By EVERETT BERRY

I remember teaching an advanced course in hermeneutics a few years ago and posed a question to one of my students. I asked what top five resources he would consult if he were preparing to preach a sermon, teach a lesson, or present a lecture on Psalm 2. The student was bright and thoughtful, not responding immediately because he wanted to offer a careful answer. He eventually mentioned some Ancient Near Eastern sources on kingship, Hebrew poetry, and pertinent background material on Israelite history. I commended him initially because each source was top-notch. Then I followed up by inquiring if he wanted to reconsider any of his sources if perchance, he was remiss in forgetting one he may prefer, to which he answered no. I replied that what was most fascinating about his list was that it omitted the Old and New Testaments. I thought at this point that perhaps he would have an “ah-ha” moment when I reminded him that Psalm 2 is linked to the Davidic Covenant of 2 Samuel 7 as well as many other Old Testament passages and is the most cited Psalm in the New Testament. Surprisingly, he doubled down and insisted on staying with his original five sources. From here, I transitioned to a discussion on whether modern scholars are better equipped to understand Psalm 2 than the apostles of the first century.

In retrospect, the most concerning part of this engagement was not the student’s perspective. It was the fact that it was a dire reflection of a dominant attitude in much of biblical scholarship today. The root of this predicament can be traced back to several ideological divorces that took place after the Enlightenment during the early modern era. The first parting of ways arrived when the zeitgeist of modernity came to view the proper use of reason as the final arbiter of truth. This endeavor was perceived as being intrinsically antithetical to the use of faith, thus forcing people to make a choice. One could follow the path of reason—in either its rationalistic or empirical forms—to understand how the world (or nature) “really” works. Or one could take the path of faith, which inevitably resulted in skewing one’s objectivity because it required the acceptance of non-verifiable beliefs. This epistemic standstill subsequently led to other antitheses that attempted to dismantle the foundational moorings of the Christian faith. One such attempt came in the later distinction between the Christ of faith (i.e., the ecclesiastical folklore of Jesus as some sort of transcendent being) and the “real” Jesus of history (i.e., the original Jew from Nazareth who lived in the first century). Finally, these divides led to another unfortunate breakup between the once-unified goals of biblical and theological studies. Biblical studies evolved into a historical investigation that could reconfigure the ancient components of the past so one could understand its textual byproducts, namely portions of Scripture. Theological readings were dubbed as anachronistic grids that made biblical texts support doctrinal concepts that were foreign to the minds of the original writers. So, the unfortunate outcome was that while these disciplines parted ways, neither side won hermeneutical custody of the Bible. And now fast-forwarding to the 21st century, the modern-day mindset of a student in biblical studies can be that background material is more helpful for understanding the Bible than the Bible itself, much less any creed or confession. In response to this current climate, I want to offer three reflections on ideas that need attention if we are to move forward in collaborative efforts between biblical scholars and theologians.   

1.  The Canon is a “Book”, not Just a Collection of Books.

The first point I want to stress is that we must recapture a commitment to both the individual voices of Scripture and the harmonious melody of the canon as a whole. Even though the distinct parts of the Bible must be analyzed critically and honestly, such endeavors must never mute the multifaceted ways in which they intersect and connect. One way to illustrate this point is with the medical field. There is a vast array of specialists who devote their attention to certain parts of the body. There are ENT experts, cardiologists, podiatrists, and brain surgeons. Yet each one agrees that they are treating various parts of the “one” human body. Some spend their careers treating limbs and organs or addressing other bodily maladies. Still, no matter how different the physical features may be, doctors in all fields acknowledge that they are tending parts of one unified anatomy. Every part works together as an organic whole. The tragedy, though, is all too often many biblical scholars do not treat Scripture with the same assumption. Instead of seeing the biblical authors as providing a unified corpus of ideas, their writings are sometimes seen only as a variety of theological outlooks with no real symmetry or dare we say it, possibility of synthesis. We can understand the parts, but if we try to see how they fit together categorically, then we are somehow compromising the original ideas of the ancient authors. This approach needs to be abandoned because if we are going to maintain any significant continuity with how the church has read Scripture for centuries, we must recapture the conviction that the Bible is a collection of books that form one book.  

2. Biblical Texts are the First Source for Interpreting Biblical Texts.

It’s quite astounding that this second point even needs to be said. Since the Reformation (and even before the 16thcentury actually), Christians have heralded that the best interpreter of Scripture is Scripture. However, modern scholarship often counters that Ancient Near Eastern literature and Second Temple sources are the most important prerequisites to understanding the Bible. This is because the world in which Scripture was written is seen as taking precedence over the possible interconnections between biblical texts themselves. Now, to be fair, competency in historical backgrounds is essential to understanding Scripture. Ignoring such information can lead to egregious readings of God’s word. Nevertheless, these features must never be emphasized at the expense of dismissing typological, intertextual, or other thematic overlaps that occur throughout the Bible. When the former (i.e., historical) is stressed to the exclusion of the latter (i.e., theological interconnections), a hermeneutical presumption emerges in which interpreters restrict the meaning of biblical texts to their isolated historical contexts, thereby excluding thicker theological readings that show how texts fit together canonically. We can see the importance of this feature in how the Law and the prophets were read together as interconnected witnesses by New Testament writers. The Old Testament was seen as a harmonious choir of meaning, not a mere collection of solos. One could say that biblical texts were sometimes “read into” each other. Therefore, we must be careful that our emphasis on historical readings of holy writ does not create perceptions about how texts can communicate that would have been nonsensical to the very authors who produced Scripture.   

3. Reading Scripture for Doxology First and Scholarship Second.

I want to close this discussion by mentioning a final point that needs more attention when addressing the divide between biblical and theological studies. It is that the endeavors of biblical interpretation are for the primary purposes of edifying the church and helping proclaim the gospel message to the nations. My intent here is not to deny that exploring new academic territory has its place in biblical and theological scholarship. We need to challenge perspectives on theological matters and critically reflect on whether views on certain doctrines or passages need revision. Another reformation in some ways might be good and groundbreaking scholarship should be welcomed on that front. At the same time, novelty is not the primary objective of the church. Fulfilling the mission given by Christ is our first priority. Consequently, when new proposals and waves of monographs make their way across the academic landscape, one question to ask is whether the ideas that are being proposed can align with the confessional commitments which have been ironed out on the crucible of history. Said another way, if a recent academic ideological trend on Christology, justification, or any other biblical subject is gaining traction and is receiving a buzz of attention among scholars, one important question should always be proposed by evangelicals. Does this idea help foster clearer doctrinal precision, provide grounds for richer liturgy and prayer, and better prepare saints to communicate the gospel? If these concerns are not on the radar of any such reading of Scripture, then it does not meet the full criteria for a healthy interpretation. We must be unapologetic in contending that every reading of Scripture must contribute to a better understanding of God and one way to know if such proposals are being successful is if they lead to a robust doxology. In other words, sound biblical interpretation must lead to healthy theology (orthodoxy) that becomes fleshed out in biography (orthopraxy).