A PLACE WHERE THOSE WHO LIVE IN THE ANGLICAN CONTINUUM, OR WHO ARE THINKING OF MOVING THERE, MIGHT SHARE IN ROBUST, IF POLITE, DISCUSSION OF MATTERS THEOLOGICAL AND ECCLESIOLOGICAL. QUOD UBIQUE, QUOD SEMPER, QUOD AB OMNIBUS CREDITUM EST
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Saturday, October 31, 2020
Thursday, October 29, 2020
Saturday, October 24, 2020
Monday, October 12, 2020
FAITH & SCHOLARSHIP
Serving in my diocese’s Commission on Ministry, I meet men who aspire to holy orders. When I consider the importance of one aspect of ordained ministry, preaching, I find myself always ready to give practical advice. One thing I would never say from the pulpit is, “scholars say that Jesus didn’t actually say this,” or even, “scholars agree that Paul didn’t actually write this epistle,” (with the obvious exception of Hebrews, inasmuch as the epistle is, on the face of it, anonymous. Paul always identified himself up front. I think it contains Paul’s teaching, but was written by someone who had been in his missionary company before his martyrdom in Rome).
This
is not because I have failed to read the arguments; it is mostly because
nothing deflates a sermon faster than distancing oneself from the source of
authority that undergirds your very presence in the pulpit. But, it is also
because, having read the arguments and knowing the consensus (a
word that has come to imply, to many, infallibility), I see holes that are not
neatly sewn up. I appreciate the consistent logic that has been built into a
tower; but, at times, I see what appear to be cracks in the foundation. The
tower is a very impressive edifice, and the workmanship is unquestionably fine.
But, what is below ground as a foundation?
Facts
and logical constructs
Even
in my earliest days as an undergraduate student pursuing a degree in history, I
was taught that my discipline was a science. It was impressed on me by
professors that nothing takes the place of evidence and documentation. As the
years went on I began to see that a lot of writing about history (as opposed to
writing of history) argues a point. In every science those who
make arguments need to practice detachment (especially detachment from ego)
inasmuch as “facts are,” as John Adams observed, “stubborn things.”
A
subtle trap lies in this: In every science a certain amount of logic must be
used to construct any theory. In reality theory is a word that includes basic
things we know to be true, such as gravity. A
true theory is proved by the facts, even though it can undergo additional
elements, which indeed happened to our understanding of gravity when Einstein
examined the work of Newton in light of Relativity, adding to the
theory of gravity what we now know about the way it bends both time and space.
So, a proven theory can grow to include newly discovered facts.
Some
theories, on the other hand, can be proved false. That happens when logic, even
flawless logic, is confronted by a fact that stands as a contradiction to some
part of the premise upon which a theory was constructed. In other cases a
theory can be on the table, based on a combination of evidence and logic,
depending on logic to cover gaps that the evidence alone cannot prove. Indeed,
such theories can be so impressive in their logic that they are quite
convincing. This dependence on logic, to fill in the evidentiary gaps, helps to
create consensus (and the same basic reality, in a very different way, applies
to juries in courts of law).
The
problem that I am faced with by some of the scholarly
consensus on the Bible is not only gaps in the evidence, but arguments that can
be made, and made quite plausibly, not with the logical construct of a given
theory, but with the premise. This brings me full circle to the very basic
History 101 caveat, that everything presented as a fact must be documented with
evidence. The evidence comes first, and the logic follows, for logic is subject
to facts; facts, those stubborn things, refuse to be subjected to logic, even
the best logic of the finest scholars and scientists. When one moves up the
academic ladder in any science, no matter to what height, the rule remains in
place, reputations not withstanding, that facts come first, and logic follows.
So, a theory that is yet unproved (and a collegial consensus all by itself is
no substitute for proof), is constructed partly by evidence and partly by
logic.
Predictive
prophecy
When
I first read the original Book of Daniel I was struck quickly by the fact that
I was reading not Hebrew, but Aramaic, but not throughout the entire book. Many
ancient manuscripts come to us in fragments. Here was a book put together, I
realized, from Hebrew fragments and Aramaic fragments. I questioned what had
happened. Was a Targum of Daniel, that is an Aramaic
translation from Hebrew for Jewish readers of a later period, mixed with older
Hebrew portions? Of course, many writers have weighed in.
