Why am I "very conservative"?

N.T. Wrong has graced the world with an extensive list of biblioblogs (104 in all). In a fit of taxonomic fervor, as he puts it, he has categorized them according to the degree of their conservativeness of liberality.

I'd love to know what that means.

The dictionary definition of conservative is as follows: disposed to preserve existing conditions, institutions, etc. Liberal, on the other hand, means favorable to progress or reform, as in political or religious affairs.

In biblical studies the former tends to be associated with those who stick to a traditional understanding of their faith and hold that the Bible is largely historically accurate. The latter refers to those who wish to "update" the faith and who do not hold that the biblical narratives happened as presented. In other words, the categories reference both theological and historical assumptions.

What are N.T. Wrong's criteria? Theological or historical? What if you're agnostic but believe the Bible is largely literal anyway? Or what if you're a committed believer but have a low view of biblical historical accuracy? Why does Jim West get labelled as "fairly conservative"? Is it because of his historical views or his theological ones? And the same would apply to me: why am I "very conservative"? Not that I care about being labelled so - I have deep respect for many "very conservatives." But in most of my exegetical posts I follow Childs in taking a fairly standard critical line. In my theology, however, I'm progressively becoming more ancient. Does that make me liberal? I am progressing, though just not in the direction that those committed to the world view of Enlightenment thought would like.

But then, given the dictionary definition above, doesn't that make N.T. Wrong conservative?

Redaction and the "rule of faith"

In response to my recent post prophetic redaction as a rule of faith, a certain Michael asked some interesting questions concerning the nature and adequacy of using the category in relation to the Bible.

What precisely is the "rule of faith" that is in operation in these examples?

Childs' use of this important category stems from his interaction with patristic hermeneutics. I've outlined its interpretation by an important scholar here. Kathryn Greene-McCreight is another important name here. In “He Spoke Through the Prophets” she defines it as “the pre-creedal, creedlike material outlining the basic points or narrative moments of the Christian faith” (172). Again, “The rule of faith functions as an outer limit that places constraints on what can be argued as a legitimate reading ... The rule of faith is 'the real content of revelation, the fundamental tenor of the one message of Scripture'” (173). In short, the rule of faith is the substance of the whole of Scripture, God's ordo salutis, which provides the norm for correctly interpreting it in a kind of hermeneutical circle. If one reads Scripture according to this rule, one is letting Scripture interpret itself (scriptura sui interpres est).

Applied to the editorial history of the Bible, it implies both the source of the editors' inspiration and the function of the result. The final form of the book of Amos, for example, wants to retain the particularity of its various oracles within the broader theological horizon of God's ways with Israel. The editor is committed to a theological vision, a “rule of faith,” and this informs his editing activity. As such, to quote Childs, “The imperative to "remember the law of my servant Moses" ... sets a check against any misuse of the prophet's words which would call into question national solidarity.” The phrase “rule of faith” also describes the function of that which the editor has created: the new literary work provides the material “with an interpretative guidline.” Only in following the final form's shape can we access the theological substance to which the editor is witnessing (in continuity with, though expanding upon, the historical Amos, of course).

And are they the same in each example? (i.e. Amos and Ecclesiastes)

Given the description above, I don't see why not. “Rule of faith” describes the form and function of the text, not its substance. For theological reasons we are committed to believing that on some level the substances create a theological unity (Childs calls it “ontological”).

How is this "rule of faith" created?

Through divine revelation, comprehended in an ongoing dialectic between history/experience and tradition.

Is the label "rule of faith" appropriate for what you see going on?

Yes. “Rule” references the establishing of an authoritative guideline, a κανών, eschatologically orientated to future generations of the faithful. “Faith” describes the nature of the substance witnessed to by the rule: it is a faith reality.

Is what is going on (whatever label you use for it) occurring consistently in other texts as well, with the same function?

Childs has consistently argued in numerous publications on both testaments that this is the case. In my opinion, as long as “rule of faith” is primarily understood in terms of form and function, this shouldn't be too problematic. The “content,” the “object of the witness,” is the complex bit. Can you think of examples to the contrary?

Canonical shaping of the prophets

This represents all my posts on the subject to date, taken from Childs' "The Canonical Shape of the Prophetic Literature," pp. 513-522 in "The Place is Too Small for Us": The Israelite Prophets in Recent Scholarship. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995 (available for free on ATLA).

1. Amos: The extension of a prophetic message

2. Hosea: The "metaphorisation" of prophecy

3. Second Isaiah: The decontextualisation of prophecy

4. Jeremiah: Canonical Scripture as redactional context

5. Subordination of chronology to typology

6. Prophetic redaction as a "rule of faith"

7. The typologizing of prophetic oracles

The true context of Scripture

This is one of my favourite quotes:

... classical scriptural interpretation proceeded from a rich and complex sense of Scripture's place and role within the economy of salvation; Scripture functions as a quasi-sacramental instrument of the Holy Spirit, through which the Spirit makes known the mystery of Christ in order to form the church as a sign of his messianic dominion. The church's knowledge of Scripture as inspired has therefore interpretive consequences; it calls for a specific art, or perhaps a concatenation of arts, of faithful reading, exposition, and application by which Christ is glorified and the church built up in its distinctive life and mission. [*]

This links up to my previous call for ontological categories in biblical exegesis.

