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Hebrews 2:3-4 and the Sign Gifts

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In the sometimes heated discussions over the question of the duration of certain spiritual gifts, one argument has persisted from the side of charismatics: There is no prooftext that any spiritual gift has ceased. As impressive as this argument sounds, a couple of responses should be given. First, if the NT was written by men who in fact exercised these sign gifts, why should they say that such had ceased? It would be difficult to find a text in which this point would be explicit. Second, the NT apostles by and large expected the Lord’s return in their lifetime (cf. 1 Thess 4:15: “we who are alive, who are remaining until the coming of the Lord”). Hence, we should not expect them to make any statements regarding the cessation of gifts, since that would presuppose that they knew the Lord’s return would be delayed. In order to find such a statement, we would need to construct the following scenario: A member of an apostle’s band writes a letter after that apostle had died. Further, in the letter he finds some reason to explicitly mention something about sign gifts.

Such a scenario is difficult to imagine. Happily, the NT provides not only one, but two books that fit such a picture: Jude and Hebrews. And both address--to some degree at least--the issue of gifts and authority. Our purpose in this paper is to look more closely at one text, Hebrews 2:3-4.

Hebrews 2:3-4 is a text often put forth by cessationists that certain spiritual gifts have ceased. The text reads as follows: (3) πῶς ἡμεῖς ἐκφευξόμεθα τηλικαύτης ἀμελήσαντες σωτηρίας… ἥτι,ς ἀρχὴν λαβοῦσα λαλεῖσθαι διὰ τοῦ κυρίου, ὑπὸ τῶν ἀκουσάντων εἰς ἡμᾶς ἐβεβαιώθη, (4) συνεπιμαρτυροῦντος τοῦ θεοῦ σημείοις τε καὶ τέρασιν καὶ ποικίλαις δυνάμεσιν καὶ πνεύματος ἁγίου μερισμοῖς κατὰ τὴν αὐτοῦ θέλησιν.(“[3] How shall we escape if we neglect so great a salvation, which was at first declared by the Lord, and was attested to us by those who heard him, [4] while God was also bearing them witness with signs and wonders and various miracles and gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will”).

The argument that this text refers to the cessation of certain gifts is based on an inference in the text, viz., that since the first generation of Christians were explicitly eyewitnesses to certain sign gifts, the second generation of Christians was not. Usually books that address the issue of gifts don’t go further than this point. One has to wonder how valid it is, however.

Several things in the text need to be examined to see whether this text has any validity for the cessation of sign gifts. First, the genitive absolute in v 4 (συνεπιμαρτυροῦντος τοῦ θεοῦ/ “God bearing witness”) needs to be addressed. A couple of points should be mentioned.

(1) On a purely syntactical level, the genitive absolute does not of course relate to anything. But it is not like the vocative--that is, it is not extra-sentential. Rather, it is virtually a constructio ad sensum. That is, it is merely a Greek convention for expressing adverbial relations, usually of a temporal nature.

(2) Thus, it is neither helpful nor accurate to leave a genitive absolute dangling. The genitive absolute exists precisely because the subject of the genitive participle is different from the subject of the verb in the main clause. But the genitive absolute construction is still dependent on the time of the main verb.

(3) So to what is it semantically dependent? The genitive absolute is most naturally subordinated to the aorist ἐβεβαιώθη (“was attested, confirmed”). To take it back to the future ἐκφευξόμεθα (“shall we escape”) in v 3 is stretching things, although the meaning would fit a continuationist position (“How shall we escape . . . while God bears witness with signs and wonders . . . ?”). Still, not only the distance, but the awkwardness of meaning poses a problem. That is, the conditional participle (ἀμελήσαντες) makes perfectly good sense (‘if we neglect. . .’) as the modifier of the future verb. But what is the relation of the genitive absolute construction to the verb? Over 90% of genitive absolute constructions are temporal (the next largest category is causal). If that is the case here, what is the meaning? Is it something like, “by what means can we possibly escape this great salvation while God is bearing witness to us”? The sense connection is lacking, no matter how you construe it. Take this a step further. It is even more improbable that the genitive absolute is subordinated to the conditional participle: “if we neglect . . . while God is bearing witness . . .” The force of the argument would have been considerably strengthened had the author said, “if we neglect so great a salvation which God bears witness to . . .” But that would require an adjectival participle--which, by definition, does not fit the genitive absolute construction. This leaves one of two options left: (a) the aorist indicative, ἐβεβαιώθη, as the word to which the genitive absolute is semantically (not technically syntactically; see above) subordinate to. This makes perfectly good sense; besides, the structure fits most naturally: “it was attested to us by those who heard him, while God bore witness . . .” Or (b) the substantival aorist participle τῶν ἀκουσάντων: the idea then would be that when eyewitnesses heard the message, God bore witness to them. This also makes good sense, and seems to be allowed for by the loose connection of the GA (genitive absolute construction) with the verbal element in the substantival participle. As such, it yields a nice text for cessationism. There are, however, three problems with it: (i) the aorist indicative is closer to the GA; (ii) GAs are normally semantically related to finite verbs (though they sometimes are attached to infinitives; I do not know of any examples off-hand in which they are attached to substantival participles, though this does not strike me as impossible); (iii) the overall meaning is more logically connected if the author is arguing that the confirmation was made by accompanying signs, rather than that the hearing was accompanied by such signs.

What complicates the issue is the meaning of the aorist indicative. The verb ἐβεβαιώθη of course can mean “was confirmed,” or even “was guaranteed” (cf. BAGD). If the latter, then it would make good sense to regard the GA as subordinate to τῶν ἀκουσάντων. The sense would be that those who heard could guarantee that their message of the gospel was from God because he also bore them witness. This is in line with other texts that imply the same idea (cf. 1 John 1:1-4; 2 Pet 1:12-16; etc.). (2) The GA participle συνεπιμαρτυροῦντος means “bearing testimony together with.” The associative idea, coupled with “was guaranteed” for the aorist indicative and a causal GA (see above) renders the following: “it was guaranteed to us by those who heard him because God also bore them witness with signs and wonders . . .” That is, a guarantee could be made by the eyewitnesses because they knew that the message was from God since they experienced these miracles.

But what if the meaning of the aorist indicative verb is simply “confirm” and the GA is merely temporal (“while”)? This would seem to mean that the gospel was confirmed “to us” when God simultaneously bore witness by performing signs. If so, who are the “us”? Two possibilities: (a) either the author(s) as distinct from the Christians to whom he is writing, or (b) both the author(s) and the believers to whom he is writing. Although there are no structural clues for detecting shifts for exclusive/inclusive “we”--indeed, sometimes the shifts happen very quickly amd without warning--it does seem that in this context ‘to us’ would make better sense if the author included his audience. Otherwise, the audience becomes a third party that requires further confirmation. In v 3, the “we” of “How shall we escape” is probably picked up again by the “to us.” The whole argument is strengthened if this is the case. But if this is the case, then doesn’t it mean that the audience experienced the sign gifts: the gospel was confirmed “to us” (audience included) while God bore witness with signs. . . ?

Yes, this seems to be the case. Does this mean that the sign gifts continued to exist for second-generation Christians? Not exactly. Three careful distinctions need to be made: (1) God bore witness with someone (the συν-prefix on συνεπιμαρτυροῦντος implies this) “to us.” The only option is “those who heard”--thus, eyewitnesses. Thus, these believers were recipients or observers of such sign gifts; they were not performers of them. The eyewitnesses seem to be the only ones implied here who exercised such gifts. This, in itself, may well imply that the sign gifts lasted only through the first generation of Christians: once the eyewitnesses were dead, so were these gifts. (2) The aorist indicative ἐβεβαιώθη loses much of its punch if the author intends to mean that these gifts continue.1 He so links the confirmation to the eyewitnesses--and the proof of such confirmation by the sign gifts--that to argue the continued use of such gifts seems to fly in the face of the whole context. If such gifts continued, the author missed a great opportunity to seal his argument against defection. He could have simply said: “How shall we escape if we neglect so great a salvation, which was . . . confirmed to us by those who heard and is still confirmed among us while God bears witness with signs . . .” By way of contrast, note Gal 3:5 (written when the miraculous was still taking place; two present participles are used): “Does he who supplies the Spirit to you and works miracles among you do so by works of the law, or by hearing with faith?” (RSV) This contrast is significant: The author of Hebrews, who is so articulate a defender of his position, lost a perfect opportunity to remind his audience of the reality of their salvation by not mentioning the current manifestation of the sign gifts. That is, unless such were no longer taking place. Though an argument from silence, I think the silence is fairly deafening. The sign gifts seem to be on their way out. (3) But what about this confirmation “to us”--second-generation Christians? I take it that Hebrews was written in the mid 60s (shortly after Paul had died), but that it was written to a long-established Jewish church which was waffling in their faith. If so, then we would expect some of the first-generation believers to have had some contact with them. (Good grief--first-generation folks even have contact with third generation folks at times!) There is no question that some of these folks had witnessed such miracles. There is a rather large question, however, as to whether they had performed them themselves. One simply can’t find support for such a view in Hebrew 2:1-4.

All in all, Hebrews 2:3-4 seems to involve some solid inferences that the sign gifts had for the most part ceased.2 Further, it offers equally inferential evidence of the purpose of the sign gifts: to confirm that God was doing something new. The whole argument of Hebrews rests on this assumption: there is a new and final revelation in Jesus Christ (cf. 1:1-2). He is the one to whom the whole OT points; he is the one who is superior to the Aaronic priesthood, to prophets, and to angels. He is indeed God in the flesh. Is it not remarkable that in this exquisitely argued epistle, the argument turns on Scripture over against experience? The strongest appeal the author makes to the audience’s experience is to what they were witnesses to in the past. If the sign gifts continued, shouldn’t we expect this author (like Paul in Gal 3:5) to have employed such an argument?

I do not pretend to think that this sole text solves the problem of the duration of the sign gifts. But whatever one’s views of such gifts, this passage needs to be wrestled with.


1 The aorist indicative means “it happened,” but we cannot legitimately extrapolate from that a meaning, “and it doesn’t happen now.” The aorist can’t be used to state a negative in the present time. However, the context often is sufficiently clear that one can extrapolate from the author’s overall meaning a once-for-all idea. Does not Paul say “Christ died for our sins”? Does not the author of Hebrews argue that “God has spoken to us in Son in these last days”? In such instances the aorist is used, but by itself a once-for-all idea cannot be meant. Nevertheless, we are on sure ground to argue that the author can use the aorist when he means a once-for-all idea. The tense is well-suited for such, even though corroborative data need to be supplied to see it.

2 To be sure, not all of them had yet: John was still to write his Revelation of Jesus Christ. (But since the author of Hebrews was most likely not from John’s circle of influence, for all practical purposes the gift of prophecy might even be viewed as dead as far as he was concerned.) At the same time, “signs and wonders and various miracles” is the normative description of healing and miraculous deeds, not prophetic words.