We
are told that the scholarly consensus is that the predictive prophetic portions
were added after they had been fulfilled. Of course the text states otherwise
rather boldly, that Daniel was praying and was visited by angels. In the
science of textual criticism a simple acceptance of the claims in the text are
not taken as evidence. That I understand, because that is how real science is
done. The problem is a different question altogether. The question is, did
prophets foretell?
According
to the content of scripture, throughout all of it, one element of prophecy was
prediction. Bear in mind; that was only a part of it. Prophecy is when one
speaks as the mouth of God, and most of the words of the Old Testament prophets
were not predictive in nature, but rather an outcry against evil and injustice,
mostly against injustice to the poor and the oppressed. However, the predictive
element is so obviously and consistently woven into Biblical prophecy that no
one can state that prediction of the future is no part of it. To say that
Biblical prophets did not foretell is ridiculous on the face of it. Actually,
nothing can be more obvious. According to the words in the texts, predictions
as an element of prophecy take place quite often. No matter where you look in
the Old Testament, this is an undeniable fact.
When
we come to the New testament we see exactly two prophetic predictions in the
Book of Acts, both from a Christian prophet, obviously recognized as such by
the Church, named Agabus (Acts 11:28f, 21:10f). In the eleventh chapter this
prophet foretold a drought. The Church had such faith in the predictive element
of prophecy that the apostles themselves took action, and so we read in the
Book of Acts, and in St. Paul’s First Epistle to the Corinthians, about
the “collection for the saints,” the money donated for the yet-to-be poor in
the city where the Church was first established, Jerusalem.
Clearly,
to those earliest Christians, it was no strange thing for prophets to tell the
future. They had inherited this belief from their Jewish past, for it was a
part of Jewish faith. Moreover, had they failed to heed the predictive element
of prophecy, they would have not taken the actions needed to prepare for the
future. Such a course of action must have brought to mind the story, already ancient
in that time, of Joseph and Pharaoh in Genesis. Note, the prophecies of Agabus
had nothing to do with revelation about matters of doctrine, such matters
having been entrusted, according to the text, to the apostles rather than to
the prophets of the Church. What is crystal clear is that the predictive
element in prophecy was here, as in all of scripture, taken for granted by the
believers. Had you told the ancient Christians that prophets did not predict
the future, they would have regarded you as uneducated and foolish.
Herein
lies the problem I have with one scholarly consensus, the cracks I see in the
foundation of an otherwise impressively constructed tower of logic. The
rationalization of some is that the Gospel of Mark, chapter thirteen, had to
have been written after the year 70 AD. Maybe it was written that late. The
real issue to me is a simple nagging question: Why must it
have been written after 70 AD? One answer, we are told, is because it foretells
the destruction of Jerusalem and of the temple.
In
other words, contrary to what all of the Christians and Jews of the time had
always believed, that the word of the Lord by the prophets often contained a
reliable predictive element, we are to assume that Jesus could
not really have predicted the future. The simple reality is this: that
assumption has demoted Jesus not only to a mere man, someone who was not the
Son of the Everlasting Father, but to someone even less than what all the
prophets had been taken to be: the mouthpiece of God who knows all things,
past, present and future. Aside from the assumption that Jesus could not have
actually predicted the future, I accept reasonable evidence that has been
presented for dating the synoptic Gospels as late.
I
think it must be true that the Church had a Quelle (“source”
in German) document, or “Q,” simply because it makes no sense to believe that
the Church would have failed to put into writing the most important words ever
spoken. The Church’s resources were never limited to complete dependence on
nothing other than an oral tradition because it was never populated only by
illiterates. That Mark and Matthew drew from this “Q,” and that Luke drew from
it and other sources when addressing each of us as a “friend of God (Theophilus),”
is indeed quite logical, indeed, obvious. We do not have the “Q,” but we do
have the Gospels. In fact, in the seventh chapter of First Corinthians, Paul
makes a distinction between the teaching of the Lord, and his own merely human
but likely reliable judgment; the implication is that Christ’s teaching had
been preserved faithfully, and that his readers knew what was in it
If
you take away Jesus’ clear foretelling of the destruction of Jerusalem and of
the Temple, you have to take away so much with it, the Parable of the Vineyard,
the warning that the Kingdom of God would be taken from them and given to the
Gentiles (spread to all nations), His use of the imagery of the Valley of Ben
Hinnom (Gehennah) – the place where slain corpses are
abandoned – and everything he foretold about the judgment to fall on “this
generation.” Finally, when you come to the end of the Gospel of Luke, and read
about the Risen Christ teaching His disciples about the Old Testament
scriptures that had predicted the events of His life, His death and His
resurrection, you have to assume that those ancient martyrs and fugitives, all
of whom could have lived freely and without fear by simply coming clean and
being honest, made up a bunch of tales not to be believed at all.