[*] D.G. Yeago, “The Spirit, the Church, and the Scriptures: Biblical Interpretation and Interpretation Revisited,” in Knowing the Triune God: The Work of the Spirit in the Practices of the Church (ed. J.J. Buckley and D.S. Yeago; Grand Rapids/Cambridge: Eerdmanns, 2001) 49-93; here, 51; cited in Stephen Chapman, “Reclaiming Inspiration for the Bible,” 193

Oktoberfest im Westjordanland!

Kaum zu glauben, aber eine schöne geschichte.

The greatness of von Rad

Jim West has noted the recent birthday of the illustrious von Rad (21 October, 1901). Interestingly enough, despite Jim's early passion for von Rad and his ongoing indetebness to his influence, he goes on to say:

I also find myself oddly estranged from him, and, strange as it will sound, that pains me a bit.

This has reminded me of one of my favourite Childs quotes. I'm not entirely sure if Jim and Brevard are talking about the same thing, but there sounds like a hint of commonality ... Perhaps it depends on what it is about von Rad that they feel "estranged" from?

As a young student who had fallen under the spell of von Rad, I shared with many others the conviction that his brilliant method held the key to a proper understanding of the OT… Yet [in the next generation] much of the excitement which his early post-war lectures evoked had died… Slowly I began to realize that what made von Rad’s work so illuminating was not his method as such, but the theological profundity of von Rad himself. The same observation holds true for Wolff and Zimmerli. I am convinced that no amount of methodological refinement will produce a quality of interpretation which that generation achieved whose faith in the God of Israel was hammered out in the challenge to meet the Nazi threat against the life of the church. [*]

By the way, Jim installed a voting box posing three options: Gerhard von Rad ... 1) Was a fine OT scholar; 2) Was the finest OT scholar of his day; 3) Was not a very good scholar, but then, I'm an idiot so what do I know? I went for the second option, but that only makes up 29% of the votes! Who else could have competed?

[*] “A Response [to James Mays Et Al.].” Horizons in Biblical Theology 2 (1980): 199–221.

A Nazi prayer

Is this not evidence for the depth of the sickness and insanity that gripped Germany in WWII?

Führer, mein Führer, von Gott mir gegeben,
beschütze und erhalte noch lange mein Leben.
Du hast Deutschland gerettet aus tiefster Not,
dir danke ich für mein täglich Brot.
Bleib lange noch bei mir, verlass mich nicht,
Führer, mein Führer, mein Glaube, mein Licht.
Heil, mein Führer.

Tischgebet in einem NS-Waisenhaus

Prophetic redaction as a "rule of faith"

Today I return to my interrupted thread on the various ways in which the prophetic material in the Bible was rendered to function as canonical Scripture for future generations of the community of faith. My last post was on the subordination of chronology to typology.

6) The original prophetic message was placed within a rule-of-faith which provided the material with an interpretative guideline. It is generally recognized by critical scholarship that two appendices have been fixed to the conclusion of the Book of Malachi. To dismiss these verses as a "legalistic corrective" stemming from some disgruntled priestly editor is to misunderstand the canonical process utterly. Rather, the first appendix reminds the whole nation that it still stands under the tradition of Moses. The imperative to "remember the law of my servant Moses" does not weaken Malachi's attack on the nation's sins, but it sets a check against any misuse of the prophet's words which would call into question national solidarity in the name of additional requirements for the pious. The canonical effect of the first appendix to Malachi testifies that the law and the prophets are not to be heard as rivals but as an essential unity within the one divine purpose. The effect of the second appendix (Mal 4:5-6) is to balance the memory of the past with the anticipation of the future.

In a similar way, the ending on the Book of Ecclesiastes is another example of a rule-of-faith which would also order a wisdom book from a perspective informed by God's commandments (Eccl 12:13) and the coming judgment (v. 14).

The task of Jewish/Christian dialogue

The real task of theological dialogue between Jews and Christians does not lie in exploring the religous boundaries of a lowest common denominator within a secular society, nor does it consist merely in engaging in common ethical causes - good as the latter may be. For serious Jews and Christians such endeavors are theologically uninteresting and do not touch the heart or either community. Rather, true dialogue must engage itself with the elements of uniqueness of each group and focus on its highest denominator. Perhaps one place to begin is for Jews and Christians to agree in confessing faith in the one eternal God of Israel who also wills salvation for the Gentiles. Each community will make its own formulation in response to the Bible's pressure to retain Israel's particularity commensurate with the universal rule of God. For the Christian church the continuing paradox of faith lies in its encounter through the Jewish Scriptures with the selfsame divine presence which it confesses to have found in the face of Jesus Christ.

Childs, "Does the Old Testament Witness to Jesus Christ?" 64.