/empowered for his mission.[1]
Text:
Jesus’ identity has been established, so the Spirit leads Jesus into a wilderness region. Jesus doesn’t eat for forty days, mimicking holy people like Moses and Elijah (4:1-2).[2] Jesus’ anointing places him in the unique company of these special prophets, but his baptism exalts him higher than those who had come before him.
When Jesus’ fast has been completed he meets “the devil” (4:3).[3] The devil begins to tempt Jesus through his perceived weakness, hunger, while attacking his identity. The devil tells Jesus that if he is the Son of God, he will tell a stone to become bread. Jesus replies in v. 4 by citing Deuteronomy 8:3, “Humans do not live by bread alone.”[4]
The devil takes him to a high place to show him all of the kingdoms of the “inhabited world” at that point in time (v. 5).[5] It offers these kingdoms to Jesus, stating that these kingdoms have been handed to him, something Jesus does not protest. It offers Jesus “all this domain and its glory”,[6] signifying that Jesus may become the awaited messianic ruler, who reclaims the throne of King David, fulfills the Abrahamic Covenant, and becomes the new Adam who rules the world. It is possible that there is an allusion to Caesar, even if indirectly, since the devil is offering Jesus the inhabited world, a world under the domain of Caesar at this juncture (vv. 5-6).
The devil’s request is the ultimate blasphemy in v. 7. It request Jesus to prostrate himself as an act of submission, worship (προσκυνήσῃς). Again, Jesus responds in v. 8 with a quotation from Scripture, and again it is from the Book of Deuteronomy (6:13), “You will worship the Lord your God and you will serve him alone.”[7] This statement is part of a passage that emphasizes Israel’s fidelity to their Covenant with one God, YHWH (the Shema begins Deut. 6).
The devil’s third and final temptation occurs in Jerusalem on the pinnacle of the Temple (4:9).[8] As with the first temptation, this one strikes at Jesus’ self-identity: “If you are the Son of God”, which he was declared to be by God himself.[9] Unlike the first and second temptations the devil chooses to borrow Jesus’ methodology by quoting Scripture. The devil cites Psalm 91:11-12 in vv. 10-11, “He will command his angels concerning you to protect you” and “with their hands they will lift you up, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.”[10] The LXX version is important for understanding this part:
He who lives by the help of the Most High, in a shelter of the God of the heavens he will lodge.
He will say to the Lord, ‘My supporter you are and my refuge; my God, I will hope in him, because it is he who will rescue me from a trap of hunters and from a troublesome word; with the broad of his back he will shade you, and under his wings you will find hope; with a shield his truth will surround you.
You will not be afraid of the nocturnal fright, of an arrow that flies by day, of a deed that travels in darkness, of mishap and noonday demon (δαιμονίου).
At your side a thousand will fall, and ten thousand at your right, but it will not come near you. Only with your eyes will you perceive, and the requital of sinners you will see.
Because you, O Lord, are my hope, the Most High you made your refuge. No evil shall come before you, and no scourge shall come near your covert, because he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; upon hands they will bear you up so that you will not dash your foot against a stone. On asp and cobra you will tread, and you will trample lion and dragon under foot.
Because in me he hoped, I will also rescue him; I will protect him, because he knew my name. He will call me, and I will listen to him; I am with him in trouble; I will deliver and glorify (δοξάσω) him. With length of days I will satisfy him and show him my deliverance.[11]
In the LXX version the psalmist is delivered from a “noonday demon” and God delivers and glorifies him. In the Lukan narrative the devil is a demon that offers Jesus pseudo-glory. Jesus overcomes him; thereby, treading on the asp and cobra, the lion and dragon.
Jesus responds in v. 11 by quoting from Deuteronomy (6:16) for a third time, the second time from this section, “You will not put the Lord your God to the test.”[12] Again, fidelity to God is central to Jesus’ rebuttal of the devil, and his identity as the Son of God is established. The devil retreats (v. 13).