Related Topics: Miracles, Spiritual Gifts

A Preliminary Exegesis of Hebrews 4:15 With a View Toward Solving the Peccability/Impeccability Issue

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In Hebrews 4:15, we are told that “we do not have a high priest incapable of sympathizing with our weaknesses, but one who has been tempted in every way just as we are, yet without sin” (NET). Does the author mean that the result of Jesus’ temptation was his sinlessness or that the distinction between Jesus’ temptation and our temptation is that ours arises internally, from our own sin nature, while Jesus’ temptation was only external (cf. Jas 1:14)? Or, is there some other argument the author of Hebrews has in mind that eludes us?

This is the text that is most often used by peccabilitists to argue that Jesus could havc sinned, but did not do so. The position of peccability is seen in the Latin phrase, posit non peccare (“able not to sin”). The position of impeccability is seen in the Latin phrase, non posit peccare (“not able to sin”). It is my conviction, based on several strands of evidence seen throughout the New Testament, that Jesus Christ was incapable of sinning (thus, he was impeccable). But Heb 4:15 must be dealt with if this view is to be maintained.

There are several items that are crucial in the exegesis of the text: (1) the flow of argument; (2) the force of “sympathizing with our weaknesses”; (3) the force of “in every way” (κατὰ πάντα); (4) the force of “just as we are” (καθ ᾿ ὁμοιότητα)—though this is a minor consideration; (5) the force of “without sin” (χωρὶς ἁμαρτίας)—both lexically and syntactically; and (6) the overall syntax of the sentence.

(1) The immediate flow of argument seems to argue that Christ is a good representative of us as our high priest in that he can sympathize with our human frailties. The stress, then, does not seem to be on his sinlessness—though this is still explicitly stated; rather, it seems to be on his true identification with humanity. The overall context suggests that since Jesus Christ has faced temptation—and that of the strongest sort—and has succeeded, then we too ought to hold fast to our confession. He can sympathize with our desire to defect (cf. especially the Satanic temptation for him to do so)—yet, at the same time, he provides both a model and a means for us to maintain.

(2) The force of “sympathizing with our weaknesses” again stresses the fact that Jesus understands experientially human frailty. Συν-compound verbs (such as συμπαθῆσαι here) often suggest an identification—cf. especially Rom 8:17 (the whole point of Rom 8, in one respect, is our identification with Christ [in saying this, I am not arguing for any kind of etymologically-based lexicography; rather, the common use in the NT of συν- verbs retains the classic idiom]). Admittedly, in order to give the argument of identification with our weaknesses the strongest force, one would have to affirm the full humanity of Christ (as any orthodox person would do). Further, it would seem that the force of the argument at this point would lose its punch if our high priest did not suffer when he faced temptation. This would normally present a greater problem for impeccabilitists than it would for peccabilitists, though there are analogies/arguments which ‘soft’ impeccabilitists can employ to render their view of this text a plausible one.

(3) The force of “in every way”: it is significant that the same phrase (κατὰ πάντα) is used in 2:17 where we read “he had to be made like his brothers and sisters in every respect” (NET). This is no accident: the author is using an idiom to stress the identity of Christ with his people. The force of the phrase in 2:17, however, is on the fact of his humanity as a necessary prerequisite to his representative role as high priest; thus, he was truly human. (I like what Millard Erickson says: we must not say that Christ was not fully human because he did not sin; rather, we must say that our humanity is questionable because it is impure—if anything, we are not fully human, though he is [a slight paraphrase])!

Now, in point of fact, Jesus was not made like his brothers in all things—that is, all-inclusive—because he was without sin. (Paul seems to indicate this exception in the kenosis text: he argues that Jesus was ‘like men’ (ὁμοιώματι), but ‘he was found to be in form as a man.’ That is, Paul seems to use ὁμοιώματι to indicate similarity (notice the plural, men), but σχήματι to indicate identity (again, notice the singular). Thus, Jesus appeared to be just like other men, but was not (in that he was God in the flesh), yet he was still true man.

Getting back to 4:15: if κατὰ πάντα in 2:17 does not mean all-inclusive, can we argue that it does in 4:15? I’ll leave this question open for now.

(4) “Just as we are”—a minor consideration, which simply stresses the point of identification with us. However, one side note: if the author of Hebrews uses the ὁμοίος word-group in the same way that Paul does (and provided that my exegesis of Phil 2:6-7 above is correct), should we not say that he is here arguing that there is a distinction in Jesus’ suffering of temptation and ours? That it is likely in Phil 2:7 that Paul meant similarity rather than identity in his use of ὁμοιώματι is strengthened by virtually the same expression in Rom 8:3 in reference to Christ— “in the likeness [ὁμοιώματι] of sinful flesh”—obviously indicating that there is not identity.

(5 & 6—treated together) The force of “without sin”: This is the major consideration in the exegesis of the text. Did Jesus Christ face his temptations without having a sin nature/propensity to sin/possibility of sinning(?), or did his temptations simply result in his not sinning? To put it syntactically, what does χωρὶς ἁμαρτίας modify? Is it subordinate to πεπειρασμένον, κατὰ πάντα, or καθ ᾿ ὁμοιότητα? If πεπειρασμένον, then all three prepositional phrases are most likely equally subordinate; that is, Jesus’ temptations are qualified in three ways: he was tempted (1) in every area, (2) like we are tempted, (3) apart from sin. But still the problem remains: Does this mean ‘apart from sinning’? (result) or does it mean that his temptations were apart from the kind which arise out of sin (or one’s sin nature)?

If χωρὶς ἁμαρτίας is subordinate to κατὰ πάντα, then the meaning is most likely this: although he was tempted in every way, he did not sin (result). But the principle of nearest antecedent (which, however, is broken often enough) suggests rather that καθ ᾿ ὁμοιότητα controls χωρὶς ἁμαρτίας. If this is so, then the most natural way to take the whole text is to see the prepositional phrases as successively subordinate. That is, κατὰ πάντα controls καθ ᾿ ὁμοιότητα which controls χωρὶς ἁμαρτίας. All of this, of course, is subordinate to πεπειρασμένον.

So what? If we take this third view, then χωρὶς ἁμαρτίας qualifies ὁμοιότητα —that is, Jesus was tempted just as we are apart from sin. The one way in which his temptations were different was the sin factor. This certainly seems to speak of distinction in the process rather than result. It seems, on the surface at least, a bit unnatural to translate the text, as so many do, ‘yet without sin.’ One would expect δέ or ἀλλά or perhaps even μόνος. There is no disjunctive force here (though there certainly may be on the larger contextual level, requiring the use of a disjunctive in English). And the author of Hebrews writes Greek extremely well: that is, he does not normally employ asyndeton (lack of conjunction) except for solemnity (as in classical usage—see Blass-Debrunner-Funk).

In sum, at the present time I do not see χωρὶς ἁμαρτίας as referring to result—instead, this is the one way in which Jesus’ temptations were different from our own. The two preceding prepositional phrases also hint at this: κατὰ πάντα does not mean all-inclusive in 2:17 (a parallel passage, and designedly so, I think), and καθ ᾿ ὁμοιότητα indicates similarity though not absolute identity (cf. its cognate in Rom 8:3; Phil 2:7).

My preliminary exegesis of this verse, therefore, suggests that the author is using guarded language: although he is stressing Jesus’ identification with his people, the author is still attempting to show that there is some difference in the way in which he faced temptations and in the fact that we are born in sin, though he was not.

For the sake of fairness, the following is something of an exegetical rebuttal to this tentative conclusion: (1) such a view seems to fly in the face of the obvious flow of argument—namely, since Jesus is fully human, and since he has undergone the same kind of trials that we face, he understands from experience what we are going through; (2) the focus on his high priesthood suggests a strong identification with his people and their suffering—a point hard impeccabilitists probably have a difficulty with; (3) the syntax of the verse is not cut-and-dried: until the style of Hebrews is exhaustively investigated (a relatively easy task, since it comprises such a small corpus), one cannot dictate how the author normally subordinates prepositional phrases; (4) the lexical nuance of the ὁμοίος word-group as suggesting similarity rather than identity is questionable in all places; (5) the κατὰ πάντα parallel in 2:17 does not indicate that in either place an all-inclusive idea is not meant: the point in 2:17 is not Jesus’ identification with the sinfulness of his brothers and sisters, but his identification with their suffering (hence, in this qualified sense, the force of this word-group may, indeed, be identification); (5) finally, there is a lexical difficulty with assigning the meaning of ‘sin nature’ or something similar to ἁμαρτίας here: though in Paul ἁμαρτία sometimes has that force, it might be difficult to prove that it does so in Hebrews.

In the least, we must say that this text is hardly proof of either impeccability or peccability. There are too many difficulties with either view to put forth this text as a trump card for either conviction about the nature of the temptation that our Lord endured. Other passages need to be brought to bear on the topic.

Related Topics: Hamartiology (Sin), Soteriology (Salvation)

Hell: Spiritual or Physical or Both?

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This piece is a specific response to the question of whether hell is simply spiritual separation from God or is a place of conscious physical torment.

Looked at one way, the question is about whether we should interpret the Bible literally in places which discuss hell. Cf. especially Rev 20:10 (“lake of fire”). The book of Revelation speaks more about hell than virtually any other book, yet the language of this very book is rather symbolic. Sometimes an interpretation is given by an angel: when this happens, we should seek no other interpretation. But this is not the case here. Nevertheless, in interpreting the symbolism of Revelation and of the Bible as a whole we must keep in mind one key factor: the figure symbolizes something. Thus, for example, one cannot simply take the 1000-year kingdom and the seven-year tribulation and say they both refer to a long time. Further nuancing is required.

On the one hand, I would emphatically insist that the fundamental nature of hell is separation from God and his goodness. Second Thessalonians 1:9 refers to it as “exclusion from the face of God.” It is as if God turned his back on non-believers. Just as we only know about God on earth by what he reveals, hell makes a theological statement: only the justice of God is revealed there. That is its fundamental nature.

But this does not answer the question of how that nature is displayed. We have one very real and tangible display of hell (though only partially perceived) recorded in Scripture. When Jesus was hanging on the cross he was, for the three hours of darkness, in hell. He was separated from God, receiving only God’s justice. When he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” it was the only time he ever referred to God merely as God. His normal term was “Father.” It is evident in this quotation from Psalm 22:1 that Jesus was viewing God as his judge. What do we see in this concrete portrayal of hell? We certainly see physical suffering. But that is only the tip of the iceberg. The deeper suffering came spiritually. The Trinity was ripped apart while Christ lay hanging in our place. We can only imagine what suffering he endured! Hence, although the torment was very much on a physical level, that was only a window into the soul of Christ. To argue, then, that hell is only spiritual separation from God misses the point about the nature of hell. It is certainly spiritual separation from God. But, as in the case of the Son of God, this not only does not deny physical suffering, it is also more severe than physical suffering.

