What would a new Church for the 21st Century look like?

Kierkegaard Wants a New Church

Part 2 of 2

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/tonyjones/2013/07/06/kierkegaard-wants-a-new-church/

 

by Tony Jones

July 6, 2013

*res = re slater 

 

 

This is the second of two excerpts from a book that I happily endorsed: Emerging Prophet: Kierkegaard and the Postmodern People of God by Kyle Roberts. Kyle is a professor at Bethel Seminary and a fellow Patheos blogger.

 

 

BOOK EXCERPT

 

Kierkegaard was a prophet who critiqued "Christendom," the perversion of authentic, New Testament Christianity into the institutionalized, materialistic, triumphalist, and flabby religion of modernism. Emergent Christianity is attempting to carve out a more authentic way of being Christian and doing church within--and beyond--the ineffectual, institutionalized church of modernity.

 

In many ways, Kierkegaard's critiques, concerns, and goals overlap with emergent Christianity and the emerging church. For the first time, this book brings Kierkegaard into a dialogue with various postmodern forms of Christianity, on topics like revelation and the Bible, the atonement and moralism, and the church as an "apologetic of witness." In conversation with postmodern philosophers, contemporary theologians, and emergent leaders, Kierkegaard is offered as a prophetic voice for those who are carving out an alternative expression of the New Testament today and attempting to follow Christ through works of love.

 

- Kyle Roberts, Bethel Seminary, St. Paul, Minnesota

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

The emergent movement comprises communities of Christ-followers who desire to recover a sense of authenticity, passion, vulnerability, and intimacy in their lives together. They organize their communities in an intentionally organic way, such that these ideals become (at least conceptually) more attainable that they have appeared to be in institutional forms of church.

 

The caveat here, from a Kierkegaardian point of view, is that when the alteration of the organization becomes the means whereby these aims can be attained, too much freight is given to change in “circumstance” as the hope for renewal, authenticity, and the recovery of the essentially Christian. Nonetheless, it does seem that at some point action must be taken; this is very Kierkegaardian, too.

 

Emergent Christianity’s attempt to creatively rethink the nature of the church in this changing world will serve the larger (established) church well—to the extent they take notice. Even if the transiency of emergent communities and the lack of institutional structure make propagation a serious challenge, the burst of creativity and critical reflection within emergent Christianity offers—at the very least—an important renewal resource for more empathetic traditional churches.

 

In any case, the question recurs and the refrain continues: How can we attain an existentially authentic faith, both individually and communally? In the context of our ecclesiology discussion, the answer may well lie in a theological de-construction (and subsequent attempted re-construction) of institutional forms of church life which often seem to inhibit authenticity, intimacy, vulnerability, and genuine community. Emergent Christians are working hard to find a better way for this journey. For others, the least they can do is empathize with their quest.

 

Consistent with the trajectory set forth in Practice in Christianity, albeit intensified in his final years, Kierkegaard pointed the way to the dis-establishment of the church in favor of the emergence of Christ’s kingdom. The church exists in service of in-breaking of the kingdom of God into temporality [sic, God's rule becomes present now. - res]. The confrontation with the world occasioned by the action of the historical Christ in his abased life (suffering) and crucifixion opened the way for a new mode of being in the world—one characterized by deep subjectivity and authentic community.

 

This community exists in the eschatological space between the eternal and the temporal, the infinite and the finite, the bound and the free. Kierkegaard’s Christology of paradox suggests that the church, as an institution—or establishment—must be provisional and temporary, and must give way to the priority of the redemptive presence, or Kingdom of God, brought about disruptively in the world through the reign of Christ as the paradoxical one. This means that the church cannot serve itself and ought not understand its mission to be self-preservation.

 

So Jürgen Moltmann says: “It is not the Church that ‘has’ a mission, but the reverse; Christ’s mission creates itself a Church. The mission should not be understood from the perspective of the Church, but the other way round.” The church must regularly check its own accumulated habits, its acculturations, commitments, and partnerships with the “powers” and economies of society. It cannot offer itself as an end or become preoccupied with its own self-preservation. Christianity, as an established, institutional, cultural phenomenon, is non-essential. The church defers, bends, and even disappears; like John the Baptist, it must decrease while Christ must increase.

 

When the church becomes its own self-perpetuating institution, when its mission begins to displace the pure, prophetic, and disruptive presence of Christ, it must be disestablished - deconstructed, even - while Christ and his Kingdom re-appears and re-emerges.

 

OK, who’s ready to start disestablishing churches?

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

Proper Doubt

Part 1 of 2

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/tonyjones/2013/07/05/proper-doubt/

 

by Tony Jones

July 5, 2013

 

 

Doubt is the other side of faith…This ethos may be one of the defining features of emergent Christianity—the willingness to countenance doubt. These doubts can arise from questioning the sincerity of religious faith (i.e. Freud’s “great apologetic challenge” to Christianity), the truthfulness of the Bible, the exclusivity of Christianity, or engaging in philosophical challenges to core Christian doctrines (such as those posed by the “problem of evil and suffering”). The acceptance of a positive role for doubt in the Christian life is consistent with the emergent ethos.

 

Because emergent Christianity is not terribly anxious about epistemological certainty, such questions are encouraged—or at the very least accepted and engaged. Furthermore, there is no rush to answer the questions in a final, authoritarian way. This openness to the reality of doubt in the Christian journey need not imply a glorification of doubt nor a complete disregard for objectivity (properly placed) in Christian theology….

 

An epistemologically humble approach to theology and faith allows for deeper authenticity and for the de-construction of the idols of certainty, dogmatism and closure. Experimental psychologist, Richard Beck, asks, “What would religious faith look like, experientially and theologically, if it were not engaged in existential repression or consolation?” Presumably, that kind of faith might be open about the reality of doubt and would courageously struggle with existential questions regarding the attainment of “truth.”

 

That kind of faith would not try to rely on or use religion instrumentally to assuage existential anxiety, but would attempt to be existentially authentic in the face of the lack of epistemological “objective” certainty; it would be open and honest about the pain and distress involved in the human experience and would not try to suppress the anxieties that arise from the fragmentation, brokenness, and brevity of human life.