Post-text:
The author presents Jesus in v. 14ff., as going into Galilee in the power of the Holy Spirit. Many people begin to hear about Jesus. He increases in popularity and he begins to teach in the local synagogues. The devil aimed to offer Jesus fame and power. Jesus refused it, but the ironic twist is that he is presented as quite powerful and his fame has spread through the region. The narrative transitions with Jesus announcing that he is the fulfillment of the Isaiah 61:1ff, the one who comes anointed by the Spirit to proclaim the Gospel to the poor, release the captives, provide sight to the blind, and to “proclaim the favorable year of the Lord”, or the Jubilee year (vv. 17-18).
[3] In the Gospel of Luke this figure is known as “the devil” (ὁ διάβολος), simply. In the Gospel of Matthew this figure receives the same identification in 4:1, but it is named “the Satan” in v. 10 (Σατανᾶ).
[4] Οὐκ ἐπʼ ἄρτῳ μόνῳ ζήσεται ὁ ἄνθρωπος. Identical to the LXX: οὐκ ἐπʼ ἄρτῳ μόνῳ ζήσεται ὁ ἄνθρωπος. The remainder of this statement is, “…but by every word which comes from the mouth of God” is cited in the Matthean version (4:4). Contextually, Jesus quotes a section where Moses informs Israel that YHWH provided manna in order to show that humans are not dependent upon bread alone, but the word (declaration) of God.
[5] Two points of interest here: τῆς οἰκουμένης means something like the inhabited world, but it may have the connotation of receiving that which is ruled by the Roman Empire, rather than all the nations of the world. For example, see Acts 17:6 where antagonist toward the early Christian movement proclaim that these people have “turned with world (τὴν οἰκουμένην) upside down”. Clearly, the οἰκουμένη may be the inhabited empire. Also, the author may want to avoid the misconception that the kingdoms of the inhabited world won’t belong to Jesus, since the messianic identity includes reigning over the nations. Therefore, he emphasizes that the devil offered him the kingdoms at that point in time (ἐν στιγμῇ χρόνου).
[7] Κύριον τὸν θεόν σου προσκυνήσεις καὶ αὐτῷ μόνῳ λατρεύσεις. The LXX differs: κύριον τὸν θεόν σου φοβηθήσῃ καὶ αὐτῷ λατρεύσεις. The LXX corresponds to the MT (תירא), so it could be that Jesus is presented as interpreting the “fear of God” as the worship of God.
[8] This order is different from the Gospel of Matthew, where it moves from the temptation to eat bread, to the temptation to jump from the Temple, to the temptation to worship Satan in order to receive the kingdoms of the world.
[10] Τοῖς ἀγγέλοις αὐτοῦ ἐντελεῖται περὶ σοῦ τοῦ διαφυλάξαι σε, καὶ ὅτι Ἐπὶ χειρῶν ἀροῦσίν σε μήποτε προσκόψῃς πρὸς λίθον τὸν πόδα σου. In the LXX (Ps. 90:11-12) it reads, ὅτι τοῖς ἀγγέλοις αὐτοῦ ἐντελεῖται περὶ σοῦ τοῦ διαφυλάξαι σε ἐν πάσαις ταῖς ὁδοῖς σου, ἐπὶ χειρῶν ἀροῦσίν σε, μήποτε προσκόψῃς πρὸς λίθον τὸν πόδα σου. The devil excludes the part “in all of your paths” (ἐν πάσαις ταῖς ὁδοῖς σου). Interestingly enough, in the LXX version it begins by identifying the God of the heavens as the shelter and refuge in which the psalmist will trust. The psalmist proclaims that God will
[12] Οὐκ ἐκπειράσεις κύριον τὸν θεόν σου. Identical to the LXX: Οὐκ ἐκπειράσεις κύριον τὸν θεόν σου. In the following, vv. 17-19, fidelity to YHWH corresponds to receiving the land (something offered by the devil) and the enemy being driven out.