Let’s suppose that Christ’s experience is not archetypal for non-believers. In some ways this is true—for example, his was a temporary suffering. We should turn to other passages that specifically deal with hell for humans. The key text is Rev 20:10, where the lake of fire is described. What do we see about the lake of fire? Revelation 20:10 says: “the devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulphur where the beast and the false prophet also were, and they will be tormented day and night for ever and ever.” Several key points can be made here: (1) the lake of fire is obviously a place that envelops the individual (“into the lake”); (2) it is a place from which he cannot escape; (3) the imagery of fire and sulphur is intended to show extreme pain and suffering that extends to all the senses (even smell); (3) the punishment is evidently eternal, continual, and conscious (“tormented day and night for ever and ever”); (4) human beings will be there (“the beast and false prophet” are humans). This is confirmed by vv 13-14: “Death and Hades gave up the dead which were in them . . . Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire.” John does not need to describe the nature of suffering for humans at this point, since he had already described the lake of fire in v 10. There is no reason to believe that their suffering will be substantially different from that of the beast and false prophet mentioned in v 10.

Now, is this necessarily physical? If we had this verse alone, I do not think we could conclude such. We could conclude, however, that it is sensual. Modern science knows that pain centers are in the brain; hence, it is theoretically possible that one’s body could be annihilated and yet he could feel pain. So whether the torment is physical or not is inconsequential; it will certainly feel that way.

But the Scriptures are clear on other fronts. The Jewish-Christian view of humanity is consistently that we all have an eternal soul and an eternal body. The notion of the immortality of the soul (without an accompanying body) is of gentile origin, not Jewish. Daniel 12:1-2 speaks to the issue: (1) .” . . but at that time your people shall be delivered, every one whose name shall be found written in the book. (2) And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.” The point here is that both the wicked and the righteous will be reunited with their bodies in resurrection and as such (i.e., as whole persons, body and soul) will either go to heaven or hell.

Matthew 10:28 is also significant along these lines: “Fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” What is important to note here is that the place of the destruction of the body is hell. If the body were dead before the soul goes to hell, Jesus could not have said this.

Matt 25:46: “The [wicked] will go into eternal punishment, but the righteous will go into eternal life.” The parallel (as well as the discourse up until this point) leads us to only one conclusion: the place of torment parallels the place of blessing in its eternal nature. Further, there is no hint of distinction between the righteous and the wicked in terms of body-soul combination. If the righteous go to heaven in body and soul (what else could the resurrection mean?), then the wicked go to hell in body and soul.

2 Cor 5:1-10: Paul discusses the prospects of dying and being in the presence of the Lord, awaiting the reunification with his body (that will be raised at the rapture--cf. 1 Thess 4:13-18).

The consistent message of the Bible is that the resurrection is an essential part of salvation because our bodies cannot be permanently separated from our souls (cf. 1 Cor 15:13-14). This does not mean, of course, that our new bodies are identical, molecule for molecule, with our old bodies (again, cf. 1 Cor 15). The whole thing is a mystery, but we do know that the resurrected body is not a phantom (cf. John 21). Further, there is no shred of evidence (that I am aware of) to suggest that the resurrection of the unbeliever is radically different. That is to say, the body of unbelievers must be reunited with their souls as well (Dan 12:1-2; John 5:28-29). The notion either that disembodied spirits will permanently occupy heaven or hell is not founded on Scripture, but has its roots in Greek philosophy (cf. Acts 17).

In sum, although it is an intriguing notion to think that hell is a place merely of spiritual separation from God, we must reckon with the biblical teaching that this is the fundamental nature of hell, but that such a description does not account for all the particulars. Further, one has to answer the question: Why, then, are non-believers resurrected if hell is only spiritual? The whole point of the resurrection is to reunite body and soul. God could easily send souls directly to hell. But he does not. He raises all people from the dead and then sends that person to hell.

There is another issue at stake I believe: to separate body from soul is both a part of hedonism and stoicism (in its extreme forms). One philosophy said that we should indulge the body since it is evil and we can’t conquer it; the other said that we should deprive the body since it is evil and we can conquer it. But the biblical teaching is that the body is inherently no more evil than the mind: both have been tainted with sin through and through at the Fall. But with the Incarnation, we have a paradigm of perfect man, body and soul. The separation of body from soul when it comes to eternal punishment results, ultimately, in a schizophrenic view of man, leading either to hedonism or extreme stoicism.1


1 We are reaping the harvest of the former view, hedonism, today. The entire approach to sex education that does not view abstinence as a viable option starts with the assumption that human beings cannot control their bodies so they might as well indulge them.

Related Topics: Hell

The Holy Spirit and Hermeneutics

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Preface

This brief essay is a preliminary attempt at articulating the role of the Holy Spirit in relation to the interpretation of Scripture. Criticisms and interactions are invited. (It must be kept in mind, however, that I am addressing evangelicals. Those with a different theological grid will, I am sure, find so much to criticize in this essay that they won’t know where to begin!)

Introduction

The relation of the Holy Spirit to hermeneutics is a hot issue among evangelicals today. On a popular level, there has always been a large misunderstanding about the Spirit’s role. Many Christians believe that if they simply pray, the Holy Spirit will give them the proper interpretation. Others are not so concerned about the interpretation of the text; rather, they are happy to see an idiosyncratic meaning of the text (“What this verse means to me. . .”). All of this is the doctrine of the priesthood of the believers run amok. Although each of us is responsible before God for understanding and applying the message of the Bible, this in no way means that a pooling of ignorance or a merely pietistic approach to Scripture meets the divine mandate.

Surprisingly, there is also an increasingly large gap between conservative scholars. James De Young, for example, recently said that “when it comes to scholarly methods of interpreting the Bible, the Holy Spirit may as well be dead.”1 Why is there such a polarity? At least four reasons: (1) Because of the shift toward postmodernism (and thus, from rationalism and logic to experience as the norm for interpretation). (2) Because of the unwillingness to do hard study, as David F. Wells has expressed it. (3) Because evangelical thought has indeed imbibed too much in rationalism. (4) Because evangelicalism is moving toward postconservatism in which tolerance rather than conviction is the proper stance on many issues.

Some Key Issues

1. Any evangelical view of the Holy Spirit’s role in interpretation must be based on the text. The fundamental argument over this issue must wrestle with the major passages.

2. Many non-evangelical (even, non-Christian) commentaries are among the best available in terms of lucidity, insight, and understanding of the biblical text. Conversely, many evangelical commentaries are among the worst available. Any view of the relation of the Holy Spirit to hermeneutics must wrestle honestly with this situation. The point for our purposes is this: understanding can take place even among non-believers.

3. It is important to articulate one’s position in such a way that we recognize the unique revelatory status of Scripture. That is, we must not say that the Spirit adds more revelation to the written Word. This denies the sufficiency of Scripture. Further, it renders such an interpretation non-falsifiable because then the Spirit’s added revelation is accessible to me only through you. Finally, it comes perilously close to Barth’s neoorthodox position that the Bible becomes the Word of God in one’s experience. One can easily see how, in such a scenario, the Bible can be employed like the proverbial wax nose to mean anything the molder wants it to mean.

Some Key Passages

A key passage for a theological issue is known as a crux interpretum. Such a text is a hinge on which one’s views depend. Chief among the hermeneutical cruces are two passages: 1 Cor 2:12-14 and 1 John 2:20, 27. I will not take time to wrestle with these in a detailed exegesis. But I will highlight the major problems and discuss them briefly.

1 Cor 2:12-14

This text reads as follows:

(12) ἡμεῖς δὲ οὐ τὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ κόσμου ἐλάβομεν ἀλλὰ τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ, ἵνα εἰδῶμεν τὰ ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ χαρισθέντα ἡμῖν· (13) ἃ καὶ λαλοῦμεν οὐκ ἐν διδακτοῖς ἀνθρωπίνης σοφίας λόγοις ἀλλ ἐν διδακτοῖς πνεύματος, πνευματικοῖς πνευματικὰ συγκρίνοντες. (14) ψυχικὸς δὲ ἄνθρωπος οὐ δέχεται τὰ τοῦ πνεύματος τοῦ θεοῦ, μωρία γὰρ αὐτῷ ἐστιν, καὶ οὐ δύναται γνῶναι, ὅτι πνευματικῶς ἀνακρίνεται·

Translations vary considerably, especially in v 13. But for purposes of brevity, the following may be regarded as representative:

RSV: (12) Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is from God, that we might understand the gifts bestowed on us by God. (13) And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who possess the Spirit. (14) The unspiritual man does not receive the gifts of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned.

NIV: (12) We have not received the spirit of the world but the Spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us. (13) This is what we speak, not in words taught us by human wisdom but in words taught by the Spirit, expressing spiritual truths in spiritual words. (14) The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned.

ASV: (12) But we received, not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is from God; that we might know the things that were freely given to us of God. (13) Which things also we speak, not in words which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Spirit teacheth; combining spiritual things with spiritual words. (14) Now the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him; and he cannot know them, because they are spiritually judged.

The key issues here are: (1) the meaning of the last clause of v 13 (viz., the referent of the two adjectives and the lexical force in this context of the participle); (2) in v 14: (a) in what sense the natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit, and (b) whether the two clauses are parallel or appositional.

Unpacking these issues a bit, here are some tentative conclusions:

(1) verse 13 means either that Paul and his associates interpret spiritual things to spiritual people or something else (there are a variety of options here). Nevertheless, one key point to be made is this: one must not use such an oblique text as the fundamental prooftext of any view. Seek clearer passages to prove your point. (In the least, we can say that the NIV translation is probably incorrect based on the lexical field suggested in BAGD.)

(2) In verse 14: (a) the natural person does not welcome spiritual truths. The verb δέχομαι fundamentally has this notion. It is more explicitly tied to the volition than is λαμβάνω. Thus, the natural person has a volitional problem when it comes to the gospel.

(b) If the two clauses are appositional, then the natural person does not welcome spiritual truths and because of this he cannot fully grasp them. If the two clauses are parallel, then Paul is presenting two distinguishable but separate truths here: the natural person has a problem with volition and the natural person has a problem with comprehension. The simple καί that joins the two clauses would normally be unconvincing as an indicator of apposition (although an epexegetical καί is, of course, possible): prima facie, the two clauses of v 14 look to be parallel points. However, on behalf of apposition is the fact that Semitic parallels (such as synonymous or synthetic parallels) were often employed even in the New Testament; if Paul is doing so here, he may well have the notion of apposition in mind. The problem with this view is that γινώσκω is a rather vanilla term for “know” (in spite of the protestations of some). In other words, if this clause is in some sense appositional to the preceding, we might have expected another word, such as οἶδα. The presence of γινώσκω seems to indicate that two separate notions are involved: the natural person does not properly understand revelation because of sin’s effects on his will and on his mind. This latter category involves the noetic effects of sin. Such a theological category is consistent with Paul and the NT. Sin affects our wills, emotions, and our minds.

In sum, 1 Cor 2:12-14 is saying that the non-Christian will not accept spiritual truths and cannot understand them. These are two distinct though related concepts. Non-Christians do indeed plainly understand the gospel message at times; further, unbelieving exegetes do often offer valuable insights into the text. That is not disputed here. Paul’s point seems to be that the depths of God’s ways and God’s wisdom cannot even be touched by non-believers. There is a level to which they cannot attain.