 

Collectively, in terms of the experience of Christian community:

 

- it might have the character and courage to deal with pain, sorrow, and longing head-on, even in (or especially in) the context of church liturgy,

 

- it would engage the Bible with seriousness and honesty; neither avoiding its prophetic strangeness nor minimizing its difficulties, from the perspective of the modern world,

 

- it would utilize both celebration and lament as representations of the full nature of the human experience,

 

- ultimately, it would find both discomfort and solace in the central figure of Christian faith: the paradoxical God-man, who makes comfortable faith impossible but who alone can make authentic faith possible.

 

 

 

Reconciling Contemporary Christian Ethics with Social Justice in the OT

The Old Testament and Contemporary Christian Ethics

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/

by Roger Olson
July 7, 2013

Comments

The background issue here, of this post, is the problem I see of appealing to the Old Testament, especially the Pentateuch and historical books, to establish Christian ethics.

 

One does not have to deny the divine inspiration of the entire Old Testament to argue that it cannot serve as a basis for contemporary Christian ethics. Jesus himself offered corrections to Old Testament ethics (e.g., divorce).

Early Christians, after the apostolic age (and some would argue during it—in some of Paul’s epistles), handled the tensions between Christian ethics (e.g., the Sermon on the Mount) and the Old Testament by means of allegorical hermeneutics. They based their ethics primarily on Jesus and the apostles and sometimes on Greek philosophy.

Reconciling God's Grace and Goodness to Human Violence

Today, for the most part, that avenue (allegorical interpretation) is closed off to us. We have to find new ways of handling the tensions and most Christians do. Those of us in the Anabaptist tradition (which includes many Baptists who were known as Anabaptists during their earliest years) do it by “reading the Bible backwards”—the Old Testament in the light of the New. We freely and joyfully admit that much of the Old Testament, especially in the realm of ethics, must be relativized in light of the New.

Very few Christians take literally, as straightforwardly applicable to today, the entire body of God’s commandments to Israel in the Pentateuch and historical books.... This is true even of some of Jesus’ sayings which Christians have always interpreted non-literally (e.g., Matthew 5:29).

For most Christians, both conservative and liberal, biblical principles override biblical rules when they conflict.

The demand to provide clear, straightforward, explicit proof texts of Scripture to justify all ethical norms is simply wrong headed. There are many behaviors virtually all Christians regard as unethical, even evil, for which no clear, straightforward, explicit ethical prohibitions can be found in Scripture (e.g., abortion as a means of birth control, torturing a person’s spouse to extract information from him or her, birthing humans with the sole purpose of harvesting organs, selling organs for profit, etc.).



Social Justice, Jesus, & Adultery

So too, there can be little doubt that the Old Testament represents God as commanding Israel to practice ethnic cleansing—including the slaughter of non-combatant women and children. (And it won’t do to argue that it wasn’t true “ethnic cleansing” because it was limited to a certain time and place. The same could be said of much contemporary ethnic cleansing such as took place in the Balkans in the 1980s and into the 1990s.) And yet, the vast majority of contemporary Christians would consider ethnic cleansing absolutely wrong and Christian support for it and participation in it heresy.

Here’s the rub for those who wish to jump to the Old Testament and things God commanded there to establish or support contemporary Christian ethics. That makes it impossible to say that every particular contemporary instance of holy war or ethnic cleansing is unequivocally evil. How could a person know that God did not command it? The belief that holy war with ethnic cleansing (to be very specific with this case study) is always unequivocally evil must be based on a hermeneutic that bypasses and supercedes the Old Testament Pentateuch and historical books. The same could be said of many behaviors virtually all contemporary Christians condemn as evil: enforced racial segregation/apartheid, polygamy, slavery (one person owning another), totalitarian monarchy, etc.

(Side Bar: In at least one example I can think of we contemporary Christians almost all condemn as unequivocally evil, wrong, bad, condemnable, heretical something that at least some Christians (“King James Only”) think is commanded in Scripture and that nobody could argue is explicitly condemned in Scripture: snake handling as part of Christian worship.)

Just-War theory, developed primarily by Christians (such as Augustine) borrowing elements from Greek and Roman sources, stands in direct conflict with holy war/ethnic cleansing as practiced according to divine commands by the Hebrews as recorded in the historical books of the Old Testament. It stands as an example of the [social] evolution of Christian ethics beyond anything explicitly taught in Scripture. And “Christians” who practice holy war with ethnic cleansing can claim that their behavior is more consistent with Old Testament ethics, even divine commands recorded in the historical books, than is just war theory. Just-War theory is a clear example of Christians developing ethics away from commands and rules found in Scripture on the basis of principles found in Scripture. (However, even those principles upon which Just-War theory is based have shaky biblical support. Just war theory was clearly developed for a totally new situation not found in Scripture—Christian involvement in creating public policy.)

I would even go so far as to suggest (these are my musings) that contemporary Christians need to take seriously philosopher Immanuel Kant’s categorical imperative (one version of it) that “One ought always to treat other persons as ends in themselves and never as means to an end” without embracing all of Kant’s philosophy. Early Christians found much in Greek philosophy that was consistent with and even helpful for Christian ethics. Capital punishment clearly violates that principle, that imperative (to say nothing of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount). The abolition of capital punishment is, I believe, an imperative now partly because it is never necessary. There may have been a time when it was necessary (e.g., to protect other life), but it is now never necessary.

Book Recommendation: Penguins, Pain and the Whole Shebang

 

 

Penguins, Pain and the Whole Shebang:

By God As Told to John Shore [Hardcover]

http://www.amazon.com/dp/1596270195/?tag=johnshorebook-20#reader_1596270195

 

by John Shore

 

 

One year after his sudden and utterly out-of-the-blue conversion to Christianity (which he describes in the riveting afterword of this book), John Shore reportedly found himself overwhelmed by the desire to write something that Christians could give to non-Christians by way of proving that just because one is Christian doesn't automatically mean that one is irrational. The result is the delightfully profound "'Penguins, Pain and the Whole Shebang: Why I Do the Things I Do,' by God (as told to John Shore)," in which God (who, it turns out, is excruciatingly funny: who knew?) directly answers the dozen objections to Christianity most typically raised by non-Christians. The book's opening dialogue between God and the archangel Michael on the eve before God introduces Adam onto planet earth is worth the price alone.