Pennington, Jonathan T., Reading the Gospels Wisely: A Narrative and Theological Introduction (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012). (Amazon.com)
I prefer the conjunctions both/and to either/or, so this book was one of my favorite to read in 2012. Pennington’s approach to the Gospels is to encourage readers to see the value in the historical-grammatical (I’d add critical), literary, and theological approaches, rather than choosing one way to read the text. When I read the Gospels I find value in everything from working on the Synoptic Problem, to doing historical studies on the context within which the text was formed, to Lectio Divina. I read the Gospels as historical texts and as active, living Scripture. This is what Pennington’s book is “about”, reading. It is not a typical hermeneutics textbook, nor is it your common introduction to the Gospels, but a hybrid of the two.
Message of the Book
This book is aimed at reminding people that the Gospels are to be read for a greater purpose than the mere extraction of information. Pennington wants people to read the Gospels “wisely”, hearing their message, asking what this message means for one’s life and the life of the Church, and thinking about the Gospels from a variety of angles.
Summary of the Content
This book is divided intro three parts: Part 1: Clearing Ground, Digging Deep, and Laying a Good Foundation; Part 2: Building a House through Wise Reading; and Part 3: Living in the Gospels House are somewhat self-descriptive. The idea is the build a house with a strong hermeneutical foundation that allows for readers to best engage the text so that its teachings can change the thoughts and deeds of the reader. This is the flow of the book: hermeneutics to textual issues to application of one’s reading.
Chapter 1: What Are the Gospels? Defining “Gospel” begins by addressing the tendency of evangelicals to find the Gospel in the Pauline corpus, but not the Gospels themselves (e.g., “the Romans Road” or “Four Spiritual Laws”). Pennington reminds the reader that the Gospel is “good news”, that it is based upon “apostolic witness”, that the central figure is Jesus Christ, that it is an announcement with a particular “propaganda” that stood in contrast to that of the Roman imperial cult, that it began as an oral tradition, that that it was eventually canonized into the fourfold Gospel: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
Pennington examines the canonical Gospels to see what Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John meant by “Gospel”. For those familiar with the work of N.T. Wright, Scot McKnight, and others who have emphasized Jesus’ Kingdom message this book will please you because Pennington emphasizes this as well. He doesn’t leave the discussion in the New Testament, but also spends time discussing Isaiah, which I think it a wise decision.
For those interested, Pennington’s definition of the Gospels, and the Gospel proclaimed within these books, is this: “Our canonical Gospels are the theological, historical, and aretological (virtue-forming) biographical narratives that retell the story and proclaim the significance of Jesus Christ, who through the power of the Spirit is the Restorer of God’s reign.” (Kindle Locations 3146-3152)
In Chapter 2: What Are the Gospels? Understanding the “Gospel” Genre Pennington summarizes how the literarily aspect of the Gospels have been described as bioi as of recent. Pennington gives a lot of attention to the question of whether the Gospels are bioi or something more unique (engaging Richard Burridge’s popular work What Are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography). He concludes that the Gospels are bioi plus, or biographies, but something more due to the theological/Christological agenda of the Gospels as well as the Gospels effort to tie their narrative into the Old Testament.
Chapter 3: Why Do We Need the Gospels? (Or Why Saint Paul is Not Enough) is an apologia that the Gospels should be seen as the primary sources for understanding the Gospel itself, even if Paul’s letters are chronological superior to the Gospels, Pennington says that the traditions that find their way into the Gospels are the traditions that informed Paul and the early church. He reminds readers that the Gospels have had a central place in the life and worship of the Church since the beginning, something that has been lost in recent centuries.
Chapter 4: The Joy and Angst of Having Four Gospels is a discussion on “Why four Gospels?” This chapter surveys the early Church’s decision to avoid harmonization (e.g., Tatian’s Diatessaron), to avoid late Gospel traditions that weren’t grounded in apostolic testimony (e.g., Gospel of Thomas, Gospel of Judas, Gospel of Peter), and stick with four Gospels and no more. The differences between the Synoptics with one another, the Synoptics and John, ancient and modern historiography, the trouble of a fourfold Gospel, and the joy of a fourfold Gospel are the topic discussed through the rest of the chapter.