1 John 2:20, 27

This text reads as follows:

(20) καὶ ὑμεῖς χρῖσμα ἔχετε ἀπὸ τοῦ ἁγίου, καὶ οἴδατε πάντες. . . . (27) καὶ ὑμεῖς τὸ χρῖσμα ὃ ἐλάβετε ἀπ αὐτοῦ μένει ἐν ὑμῖν, καὶ οὐ χρείαν ἔχετε ἵνα τις διδάσκῃ ὑμᾶς· ἀλλ ὡς τὸ αὐτοῦ χρῖσμα διδάσκει ὑμᾶς περὶ πάντων, καὶ ἀληθές ἐστιν καὶ οὐκ ἔστιν ψεῦδος, καὶ καθὼς ἐδίδαξεν ὑμᾶς, μένετε ἐν αὐτῷ.

The key elements in these verses are: (1) v 20: “you all know it” (i.e., you all know that you have an anointing from the Holy One); (2) v 27: (a) “you have no need that anyone should teach you” and (b) “his anointing teaches you concerning all things.”

A few comments are in order: (1) This passage illustrates three of the most important rules of exegesis: CONTEXT, CONTEXT, CONTEXT. Only if we ignore the context can we construe a meaning that universalizes this text. (2) Verse 20 indicates that what the believers know by personal experience (οἶδα) is their anointing. I take it that this is the inner witness of the Spirit: they recognize that the Spirit ministers to them in an immediate, non-discursive role, convincing them of their relationship to God (cf. Rom 8:16). (3) If the author is saying that no one should teach them anything at all, why then does he teach them in this letter? Surely, the immediate context suggests something different. (4) The anointing that teaches them about all things also needs to be contextualized. The author is contrasting these believers with heretics who have removed themselves from the believing community (cf. 2:19). The author stresses what these believers know: that Christ has come in the flesh, that he will come again, and that they are the children of God. He also stresses how these believers discern the essential truths of the faith: they have the Spirit of God. He is convinced that they will stay true to the faith—that they will abide (μένω)— because “greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world” (4:4).

Thus, on the one hand, 1 John 2:20, 27 does not indicate that the Holy Spirit circumvents the interpretive process. On the other hand, the Holy Spirit does work on our hearts, convincing us of the essential truths of the faith. One who does not have the Spirit of God cannot believe such truths and hence cannot know them experientially.

The Relation of the Holy Spirit to Interpretation

My preliminary conclusions are offered here. I believe that there are at least seven or eight ways in which the Holy Spirit relates to interpretation. Many of these are overlapping; some folks might want to organize them differently.

1. The Spirit’s work is primarily in the realm of conviction rather than cognition. At the same time, even this area needs some nuancing. One’s convictions do impact one’s perceptions. Thus, it seems that the Holy Spirit may be said to aid our interpretation, even if his role were limited to that of conviction. How?

2. Experiential knowledge has a boomerang effect back on intellectual comprehension. In several areas, to the extent that an interpreter has experienced what is being proposed, he/she can comprehend it. For example, if someone has never been in love, he/she has a more difficult time understanding fully all that romance involves.

3. To the extent that one is disobedient to Scripture, yet respects its authority (at least with his lips), he will twist the text. Cf. 2 Pet 3:15-16. Conversely, to the extent that one is obedient to Scripture, he/she will be in a better position to understand it and deal with it honestly.

4. Sympathy to the biblical author opens up understanding. The most sympathetic exegete is the believer. An unsympathetic interpreter often misunderstands because of the lack of desire to understand. This can easily be illustrated in the political arena. Those who are vigorous about the rightness of a particular party tend to villify all that is in the other party. Even among Christians there is often a “canon within a canon.” That is, some books/authors are respected more highly than others. To the extent that we do not cultivate sympathy for all the authors of Scripture we close ourselves to the full impact of their message.

At the same time, if one is sympathetic to the divine author while ignoring the human author, several tensions in Scripture will be overlooked. Thus, ironically, when inerrancy is paraded along docetic bibliological lines (as it often is today), one’s interpretation is often more a defense of a supposed harmony than an honest investigation into an author’s meaning. Progressive revelation gets flattened out; human authors become mere stenographers. Tensions go unobserved, only to be raised as flat-out contradictions by those who do not have much sympathy for Scripture, leaving evangelicals in a position of having to do damage control. Recognizing the tensions in Scripture as well as the progress of revelation—and that the Bible is both a divine book and a very human book—avoids such problems.

5. Those who embrace in principle a belief in the supernatural are in a better position to interpret both miracles and prophecy. These elements of Scripture simply cannot be treated adequately by non-believers. This goes beyond mere sympathy to world-view. If one steadfastly disbelieves that prophecy can take place, then he will have to explain the prophetic portions of Scripture as other than real predictions. They will either be discredited as unfulfilled or else treated as vaticinium ex eventu (or prophecy after the fact). Miracles also need to be rewritten so as to be demythologized. C. S. Lewis’ critique several decades ago still stands as a valid indictment against this treatment of Scripture: to treat Scripture—especially the NT—as full of fables presupposes a timeline that is demonstrably untrue. The gap from the time of the events to the telling of the tale is simply too short, finding no parallels in any purportedly historical literature. Lewis concludes that those who call the NT fable-filled have never really studied fables. Or as Vincent Taylor, the British NT scholar, noted, to regard the NT documents as full of myth presupposes that all the eyewitnesses must have vanished almost immediately after the events took place. In short, when it comes to miracles and prophecy, the believer is in a far better position to understand the message. This bears some similarities with Jesus’ indictment of the Sadducees for not embracing the resurrection: “You do not know the Scriptures or the power of God.”

6. The inner witness of the Spirit (cf. Rom 8:16; 1 John 2:20, 27, etc.) is an important factor in both conviction and perception of the central truths of Scripture. From my tentative study, I would say that the Spirit’s witness is an immediate, non-discursive, supra-rational testimony of the truth of the central tenets of the faith. The Spirit convinces us of their truth in an extra-exegetical way. What exactly does he convince us of? Some of these things are: (1) our filial relationship to God; (2) the bodily resurrection of Christ; (3) the humanity of Christ; (4) the bodily return of Christ; (5) the deity of Christ; (6) the nature of salvation as a free gift from God. The Spirit’s testimony may, indeed, be broader than this. But how broad? It is doubtful that the Spirit bears witness to the time it took for God to create the universe, or whether dispensationalism or covenant theology is the better system, or whether inerrancy is true. I doubt that he bears witness to what form of church government is to be preferred, the role of women in leadership, or how to define spiritual gifts. There are so many matters in Scripture that are left for us to examine using the best of our rational and empirical resources! But this does not mean that we cannot come to some fairly firm conclusions about them. It does mean, however, that these are issues that are more peripheral than others regarding salvation. I do believe that these ‘negotiables’ are important areas of investigation. Proper conclusions about many of them (but not all) are necessary for the health of the Church, but are not essential for the life of the Church.

Three final comments on the inner witness of the Spirit: (1) That I have even offered a preliminary taxonomy of doctrine may be startling to some. The alternative is to view all doctrine as of equal importance. But this is problematic historically, exegetically, and spiritually. Such a ‘domino’ view of doctrine results either in unsupportable dogma coupled with smug arrogance, or a crashing of virtually all one’s doctrinal beliefs (because if one falls down, they all fall down). (2) That several areas are apparently not witnessed to by the Spirit does not mean that they are not important. Rather, it means both that the less central they are to salvation and to the health of the Church, the more freedom and tolerance we should allow to those who disagree with us. This requires a measure of humility in such matters—even on issues that are currently hot topics (such as spiritual gifts and the role of women in leadership). Part of the real challenge of grappling with these issues is to determine how much the health of the Church is impacted by our exegetical decisions. But the presentation of one’s findings must always be accompanied by a spirit of charity. Be careful not to elevate your own non-central beliefs to the first level of conviction that is reserved for those truths which the Spirit bears witness to. (3) The inner witness of the Spirit can be suppressed to a degree. One must keep a warm heart toward God (through prayer, worship, community, humility, obedience, etc.) and a nuanced vigilance over the preciousness of these central truths (through study of both the Scriptures and the history of the Church), in order to cultivate the apprehension of the Spirit’s inner witness.

7. General illumination is also an area in which the Spirit helps our interpretation. By general illumination I mean his work in helping us to understand any area of life and the world. This needs more exploration. In general, I believe that the Spirit helps us in clearing our minds as we wrestle with many things—from paying taxes, to finding car keys, to taking exams. Why would we exclude Scripture from this matrix? Certainly Scripture is not outside the purview of the Spirit’s general aid offered to believers. Admittedly, this area of investigation needs more work. My thoughts are merely preliminary.

8. Corporate and historical illumination: Via the whole body of Christ—both in its current manifestation and throughout history—believers have come to understand God’s will and God’s Word better. We dare not elevate either consensus opinion or tradition to the status of infallible authority however! But such areas ought not to be relegated to disdain either. After all, the Holy Spirit did not start with you when he began teaching the Church; he’s been in this business for a few centuries.

* * *

I conclude this paper with three caveats:

1. Don’t view the limits of exegesis as the interpretation of a text. Ultimately, the goal of exegesis is not interpretation, but transformation.

2. Don’t assume that because you pray, are spiritual, etc., that your interpretation is right. Laziness in the study is no excuse for a poor interpretation. Further, even if you are not lazy, an inaccessible interpretation must still be judged an improbable interpretation.

3. Don’t isolate your study from your worship. Those in seminary especially should take very seriously the mandate for those who would be ministers of the Word: Study! Exposition that is not borne of hard study produces a warm fuzzy feeling that lacks substance. It is candy for the soul. At the same time, if your study is merely a cognitive exercise rather than a part of the worship you offer up to God, it will have a cold and heartless effect. Eating a rock may be a way to get your daily minerals, but who would want to take their minerals in such an indigestable form?


1 James B. De Young, “The Holy Spirit—The Divine Exegete: How Shall We Be Able to Hear Him?” (Evangelical Theological Society national meeting, Jackson, Miss [11-21-96]) 1.

Related Topics: Bibliology (The Written Word), Pneumatology (The Holy Spirit)

Der Heilige Geist und die Hermeneutik

Related Media

Translation: Anne Schulz

Vorwort

Dieser kurze Essay stellt einen vorsichtigen Versuch dar, die Rolle des Heiligen Geistes bei der Interpretation der Schrift zu formulieren. Kritik und Kommentare sind willkommen. (Dabei muss man aber im Auge behalten, dass ich zu Evangelikalen spreche. Jemand mit einem anderen theologischen Raster wird sicherlich so viel an diesem Essay zu kritisieren finden, dass er gar nicht weiß, wo er anfangen soll!)

Einleitung

Über die Rolle des Heiligen Geistes in der Hermeneutik wird unter heutigen Evangelikalen heiß diskutiert. Auf volkstümlicher Ebene gab es darüber schon immer viele falsche Vorstellungen. Viele Christen glauben, dass der Heilige Geist ihnen die richtige Interpretation schenken wird, wenn sie nur darum beten. Andere kümmern sich gar nicht so sehr um die Interpretation eines Textes, sondern sind mit seiner idiosynkratischen Bedeutung zufrieden („Was dieser Vers für mich bedeutet ...“). All das entspricht einer Situation, in der die Doktrin von der Priesterschaft der Gläubigen Amok läuft. Zwar ist jeder Einzelne vor Gott dafür verantwortlich, wie er die Botschaft der Bibel versteht und anwendet; aber das bedeutet keineswegs, dass die gesammelte Unwissenheit oder ein rein pietistischer Umgang mit der Schrift dem göttlichen Auftrag gerecht wird.

