Comment on Anthony
C. Thiselton, "Speaking and Hearing"
by John M. Frame
Associate Professor
of Apologetics and Systematic Theology
Westminster
Theological Seminary in California
So great is my respect for Dr. Thiselton that, although I have some problems
and questions about his paper, I assume that he has, most
likely, already thought about them, even responded to them
elsewhere in his writings. If in this paper he has not entirely
anticipated my questions, doubtless that has been due to sound
priority judgments on his part. Nevertheless, my assignment is to
stimulate discussion; thus I must pose the questions I have,
for what they may be worth. My doing this need not, however, be
construed as any criticism of the paper, which I found helpful and
which, after all, may have said everything that ought to have been
said on its topics, granted the constraints of space.
My first concern is with Thiselton's
warning against the danger of
allowing our "lives to be shaped and directed in accordance with
certain prescribed patterns of action sanctified solely on the basis
of certain interpretations of the biblical material which were
equated, in turn, with God's
own command" (p. 2, emphasis his). (Cf. the remarks on p. 3
about "elevating merely human claims to authority to the status of the
divine.") Intuitively I sympathize with this exhortation. Though
I have some questions about his slavery example, I could
mention others, the most famous being the church's
condemnation of Galileo. The danger of equating the
word with our
interpretations seems like such an obvious one. Why, then, is this error
so often made?
Well, when I urge upon others my
"interpretation" of Scripture, I am
necessarily claiming that that interpretation is right,
that what it says, Scripture says. Thus preachers stand behind pulpits
and proclaim their interpretations of Scripture, prefacing those with "Thus saith the Lord." We teach them to do this at
evangelical theological seminaries.
Thus, though there is a sense in
which we may not equate our interpretations with
Scripture, there is also a sense in which we cannot
avoid doing so. All of us must do
this: the defenders of slavery, the
opponents of Galileo, but also Luther and Calvin and Thiselton and all of us as we set forth exegesis, sermons
or doctrine. There is
certainly precedent for this practice in the New Testament use of
the Old. The apostles were not at all hesitant to equate
their interpretations of Scripture with Scripture's own
teaching (cf. Acts 1:16, 18:28, Rom. 1:2, 11:2, etc.).
This is not to deny that the text is
distinct from our interpretations;
surely it is. But clearly the text/interpretation
distinction should not be taken to imply that we may compare each
of our interpretations with a totally uninterpreted text, a "brute fact," as it
were. When I "compare my interpretations
with Scripture itself," I am comparing them with a Scripture
which has been translated, edited, studied, expounded by many
generations of Christians, and about which I myself have done
much thinking and have developed many opinions. Thus "comparing my interpretations with
Scripture," can also be described as comparing some of my interpretations with others-- comparing, perhaps,
my more problematic or uncertain interpretations with
my more settled ones. "Scripture" here, then, denotes
interpretations, just as in some contexts (as we have seen) "interpretations" can be equated with Scripture.
I do not believe that these
observations consign us to skepticism about the
word of God. To say that "Scripture" and "interpretation" are in some contexts interchangeable is not to say that all
interpretations are equally legitimate. We can and must distinguish, as Thiselton emphasizes (p. 8), between responsible and irresponsible
ways of interpreting Scripture. And we have assurance
(ultimately a revealed assurance) that responsible interpretations will
yield God's truth, even though they cannot reach the bedrock of
a "brute fact" Scripture.
In search of principles for such
responsible interpretation, I quite agree with Thiselton's advice about the "hermeneutics of suspicion" and
the "category of interest" (p. 2). We all (political left as
well as political right, incidentally) need to be more aware of our
fallibility as interpreters and of the various psychological
and sociological factors which sometimes influence our formulations. Particularly, we often need to be more critical of our
interpretative traditions (pp. 9-10) which we tend to have an "interest" in preserving. (This warning bears not only upon
traditions derived from conservative theology, but also upon those of
current academic fashion.) Significant interests of this
sort do provide ground for "suspicion." However, we should keep in mind that the presence of an interest does not prove the
falsity of an interpretation. (As Thiselton points out on p. 2, some kinds of interests, e.g. the Johannine praxis, have positive hermeneutical
value.) Nor does our inability to
demonstrate the influence of an interest prove the truth of an
interpretation. Relating truth too closely to psychological and
sociological factors puts us in danger of genetic fallacies.
And, indeed, it is possible to be too suspicious. The most serious problem
I have with this paper is that one could come away from it
thinking that exegesis is an impossibly difficult job: so
many "interests" to be assessed (pp. 2-3), so many levels of
meaning, so many kinds of study to do (p.5), so many factors in
communication to be accounted for (pp. 6-8), so many differences between
the ancient world and our own (pp. 6, 8). Thiselton compounds this problem by polemicizing against claims to an "obvious," "common-sense," or "natural" interpretation (pp. 3, 6, 7). He does
not deny that there may be some "obvious" interpretations of
Scripture, but his approach to this issue is so negative that one
is left in doubt as to whether in practice he would allow any
claims to "obvious" or "natural" interpretations, and
what basis he would have for allowing these.
