Christen brauchen Fleisch

I had a brief exchange with a member of my church the other day about the fact that Christians can grow in their faith, that there is a distinction between young and mature Christians, and that this growth involves intellectual growth, a better grasp of theology. My friend didn't quite understand, especially in regard to a quote from Heb 5:12 about "milk" and "meat" that I e-mailed him. For him, the gospel is actually very simple and he cites John 1:14 as evidence. Not only is this verse easy to grasp, he says, what more could we possibly need to know? He is a new Christian. Here is my attempt per Email to clarify the issue. Please do tell me where I'm going wrong! (And feel free to correct my imperfect German.)

Bezüglich Heb 5,12. Zuerst würde ich gerne darauf hinweisen, dass der Hebräerbrief an Christen gerichtet ist. Also Menschen, die sich schon für Jesus entschieden haben. Sie werden um ihres Glaubens Willen verfolgt und laufen Gefahr, dieses Glauben zu leugnen. Dem Autor des Briefes geht es darum, ihnen zu beweisen, wie gut sie es in Jesus haben. Also: es gibt mehr als das, was sie gedacht haben. Dieses "Mehr" ist der Inhalt des Briefes und sollte ihnen helfen, in ihrem Glauben im Angesicht Verfolgung zu beharren. Im direkten Zusammenhang von Heb 5, 12, zum Beispiel, geht es darum dass Jesus nicht nur zu uns gesandt wurde, dass er lebte, starb, und auferstanden ist, sondern auch, dass er jetzt zur rechten des Vaters sitzt und für uns betet. Das ist ein Beispiel für das "Fleisch," was die Hebräer noch nicht begriffen haben. Vielleicht könnte man sagen, dass Milch genug ist für jemand der sich zum ersten Mal für Jesus begeistert ist (junge Christen sind in der Regel super begeistert), wenn es aber schwer wird, braucht man mehr Eiweiß. Dafür braucht man eine tiefere Theologie. Was man glaubt hat Einfluss darauf, wie man lebt, was man hofft usw. Hier ist ein Zitat zu Heb 5, 11 aus einem englischen Kommentar:

The "milk" of the Word refers to what Jesus Christ did on earth—His birth, life, teaching, death, burial, and resurrection. The "meat" of the Word refers to what Jesus Christ is now doing in heaven. [nach Heb 5, 12, z.B.] We begin the Christian life on the basis of His finished work on earth. We grow in the Christian life on the basis of His unfinished work in heaven.

Of course, even the maturest adult never outgrows milk. As believers, we can still learn much from our Lord’s work on earth. But we must not stop there! We must make spiritual progress, and we can do this only if we learn about Christ’s priestly ministry for us in heaven. (See Heb. 13:20–21 for a summary of what the Lord wants to do for His people now.)

Dies ist nur ein Teilantwort auf deine Frage, "Was ist Fleisch"? Der Verfasser des Briefes gibt weitere Beispiele in den darauf folgenden Versen.

Hilft das? Es geht nicht darum, dass wenn man im Glauben wächst man entdeckt das alles doch nicht so ist, wie man gedacht hat (obwohl das zum Teil durchaus passiert; wir projezieren immer unsere eigenen Bedürfnisse auf Gott). Es geht darum, dass das Evangelium sehr umfassend ist (guck mal, wie groß, vielfältig, und manchmal schwierig die Bibel ist!). Das Leben ist eine Herausforderung, und manchmal braucht man mehr um überstehen zu können. Ich profitiere sehr momentan, z.B., von der Gedanke, dass "Himmel" letzendlich die Vollendung dieser Schöpfung ist, und nicht ihre Abschaffung durch eine unkörperliche Wirklichkeit.