Erstaunlicherweise gibt es aber auch zwischen konservativen Wissenschaftlern eine zunehmende Kluft. James De Young sagte zum Beispiel kürzlich: „Wenn es um wissenschaftliche Methoden der Bibelinterpretation geht, könnte der Heilige Geist genauso gut tot sein.“1  Warum gibt es eine solche Polarität? Aus zumindest vier Gründen: (1) aufgrund der Entwicklung in Richtung Postmoderne (und damit weg von Rationalismus und Logik hin zur Erfahrung als dem Maßstab für eine Interpretation); (2) aufgrund der mangelnden Bereitschaft zu anstrengender Forschungsarbeit, wie es David F. Wells einmal ausdrückte; (3) weil evangelikales Denken eigentlich zu viel Rationalismus aufgesogen hat; (4) weil sich der Evangelikalismus in Richtung eines Postkonservativismus entwickelt, der in vielen Fällen Toleranz statt Überzeugung als angemessene Haltung betrachtet.

Kerngedanken

1. Jede evangelikale Auffassung über die Rolle des Heiligen Geistes bei der Auslegung muss sich auf den Text gründen und die grundsätzliche Auseinandersetzung muss sich mit den wesentlichen Textabschnitten über dieses Thema auseinandersetzen.

2. Viele nicht-evangelikale (ja, sogar nicht-christliche) Kommentare gehören in puncto Klarheit, Einblick in und Verständnis für den biblischen Text zum Besten, was es auf diesem Gebiet gibt. Umgekehrt gehören viele evangelikale Kommentare zu den schlechtesten, die es gibt. Mit dieser Situation müssen sich Vetreter jedweder Auffassung über die Beziehung zwischen dem Heiligen Geist und der Hermeneutik ernsthaft auseinandersetzen. Für unsere Zwecke ist festzuhalten: Selbst unter Ungläubigen kann es Erkenntnis geben.

3. Eine Position sollte unbedingt so formuliert werden, dass man die einmalige offenbarende Natur der Schrift erkennt. Wir dürfen also nicht sagen, der Geist füge zum geschriebenen Wort weitere Offenbarung hinzu. Das würde die Hinlänglichkeit der Schrift in Abrede stellen. Außerdem würde es die jeweilige Interpretation unwiderlegbar machen, weil ich in diesem Fall nur über dich Zugang zu der zusätzlichen Offenbarung durch den Geist hätte. Und schließlich kommt so etwas der neo-orthodoxen Auffassung von Barth gefährlich nahe, der sagt, dass die Bibel in unserer Erfahrung zum Wort Gottes wird. Man kann unschwer erkennen, wie die Bibel unter solchen Bedingungen zu dem sprichwörtlichen Wachsklumpen wird, der zu jeglicher Bedeutung geformt werden kann, die der Bildner ihm nur geben will.

Schlüsselstellen

Eine Schlüsselstelle für ein bestimmtes theologisches Thema wird als Crux interpretum bezeichnet. An einem solchen Text hängt unsere Ansicht wie an einer Türangel. Führend unter den hermeneutischen Cruces sind zwei Textstellen: 1.Ko 2:12-14 und 1.Jo 2:20,27. Ich werde nicht so weit gehen, mich mit diesen beiden Textstellen in detaillierter Exegese auseinanderzusetzen. Aber ich werde die Hauptprobleme herausstellen und kurz diskutieren.

1. Korinther 2: 12-14

Dieser Text lautet folgendermaßen:

(12) ἡμεῖς δὲ οὐ τὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ κόσμου ἐλάβομεν ἀλλὰ τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ, ἵνα εἰδῶμεν τὰ ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ χαρισθέντα ἡμῖν· (13) ἃ καὶ λαλοῦμεν οὐκ ἐν διδακτοῖς ἀνθρωπίνης σοφίας λόγοις ἀλλ? ἐν διδακτοῖς πνεύματος, πνευματικοῖς πνευματικὰ συγκρίνοντες. (14) ψυχικὸς δὲ ἄνθρωπος οὐ δέχεται τὰ τοῦ πνεύματος τοῦ θεοῦ, μωρία γὰρ αὐτῷ ἐστιν, καὶ οὐ δύναται γνῶναι, ὅτι πνευματικῶς ἀνακρίνεται·

Die Übersetzungen unterscheiden sich, besonders in Vers 13, erheblich voneinander. Aus Platzgründen beschränke ich mich auf die folgenden Übersetzungen, die als repräsentativ angesehen werden können.

RSV: (12) Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is from God, that we might understand the gifts bestowed on us by God. (13) And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who possess the Spirit. (14) The unspiritual man does not receive the gifts of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned.

RSV (Revised Standard Version): (12) Nun haben wir empfangen nicht den Geist der Welt, sondern den Geist, der von Gott ist, dass wir die Gaben verstehen mögen, die uns von Gott zuteil geworden sind. (13) Und wir tun dies kund in Worten, die nicht menschliche Weisheit gelehrt hat, sondern der Geist gelehrt hat, und deuten geistliche Gegebenheiten für die, die den Geist besitzen. (14) Der ungeistliche Mensch empfängt nicht die Gaben des Geistes Gottes, denn sie sind Torheit für ihn, und er kann sie nicht verstehen, weil sie geistlich wahrgenommen werden.

NIV: (12) We have not received the spirit of the world but the Spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us. (13) This is what we speak, not in words taught us by human wisdom but in words taught by the Spirit, expressing spiritual truths in spiritual words. (14) The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned.

NIV (New International Version): (12) Wir haben nicht den Geist der Welt empfangen, sondern den Geist, der von Gott ist, dass wir verstehen mögen, was Gott uns frei gegeben hat. (13) Das ist es, was wir reden, nicht in Worten, die uns menschliche Weisheit gelehrt hat, sondern in Worten, die der Geist gelehrt hat, und drücken geistliche Gegebenheiten in geistlichen Worten aus. (14) Der Mann ohne den Geist nimmt die Dinge nicht an, die von dem Geiste Gottes kommen, denn sie sind Torheit für ihn, und er kann sie nicht verstehen, weil sie geistlich wahrgenommen werden.

ASV: (12) But we received, not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is from God; that we might know the things that were freely given to us of God. (13) Which things also we speak, not in words which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Spirit teacheth; combining spiritual things with spiritual words. (14) Now the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him; and he cannot know them, because they are spiritually judged.

ASV (American Standard Version): (12) Wir aber empfingen, nicht den Geist der Welt, sondern den Geist, der von Gott ist, dass wir die Dinge erkennen mögen, die uns frei von Gott gegeben wurden. (13) Welche Dinge wir auch reden, nicht in Worten, welche des Menschen Weisheit lehret, sondern welche der Geist lehret; und wir verbinden geistliche Dinge mit geistlichen Worten. (14) Der natürliche Mensch aber empfänget nicht die Dinge des Geistes Gottes: denn sie sind ihm Torheit; und er kann sie nicht erkennen, weil sie geistlich beurteilt werden.

Die Knackpunkte hierbei sind: (1) die Bedeutung des letzten Satzes von Vers 13 (nämlich, worauf sich die zwei Adjektive beziehen und was das Verb in dem gegebenen Zusammenhang bedeutet); (2) in Vers 14 (a) in welchem Sinne das natürliche Individuum die Dinge des Geistes nicht annimmt und (b) ob die beiden Sätze parallel oder appositionell stehen.

Wenn man diese Punkte etwas weiter aufrollt, kann man zu den folgenden vorsichtigen Schlussfolgerungen kommen.

(1) Vers 13 bedeutet entweder, dass Paulus und seine Gefährten spirituelle Dinge für spirituelle Menschen interpretieren – oder irgendetwas anderes (es gibt hier eine Vielzahl von Möglichkeiten). Nichtsdestoweniger muss man eine entscheidende Feststellung treffen: Man darf einen so verkappten Text nicht als grundlegenden Beweis für welche Sichtweise auch immer hernehmen. Suchen Sie nach eindeutigeren Textstellen, um Ihren Standpunkt zu beweisen. (Zumindest können wir sagen, dass die NIV-Übersetzung wahrscheinlich nicht korrekt ist, wenn man das Bedeutungsspektrum zugrunde legt, das das BAGD [biblisch-griechisches Wörterbuch, das üblicherweise für neutestamentarische Studien herangezogen wird; Anm. d. Ü.] anführt.)

(2) In Vers 14 (a) möchte der natürliche Mensch geistliche Dinge nicht empfangen. Das Verb δέχομαι hat diesen grundlegenden Beiklang. Es drückt einen deutlicheren Zusammenhang mit dem Willen aus als λαμβάνω. Der natürliche Mensch hat also Probleme mit dem Wollen, wenn es um das Evangelium geht.

(b) Wenn die beiden Teilsätze appositionell stehen, dann möchte der natürliche Mensch die geistlichen Dinge nicht empfangen, und weil er das nicht möchte, kann er sie nicht in all ihrer Fülle erfassen. Wenn die zwei Sätze aber parallel stehen, dann präsentiert Paulus damit zwei voneinander unterschiedene und getrennte Tatsachen: Der natürliche Mensch hat ein Problem mit dem Willen und der natürliche Mensch hat ein Problem mit dem Verstehen. Das einfache και,v das die beiden Sätze verbindet, wäre normalerweise kein überzeugender Hinweis auf eine Apposition (wenngleich ein epexegetisches καί natürlich möglich ist): prima facie scheinen die beiden Sätze in Vers 14 parallele Aussagen zu sein. Für eine Apposition spricht jedoch die Tatsache, dass semitische Parallelen (z.B. synonyme oder synthetische Parallelen) selbst im Neuen Testament oft benutzt wurden; und wenn Paulus hier so etwas macht, dann kann er dabei sehr wohl den Beiklang einer Apposition im Kopf haben. Das Problem bei dieser Sichtweise ist allerdings, dass γινώσκω (trotz gegenteiliger Behauptungen mancher Menschen) ein ziemlich schwacher Ausdruck für „erkennen“ ist. Mit anderen Worten: Wenn dieser Satz in irgendeiner Weise appositionell zu dem vorhergehenden steht, würde man eher einen anderen Ausdruck, z.B. οἶδα, erwarten. Wenn hier γινώσκω steht, weist das eher darauf hin, dass es sich um zwei getrennte Ideen handelt: Der natürliche Mensch versteht die Offenbarung nicht richtig, weil die Sünde Auswirkungen auf seinen Willen und auf seinen Verstand hat. Die letztere Kategorie betrifft den noetischen Effekt der Sünde und steht als theologische Kategorie im Einklang mit den Aussagen von Paulus und dem Neuen Testament: Die Sünde beeinträchtigt unseren Willen, unsere Gefühle und unseren Verstand.