Right
away, in the Book of Acts, we discover that the apostles relied on specific
texts of Old Testament prophecy, in fact predictive prophecies, to prove that
their man was the promised Anointed Son of David who had risen from the dead.
The passage most often used in the Book of Acts, and that is either quoted or
alluded to by most of the writers of the New Testament, is the Suffering
Servant of the Book of Isaiah (Isaiah 52:13-53:12). This is brought home most
clearly in the eighth chapter of Acts when Philip identifies the man of whom
the prophet spoke as Jesus (Acts 8:35). When did the Church learn this, if not
when the risen Lord was instructing the disciples as we read about near the end
of Luke’s Gospel?
Human
element
Unlike
a Fundamentalist I recognize the human element in scripture. Matthew wrongly
attributed a passage from Zechariah to Jeremiah, and Luke mistakenly names
Quirinius as the Governor of Syria at an incorrect date. The Scriptures contain
variants, and it is not always clear which of them is correct. No modern person
should take the earliest chapters of Genesis as either science or history, but
as allegory (after all, the incarnate Christ taught in parables when he walked
the earth – so what’s the problem?). The greetings in the epistles, Paul’s expression
of aggravation concerning those who troubled the Church in Galatia –
yes, Fundamentalism insults the intelligence.
But,
the human element contains a very real weakness in St. Paul’s writings, in
fact his dictations. Early epistles, the ones everybody attributes
to Paul, show that his amanuensis probably found it very difficult to keep up
with his excited dictation. The amanuensis who took those epistles down did not
tidy it up like a good editor would, not even completing every sentence. Yet,
the Epistle to the Ephesians is polished and stylistically different, and the
later Pastoral Epistles so different that the scholarly consensus is that Paul
could not have written them. Furthermore, those epistles, unlike the earlier
ones, show a church that is formed and organized instead of organic and purely
charismatic, if not egalitarian.
Fair
enough. I will say that in about another seventeen hundred years a music
scholar may well say that the works attributed to J.S. Bach must have been written
by no less than three separate composers, and for very similar reasons.
Obviously, and worthy of an agreed consensus, the same man who composed the
Toccata and Fugue in D minor, so much resembling the works of Buxtehude with
its triple ending and very informal cadence to a minor resolution, cannot have
been the man who wrote those later contrapuntal works, and someone else
altogether must have written those concertos in various different ethnic
styles. However, a mere three hundred years after the life of the composer, we
know too much to make such astounding claims. A lot more has to be lost, and
much history forgotten, before we can become so clever as all that.
As
for Paul’s epistles, and those attributed to him (from Romans to Philemon –
Hebrews remaining anonymous and obviously written by a man who followed the
lead of St. Timothy, as Paul never did), I make no arguments. Rather, I question why
a pseudonymous writer would wax so autobiographical and personal as we see in
the last chapter of the Second Epistle to Timothy. But that is a question, not
an argument. I have another question, knowing that Paul signed his epistles,
always near the beginning, and in large letters (Gal. 6:11), could not
differences in style and polish be differences between the men who acted as his
amanuensis? Could not the more organizational content, ecclesiastically
speaking, of the Pastoral Epistles reflect the growth and maturity of the
Church as it evolved over time? These are questions, not arguments, and I am
not the first to raise them. I might be the first, however, to desire an answer
more evidentiary in nature than “consensus,” which, in the final analysis, is
no answer at all, that is, unless this is all an art, not a science.
One
answer I cannot accept is that we must reject the supernatural explanation. The
assumption that Jesus could not have foretold the events of 70
AD, because we assume that prophecy has no predictive element, not only lacks
evidence: It contradicts all of the evidence of the entire Bible and the of the
world in which it was written and compiled. Moreover, it comes across to me as
nothing but a mask for unbelief. What else could He not have
done? What about having been born of a virgin mother? and what of rising from
the dead into a new and immortal nature to save us? If he could not speak as
the prophets were believed to have spoken, certainly He could not have done any
of those other supernatural things either. But, in fact, He did it all. And,
that is in accord with the consensus that matters most: The One, Holy, Catholic
and Apostolic Church guided, by the Spirit of Truth, into all
truth.
Saturday, October 10, 2020
Saturday, October 03, 2020
Friday, October 02, 2020
FOR THE POOR
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