Chapter 5: Texts and History is one of the most interesting chapters in the book. Pennington examines the recent debate over the worth of historical Jesus studies. He summarizes the positions of folk like N.T. Wright, Scot McKnight, Richard Hays and others. This question asks if there are dangers in trying to get “behind” the Gospels to the historical Jesus, what the consequences would be for those who do so, and what the dangers are of studying the Gospels without asking about their historical validity. Ancient historiography, Enlightenment historiography, whether the theology of the text remove their objectivity, and whether objectivity is possible at all are topics that receive attention. Pennington critiques “historicism”, finds value in history, but emphasizes that postmodernity has shown us that everything is interpretive, so we should be comfortable with reading the Gospels as interpretations of the Jesus of history. Richard Bauckham’s category of “testimony” is favored by Pennington. This is a chapter worth reading for those who are advocates of historical Jesus work as well as for those who think historical Jesus work should be discarded.
Chapter 6: Reading Holy Scripture Well: Three Avenues and Chapter 7: Reading Scripture Well: Intent, Meaning, and Posture transitions toward philosophical hermeneutics addressing whether we can read the Gospels historically, literarily, and theologically. He discusses topics like authorial intent, “meaning” (here there is reliance on people like Ricoeur and Gadamer), and the reader’s “posture” toward the text. For those familiar with concepts like the hermeneutical spiral, the two horizons of reading, “meaning” as being a combination of authorial intent and the reception of what is said, “a hermeneutic of trust”, and “a hermeneutic of suspicion” will know what to anticipate in these chapters. For those who don’t know what any or most of those terms mean this will be an exciting introduction.
Chapter 8: Foundations for Reading the Gospels Well ends Part 1. Pennington revisits his definition of the Gospels, the historicity of the Gospels, the role of the Gospels for historical Jesus scholars and whether historical Jesus studies are promising, what it means to read the Gospels vertically, what it means to read the Gospels as witness and testimony, and the purpose of the Gospels.
Chapter 9: Reading the Gospels as Stories: The “Whatever Strikes Me” (WSM) Hermeneutic versus Narrative Analysis begins Part 2. Pennington critiques the “Whatever Strikes Me” (WSM) approach to reading the Gospels. He pushes readers to work a little harder to understand the Gospels advocating Narrative Analysis using Luke 7:1-10 as a case study. This chapter aims to explain how stories function, why stories are more meaningful than other forms of literature, and why the Gospels are stories.
Chapter 10: Reading the Gospels are Stories: Circles of Contextual Meaning builds on the previous chapter. Pennington writes about reading individual stories with the Gospels, the literary structures that give broader meaning, how each Gospel informs the other, and how the Gospels should be read in a canonical context. The early chapters introducing hermeneutical theory are unfolded here for the reader to see how it “works”.
Chapter 11: Summing It All Up: Applying and Teaching the Gospels begins Part 3 and aims to discuss the aforementioned aretological (virtue-forming) nature of the Gospels. The Gospels were written to evoke change in the read, not to merely convey information. What does it look like to read the Gospels to hear that message and to be changed by that message? That is the discussion of this chapter.
Chapter 12: The Gospels as the Archway to the Canon will remind readers of Brevard Childs’ canonical approach. The Gospels connect the testaments, the Gospels explain the OT, they set the stage for the epistles, and provide the “archway” to the overarching narrative of the canon.
The book has a forward from Richard Bauckham, a Preface from the author, a Scripture Index and an Author Index.
Concluding Thoughts
If I were to teach a seminary class on the Gospels I would require the following reading: (1) The Gospels; (2) Extra-Canonical Gospels (for the sake of juxtaposition); and this book. If I were teaching a class in a church, same thing. If at a university, probably not, unless it was a Christian liberal arts university. If someone approaches the Gospels as both a text for academic study and as Scripture, then this book is worth your time.