 

There is no finer, accessible, or creative Christian apologetic. This is the book for which Mr. Shore is most likely to be remembered.

 

 

Editorial Reviews

 

"Do yourself a favor and read this book. You will be both entertained and inspired." -- Roger McClellan, The Progressive Christian Alliance

 

"Brilliant, quirky, perverse, exciting, and quintessentially Californian: John Shore's unique style is a delight to read-a literary feast!"-- Michael Flachmann, 1995 Carnegie Foundation United States Professor of the Year; author of Beware the Cat: The First English Novel (Huntington Library Press).

 

I know that for both chronological and biological reasons it s not possible, but if St. Augustine and Soupy Sales had a son, I think he would write almost exactly like John Shore. Shore is a madman and a genius, and this book is so happily wrought I don t know what to say about it except that this is the book many, many folks have been waiting for. It s a genuine triumph, a killer combo of astronomical wit and wisdom. I, for one, would like twenty-five copies immediately. --Eric Metaxas, author of bestsellers Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery, and Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy.

 

I thoroughly enjoyed this very funny book: its style, its tone, its construction everything about it. Penguins is a winner. --Richard Lederer, author of more than thirty books on the English language, including the bestselling Anguished English series and The Miracle of Language.

 

Excellent! This is one funny book, in an era when religion isn t funny--but should be, if it s serious. --Richard Louv, author of international bestsellers Last Child in the Woods, and The Nature Principle.

 

 

About the Author

 

John Shore is an award-winning book author. His articles for The Huffington Post's Religion section are among its most popular. His blog, JohnShore.com, is one of the most read and commented upon in the blogosphere. He is the founder of  the growing movement known as Unfundamentalist Christians.

 

Dan Savage ("Savage Love"; It Gets Better) calls John Shore "America's preeminent non-douchey Christian." Rob Bell ("Love Wins") has declared Mr. Shore "awesome," and "a brilliant writer." "John Shore is a gadfly," wrote famed theologian John Shelby Spong, "calling the Christian Church everywhere to act the way it says it believes about love and justice, which of course makes him an uncomfortable presence in those churches that do not like to be forced to face reality. So were the prophets of old. So was Jesus of Nazareth."

 

 

 

Product Details Hardcover: 128 pages Publisher: Seabury Books; First edition (September 15, 2005) Language: English ISBN-10: 1596270195 ISBN-13: 978-1596270190

 

 

 

Peter Enns - Historical Criticism and Evangelicalism: An Uneasy Relationship

http://www.respectfulconversation.net/ae-conversation/2013/7/1/historical-criticism-and-evangelicalism-an-uneasy-relationsh-2.html

 

by Peter Enns

July 1, 2013

 

 

An Introduction.

 

Modern biblical scholarship—also referred to as historical criticism, and less often today “higher criticism”—has an uneasy history with evangelicalism. In fact, evangelicalism’s intellectual component is largely a sustained response to the methods, philosophy, and conclusions of historical criticism. In some cases that response has come in the form of the rejection of historical criticism, in other cases a synthesis or adaptation of its methods and conclusions with evangelical theology.

 

The tensions are rooted, I feel, in the core commitment of the evangelical movement to the authority of Scripture. Since Scripture is divine revelation, i.e., God’s self-disclosure, its “authority” is tied explicitly to inerrancy and a number of corollaries such as historical accuracy and the essential theological harmony of Scripture.

 

Scripture’s function in evangelicalism is to lay down the basic map of Christian thought and practice, what we are to understand about God, Christ, Scripture itself, the human condition, and Christian practice. The task of historical criticism, on the other hand, is to peer “behind” Scripture and inquire as to its origins and meaning as understood within the cultural context in which the various texts were written. These two diverse approaches to Scripture are not easily compatible.

 

In principle, evangelicalism is not inimical to historical inquiry. In fact, one of evangelicalism’s hermeneutical pillars is the interpretation of Scripture in its historical context and in line with its original, intended, meaning—what is typically referred to as “grammatical-historical interpretation.” The tensions with historical criticism are not over the mere idea of investigating Scripture in the context, but in manner in which historical critics get there and the conclusions that they reach. In both respects, historical criticism has tended to undermine evangelical premises of biblical authority.

 

What complicates matters considerably for evangelicals, however, is that the general contours of historical criticism are widely persuasive, even universally so outside of evangelical (and fundamentalist) communities. I see four general, interrelated, aspects of historical criticism that are well established in biblical scholarship and also, in various ways, at odds with mainstream evangelicalism’s understanding of the nature of Scripture.

 

 

1. Biblical origins. The Old Testament we know today has a lengthy developmental history, both oral and written. The drawing together of these traditions that did not commence in earnest until the Babylonian exile (6^th c. BC) and did not come to an end until sometime during the Persian period (roughly 5^th and 4^th centuries BC) at the earliest. This does not mean that the Hebrew Bible was written out of while cloth during this period. Some books or portions of books clearly were, but many others were added to or updated in some way.

 

[Similarly,] issues surrounding the formation of the New Testament are similar, but involve a much shorter period of time.

 

 

2. Perspectives of the biblical writers. When speaking of their past, the Old Testament writers were not working as modern historians or investigative journalists to uncover verifiable facts (as we might put it). They were more storytellers, conduits for generations—even centuries—of tradition, which they brought together to form their sacred text. In the Old Testament we have Israel’s national-religious story as seen through the eyes of those responsible for giving it its final shape.

 

This is not to say that they invented these traditions on the spot, but they “packaged” their past as they did to address their present crisis—exile, return, and an uncertain future. Israel’s inscripturated story both accounts for this crisis and also points the way forward to the hope that God has not abandoned his people but has a glorious future in store for them.