But is there not still something to
be said for the reformation doctrine
of the clarity of Scripture (cf. Westminster
Confession of Faith, I, vii)? I do not get the impression that the
apostle Paul went through all these hermeneutical steps before claiming "Scripture
says." Are there not at least some
truths that can be gleaned right from the surface of
Scripture? Does "the Lord is my shepherd" really need manifold
academic unpacking before it can speak to the believing heart? "Jesus is Lord": is that not an obvious teaching of
Scripture, one which underlies all the rest?
If there are no "obvious" teachings, then we may be in real trouble. The
progress of knowledge is a movement from what is better known to what
is less so. But if nothing is (relatively) obvious, where can
we start? And if we cannot start, how can we progress? This is
not only a practical question, but also a question of
Christian epistemology. A Christian is one who seeks to "do all to
the glory of God," (I Cor. 10:31) and to "make every thought
captive to Christ" (II Cor. 10:5). Therefore, to the Christian, the
first question of epistemology is, "How can my quest for knowledge
be faithful to God?" A Christian exegete, therefore, is
obligated to carry out his hermeneutical work in obedience to the
revelation he has already understood. But if all Scripture is hermeneutically problematic, requiring many layers of technical
analysis before it is usable, then how could we ever obtain that
Christian pre-understanding required to do our exegesis to the
glory of God?
The claim to "obviousness" can be abused, of course. The Westminster
Confession denies that everything in Scripture is "equally
plain," thus anticipating and refuting some such abuses. But if there
is a danger of preachers absolutizing their ecclesial authority (p. 3), similarly there is a
danger of scholars donning the
priestly vestments! We ought never to give the impression that
Scripture is unintelligible until filtered through the
apparatus of academic hermeneutics. The absolutization of "the findings of modern
scholarship" has been every bit as common,
and quite a bit more dangerous, than the absolutization of mere pastoral or ecclesial
authority. I say "more
dangerous," because scholars have been more influential than pastors over
the past 250 years, and because most of the worst ideas in
modern theology have come from academics.
So, while we want to guard against
abuses of pastoral authority, we do not
want to fall into the opposite trap of abusing the prestige
of scholarship. And one of the best protections against
that trap is the doctrine of the clarity of Scripture.
None of this should be taken to mean
that I would banish talk of "levels
of meaning" (p. 5), diversities in hermeneutical operations (p. 5),
or different elements of communication (pp. 7-8). All of these
are very interesting and useful. Thiselton's distinction between going "behind," "in front of," and
"within the canonical form of" the text is interestingly paralleled in R. Pratt, "Pictures, Windows and Mirrors in Old Testament
Exegesis,"
[1]
Thiselton suggests that the third approach is rich
enough somehow to include
the other two; I would like to hear him expound that idea at
greater length, with its implications as he sees them. (I
suspect myself that each of these could include the other two, so that the
three are "perspectivally" related.)
Thiselton's
remarks about the importance of the hearer's horizon (pp. 6-7)
are helpful, though again I think here he is too hard on claims
to "obvious" meaning. Such considerations lie behind my earlier
objections to the notion of Scripture as "brute fact." Again,
however, Thiselton seems to think (or does he?) that we can somehow
rid ourselves of or "relativize" all our preunderstandings. How can this be done if the
reader-hearer's horizon is as
important as he says it is? If meaning presupposes our expectations,
how can meaning function if (per impossibile, I think) we approach a text without any expectations at all?
Would that not be the error of the "passive mind" concept
which Thiselton criticizes on pp. 7-8?
The "action model" discussed on p. 8 seems to me very fruitful, especially
when, as in this paper, the normative issues ("responsible" action) are brought forward. I would enjoy hearing more about how the
normative question (how ought we to
act) is resolved in a hermeneutical context. I would suspect that this discussion will lead
us into a consideration of those religious-ethical
presuppositions which must inform exegesis itself, the
standards and criteria which must inform the exegete. For Christians, this
quest will lead us again into the issue which I raised
earlier, the question of how we can best be faithful to God in
the work of interpretation.
Thus, in speaking a word or two for
the clarity of Scripture, I am not
suggesting that the issues Thiselton raises are unimportant or
uninteresting. Certainly we should certainly, as he asks, renounce
any reduction of Scripture to a "flat landscape" (p.
4). We should renounce this, not because it is the modern thing to do
(Luther and Calvin can also be cited as opponents of "flat landscape" exegesis), but because historical and functional
diversity is the very nature of God's precious word, to which we
must obediently respond if we are to be faithful. But a
recognition of this richness and variety is not open only to
academic hermeneuts. One who simply confesses Christ as lord, as an "obvious" application of Scripture, has already grasped a wonderful
richness- the one in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom
and knowledge. At this simple level, he sees much mystery, much
unity in diversity. The work of the scholar is not to rebuke that
simplicity, but as a servant to help the simple believer to see
that richness more clearly and live it more fully._