Dazu würde ich sagen, dass es nicht nur mehr gibt, im Sinne von extra Information oder einem größeren Zusammenhang. Es gibt auch mehr im Sinne von einer Tiefendimension. Etwas, was zuerst einfacht erscheint, kann Vieles vergebergen. Lass uns deine Bibelzitat angucken:

14 Das Wort wurde Mensch und lebte unter uns. Wir selbst haben seine göttliche Herrlichkeit gesehen, wie sie Gott nur seinem einzigen Sohn gibt. In ihm sind Gottes vergebende Liebe und Treue zu uns gekommen.

Dieser Text ist für mich überhaupt nicht einfach. Ein Paar Beispielfragen: Was war das Wort bevor es Mensch wurde? Wieso musste es Fleisch werden? Und war es vorher ein "es" oder schon immer ein "er"? Und wie kann ein Mensch ein "Wort" sein? Und wie sieht ein Wort aus bevor es/er Mensch wird? Und was hat Fleischwerdeung mit Liebe zu tun (geschweige denn Treue)? Und welche Herrlichkeit wurde von Johannes gesehen? Ich dachte Jesus wäre nur ein Zimmerman. Oder ist das genau seine Herrlichkeit? Oder war es vielleicht seine Verklärung? Und wieso durfte Johannes das sehen aber ich nicht? Ist das Fair, dass ich von einem Zeugniss abhängig bin, ohne selbst die Herrlichkeit Jesu sehen zu dürfen? Und wieso ist das Wort/der Mensch ein Sohn? Wieso nicht Tochter, oder etwas Anderes? Ist das bedeutsam? Was hat "Vergebung" mit "Inkarnation" zu tun? Ich dachte, dass Vergebung am Kreuz stattgefunden hat und nicht beim Geburt. Und wenn diese vergebende Liebe damals gekommen ist, was hat das mit heute zu tun? Kommt er immer noch? Aber wenn ja, er kommt gewiss nicht auf der selben Art und Weise wie damals, weil er nicht mehr "unter uns" lebt. Zumindest nicht als Mensch - nur in seinem Geist (sein Vertreter). Wie im Hebräerbrief steht, Jesus ist eigentlich nicht mehr hier, er ist da, und wir warten auf ihn. Also, Johannes freut sich, dass Jesus gekommen ist, aber wir warten immer noch?

Wie du geschrieben hast, Joh 1, 12 ist eigentlich doch einfach. Ein Mensch lernt Gott in Jesus kennen und gibt ihm sein Leben aus Dankbarkeit. Aber wie in menschlichen Beziehung, ist dieser Schritt nur ein Anfang. Man muss weiter gehen und diese Person kennelernen, diese Person in seiner Gesamntheit, und das heißt seine Identität als Gott und Gesalbter Israels, als eine Antwort auf unseres Flehen, als ein Teil von eines umfassenden Heilsplans. Du hast sicherlich den Spruch gehört: die Bibel ist flach genug, dass ein Baby dadrin spielen kann, aber tief genug, dass ein Elefant dadrin ertinken kann.

Ein paar andere Bibelstellen zum Thema "Milch" und Wachsen: 1 Kor 3,1-3; Heb 6, 1; 1 Pe 2, 2. 21, falls du weiterlesen willst.

Why is Jesus taking so long? (II)

In my last post I made the potentially impious statement that I was "disappointed" with Jesus. The cause of my disappointment had to do with the expectations that my acquaintance with the Old Testament had raised for me. Wasn't the coming Messiah supposed bring about a world of universal shalom, both between humans and within creation? Just like Israel in exile (or in fact in most of its history), I want my own fig tree!

Luckily, it looks as if this disjunction between promise and fulfilment is found within the New Testament itself, as witnessed to by the reactions of John the Baptist and Jesus' own disciples (see my post). But why is there a disjunction in the first place? Here are Bartholomew and Goheen's interpretations of Jesus' parables of the kingdom:

Mark 4 and Matthew 13 offer an important selection of these stories. They are introduced with Mark’s phrase “The kingdom of God is like …” and Matthew’s “The kingdom of heaven is like …” (meaning the same; Matthew, writing to Jews reticent about using the name Yahweh, refers to God indirectly by naming the place from which he rules). In this series of parables, we learn the secret of the kingdom.