Below are the genealogies of Matthew 1:1-17 and Luke 3:23-38. Advent season is a good time to browse these lists together for a variety of reasons. First, it let’s us see what we can find in common, e.g. both include Abraham, David, and Joseph. Second, it helps us see what each author sought to emphasize by examining the differences (remember, these aren’t strict genealogies like one might expect, but Christological in aim). Third, it forces us to ask questions about their literary design, e.g. Matthew’s sets of fourteen, his choice to begin with Abraham, his inclusion of Gentiles women and Luke’s choice to begin with Joseph, his decision to end with Adam “the Son of God”, his placement in the narrative at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry in contrast with Matthew’s use of the genealogy to open his Gospel.
What about these genealogies stand out for you?
Matthew 1:1-17
1 The record of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham:
2 Abraham was the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers.
3 Judah was the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, Perez was the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Ram.
4 Ram was the father of Amminadab, Amminadab the father of Nahshon, and Nahshon the father of Salmon.
5 Salmon was the father of Boaz by Rahab, Boaz was the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse.
6 Jesse was the father of David the king.
David was the father of Solomon by Bathsheba who had been the wife of Uriah.
7 Solomon was the father of Rehoboam, Rehoboam the father of Abijah, and Abijah the father of Asa.
8 Asa was the father of Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, and Joram the father of Uzziah.
9 Uzziah was the father of Jotham, Jotham the father of Ahaz, and Ahaz the father of Hezekiah.
10 Hezekiah was the father of Manasseh, Manasseh the father of Amon, and Amon the father of Josiah.
11 Josiah became the father of Jeconiah and his brothers, at the time of the deportation to Babylon.
12 After the deportation to Babylon: Jeconiah became the father of Shealtiel, and Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel.
13 Zerubbabel was the father of Abihud, Abihud the father of Eliakim, and Eliakim the father of Azor.
14 Azor was the father of Zadok, Zadok the father of Achim, and Achim the father of Eliud.
15 Eliud was the father of Eleazar, Eleazar the father of Matthan, and Matthan the father of Jacob.
16 Jacob was the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, by whom Jesus was born, who is called the Messiah.
17 So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; from David to the deportation to Babylon, fourteen generations; and from the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah, fourteen generations. [1]
Luke 3:23-38
23 When He began His ministry, Jesus Himself was about thirty years of age, being, as was supposed, the son of Joseph, the son of Eli,
24 the son of Matthat, the son of Levi, the son of Melchi, the son of Jannai, the son of Joseph,
25 the son of Mattathias, the son of Amos, the son of Nahum, the son of Hesli, the son of Naggai,
26 the son of Maath, the son of Mattathias, the son of Semein, the son of Josech, the son of Joda,
27 the son of Joanan, the son of Rhesa, the son of Zerubbabel, the son of Shealtiel, the son of Neri,
28 the son of Melchi, the son of Addi, the son of Cosam, the son of Elmadam, the son of Er,
29 the son of Joshua, the son of Eliezer, the son of Jorim, the son of Matthat, the son of Levi,
30 the son of Simeon, the son of Judah, the son of Joseph, the son of Jonam, the son of Eliakim,
31 the son of Melea, the son of Menna, the son of Mattatha, the son of Nathan, the son of David,
32 the son of Jesse, the son of Obed, the son of Boaz, the son of Salmon, the son of Nahshon,
33 the son of Amminadab, the son of Admin, the son of Ram, the son of Hezron, the son of Perez, the son of Judah,
34 the son of Jacob, the son of Isaac, the son of Abraham, the son of Terah, the son of Nahor,
35 the son of Serug, the son of Reu, the son of Peleg, the son of Heber, the son of Shelah,
36 the son of Cainan, the son of Arphaxad, the son of Shem, the son of Noah, the son of Lamech,
37 the son of Methuselah, the son of Enoch, the son of Jared, the son of Mahalaleel, the son of Cainan,
38 the son of Enosh, the son of Seth, the son of Adam, the son of God. [2]
[1]New American Standard Bible: 1995 Update, Mt 1:1–17 (LaHabra, CA: The Lockman Foundation, 1995).
[2]New American Standard Bible: 1995 Update, Lk 3:23–38 (LaHabra, CA: The Lockman Foundation, 1995).