Summa summarum sagt 1.Ko 2:12-14, dass der Nicht-Christ die geistlichen Gegebenheiten nicht annehmen will und nicht verstehen kann. Das sind zwei unterschiedliche, aber miteinander verwandte Vorstellungen. Tatsächlich können Nicht-Christen die Botschaft des Evangeliums manchmal sehr gut verstehen und ungläubige Exegeten präsentieren oft wertvolle Erkenntnisse über den Text. Darüber wird hier gar nicht diskutiert. Paulus will hier wohl vielmehr sagen, dass die Ungläubigen die ganze Tiefe von Gottes Wegen und Gottes Weisheit niemals auch nur annähernd erfassen können. Es gibt da eine Ebene, zu der sie keinen Zugang haben.

1. Johannes 2: 20, 27

Dieser Text lautet folgendermaßen:

(20) καὶ ὑμεῖς χρῖσμα ἔχετε ἀπὸ τοῦ ἁγίου, καὶ οἴδατε πάντες. . . . (27) καὶ ὑμεῖς τὸ χρῖσμα ὃ ἐλάβετε ἀπ? αὐτοῦ μένει ἐν ὑμῖν, καὶ οὐ χρείαν ἔχετε ἵνα τις διδάσκῃ ὑμᾶς· ἀλλ? ὡς τὸ αὐτοῦ χρῖσμα διδάσκει ὑμᾶς περὶ πάντων, καὶ ἀληθές ἐστιν καὶ οὐκ ἔστιν ψεῦδος, καὶ καθὼς ἐδίδαξεν ὑμᾶς, μένετε ἐν αὐτῷ.

Die Schlüsselelemente in diesen Versen sind: (1) Vers 20: „ihr alle wisst es“ (d.h., ihr alle wisst, dass ihr eine Salbung habt von dem, der heilig ist); (2) Vers 27 (a) „ihr bedürfet nicht, dass euch irgendjemand lehre“ und (b) „seine Salbung belehrt euch über alle Dinge“.

Einige Kommentare erscheinen angebracht: (1) Dieser Textabschnitt illustriert die drei wichtigsten Regeln der Exegese: KONTEXT, KONTEXT, KONTEXT. Nur wenn wir den Kontext ignorieren, können wir eine Bedeutung konstruieren, die diesen Text verallgemeinert. (2) Vers 20 drückt aus, dass das, was die Gläubigen durch persönliche Erfahrung erkennen (οἶδα), ihre Salbung ist. Ich gehe davon aus, dass es sich dabei um das innere Zeugnis des Geistes handelt: Die Gläubigen erkennen, dass der Geist ihnen unmittelbar und nicht-argumentativ dient und ihnen Gewissheit über ihr Verhältnis zu Gott gibt (vgl. Rö 8:16). (3) Wenn der Verfasser sagen wollte, dass überhaupt niemand die Gläubigen irgendetwas lehren solle – warum belehrt er sie dann in seinem Brief? Sicher wird durch den unmittelbaren Kontext eine andere Bedeutung nahegelegt. (4) Auch die Salbung, die sie über alles belehrt, muss im Textzusammenhang betrachtet werden. Der Verfasser stellt die Gläubigen den Häretikern gegenüber, die sich aus der Gemeinschaft der Glaubenden entfernt haben (vgl. 2:19). Der Verfasser hebt hervor, was die Gläubigen erkannt haben: dass Christus im Fleisch zu uns gekommen ist, dass er zurückkommen wird, und dass sie Kinder Gottes sind. Er hebt auch hervor, wie die Gläubigen die essenziellen Dinge des Glaubens verstehen können: sie haben den Geist Gottes. Er ist davon überzeugt, dass sie dem Glauben treu bleiben werden – dass sie in ihm bleiben (μένω) werden – denn „der in euch ist, ist größer als der, der in der Welt ist“ (4:4).

Einerseits sagt 1.Johannes 2:20,27 also nicht aus, dass der Heilige Geist den Vorgang der Interpretation umgeht. Andererseits wirkt der Heilige Geist in unserem Herzen und überzeugt uns von den essenziellen Wahrheiten des Glaubens. Wenn jemand den Geist Gottes nicht hat, kann er diese Wahrheiten nicht glauben und also auch nicht durch Erfahrung erkennen.

Was hat der Heilige Geist mit der Auslegung zu tun?

Hier stelle ich Ihnen meine vorläufigen Schlussfolgerungen vor. Ich glaube, dass der Heilige Geist auf mindestens sieben oder acht Arten mit der Auslegung zu tun hat. Etliche davon überschneiden sich, und mancher würde sie sicher auch anders anordnen als hier dargestellt.

1. Das Wirken des Geistes geschieht in erster Linie im Bereich der Überzeugung und nicht so sehr im kognitiven Bereich. Dennoch muss man auch auf diesem Gebiet differenzieren. Die Überzeugung eines Menschen beeinflusst seine Wahrnehmung. Also kann man wohl sagen, dass der Heilige Geist selbst dann noch zu unserer Interpretation beitragen würde, wenn seine Rolle nur auf den Bereich der Überzeugung beschränkt wäre. Aber wie?

2. Erkenntnis durch Erfahrung wirkt wie ein Bumerang zurück auf das intellektuelle Verständnis. In vielen Bereichen ist es so, dass der/die Interpretierende eine Aussage nur so weit verstehen kann, wie seine/ihre eigene Erfahrung reicht. Wenn jemand beispielsweise noch niemals verliebt war, wird er/sie Schwierigkeiten haben, alles, was mit Romantik zu tun hat, wirklich umfassend zu verstehen.

3. In dem Maße, in dem jemand der Schrift nicht gehorsam ist, obwohl er ein (zumindest Lippen‑)Bekenntnis für ihre Autorität ablegt, wird er einen Text verdrehen. Vgl. 2.Petrus 3:15-16. Und umgekehrt: in dem Maße, in dem jemand der Schrift gehorsam ist, wird er/sie eine bessere Ausgangsposition erlangen, um die Schrift zu verstehen und ehrlich mit ihr umzugehen.

4. Sympathie für den biblischen Schreiber öffnet den Weg zum Verständnis. Am meisten sympathisiert als Exeget der Gläubige. Ein nicht-sympathisierender Interpret versteht die Dinge dagegen oft falsch, weil ihm der Wunsch zu verstehen fehlt. Diese Tatsache kann man leicht anhand der politischen Arena illustrieren: Diejenigen, die mit Leidenschaft einer bestimmten Partei den richtigen Standpunkt zusprechen, neigen dazu, bei den anderen Parteien alles schlecht zu machen. Selbst unter Christen gibt es oft einen „Kanon innerhalb des Kanons“; das heißt, manche Bücher/Verfasser werden höher geschätzt als andere. In dem Maße, in dem wir nicht allen Autoren der Schriften Sympathie entgegenbringen, verschließen wir uns der vollen Bedeutung ihrer Botschaft.

Gleichzeitig sieht man über etliche Widersprüchlichkeiten in der Schrift hinweg, wenn man mit dem göttlichen Autor sympathisiert, aber den menschlichen Autor ignoriert. Wenn jemand daher die Unfehlbarkeit (wie es heute oft der Fall ist) mit den Mitteln einer doketischen Bibliologie zur Schau stellt, wird seine Interpretation ironischerweise oft eher zur Verteidigung einer postulierten Harmonie als zu einer ehrlichen Untersuchung dessen, was der Autor gemeint hat. Die Offenbarung wird in ihrem Fortschreiten nivelliert und menschliche Autoren werden zu bloßen Stenographen. Spannungen im Text werden nicht bemerkt, nur um dann als klare Widersprüche von denen zur Sprache gebracht zu werden, die der Schrift nicht so viel Sympathie entgegenbringen. Den Evangelikalen wird damit nur noch die Aufgabe der Schadensbegrenzung überlassen. Wenn man die Spannungen innerhalb der Schrift ebenso anerkennt wie die Tatsache, dass die Offenbarung sich entwickelt – und dass die Bibel sowohl ein göttliches als auch ein sehr menschliches Buch ist –, vermeidet man diese Probleme.

5. Wer sich prinzipiell zum Glauben an das Übernatürliche bekennt, hat damit eine bessere Ausgangsposition für die Interpretation von Wundern und Prophezeiungen. Ein Nichtgläubiger kann mit diesen Elementen der Schrift einfach nicht angemessen umgehen; das geht über den Standpunkt der bloßen „Sympathie für alle Welt“ hinaus. Wenn sich jemand standhaft weigert zu glauben, dass es Prophezeiungen gibt, dann muss er die prophetischen Anteile der Schrift als etwas Anderes interpretieren denn als tatsächliche Voraussagen. Diese werden dann entweder als unerfüllt abgetan oder als Vaticinium ex eventu (oder nachträgliche Prophezeiung nach Eintreten des Prophezeiten) behandelt. Auch Wunder müssen umgeschrieben und entmythologisiert werden. Die einige Jahrzehnte alte Kritik von C.S. Lewis ist als Anklage gegen eine solche Behandlung der Schrift noch immer gültig: die Schrift – und insbesondere das Neue Testament – als voll von Fabeln anzusehen setzt eine nachgewiesenermaßen falsche Chronologie voraus. Der zeitliche Abstand zwischen dem Stattfinden der Ereignisse und dem Erzählen der Geschichten ist einfach zu kurz und man findet diesbezüglich keine Parallele bei irgendeiner Literatur, die von sich behauptet, historisch zu sein. Lewis zieht den Schluss, dass diejenigen, die das NT als voll von Fabeln bezeichnen, sich wohl niemals wirklich mit Fabeln beschäftigt haben. Oder, wie Vincent Taylor, der britische NT Wissenschaftler bemerkte: Die Dokumente des NT als voll von Mythen zu betrachten setzt voraus, dass sämtliche Augenzeugen praktisch unmittelbar nach dem Stattfinden der Ereignisse verschwunden sein müssen. Kurz gesagt, wenn es um Wunder und Prophezeiungen geht, hat der Gläubige die weitaus besseren Voraussetzungen, um ihre Botschaft zu verstehen. Das erinnert etwas daran, wie Jesus die Sadduzäer anklagte, weil sie die Auferstehung nicht annehmen wollten: „Ihr kennt nicht die Schriften noch die Macht Gottes.“

6. Das innere Zeugnis des Geistes (vgl. Rö 8:16; 1.Jo 2:20,27 etc.) stellt einen wichtigen Faktor sowohl für die Überzeugung als auch für die Wahrnehmung der Kernaussagen der Schrift dar. Aus meinen vorläufigen Studien heraus würde ich sagen, dass das Zeugnis des Geistes ein unmittelbares, nicht-argumentatives, über-rationales Zeugnis für die Wahrheit der zentralen Glaubensgrundsätze darstellt. Der Geist überzeugt uns von deren Wahrheit in einer Weise, die außerhalb der Exegese liegt. Wovon aber überzeugt er uns genau? Unter anderem von (1) unserem Verhältnis der Kindschaft Gott gegenüber, (2) der leiblichen Auferstehung Christi, (3) dem Menschsein Christi, (4) der leiblichen Wiederkehr Christi, (5) der Göttlichkeit Christi, (6) der Tatsache, dass die Erlösung eine freie Gabe Gottes ist. Das Zeugnis des Geistes mag wohl noch weiter gehen. Aber wie weit? Man darf bezweifeln, dass der Geist Zeugnis ablegt über die Zeit, die Gott benötigte, um das Universum zu erschaffen, oder darüber, ob der Dispensationalismus oder die Theologie des Bundes das bessere System darstellt, oder darüber, ob es Unfehlbarkeit gibt. Ich bezweifle auch, dass er Zeugnis für ein bestimmtes kirchliches Leitungssystem oder über die Rolle der Frauen in der Kirchenleitung oder über die Definition der geistlichen Gaben ablegt. Es gibt so viele Dinge in der Schrift, die uns selbst zu ergründen bleiben, und wir sollten dabei das beste aus unseren rationalen und aus unseren empirischen Resourcen machen! Das bedeutet nicht, dass wir darüber nicht zu einigen recht soliden Schlussfolgerungen kommen können. Es bedeutet aber, dass diese Dinge in Bezug auf die Erlösung von weniger zentraler Bedeutung sind als andere. Ich bin der festen Überzeugung, dass diese „verhandlungsfähigen“ Dinge wichtige Forschungsgebiete darstellen. Viele (aber nicht alle) Ergebnisse daraus sind wichtig für das Heil der Kirche, aber nicht ausschlaggebend für das Leben der Kirche.