 

A similar issue holds for the New Testament, where the Gospels reflect the experiences and thinking of various Christian communities a generation and more after Jesus’ ministry on earth. They, too, are presentations of Jesus and the early missionary activities that reflect the perspectives and needs to the respective communities.

 

 

3. Theological diversity. Given historical criticism’s focus on matters of biblical origin, the diversity of the various biblical texts is highlighted with no pressing concern, as we see in evangelicalism, to draw these diverse texts into a harmonious whole. Hence, historical criticism speaks freely of the different theologies contained in Scripture.

 

One practical implication is that the evangelical hermeneutical methodology of allowing “Scripture to interpret Scripture” tends to fall on deaf ears among historical critics. Reading Genesis, for example, through the eyes of Isaiah or Paul in order to understand the meaning of Genesis would be like reading Shakespeare through the eyes of Arthur Miller and expecting to gain from it an insight into what Shakespeare meant.

 

 

4. The problem of historicity. This last aspect of historical criticism in effect summarizes the previous three: the Bible does not tell us what happened so much as what the biblical writers either believed happened or what they invented. This is not to say that historical critics think nothing of historical importance can be found in Scripture, but that any historical information is inextricably bound up with the perspectives and purposes of the biblical writers.

 

 

In Summary.

 

There are other ways of outlining the nature of historical criticism, of course, but this will do to highlight why tensions exist between historical criticism and evangelicalism. The former presents us with a Bible that the latter is loathe to accept in toto because of its significant theological ramifications.

 

Yet, most evangelical biblical scholars understand the persuasiveness and positive impact that at least some aspects of historical criticism have had on our understanding of Scripture. One need only glance at a decent evangelical Study Bible or commentary to see that impact.

 

The tensions between evangelicalism and historical criticism have not been settled, nor will they be in the near future, at least as I see it. There seems to be an implicit détente, where it is acceptable to mine historical criticism and appropriate its theologically less troubling conclusions but to draw the line where those conclusions threaten evangelical theology.

 

This sort of back-and-forth dance can ease tensions temporarily, but it virtually guarantees that each generation of thoughtful evangelicals, once they become sympathetically exposed to historical criticism, will question where lines should be drawn and why seemingly arbitrary lines have been drawn where they are.

 

The fact that these inner-evangelical tensions keep coming up anew each generation suggests that older solutions to these tensions are not persuasive but more a temporary stopgap measure to maintain evangelical theological stability. A possible way forward is to promote an explicit synthesis between evangelical theology and historical criticism in order to achieve, potentially, a more lasting peace. The difficulty here, however, is that such synthesis might threaten the very structure of evangelicalism to the breaking point.

 

I am an advocate for such a synthetic discussion, though I would also stress that historical criticism is not the end all of biblical interpretation for the spiritual nourishment of the church. But where historical matters are the focus, historical criticism is a non-negotiable conversation partner.

 

As I see it, the pressing issue before evangelicalism is not to formulate longer, more complex, more subtle, and more sophisticated defenses of what we feel God should have done, but to teach future generations, in the academy, the church, and the world, better ways of meeting God in the Scripture we have.

 

 

Translation and Theology - Jesus and the Early Church's Reading of the Greek OT Bible (the Septuagint)

 

 

 

Here’s Something about the Bible of the First Christians I Bet Many of You Didn’t Know (you’re welcome)

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/peterenns/2013/07/heres-something-about-the-bible-of-the-first-christians-i-bet-many-of-you-didnt-know-youre-welcome/

 

by Peter Enns

July 1, 2013

Comments

 

Before there was a New Testament, the Bible of the first Christians (the writers of the New Testament and the early Church) was a Greek translation of the Old Testament. The general term used to designate that translation is “Septuagint.”

 

Think about that: the Old Testament of the New Testament writers and of the early Church was a translation–and an imperfect one at that.

 

You’d think, at key moment of God’s self-disclosure, the gospel of  Jesus Christ, God would have worked from the original so nothing got lost in translation. But he didn’t. Which should make you think about whether God is as uptight about the precise wording of the Bible as some make him out to be. But I digress.

 

Most Christians have never heard of the Church’s first Bible. Today’s post is an interview with Timothy Michael Law, who is going to talk about it.

 

Law is the author of When God Spoke Greek: The Septuagint and the Making of the Christian Bible and founder and Editor-in-Chief of The Marginalia Review of Books. He is currently an Alexander von Humboldt Fellow in the Georg-August-Universität Göttingen and affiliated with the Septuaginta Unternehmen. After receiving his PhD in the Oriental Institute in Oxford in 2009, Law was a British Academy Postdoctoral Fellow until 2012.

 

First of all, basically, what is the Septuagint?

 

It’s the Greek translation of the Old Testament. The word means “seventy,” which refers to the legendary idea that 72 Jewish scribes miraculously translated the Pentateuch in 72 days in the 3rd century BC. This is why the common abbreviation for the Septuagint is the Roman numeral LXX, “seventy.”

 

In truth, the origins of the Greek translation are much more complex. Some books were translated in the 3rd century BCE in Alexandria, Egypt, but others were translated much later, perhaps as late as the 2nd century CE, in Palestine.

 

Some, like Samuel or Jeremiah, were translated from Hebrew texts that differ significantly from the Hebrew text that came to form the standard version of the Jewish Bible, which is the basis for our English Old Testament.

 

 

Also, most think of the Septuagint as simply the “translation of the Old Testament,” but in fact the Septuagint also contains a number of other books composed in Greek (no Hebrew or Aramaic original). These were later designated as “Apocrypha.” But all of these scriptures played a vital role in both Hellenistic Judaism and early Christianity. Protestants have lost an awful lot by not knowing these books.

 

Another reason “translation of the Old Testament” is imprecise is that early on “Septuagint” referred only to the Pentateuch. But by the time you get to 3rd and 4th centuries CE writers like Origen and Eusebius, the term had already been applied to the entire body of Jewish Scriptures they now called the “Old Testament.” So this is why most of us today refer to the whole thing as Septuagint, even though we keep in mind the imprecision of the term.