I have been reading Jonathan T. Pennington‘s marvelous new book Reading the Gospels Wisely: A Narrative and Theological Introductionand it has helped me a lot when it comes to thinking about hermeneutics, particularly the function of the historical-critical/grammatical approach juxtaposed with literary readings and canonical/theological readings. In “Chapter Five: Texts and History: The Testimony of the Fourfold Witness” Pennington examines the historical-critical approach, explains it value, and critiques its weaknesses. For Pennington the danger of putting all our eggs into the historical-critical/grammatical basket is that this is limits our reading of the Gospels, refuses to listen to the Gospels as the Gospels are designed to be heard, and ignores the limitations of the historical-critical/grammatical hermeneutic (as well as recent criticisms from the field of philosophical hermeneutics, exemplified by the likes of Hans-Georg Gadamer and Paul Ricour to name a couple). The Gospels make claims that presuppose things like the existence of Israel’s God and you cannot appeal to deity when doing critical historical studies. There are some things that can be understood about Jesus through historical-critical study, but one can never reach the theological claims of the church through this approach. This is a danger Pennington thinks we must avoid, but he doesn’t think the answer to the problem of the historical-critical lens is one that abandons the importance of history like a Docetic Christology. He writes:
“If we approach the Gospels only as repositories of grand theological ideas and ideals, divorced from the historical reality of the incarnation and the resurrection, then we lose the history. Yet if we (even as believers) draw near to the Gospels thinking we must abandon all orthodox, creedal, and ecclesial notions and constraints on our reading or, less strictly, at least grow our theological construction in pure historical soil, then we not only fool ourselves in these possibilities, but we also deny the canonical nature of the Gospels.” (Kindle Location 2354)
He concludes that the language of “testimony” as presented by Richard Bauckham is a better avenue upon which one can approach studying the Gospels from a confessional perspective. Testimony honors both the aim of these works as a form of bios claiming to speak about historical events as well as recognizing that the theological claims of the Gospels move into a new frontier making the Gospels a unique subcategory of bioi. Likewise, testimony doesn’t make the mistake of thinking that historiography ancient or modern can ever be anything but interpretive (i.e., never fully objective as some claim). Since all history is interpretation the Gospels as testimony about Jesus care about historical events as interpreted through the apostolic kerygma.
Jonathan T. Pennington
I won’t delve much further into Pennington’s argument against limiting ourselves to the historical-critical approach—because it would be unfair to the author for me to try to condense a very well written, thoughtful chapter into a short blog post—but I will (1) encourage you to read this book; (2) provide a book review on this blog when I finish it; and (3) share the approach Pennington suggest for people who read the Gospels both as testimony of historical events and Scripture.
Pennington advocates reading the Gospels from multiple hermeneutical paradigms. He writes, “…my goal in reading is interwoven with the biblical idea of wisdom more than the modern scientific idea of knowledge, understood narrowly and impersonally.” (Kindle Location 2431) So in “Chapter Six: Reading Holy Scripture Well” he provides “three avenues of reading” that I will share and then use as a way to approach studying the doctrine of the virgin birth so that you can understand where Pennington is trying to take his readers.
First, “Behind the Text” or Historical, which includes redaction, form, and source criticism, social-scientific criticism, historical criticism, grammatical-historical exegesis, and movements like the Quest(s) for the historical (historian’s) Jesus.
Second, “In the Text” or Literary, which focuses on literary criticism, genre analysis, narrative criticism, composition criticism, and intertextuality.
Third, “In Front of the Text” or Canonical/Theological, which includes the history of interpretation, reception, history, Wirkungsgeshichte, biblical theology, redemptive history, theological reading, Regula fidei, figural reading, and intertextuality.