1. The kingdom does not come all at once. Though the Jews have expected the kingdom to arrive in fullness immediately, or at least very soon after the Messiah appears, this does not happen. Sometimes as Jesus talks about the kingdom, he speaks of it as if it is present already; at other times he suggests that it is coming in the future. Many of his parables help to explain this seeming contradiction. The parable of the sower and weeds teaches that in the present the kingdom comes by the “sowing” of the gospel. In the future the weeds will be separated from the wheat (Matthew 13:24–30, 36–43). The parables of the mustard seed and the yeast suggest that though the kingdom at present is small and seems insignificant, it will in the future be glorious and impossible to ignore (13:31–33; Mark 4:30–32). The parable of the net teaches that in the present all sorts of fish are gathered in to the kingdom, but in the future there will be a great separation (Matthew 13:47–50).

Thus, the kingdom Jesus describes is both present and future: already begun here, not yet here in fullness. But this is not a contradiction, and Jesus is not mistaken. How then can something as important as God’s kingdom have these two apparently opposite qualities? How does it stand in tension between “already” and “not yet”?

In the parables Jesus offers his bewildered followers a resolution of this “already-not yet” quality of the kingdom. With the coming of the kingdom, the Jews expect the present evil age to pass away quickly. The parable of the weeds teaches them that the power of evil continues alongside the new healing power that has come into the world in Jesus. The age to come overlaps with the old age; the powers of both are present.

2. In the present, the kingdom does not come with irresistible power. The Jews have expected that when God’s kingdom arrives, no enemy would be able to resist it. They remember Nebuchadnezzar’s dream in which a rock not cut by human hands (representing the kingdom of God) strikes a great statue (representing the world kingdoms of Babylon, Media, Persia, Greece, and in later interpretation Rome) and shatters it (Daniel 2). Daniel says: “The God of heaven will set up a kingdom that will never be destroyed.… It will crush all those kingdoms and bring them to an end, but it will itself endure forever” (2:44). Surely God will sweep his enemies away. Who can stand against the power of God?

But Jesus says: “Listen! A farmer went out to sow his seed” (Mark 4:3). And what a different picture emerges in the parable of the sower (4:1–20; Matthew 13:1–23). The Messiah does not come as a military conqueror but as a humble farmer. The kingdom does not arrive in irresistible power and force but by the message of the kingdom. The seed falls on the footpath, in rocky places, and among thorns—producing no fruit. In other words, listeners can reject the call of the kingdom and may well seem to be none the worse for it. Certainly no great rock hurtles from the sky to destroy those who refuse Jesus. The kingdom is hidden in a humble form and makes its way in the world in apparent weakness. In his ministry Jesus announces the message of the kingdom—the gospel—through his words, demonstrates it by his deeds, and embodies it in his life. The gospel is a seed, given to produce the fruit of the kingdom in the soil of receptive and believing hearts. Later Paul speaks of the gospel as the “power of God” (Romans 1:16), yet that power does not trample down or root out all resistance by force. The parable of the weeds gives us a picture of how this works (Matthew 13:24–30, 36–43). Jesus says: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat.” The wheat and weeds appear together. When the servants want to root out the weeds, the farmer forbids this, explaining that at the harvest he will separate the good plants from the weeds. Some people receive the word, and God’s power brings about the fruit of the kingdom, but others reject that message—and seem to suffer no harm.

3. The final judgment of the kingdom is reserved for the future. Jesus’ hearers expect God’s judgment to fall swiftly on the ungodly. The prophets spoke of a day when God would bring his kingdom in by judging his enemies in his wrath (Isaiah 63:1–6). Redemption and wrath are two sides of one reality: God saves his creation by judging the enemies that have ruined it (61:2; 63:4). But the parable of the weeds (Matthew 13:24–30, 36–43) shows the Jews that the judgment they expect does not fall immediately. The workers in the field want to root out weeds p 148 immediately (13:28), but the owner instructs his servants to allow both wheat and weeds to grow together. At the end of the age the judgment will indeed fall; until then the powers of God’s kingdom and of evil must continue together.