 

Here’s the money question: why should we care? Tell us a bit about what you were trying to accomplish with this book.

 

The simplest answer is that in the first centuries of Christianity the Old Testament was the Septuagint. The Hebrew Bible that is now studied in most educational contexts, like seminaries and universities, emerged later. These early Christians also considered the Septuagint to be inspired by God, as did Greek-speaking Jews like Philo of Alexandria.

 

During my time as a seminarian, I was struck when I read a scholar’s claim that the Septuagint was the “First Bible of the Church.” I then noticed lots of New Testament citations of the Old Testament were derived from the Septuagint, not from the Hebrew Old Testament.

 

It was one of those moments when I thought, “Why haven’t I learned anything about this?” I soon found out that I wasn’t alone, and even many scholars had trouble articulating exactly what the Septuagint was beyond simply “it’s a translation of the Hebrew.”

 

But if this was the Bible of the early Church, surely it is important; and not only to people of faith but also to historians. Tessa Rajak succeeds marvelously in her gambit to recover the Greek Bible as a piece of Jewish history. I wanted to do something similar by exploring the Septuagint as a little known piece of Christian history.

 

So why has the Septuagint been underexplored or ignored?

 

Because, for centuries the Septuagint has been regarded as a mere translation of the Hebrew, one of the “versions,” and so mainly a tool to help us understand the “original” Hebrew. If you are a student of the Hebrew Bible, you hear of the Septuagint because you might need help every now and then when the Hebrew is unclear. Other than that, unless you are a specialist, you might never learn anything else about it.

 

What value is there to the Septuagint as a translation of the Hebrew Old Testament? What can we learn from it?

 

Any translation of the Bible is much more than a mirror copy (just think of how English translations differ from each other). In many places in the Septuagint, yes, one is reading word for word the same text found in the Hebrew. In many other places, however, the translation yields different theological emphases than those found in the Hebrew Bible; the translation has created new meanings.

 

We also know, as I mentioned above, that some books in the Septuagint were translated from Hebrew texts that are radically different from those in modern editions of the Hebrew Bible, and thus in English Bible translations. This has been brought to light through studying the Dead Sea Scrolls.

 

That means the Septuagint sometimes reveals an older version of the Old Testament than those that exist in the Hebrew Bibles we use in seminaries and universities. The Septuagint gives us glimpses into earlier stages in the Bible’s development, before the completion of the Hebrew Bible that is now the basis of modern translations. This is especially problematic for those who put their entire faith in the pursuit of the “original text.”

 

Can you give us an example or two of how the Septuagint gives us glimpses into the earlier stages of the Bible’s development?

 

One of the best-known stories from the Old Testament is that of David and Goliath. In the Septuagint, the story is about half the length as the account in the Hebrew Bible. It lacks the details about David delivering food to his brothers, his first hearing of Goliath’s challenge, and his contemplation on the risk/reward of getting involved (17:12-31). Also missing are the covenant Jonathan makes with David (18:1-5) and the story of Saul’s evil spirit (18:10-11).

 

Careful study reveals that the Septuagint version is definitely the earlier form of the story–the Septuagint didn’t just “leave things out” by mistake. It was translated from an earlier version of the Hebrew Bible where these details were absent. The version of the story we know is a later, expanded, version.

[ ... Hence, what is observed is the Jewish Bible in various stages of "collection/development" between historical periods, as each period "collects" lost translations of the Jewish Bible lost over time into a finished whole. - r.e. slater, cf. "My JEDP Observations of Biblical Cultural Preservation" along with other articles under the sidebars of "Bible"]

Another interesting case is found in Jeremiah 31:27-34 (38:27-34 in the Septuagint). The Hebrew Bible highlights the unshakable faithfulness of God in spite of the disobedience of Israel. The key is in verse 32, which in the Hebrew Bible reads

 

“…a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband.”

 

The Septuagint, however, has

 

“…because they did not abide in my covenant, and I was unconcerned for them.”

 

Here, too, the Septuagint reading is the original, and the later change is theologically driven. The later editors of the Hebrew Bible thought the idea that God was “unconcerned” for Israel was out of step with his character of faithfulness claimed by other texts.

 

This prompted the change to this startling phrase in order to reinforce God’s faithfulness, having him say, “though I was their husband,” which means, “though I remained faithful to them in spite of their disobedience.”

 

As an example of how important and authoritative the Greek Old Testament was for New Testament writers, the author of Hebrews (8:9) quotes the LXX of Jeremiah to reinforce the idea that God was “unconcerned” for disobedient Israel.

 

This brings us to an important question especially for those interested in Protestant Christian history. The Reformers, in focusing on the Hebrew Old Testament, were not really going back to the sources, as they claimed, were they?

 

Well, no, not exactly. They thought they were, but they weren’t. We can’t be too hard on them for not knowing about all these textual complexities, though, since the Dead Sea Scrolls weren’t discovered until 1947. We, however, need to be more nuanced in our thinking.

 

My book ends in the fifth century with Jerome, who gave the Church the Vulgate - or, the Latin translation of the Old and New Testament - that would come to dominate the western Church for centuries. Jerome’s work is the beginning of the end for the Septuagint in western Christendom. After studying with rabbis and engaging in polemical interactions with Jews, Jerome felt the Church needed a translation based on the “original” Hebrew Bible of his Jewish counterparts. This inclination actually started before Jerome, but Jerome was the first to make such a strong case that the Church had gone off the path by following the Septuagint.

 

Reformers, then, have to be seen as the ones who completed the job. The new offshoot of Christendom that came to be known as Protestantism would likewise prioritize the Hebrew Bible above the Septuagint and even the Vulgate. What is almost tragically comical, though, is that they didn’t actually lead the Church back to the “sources,” at least if one understands the sources as the earliest Hebrew text.

 

This is where the Dead Sea Scrolls messed everything up, because no one could call the Septuagint translators crazy anymore. We know now that there were many other variant forms of the Hebrew scriptures circulating before the time of Jesus. The Hebrew Bible that Jerome and the Reformers took to be more authentic and “original” was nothing of the sort. It was a later, heavily edited version of a diverse back history of the Hebrew Old Testament. The Septuagint provides an earlier glimpse into that history. The Reformers played a significant role in mislabeling as “original” the later version of the Old Testament.