Let’s examine the doctrine of the virgin birth from these angles. First, the “Behind the Text” approach aims to understand not the message of the text itself alone, but the culture within which it was proclaimed. Honestly, if we use traditional historical-critical criteria as found in academic discussion we will not arrive at a virgin birth because solutions that cannot be reached by means of methodological naturalism are disqualified immediately. In other words, when doing history in this context, we cannot say, “Well, yes, it is impossible for this to happen, but God…” This isn’t a bad thing, necessarily, if we acknowledge the “language game” in which we chose to partake if we do academic history. If a scholar of Islam happened to be a confessing Muslim we Christians would question his academic biography on the Prophet Muhammad if when s/he reached the tradition about the Prophet’s ascent into heaven s/he begged-the-question by telling readers, “This happened because Allah…” This is not to say that it is impossible in reality that Allah accepted the Prophet into heaven, but rather that there are limitations on doing academic history that attempt to prevent any and every suggestion from having the same value (e.g., the abduction of a famous person is easier explained as having a human protagonist, even if the mystery is never solved as to who did it, than it is an alien from space, even if the alien theory is theoretically possible it is not the most probable).
On the other hand, historical-grammatical readings of the text might have more wiggle-room when it comes to discussing the doctrine of the virgin birth. In fact, I propose that most evangelical scholars who delve into historical research do so from a historical-grammatical angle rather than a historical-critical one. In the words of Gadamer the difference is between approaching a text with the hermeneutical of suspicion over against the hermeneutic of trust. Christians, even when engaging these texts as historians, tend to give the authors to benefit of a doubt in a way that a scholar who is not a Christian is not likely to do. This is not to say that one is better or more objective in my opinion. There are strengths and weaknesses to both approaches. For example, if Jesus did not resurrect from the dead a confessional scholar is not likely to see this because of the presuppositions brought to the study of the proclaimed event. Likewise, a skeptical scholar is not likely to come to affirm the reality of the resurrection, even if it did happen, because of the presuppositions brought to the study of the proclaimed event. I don’t mean to say that it is “all relative”, but it is subjective, always.
The historical-grammatical reading aims to make sense of a proclaimed event by means of studying the historical context in which it was proclaimed (e.g., the resurrection can be understood as a event proclaimed to have happened in first century Judea, near Jerusalem, under Roman governance, and so forth, and honestly, the presuppositions with which one approaches this topic will likely inform how this historical data “functions”, just compare the works of people like Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan to others like N.T. Wright or Michael Licona). So when one studies the doctrine of the virgin birth through a historical-grammatical lens it might be one and the same with the historical-critical, or it may be from a confessional standpoint where the virgin birth is understood as something that did happen, and then the study of everything from ancient womanhood, birth practices, first century Bethlehem, and other factors will be considered.
The “In the Text” is not concerned with the historical events within which the doctrine of the virgin birth is proclaimed. Even the Synoptic Problem falls into the first category better, though there are points of contact. This second approach may study things like how the doctrine of the virgin birth is proclaimed in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke and how this claims fits into the immediate narrative and how that narrative fits into the larger message of the Gospel. This approach can be used by the atheist scholar who doesn’t find these Gospels to produce much truth as well as the pastor who is preparing a sermon for Sunday and who wants to make sure that s/he proclaims a particular text in such a way that the literary message is received by the audience. One could discuss how the doctrine of the virgin birth fits into the message of the beginning of the Gospel of Luke without ever discussing the archaeology of Bethlehem, the socio-cultural role of “shepherds” in the first century, and other elements that are “Behind the Text”, though very helpful to understanding the text itself.
Finally, we have the approach that is “In Front of the Text”, i.e., an acceptable presupposition that informs how we read a text. For example, if one reads the Gospel of Matthew from approaches one or two it doesn’t matter all that much whether the Old Testament canon ends with Malachi as we find in the Christian tradition or Chronicles as it does in most versions of the Hebrew Bible. In this third paradigm it does matter though because Malachi ends with a proclamation to remember the Law of Moses and a promise to send the prophet Elijah before the “Day of the Lord” (4:4-6) whereas the Gospel of Matthew begins with a genealogy of “Jesus the Messiah” (1:1), describes his birth of a virgin, the visit of the magi, the flight into Egypt, the slaughter of the innocents, and then we have “Elijah”, or John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness. If you use approaches one or two you want to read Luke-Acts together, but if you read it canonically you know that John recreates the contexts of Matthew, Mark, and Luke and ends the fourfold Gospel transitioning to Acts which moves through the sequence of three main figures—Jesus to Peter to Paul—which then escorts the reader into Romans, the gateway and interpretive key to the Pauline corpus. Canonically Matthew transitions readers from the Old Testament to the fulfillment of the Old Testament, Jesus. Acts transitions from Jesus to his authoritative apostles, including Paul, and validates the Pauline corpus that comes next (I owe these insights to Brevard Childs).