Many other parables similarly illustrate a judgment postponed: good fish will be sorted from bad (13:47–50) and sheep from goats (25:31–46). The master who has entrusted money to his servants will return to settle accounts (25:14–30). Five maidens keep oil for their lamps and are ready for the return of the bridegroom (25:1–13). Two men invest their master’s money wisely and are commended for it; another who merely buries his money is condemned as a “wicked, lazy servant” and thrown into outer darkness (25:14–30). Jesus’ true followers are those whose lives imitate his: they feed the hungry, clothe the naked, offer drink to the thirsty, and visit the prisoner. These faithful ones are invited into the kingdom of the Father. But another group whose lives show nothing of Jesus’ own life are sent away at last to eternal punishment (25:31–46). When Jesus speaks of the final coming of the kingdom in his parables, he stresses readiness and faithfulness in the present. One is to respond to the message of the kingdom and live a life centered in Jesus until the last day.

4. The full revelation of the kingdom is postponed, to allow many to enter it during the present age. Since the coming of the kingdom has already begun in Jesus, why does God not complete his work? Why does he delay the final judgment? Why hide his kingdom’s glory and power? When we find an answer to these questions, we can begin to understand our own place and calling in the biblical story, between Jesus’ inauguration of the kingdom and its final revelation. One of Luke’s parables offers such an answer (Luke 14:15–24). A banquet is being made ready: the table is set and laden with food and drink. But there the host pauses; the guests must wait yet a little while. The enjoyment of the banquet is suspended—but the host has a very good reason for the delay. It is so that the lost can also be brought in to share at the banquet table. All—and especially the poor, the lost, the forgotten ones—are invited and welcomed to share in the banquet that is God’s kingdom. “This gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come” (Matthew 24:14). When the Pharisees mutter that Jesus is welcoming all the wrong people, he tells them three parables: of a lost sheep (Luke 15:3–7), a lost coin (15:8–10), and a lost son (15:11–32). When the lost son (who has for a time wandered from his home and family) repents and turns back, the Father welcomes him with joy and favor.

Jesus tells many parables—at least forty—and we have looked at only a sampling. Yet in these few, the main themes of Jesus’ teaching are p 149 evident: the parables reveal what the kingdom is really like, in contrast to the misunderstandings of Jesus’ hearers.[*]

Though I can't confess to have understood everything about God's eschatological purposes (neither could Paul, cf. Rom 11:33-35), I do find it comforting to know that this structure of delayed fulfilment of promise, strengthened by proleptic foretastes in the meantime, reflects both Biblical reality (Abraham gets just a grave in the promised land; only Jacob's bones arrive there; Moses dies on the boarder, yet only after foretelling that Israel will forfeit everything anyway and have to go through exile before they can get it back again) and existential reality (read the Psalms; live a life of faith: God will do something, but when, how long, and how much?).

[*]Bartholomew, C. G., & Goheen, M. W. (2004). The drama of Scripture: Finding our place in the biblical story (146–149). Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic.

Bauckham as canonical interpreter?

Here is a quote from New Testament scholar Richard Bauckham, which nicely parallels my comments concerning Seitz and the Old Testament in my post Tradition-history: a two-way movement.