Drei abschließende Bemerkungen über das innere Zeugnis des Geistes: (1) Mancher mag irritiert darüber sein, dass ich hier so weit gegangen bin, eine vorsichtige Taxonomie der Doktrinen zu präsentieren. Die Alternative dazu wäre, alle Doktrinen als von gleichrangiger Bedeutung anzusehen. Das aber ist in historischer, exegetischer und geistlicher Hinsicht problematisch. Eine solche „Domino“-Sichtweise der Doktrin führt entweder in einen nicht zu rechtfertigenden Dogmatismus, gekoppelt mit selbstgefälliger Arroganz, oder in den Zusammenbruch praktisch aller doktrinären Glaubensinhalte (denn wenn einer fällt, fallen alle). (2) Wenn es in einigen Bereichen kein Zeugnis des Geistes gibt, bedeutet das nicht, dass diese Bereiche nicht wichtig wären. Es bedeutet vielmehr, dass wir jemandem, der eine andere Meinung vertritt als wir selbst, umso mehr Freiheit und Toleranz zugestehen sollten, je weniger zentrale Bedeutung diese Bereicht für die Erlösung und für eine gesunde Kirche haben – selbst wenn es sich um die Themen handelt, die gegenwärtig so heiß diskutiert werden (wie die geistlichen Gaben und die Rolle der Frauen in der Leitung). Die eigentliche Herausforderung liegt bei der Auseinandersetzung mit diesen Themen zum Teil darin festzustellen, inwieweit unsere exegetischen Entscheidungen Auswirkungen auf das Heil unserer Kirche haben. Wenn wir aber unsere Erkenntnisse präsentieren, muss das immer im Geiste der Nächstenliebe geschehen. Hüten Sie sich davor, Ihre eigenen „nicht-zentralen“ Einstellungen zu solchen erstrangigen Überzeugungen zu erheben, wie sie allein den Tatsachen vorbehalten sind, für die der Geist Zeugnis ablegt. (3) Das innere Zeugnis des Geistes kann bis zu einem gewissen Grade unterdrückt werden. Man muss Gott gegenüber (durch Gebet, Anbetung, Gemeinschaft, Demut, Gehorsam etc.) ein warmes Herz und (durch die Beschäftigung mit der Schrift wie auch mit der Kirchengeschichte) eine differenzierte Wachheit für die Kostbarkeit der zentralen Wahrheiten bewahren, um so die Wertschätzung für das innere Zeugnis des Geistes zu pflegen.

7. Auch die allgemeine Erleuchtung ist ein Bereich, in dem uns der Geist für unsere Interpretation behilflich ist. Mit allgemeiner Erleuchtung meine ich sein Wirken, mit dem er uns zu einem Verständnis jedes Bereiches im Leben und in der Welt verhilft. Das muss näher erläutert werden: Allgemein gesagt glaube ich, dass uns der Geist bei vielen Dingen, mit denen wir uns auseinandersetzen, hilft, unseren Sinn zu klären – sei es die Bezahlung der Steuern, das Suchen nach den Autoschlüsseln oder ein Examen, das wir ablegen müssen. Warum sollten wir die Schrift aus diesem Bereich ausklammern? Gewiss steht die Schrift doch nicht außerhalb dieses Wirkungsbereiches des Geistes, auf dem er den Gläubigen seine allgemeine Hilfe anbietet. Zugegebenermaßen muss auf diesem Gebiet noch weiter geforscht werden. Meine Gedanken dazu sind rein vorläufiger Natur.

8. Gemeinschaftliche und historische Erleuchtung: Mithilfe des gesamten Leibes Christ – seiner Manifestation sowohl in der Gegenwart als auch im Verlaufe der Geschichte – sind die Gläubigen dazu gekommen, Gottes Willen und Gottes Wort immer besser zu verstehen. Wir dürfen jedoch nicht wagen, einen Konsens oder die Tradition in den Status unfehlbarer Autorität zu erheben! Sie sollten andererseits aber auch nicht geringschätzig abgetan werden. Schließlich hat der Heilige Geist mit seiner Belehrung der Kirche nicht bei Ihnen angefangen, sondern er ist schon einige Jahrhunderte lang im Geschäft.

* * *

Ich möchte diesen Artikel mit drei Caveats beschließen:

1. Betrachten Sie nicht die Grenzen der Exegese als Interpretation eines Textes. Das Ziel der Exegese besteht letzten Endes nicht in der Interpretation, sondern in der Transformation.

2. Gehen Sie nicht davon aus, dass Ihre Interpretation allein dadurch die Richtige ist, dass Sie beten, geistlich leben etc.. Trägheit beim Studium ist keine Entschuldigung für eine schlechte Interpretation. Außerdem: Selbst wenn Sie nicht faul sind, muss doch eine unzugängliche Interpretation als eine unwahrscheinliche Interpretation gewertet werden.

3. Versuchen Sie nicht, Studium und Anbetung zu trennen. Vor allem wer im Seminar tätig ist, sollte den Auftrag für alldie, die Diener des Wortes sein wollen, sehr ernst nehmen: Studiere! Jede Äußerung, die nicht harter Arbeit entspringt, ruft ein warmes, diffuses Gefühl hervor, dem die Substanz fehlt. Sie ist Honig für die Seele. Wenn andererseits Ihr Studium nur eine intellektuelle Übung ist statt Teil der Anbetung, die Sie Gott darbringen, wird seine Wirkung kalt und herzlos sein. Man kann seinen Mineralbedarf vielleicht dadurch decken, dass man Steine isst, aber wer würde seine Mineralstoffe in solch unverdaulicher Form einnehmen wollen?


1 James B. De Young, “The Holy Spirit—The Divine Exegete: How Shall We Be Able to Hear Him?” [„Der Heilige Geist – Der göttliche Exeget: Wie können wir ihn hören?“] (Nationale Konferenz der Evangelical Theological Society, Jackson, Miss [21.11.1996]) 1.

Related Topics: Bibliology (The Written Word), Pneumatology (The Holy Spirit)

Inerrancy and the Text-Critical Problem in Romans 5:1

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In an email response I received in the last few weeks, a BSF reader wrote the following:

I was recently reading “Do Christians have peace with God?” and was a little disturbed at first by an idea in the last paragraph before the epilogue. The idea was stated to be “speculative.” The speculation was that Tertius misunderstood and therefore incorrectly copied down what Paul was dictating to him and that Paul had to correct the manuscript when he was checking it out before sending it. This kind of seems like it chisels away a bit at the concept (at least that I have had) of the inerrancy of the Word. Since God inspired not just the concepts but the very words of scripture, according to plenary, verbal inspiration as I understand it (and I admit to struggling some with this area of faith) God, it would seem, would surely be directing the process of making sure His Word was written down correctly in the first place. I know some denominations and Christian groups make a point of stating that they believe that the ORIGINAL writings of scripture are wholly inerrant. I believe God isn’t bound by our concepts of HOW He should accomplish His purposes, but the idea about Tertius actually writing down something erroneous feels kind of uncomfortable and kind of like it doesn’t belong with the concept of inerrancy. I am a “picky” persons in many things and maybe I don’t need to feel uncomfortable about this idea, since God can accomplish His purposes anyway He chooses. If you’d care to comment I’d enjoy hearing from you but if not, for any reason, that’s alright.

This brother’s question is an honest inquiry; it is balanced between wrestling with matters of the heart and the mind. As Christians, we are called to use both; unfortunately too many believers pour contempt on others’ intellectual inquiries as though to even raise the question is tantamount to heresy. Is it any wonder, then, that unbelievers often view the Christian community as full of simpletons? As this issue is important for a wider readership, the gist of my response to this believer is given below.

Dear brother,

Thanks for your honest inquiry. I must admit that when I first pondered this possibility, it struck me as opposed to a inerrancy as well. Actually, I first read the idea in Bruce Metzger’s Textual Commentary. (He is a fine, godly, conservative scholar, although his view of biblical authority is not quite the same as many other evangelicals.) But he says more than I do: he says that the original document went out uncorrected.

As I wrestled with the issue as well as several others like it, I had to struggle with a number of things, not the least of which was that our 20th century definition of things might not be what the apostles’ definition of things was. When, for example, we compare the synoptic gospels, we see significant differences among them even when they cover the same event. Mark’s grammar seems to be corrected by Luke and Matthew on scores of occasions, for example. There are demonstrable places where we would have to say that Mark’s grammar was certainly not the best. But does this contradict inerrancy? No, I do not think it does, for inerrancy has to do with the content that is communicated, not the spelling of such content! It’s as if Mark had said ‘ain’t’; this reveals his down-home approach.

But this raises another question that I’ve had to deal with: How should our doctrinal beliefs affect our inquiry for the truth? That is, what is the relationship of presupposition to method? I take it as axiomatic that God has given us not only hearts to believe with but minds to think with. And he doesn’t want us to dispense with one as we employ the other. The general approach I take toward scripture is to put my presuppositions on the shelf for the moment, and use my method vigorously, taking it as far as I can. When I’m finished with the investigation, there are often uncertainties, but there are also often strong convictions that grow out of my study. Then, I reintroduce my presuppositions into the equation and see what impact they have on the results as well as what impact the results have on my presuppositions. It’s more complex than I’m painting it, but suffice it to say here that I take the responsibility to love the Lord with my mind with all seriousness.