Is there a way (singular) to approach the Gospels? Pennington will suggest “no” if you are a Christian. I concur. If you are a Christian willing to discuss the “historian’s Jesus” then you must enter that language game knowing what you can and cannot say and prove about Jesus. The goal and aim is to show that some really important things can be said about Jesus, even through the limitations of modern critical historiography, e.g., Jesus was a first century Jew; Jesus was remembered as a miracle worker and an exorcist; Jesus was crucified; Jesus’ followers did not disperse but became convinced for some reason that the eschatological resurrection of the dead has an “already, but not yet” exception in Jesus of Nazareth and they were willing to die for their believe. All of this is fantastically interesting, but you can’t secure the confession that the Spirit has raised Jesus from the dead, or that Jesus has been made Lord and Christ, or that Jesus is the Logos of God, or that Jesus is the second person of the one God as Trinity.
I think the historical-critical method is immensely valuable, as does Pennington, but it does have limitations. It is a matter of epistemology (what can we “know” through the restraints of academic historiography?), rather than objective truth (the dozens upon dozens of historical Jesus models you will find should be sufficient evidence of this). Sometimes the use of the Gospels to get “Behind the Text” to the historical Jesus misleads us into misreading the Gospels themselves. We ignore the message of the evangelists about Jesus for some piece of solid footing upon which we can reconstruct Jesus. Again, this is good and necessary in certain venues, but it doesn’t determine truth.
Likewise, the third approach tells us a bit about how Christians should read Scripture as Christians in the ancient-to-contemporary community of the faithful. If we use the historical critical approach we may conclude that Mark as the earliest Gospel shows no interest in a virgin birth, so he did not know about it or (from a more skeptical view) the myth had not been invented when Mark was composed. Matthew received or invented the tradition somewhere. Luke received it somewhere, maybe from Matthew. John’s Logos Christology doesn’t need a virgin birth as long as you affirm that Jesus is the Son of God come from God the Father in heaven. A canonical/theological reading realizes that Mark doesn’t need the virgin birth if it doesn’t fit the literary message because the Spirit has provided this proclamation in Matthew and Luke, already, and that John’s Logos Christology should be interpreted canonically, meaning, the Logos of God entered this world through the virgin birth—this is the beginning of how Christians discuss Christology in the language of faith.
All three approaches have value. Where we Christians struggle at times is realizing that these different approaches are different language games sometimes intended for a variety of audiences. When we try to use the historical-critical method apologetically to “prove” something like the doctrine of the virgin birth we have gone the wrong direction, not because it didn’t happen in space-time history, but because historical-critical methodology includes the presupposition of methodological naturalism, something that can never “discover” a virgin birth anymore than one may have been able to discover Jesus was born of a virgin if his DNA was studied to examine the genetics of his “father”. We can believe in the doctrine of the virgin birth from a confessional perspective, and we may have decent reasons for believing it happened historically (e.g., Matthews awkward use of Isaiah 7:14 leads me to think Matthew already believed in the doctrine and he sought a passage of Scripture to support it, rather than he happened to read Isaiah 7:14 one day and thought, “This proves Jesus was born of a virgin!”), but we cannot prove it historical-critically, and that is OK. We must recover some comfort with speaking the language of faith and sometimes faith demands that we speak of things catholically, rather than individualistically, as if something can be true if and only if I can verify it through means that make me the final authority, rather than the church and the Scripture of the church.