In one of the few Markan narratives that John also tells, John, like Mark, has Jesus saying, “It is I” (i.e., “I am” [εγώ ειμι]; Mark 6:50; John 6:20). In John this becomes the second of the Gospel's theologically potent series of seven absolute “I am” sayings (4:26; 6:20; 8:24, 28, 58; 13:19; 18:5, 6, 8). For readers/hearers of Mark, this series would not only develop the christological significance of the “I am” sayings they already knew in Mark 6:50 but also inform their understanding of the “I am” saying in Mark 14:62. In ways such as this, it would be possible to argue that John provides readers/hearers who already know Mark with a much fuller and more developed christological and soteriological interpretation of the Gospel story, but one which had clear continuity with the Markan Christology and soteriology they already knew. They would not perceive John's interpretation of Jesus as correcting or invalidating Mark's, but as extending and deepening it. … With the benefit of John's explicit interpretations of the few “signs” of the Jesus which he has carefully chosen for his highly selective Gospel narrative, they could also read with fresh perception the “many other signs” (John 20:30) that Mark records. While the fourth evangelist surely meant to lead his readers further and deeper into the significance of Jesus and his story than Mark's Gospel had done, he need not have intended them henceforth to leave Mark aside and to read only his own Gospel. He did not aim to replace Mark, but to write a different kind of Gospel: one which, by selecting far fewer traditions, left space for the reflective interpretation that is the distinctive characteristic of the Fourth Gospel. [*]

That, quite simply, rocks!

[*] R. Bauckham, “John for Readers of Mark,” in The Gospel for all Christians: Rethinking the Gospel Audiences (ed. Richard Bauckham; Grand Rapids: Eerdmanns, 1998), 169-170; cited in Seitz, Prophecy, 180-181

Kähler on the "real" Jesus

As an illustration of how a theological reading of the Old Testament, guided by the Spirit, can be more profound than a purely historical-critical one, I contrasted Gunkel and Bonhoeffer on Genesis in my post The Spirit, Gunkel, and Bonhoeffer. In light of a recent interesting dialogue on the theological role of "canon" in relation to historical-criticism for the New Testament (in the comments of my last two posts here and then here), I offer another example of someone who B.S. Childs (the true author of this blog, for whom I am only a "vehicle";) ) considered to be a scholar able to "penetrate" scripture to "another dimension of reality," Martin Kähler (who has made his way into an ecumenical Heiligenlexicon!):

The reason we commune with the Jesus of our Gospels is because it is through them that we learn to know that same Jesus whom, with the eyes of faith and in our prayers, we meet at the right hand of God, ... because he is God's revelation to us. ... The risen Lord is not the historical Jesus behind the Gospels, but the Christ of the apostolic preaching, of the whole New Testament. ... The real Christ ... is the Christ who is preached. The Christ who is preached, however, is precisely the Christ of faith. He is the Jesus whom the eyes of faith behold at every step he takes and through every syllable he utters - ... our risen, living Lord. [*]

In case the phrase "Christ of faith" gets your Bultmann-alarm ringing, read the last three words closely and the title of the book. The key issue for a canonical approach is not a distaste for history or the need for the security of a self-referential textual universe, but rather the nature of history itself, the nature of biblical referentiality, and the function of the church within the economy of God.

For New Testament types with an interest in all this, read Paul Minear.

[*] M. Kähler, The So-Called Historical Jesus and the Historic, Biblical Christ (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1964), 60-61, 65-66. Cited in Childs, "Interpreting the Bible Amid Cultural Change," Theology Today 54 (1997), 200-211; here, 205-206.

A free commentary on Matthew/Mark!

Honestly, I couldn't believe this when I read it. I figured there's got to be snag. But no, Logos are in the process of preparing a new commentary series, the Cornerstone Biblical Commentary (9 vols). In order to get publicity they are simply offering the commentary of Matthew/Mark for free. Go here for the details. I've downloaded it and it looks like it'll be a useful supplement to my growing digital library. One of the authors is the blogosphere's very own Darell Bock (who also edits the whole). I'm not much a New Testament person, but I've been told by Chris Tilling that he's a highly respected scholar. I look forward to reading what he has to say about prophecy and fulfilment in Matthew!