 

Give an example or two of New Testament authors quoting the Septuagint where it differs significantly from the Hebrew Old Testament we have today.

 

In Romans 9:33, Paul cites Isaiah 28:16, which speaks of God laying in Zion (Jerusalem) a precious cornerstone. Paul adjusts this quote to say that the stone, i.e., Christ, will provide salvation to those who trust in him, and that the stone will also be a stumbling block that many will trip over (he uses the same ideas in Rom 11:9-12 and 1 Cor 1:23).

 

Ross Wagner has shown that Paul relies on the Septuagint reading to give Isaiah a Christological meaning: the Septuagint asserts the one who trusts “in him”—that is, in the stone—will not be “put to shame.” The Hebrew version of Isaiah leaves undefined the object of one’s trust and says “will not panic” rather than “will not be put to shame.”

 

In Rom 15:11 Paul cites Deut 32:43. The Septuagint text of Deut 32:43 is not found in the Hebrew: “Be glad, O nations, with his people, and let all the angels of God prevail for him.” The mention of “nations,” or “Gentiles,” allows Paul to extend the invitation to Gentiles to come worship with Israel.

 

A third example, if I may, is more radical, since it shows how a New Testament writer adopts a Septuagint reading that is obviously a mistranslation or misreading of the Hebrew.  In Rev 2:26-27; 12:5; and 19:15 we read of one who will come and rule with an iron rod, which is certainly an allusion to Psalm 2. “Rule” is the Septuagint reading, but the Hebrew psalmist says that the one to whom God gives authority will “break” the enemies with a rod of iron.

 

The Septuagint translator has either misunderstood or misread the Hebrew verb, which looks very similar to the verb for “rule.” The writer of Revelation has simply followed “his Bible,” the Septuagint, which allows him to make his theological point that the Lord will come to rule the nations.

 

What are some theological implications of all this for Christian readers of the Bible?

 

I end the book asking this very question. The Septuagint is a central component of the New Testament and the early Church, so it is mind-boggling that it has been ignored. Those with an interest in Christian theology will have plenty to consider, but until the Septuagint is taken seriously and studied extensively, we have to wait and see. I am also editing the Oxford Handbook on the Septuagint, and we have asked a contributor to explore this question. But it really could be a doctoral dissertation topic for some interested student.

 

One thing we do not need to wait any longer to say is this: the existence of multiple forms of scripture (Greek and Hebrew) in antiquity, both before, during, and after the time of Christ, did not bother early Christians. The search for an “original text” on which to ground one’s faith is a distinctively modern worry. Even when Christians began recognizing divergences between the Jewish Scriptures and their own, many saw it as an opportunity to discover more than one way to understand divine communication.

 

My book is certainly not meant to attack cherished beliefs for the sake of being a controversialist. Though potentially unsettling, I wrote constructively, to tell the story of an ignored part of the history of the Christian Bible. We have to be honest that the nice, neat pictures we have constructed may not be true to reality. I like this quote of Augustine:

 

Accordingly, when anyone claims, “Moses meant what I say,”and another retorts, “No, rather what I find there,” I think that I will be answering in a more religious spirit if I say, “Why not both, if both are true?” And if there is a third possibility, and a fourth, and if someone else sees an entirely different meaning in these words, why should we not think that he was aware of all of them?

- Augustine, Confessions 12.31.42

 



  

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

ADDENDUM

 

"One of my observations is to ask how language can be fluid and flexible enough

to accommodate limited theological and historical understanding. Indeed, this

is the strength of the (b)ible as it passes between the generations of man from

one socio-cultural era to another!" - r.e. slater

 

 

 

cf. sidebar: "Bible - Authority and Interpretation"

 

 

For additional reading  pursuing articles under the sidebars of "Bible".

Here are a couple you may find: 

 

A Jewish Perspective of the Bible

http://relevancy22.blogspot.com/2012/11/a-jewish-perspective-of-bible.html

 

Barnum Synagogue

 

 

 

Development of the Hebrew Bible Canon

http://relevancy22.blogspot.com/2012/11/development-of-hebrew-bible-canon.html

 

A Jewish Bible Passage Unscrolled

 

 

 

 

Suggested Summer Reads by Roger Olson

Some Good Summer Reading (Recommended New or Forthcoming Theology Books)

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/06/some-good-summer-reading-recommended-new-or-forthcoming-theology-books/

 

by Roger Olson

June 22, 2013

Summer is a time when I try to catch up on reading. During the academic year books tend to pile up on a table in my home study. Eventually, usually during the summer, I get around to reading some. I’m often reading (or listening to) several books at the same time (don’t take that too literally!). I’m usually writing one book while finishing the “details” of a previous one (e.g., creating its index) and planning the next one. So I’ll start with what I’m working on (books-wise) and then mention some good books I’ve recently read or am reading right now.

 

My magnum opus will probably be the forthcoming The Journey of Modern Theology: From Reconstruction to Deconstruction scheduled to be published by InterVarsity Press later this year. My teaching assistant Jared Patterson and I are working on the index now. The manuscript is 900 pages; the book itself will probably come in a little over 700 pages. It’s up at Amazon without the cover (as of the other day when I checked). I’m not sure why the cover doesn’t show yet. The cover will feature Friedrich Schleiermacher and Karl Barth—“bookends” of modern theology (in terms of approaches to modernity). Journey is a comprehensive revision and expansion of 20th Century Theology: God and the World in a Transitional Age written with Stan Grenz and published by IVP in 1992. It’s really a completely new book that incorporates some material from that earlier one. The theme of Journey is theological responses to modernity (including postmodern theologies). It includes new chapters on: Kierkegaard, Thomas Reid, Coleridge, Bushnell, Hodge, Dorner, Catholic Modernism (Tyrrell, Loisy), Troeltsch, and many more including the final two chapters on Hauerwas (postliberalism) and John Caputo (deconstructionism).