By the way, I really am trying not to sound like a salesman here. It just goes to show that the difference between form and content is not something that can be identified by genre alone.

Two testaments, four gospels: the hermeneutical significance of juxtaposition

I indicated in my post on the relation of the New Testament to the Old that a primary characteristic of the Christian two-testamental Bible is that these two testaments are simply juxtaposed to each other. There are no attempts to redactionally link them together, as we find in individual books such as Isaiah, or attempts to update the text of the Old Testament so that it speaks of Jesus more unambiguously (by inserting Jesus' name in Isaiah 53, for example).

In short, this juxtaposition of the two testaments is of a different order than the canonical shaping that gave us the individual books in the first place. According to Childs, this type of "canonical shaping" is comparable to the composition of the fourfold Gospel collection. Just like the two testaments, the Gospels were also simply juxtaposed without an attempt to make the individual books conform to a single redactional pattern. This has hermeneutical significance in that it is the resulting effect of the juxtaposition, rather than in a single editorial intentionality, that should guide theological interpretation. (This also demonstrates, I should point out, that canonical exegesis is commited to reckoning with various types of intentionality when dealing with the totality of Scripture.)

In contrast to the two-testamental canon, however, there is no cross-referencing within the fourfold Gospel collection amongst the individual Gospels. Each of the individual Gospels, however, makes constant and explicit reference to the Old Testament – albeit in different ways. Indeed, the use of the Old Testament plays a major role in the canonical shaping of each of the Gospels and many of the New Testament letters as well. Childs draws the following implication from this observation:

the influence of the Old Testament on the individual shaping of the Gospels belongs to the level of the New Testament’s compositional history and cannot be directly related to the formation of the Christian Bible qua collection. This means that the New Testament’s use of the Old Testament, either by direct citation or allusion, cannot provide a central category for Biblical Theology because this cross-referencing operates on a different level. There is no literary or theological warrant for assuming that the forces which shaped the New Testament can be simply extended to the level of Biblical Theology involving theological reflection on both testaments (Biblical Theology, 76).

Thread Summary: Examples of "canonical exegesis"

To date, my discussion of the canonical approach on this blog has been largely theoretical and abstract (see this thread, for example). As such, I've decided to collect all my examples of concrete exegesis into one place:

1. Paul's phrase "in accordance with the scriptures"
2. Ancient typology in Genesis 22?
3. The canonical shaping of the Pentateuch, i.e. Genesis, Exodus, Leveticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, with the hermeneutical implications thereof.
4. "Immanuel" in a canonical perspective
5. God, Moses, and Scripture
6. Luke 24:13-35 and the dogmatic/exegesis relation
7. Israel and the divided church
8. "Believing" and "unbelieving" exegesis: an example
9. What was the Deuteronomist doing with the law?
10. "Canon" and the "essence" of Old Testament Prophecy
11. How to read Paul
12. Childs on Jesus and Isaiah 53
13. Canonical shaping of the prophets
14. Source criticism and the final form

Kerygma and "what really happened"

My dialogue with John Poirier on the nature of Hans Frei's proposal goes on unabated here. In my opinion, the issue turns on the nature of the gospel, i.e. the ultimate referent or subject of the Bible. I took an hour to write a response so I'll just post an interesting quote by Hermann Diem on the relevance of history as "what actually happened" to the authors of the Gospels (I intend to start posting on "the literal sense of scripture" soon).