 

Right now I’m writing a book with my friend Christian Collins Winn entitled Reclaiming Pietism. That will be published by Eerdmans sometime in 2014. My next project is a book on contemporary versions of ancient heresies for Abingdon. That’s slated for 2015.

 

I’m also working on a couple of articles and talks—for churches and professional society meetings.

 

So, here are some excellent books you should read. Some are already published; a couple are forthcoming—watch for them (I’ve read them in pre-publication forms):


Scot McKnight, A Long Faithfulness: The Case for Christian Perseverance (Patheos Press available in Kindle edition only). It’s an extremely concise but thorough biblical and theological examination of the doctrine of “eternal security of the believer” or “perseverance of the saints” aimed at defeating deterministic theologies of salvation. You can see my endorsement at the Amazon page for the book. I think this little book (only 64 pages!) presents one of the strongest challenges to the doctrine of “inamissable grace” (its technical name) ever. Scot’s thesis is that IF the Bible contradicts that doctrine and actually teaches amissable grace (the real possibility of apostasy), then deterministic salvation (monergism) is false. The book is irenic toward those with whom Scot disagrees; it is not overly polemical, but it is pointed.


David Fitch and Geoff Holsclaw, Prodigal Christianity: 10 Signposts into the Missional Frontier (Jossey-Bass). The authors are pastors and seminary professors; the book is aimed at the broader evangelical (and post-evangelical) community about being missional in a post-Christendom culture. The book resonates with the recent “Missio Alliance” gathering (at which I spoke) in Arlington, Virginia. Clearly these authors are not satisfied with the two main options in contemporary evangelical and post-evangelical church life: “Neo-Reformed” (e.g., The Gospel Coalition and Together for the Gospel) and “Emerging” (or “Emergent”) as that is represented by Brian McLaren, Tony Jones, Doug Padgitt, et al. They think both of those have much to offer that is valuable, but ultimately they see them as either too defensive and authoritarian or as too enamored with conversation that ultimately goes nowhere. They talk about developing “welcoming and mutually transforming” communities of faith and offer both general and specific paths toward them. People who consider themselves broadly evangelical but not satisfied with either Neo-Reformed or Emergent/Emerging types of contemporary church life may find this book helpful and rewarding. Underlying it and in its background is a generally Anabaptist approach to Christianity, but one that is sensitive and relevant to contemporary (postmodern) culture.*

 

[* I have listed a rejoinder here - Are You Missional or Are You Emergent? Is There a Difference? by R.E. Slater]


Peter C. Blum, For a Church to Come: Experiments in Postmodern Theory and Anabaptist Thought (Herald Press). This is a series of previously published essays in which the author experiments with comparing John Howard Yoder and key postmodern thinkers such as Foucault, Derrida and Levinas with an eye toward community Christianity. The author opposes “top-down,” authoritarian, foundationalist modes of Christian theology and church life and favors an Anabaptist model informed by such postmodern ideas as openness to “the Other.” I’ve only read the first half and found it familiar territory, but that’s because I’ve read quite a bit of literature like this in recent years and have already noticed the points of compatibility between certain themes of postmodern philosophy and Yoder’s approach to Anabaptist theology and ecclesiology.


Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice: Rights and Wrongs (Princeton University Press). Heavy sledding but definitely worth the work. Here Wolterstorff argues against that basic human rights are inherent in persons and not dependent on communities and their orders. I was not familiar with this debate before diving into this book and am still struggling with understanding why anyone, especially a Christian, would think that basic human rights are granted by communities and their orders rather than inherent. So far I’m finding that I have agreed with Wolterstorff’s position for a very long time without knowing it was controversial. He is definitely giving me a lot of philosophical, biblical and theological reasons to continue believing what I have believed.


Gregory Boyd, Benefit of the Doubt: Breaking the Idol of Certainty (Baker, forthcoming). Without doubt (pun intended) this is one of the best books on this subject. (Others include the classics The Myth of Certainty by Daniel Taylor and The Christian Agnostic by Leslie Weatherhead.) In this book Boyd reveals much about himself, his personal and spiritual biography, as well as his mature theology. The thesis is that absolute certainty is humanly impossible—even in spiritual matters—and that we Christians need to learn to live with doubt and even embrace it. One of Greg’s main themes throughout his ministry and writing is “Be real!” He believes too much of contemporary evangelical (and, again, I use the term very broadly) religion revels in a kind of unreality—expecting Christians to rise above mere humanity into perfection. One myth attached to that is that “real Christians” rise above doubt about God, the Bible, etc., and achieve absolute certainty. Greg thinks that sets Christians up for disillusionment when they realize that isn’t happening for them or anyone they know. Greg’s alternative is faith, what Lesslie Newbigin (in Proper Confidence) calls “proper confidence.”


Alan P. F. Sell, Confessing the Faith Yesterday and Today: Essays Reformed, Dissenting, and Catholic (Pickwick). I’ve been asked to review this for Evangelical Quarterly—a British theological journal—so I won’t say much about the book here. Let me just say that Sell is one of my favorite Reformed theologians even though most neo-Reformed (fundamentalist and hard core confessionalist) types in the U.S. would probably consider him not truly Reformed. But, then, he might return the favor. Sell used to be theological secretary of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (now called the World Communion of Reformed Churches)—an ecumenical group of over one hundred Reformed denominations worldwide. (By the way, the Remonstrant Brotherhood of the Netherlands, the direct descendent denomination of the original Remonstrants, is a charter member of the WCRC!) Sell wrote two little books many years ago that had a great impact on me: The Great Debate: Calvinism, Arminianism, and Salvation (Baker) and Theology in Turmoil: The Roots, Course and Significance of the Conservative-Liberal Debate in Modern Theology (Baker). Both are excellent books. But my favorite Sell books (which I reviewed for Christianity Today) are his three under the over arching title Doctrine and Devotion (unfortunately they are now out of print and hard to find). Sell is a British Congregationalist, a “Dissenter,” and one of his main theological heroes is P. T. Forsyth, also one of mine. Forsyth was a progressive evangelical of a century ago—someone who managed to avoid the pitfalls of both fundamentalism and liberalism.