There can be no question that in their preaching the New Testament authors thought that they were also reporting historical facts. The question can only be whether they had any interest in the historical fact as such, and apart from its proclamation as an element of the Gospel story. (122)

There should further be agreement about that fact that the NT authors, in spite of their lack of interest in the historical issue as we have formulated it, are in the highest degree concerned about the actual happening of the history of Jesus which they proclaim. [This may seem contradictory to us, but not for the NT authors and this for an intrinsic reason:] What they preach is a history which by its very essence does not permit a mere scientific apprehension. Of course it is a history which runs its course in this world and therefore at every stage includes facts which essentially are more or less capable of being historically established also. But such mere historical-scientific appreciation would in any case fail to do justice to the essential import of this history. For this history requires from the hearer of its evangelical presentation, instead of the mere apprehension of facts, not only, as we like to say since Kiergegaard, a personal decision between scandalisation and faith (for this would not get to grips with the essential point), but rather it requires from the hearer faith that in this history a decision has been made affecting himself personally and his whole personal destiny. To believe in the message it announces means to become a disciple of Christ, which means that we live by the faith that we too are crucified and risen again with Christ. To miss the import of the history of JC, means therefore to miss also one's whole personal significance and destiny.We may fail to appreciate this history by not believing in the evangelical message it affords, for the history cannot make its impact on us except through the preaching of this Jesus who discloses and authenticates Himself in the gospel He declares. (125, 6)

Hermann Diem, Dogmatics (London: Oliver & Boyd, 1959)

What are the Gospels About and How?

In my last post I wrote of the subtlety of Hans Frei's position on the question of narrative referentiality. It's not as if “realistic narratives” do nothing more than create their own aesthetic worlds, with no intention to point beyond themselves to the “real” world outside the text. It is possible for a narrator to refer to reality by means of a story. The question is how we are to understand the nature of this referencing and the nature of the referent. This is an issue that touches the heart of traditional Christian theology, which claims that a historical resurrection in time and space is the corner-stone of its faith.

One cannot talk of the nature of a referent without a concrete text in mind, so let's look at Frei's handling of the gospels. According to Frei, these texts are ultimately “witnesses” to the Word of God. But what is the Word of God? Is it identifiable with the concrete history of Jesus of Nazareth, the Jewish carpenter cum rabbi who was crucified in Jerusalem? Frei sees this Word as being more than (but not less than!) the “historical Jesus.” It is God incarnate, the inauguration of the kingdom, transcendence on earth, resurrection, and as such, is a reality that explodes any human categories for understanding it. How is it that any text can adequately communicate the reality of God in Christ, given the limitations of human thought and language? As Frei says,

we ... are able to think, only by way of the language in which we think. Our referencing, especially in cases where empirical objects are not involved, like God ... is language-bound. God is perhaps like us, but we also know that He is very much unlike us. Our referencing then and there is simply not ordinary referencing. (1993: 209)

So if the referent of the Gospels is one which cannot be adequately expressed by any human language, yet it is important, indeed vital, that we understand this referent, what is to be done?

Here we come to two things: the grace of God and “textuality.”

The grace of God is that the stories of the gospels are “sufficient” for our knowledge of their referent. They don't exhaust it, but they are enough for what we need, which is more than a satisfied curiosity (discipleship comes to mind). The “textuality” of the gospels, however, is the means by which that profundity is sufficiently mediated to us. Narrative is that mode of communication in which character and circumstance are intimately connected, so that if they are separated the meaning of the story is lost. The character of Jesus in the gospels is part and parcel of the narrative world of which he is a part and which contributes to the construction of his identity. Jesus, not as historical datum but as incarnate Word, is witnessed to by the narrative shape of the gospels, so that when the text references Him, it references him not just historically (e.g. using ostensive reference) but also textually (e.g. using self-reference).

This is how Frei puts it:

There is often a historical reference and often there is a textual reference; that is, the text is witness to the Word of God, whether it is historical or not. And when I say witness to the Word of God, I'm not at all sure that I can make the distinction between “witness” to the Word of God, and Word of God written. That is to say, the text is sufficient for our reference, both when it refers historically and when it refers to its divine original only by itself, textually. (ibid.)

Referencing in the gospels (and in the Bible as a whole) is no simple thing. But given the nature of the referent this should not be surprising. However we speak of God, he has chosen that we must start from the text:

that is the language pattern, the meaning-and-reference pattern to which we are bound, and which is sufficient for us.