* * * * * * * * * * *

More Recommendations by Roger re "The History of Philosophical Thought" within the cultural milieus of Christianity

Christianity and Western Thought, Volume 1: From the Ancient World to the Age of Enlightenment
by Colin Brown
IVP Academic, 2010

Christianity and Western Thought, Volume 2: Faith and Reason in the 19th Century
by Steve Wilkens & Alan G. Padgett
IVP Academic, 2010

Christianity and Western Thought, Volume 3: Journey to Postmodernity in the Twentieth Century
by Steve Wilkens & Alan G. Padgett
IVP Academic, 2009

       

 

 

 

 

Stories of the "Not Yet Healed"

 

 

Testimonies of the Not-Yet Healed

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/testimonies-not-yet-healed

 

By John Espy

June 24, 2013

 

It's time for churches to tell the other side of the story.

 

There is one story Christians are hungry to hear. It is not precisely the Gospel story, which we think we know; it is the good news made personal, made real in our bodies and before our eyes. It is the story that concludes, “... and then someone prayed, and I was instantly and completely healed.”

 

In many churches, this is the only personal story that we hear. That is, if someone other than a pastor or worship leader is allowed to speak in church, it is to tell a version of this story. Accounts of physical and emotional healing have become our only public testimonies.

 

These stories should be told, repeatedly. Psalm 145:4 says, “One generation will commend Your works to another; they will tell of Your mighty acts.” In the New Testament, healing miracles bear witness concerning Jesus (John 10:25, 38) and sometimes draw entire communities to listen to the Gospel (Acts 3:1-11; 9:32-35, 40-42).

 

 

Every believer lives a story charged with suspense.

 

Yet today we face two difficulties. First, because all our testimonies are alike, they don’t grip us. When there is only one story, there is really no story at all—no suspense, no valuing of developments along the way. The congregation isn’t excited; the community isn’t transformed. And soon the voices fall silent. We listen only to the newest story or the person raised from death trumps the one who had a limb restored. This woman was healed of cancer, but that was 30 years ago, and now she has a heart condition.

 

Which brings us to the second problem: Some of us have quite different testimonies. We have not been instantly and completely healed—at least, not yet. Some of us are very sick indeed, requiring much help and patience from others. Yet we still have testimonies. We strive, like Habakkuk (3:17-18), to rejoice in God even in a time of barrenness. We seek to serve, like Paul, despite “a bodily ailment” (Galatians 4:13), or, like Timothy, despite “frequent illnesses” (1 Timothy 5:23). In various ways, we confess, “My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life” (Psalm 119:50) and “It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn Your decrees” (119:71).

 

We have testimonies, but no one wants to hear them. That is a great pity, for Christians are urged to “consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds” (Hebrews 10:24). Most testimonies of healing don’t rouse me to stand in the noble, active waiting of hope or to walk in costly deeds of love. That is not their function. Rather, the story of a brother or sister who was instantly and completely healed awakens my faith in a good and steadfastly loving God, who still delivers.

 

Hope and love require a different sort of testimony. They require accounts of missionaries and persecuted Christians, or people—like Joni Eareckson Tada, Dave Roever, and others in our own congregations—who are living models of patient endurance. The gap between these groups is not as wide as we may imagine. The churches of Paul’s day sent many emissaries, but when he says to “honor such men” (Philippians 2:29), his immediate reference is to Epaphroditus, who risked his life by falling sick. We tend to miss this, perhaps because we would rather celebrate power than emulate long suffering.

 

Of course, not every story of sickness is a Christian testimony. Samuel Johnson, who knew both physical maladies and depression, observed, “It is so very difficult for a sick man not to be a scoundrel.” Pain makes us self-centered, grumbling, and manipulative. And yet, in the midst of trials, some believers eventually find strength to rejoice (James 1:2; 1 Peter 1:6), grace to give (2 Corinthians 8:2) and comfort to share (2 Corinthians 1:3-5).

 

We need heroes. There is much that is heroic in the lives of people who have been healed, in their preceding days or years of pain and doubt, but we rarely hear of this, because of the one story that emphasizes faith and power. We forget the power of God also supplies hope to the one who walks in darkness and love to the one who gives from scarcity. Ultimately there is only one Hero, but how many are His stories!

 

In the midst of trials, some believers eventually find strength to rejoice, grace to give and comfort to share.

 

In her book Affliction, Edith Schaeffer suggests Heaven’s Museum contains two complementary exhibits. Each presents every torment that Satan can devise, every trial that the Accuser calls too big for God. One gallery showcases instances of God delivering from each circumstance; the other, believers who overcame because they continued to love and trust God even though He didn’t deliver them. Without taking this literally, can’t we acknowledge that every believer lives a story charged with suspense? Where are those testimonies?

 

My brother once attended a church with a TV ministry. Each week, the camera swept over the congregation on its way to the platform. Often it captured a man with quadriplegia, sitting in a wheelchair. One day the elders approached this man and said, in effect, “We are delighted that you come here, but this church believes in healing. Our viewers deserve to see only people who are whole and happy. Please, would you sit on the sidelines, in the shadows, just until you are healed.”

 

Today many of our churches believe that to be a Christian, to have any testimony at all, requires that one be whole and happy. We have no Pauls with thorns in the flesh, no Timothys with frequent ailments, no terminally ill Elishas—or, if we do, we accuse them of lacking the faith to be healed, instantly and completely. We fail to perceive that, if we live long enough, this theology will banish every one of us to the shadows. We have no place for broken vessels, with Jesus’ life and power revealed through cracks and amid putrescence. We will honor Epaphroditus only when he becomes camera-ready, or for an hour when he dies.

 

I crave stories of healing as much as anyone. One day I hope to tell such a tale. But, God knows, I also need to be prodded and encouraged by those who haven’t yet received the things promised, but still live by faith because they consider God “reliable and trustworthy and true to His word” (Heb. 11:11, Amplified). They too have a story to tell.