Now, regarding Rom 5:1, I noticed two or three other places in Paul’s letters where a similar thing had happened—that is, where it seemed that the best explanation for a textual variant was that Paul had altered the manuscript from what the secretary had written (cf., e.g., 1 Cor 14:34-35, where all the MSS have the verses, though the western MSS place them at the end of v. 40 while the Alexandrians and Byzantines keep them in this location; note E. E. Ellis’ suggestion about how to explain this). The cumulative evidence thus started to mount. But what about Metzger’s comment that Tertius made a mistake in copying and that Paul let it go uncorrected? Apart from my bibliological presuppositions, can I give evidence that this would not have happened? Yes, I can. In 2 Thess 3:17 Paul says that he appends some handwritten note in every one of his letters. The point he is making is to prove to the Thessalonians that the document is really his. But if it is really his, then he must add his final comments as kind of a seal of approval as well as authentication (as was the custom in Paul’s day). Thus, it is virtually unthinkable that Paul would sign his name or write a note at the end of a letter unless he had read through it and made all the necessary corrections. (This is similar to a boss signing a letter that he loosely dictated to his secretary; his signature is an implicit stamp of approval on all that is in the letter.)

So much for a correction on Metzger’s view. But this still doesn’t answer your question directly. A part of the answer is simply that we don’t know about the process of inspiration. It is a mystery to us. Men were moved by the Holy Spirit. Yet their personalities were involved. Was the amanuensis inspired or was the author whose name appears on the book inspired? I suppose that only if we assume that both were equally inspired could we then conclude that there could be no mistakes in the original document, even if they were corrected before the document was sent out. But I’m not sure that that is a necessary conclusion, nor is the supposition that the amanuensis was equally as inspired as the apostle. We are simply not told in scripture about such things. However, my guess is that since amanuenses were basically secretaries, their personalities would not be nearly as engaged in the writing process as the authors’. (There are, to be sure, exceptions to this, but this will have to suffice for now.) If so, then the process of inspiration would not involve them directly. Now certainly, the final document, as the written Word, would be inerrant. And to that extent, the secretary’s work would have to be checked. But the Bible itself seems to give us no real clues about the inner workings of this process. That is left for us to figure out on the basis of the data that we have.

What I am saying is this, in short (it’s about time!): Although inerrancy means that the words of the original document as it was sent out would be what the original author meant to say, inerrancy does not mean that document could not be messy. Should we suppose that every letter would be perfectly clear and legible, that the readers could make out all that was written with ease? I don’t think that inerrancy guarantees that. For one thing, if it did, then I think we would have no doubts about the authorship of Hebrews (the author’s name and the addressees were almost certainly written on the verso [or outer] side of the papyrus scroll and were smudged beyond recognition by the time the letter started to be copied). For another, papyri were, though relatively cheap compared with other writing materials, still not cheap enough to throw away if mistakes were made in a manuscript. This would especially be the case if the letter was very long. It would be better simply to mark up the document and send it out. Remarkably, an author would occasionally even let a document go as is, by clarifying or even correcting his own comments in the letter, rather than by starting over. For example, in 1 Cor 1:14 Paul says, “I thank God that I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius,” and continues on with his point. Then, in v. 16 he corrects this comment: “Now I did baptize also the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I do not know whether I baptized any other.” The correction is in two directions: (1) more names are added to the list of baptizees, and (2) tentativeness is expressed about what was previously asserted as certain. This text speaks well to the issue at hand: Inerrancy in this case must mean that Paul could correct his error ‘on the fly’; although the kind of correction he made here is different from the kind he makes in Rom 5:1, both instances affirm the same kind of thing Paul did with his original document: he corrected it rather than start over with a clean slate.

However we define inerrancy, we have to account for 1 Cor 1:14-16; and I think that the speculative suggestion I made for Rom 5:1 falls within the scope of what Paul definitely does elsewhere. Thus, the speculation is not in itself outside the scope of how I would define inerrancy.

Related Topics: Inerrancy, Soteriology (Salvation), Textual Criticism, Theology Proper (God)

Inspiration, Preservation, and New Testament Textual Criticism

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Author's Note1

The Bible has always been of central importance to evangelicals. It not only defines what we are to believe; it also tells us how we are to behave. A clear and faithful exposition of the scriptures has, historically, been at the heart of any relevant pastoral ministry. Now in order for a particular passage to be applied legitimately, it must first be understood accurately. Before we ask, “How does this text apply to me?” we must ask “What does this text mean?” And even before we ask “What does this text mean?” we must first ask, “What does this text say?” Determining what a text says is what textual criticism is all about. In other words, textual criticism, as its prime objective, seeks to ascertain the very wording of the original. This is necessary to do with the books of the Bible—as with all literary documents of the ancient world—because the originals are no longer extant. Not only this, but of the more than five thousand manuscript copies of the Greek New Testament no two of them agree completely. It is essential, therefore, that anyone who expounds the Word of God be acquainted to some degree with the science of textual criticism, if he or she is to expound that Word faithfully.

The relevance of textual criticism, however, is not shut up only to those who have acquaintance with Greek, nor only to those in explicitly expository ministries. Textual criticism is relevant to every Christian, precisely because many of the textual differences in Greek can be translated into another language. Thus the differences between the New Testament of the King James Version, for example, and that of the New American Standard Version are not just differences in the English; there are also differences in the Greek text behind the English—in fact, over 5,000 differences! And with the publication of the New King James New Testament in 19792 (in which the KJV was rendered in modern English), the translational differences are diminished while the textual differences are heightened. The average modern American Christian who lacks the requisite educational background to read Elizabethan English now has no excuse for not reading the (new) King James Version. In light of the heavy promotion by Thomas Nelson Publishers,3 that oft-asked question, “What is the most accurate New Testament?,” is increasingly a question about a version’s textual basis as much as it is of the translational philosophy behind it.

What is the textual difference, then, between the (new) KJV NT and other modern translations? In a nutshell, most modern translations are based on a few ancient manuscripts, while the (new) KJV NT is based on a printed edition of the Greek New Testament (called the Textus Receptus or TR) which, in turn, was derived from the majority of medieval manuscripts (known collectively as the majority text [MT] or Byzantine text). In one respect, then, the answer to the question “What is the most accurate New Testament?” turns on the question, “Which manuscripts are closest to the original—the few early ones or the many late ones?”

In this paper it is not my objective to answer that question.4 Rather, I wish to address an argument that has been used by TR/MT advocates—an argument which is especially persuasive among laymen. The argument is unashamedly theological in nature: inspiration and preservation are intrinsically linked to one another and both are intrinsically linked to the TR/MT. That is to say, the doctrine of verbal-plenary inspiration necessitates the doctrine of providential preservation of the text, and the doctrine of providential preservation necessarily implies that the majority text (or the TR)5 is the faithful replica of the autographs. Inspiration (and inerrancy) is also used for the Byzantine text’s correctness in two other ways: (1) only in the Byzantine text do we have an inerrant New Testament; (2) if any portion of the New Testament is lost (no matter how small, even if only one word), then verbal-plenary inspiration is thereby falsified.

If inspiration and preservation can legitimately be linked to the text of the New Testament in this way, then the (new) KJV NT is the most accurate translation and those who engage in an expository ministry should use this text alone and encourage their audiences to do the same. But if this theological argument is not legitimate, then New Testament textual criticism needs to be approached on other than a theological a priori basis. And if so, then perhaps most modern translations do indeed have a more accurate textual basis after all.

Our approach will be to deal first with the arguments from preservation, then to deal with the arguments related more directly to inspiration and inerrancy.6

I. PRESERVATION

A. The Statement

On a popular level, the TR-advocating and “King James only” fundamentalist pamphleteers have waged a holy war on all who would use any modern version of the New Testament, or any Greek text based on the few ancient manuscripts rather than on the many late ones.7 Jasper James Ray is a highly influential representative of this approach.8 In his book, God Wrote Only One Bible,9 Ray says that no modern version may properly be called the Bible,10 that salvation and spiritual growth can only come through versions based on the TR,11 and that Satan is the prime mover behind all versions based on the more ancient manuscripts.12 If Ray’s view is correct, then those who use modern translations or a Greek New Testament based on the few ancient manuscripts are, at best, dupes of the devil and, at worst, in danger of forfeiting their immortal souls.

Ray’s chief argument on behalf of the TR is based on preservation. In the following statements, notice how closely inspiration and preservation are linked—and how both are linked to the Textus Receptus. Ray says, for example, that “the Textus Receptus … was given by the inspiration of God, and has been providentially preserved for us today.”13 He further adds that “the writing of the Word of God by inspiration is no greater miracle than the miracle of its preservation in the Textus Receptus.”14 Preservation, then, for Jasper James Ray, takes place on the same level as inspiration—i.e., extending to the very words.15

Even in the works which are dressed in more scholarly garb, this theological presupposition (along with the witch-hunting invectives16) is still present. David Otis Fuller, for example, has edited several volumes in which professors and Bible scholars have contributed—all for the purpose of proving that the TR or MT is the best Greek New Testament. In Which Bible? he declares:

Naturalistic New Testament critics seem to last to have reached the end of the trail. Westcott and Hort’s broad highway, which appeared to lead so quickly and smoothly to the original New Testament text, has dwindled down to a narrow foot path and terminated finally in a thicket of trees. For those who have followed it, there is only one thing to do, and that is to go back and begin the journey all over again from the consistently Christian starting point; namely, the divine inspiration and providential preservation of Scripture.17

The sequel to Which Bible?, entitled True or False?, is “DEDICATED TO All lovers of the Book; who believe in the Verbal, Plenary Inspiration of the Scriptures; and who, of necessity [,] must believe in the Providential Preservation of the Scriptures through the centuries; and who hold that the Textus Receptus (Traditional Text) is nearest to the Original Manuscripts.”18

This theological refrain—the linking of inspiration to preservation, and both to the majority text—got its major impetus from John William Burgon. Burgon, a high Church Anglican, Dean of Chichester, toward the end of the nineteenth century was both prolific and vituperative in his attacks against Westcott and Hort (the Cambridge scholars who produced the Greek text which stands, more or less, behind all modern translations). There is no question that Burgon is the most influential writer on behalf of the TR—indeed, that he is the father of the majority text movement—for he is quoted with extreme approbation by virtually every TR/MT advocate.19 He argued that “there exists no reason for supposing that the Divine Agent, who in the first instance thus gave to mankind the Scriptures of Truth, straightway abdicated His office; took no further care of His work; abandoned those precious writings to their fate.”20

Wilbur Pickering, former president of the Majority Text Society, has continued this type of argument into the present debate. In his 1968 master’s thesis done at Dallas Seminary (“An Evaluation of the Contribution of John William Burgon to New Testament Textual Criticism”) he argued that this doctrine is “most important” and “what one believes does make a difference.”21 Further, he linked the two together in such a way that a denial of one necessarily entails a denial of the other: “the doctrine of Divine Preservation of the New Testament Text depends upon the interpretation of the evidence which recognizes the Traditional Text to be the continuation of the autographa.”22 In other words, Pickering seems to be saying: “if we reject the majority text view, we reject the doctrine of preservation.”23

E. F. Hills, who wrote his doctoral dissertation on NT textual criticism at Harvard Divinity School, argued:

If the doctrine of the Divine inspiration of the Old and New Testament scriptures is a true doctrine of providential preservation of the scriptures must also be a true doctrine. It must be that down through the centuries God has exercised a special providential control over the copying of the scriptures and the preservation and use of the copies, so that trustworthy representatives of the original text have been available to God’s people in every age.24

Hills adds that “all orthodox Christians, all Christians who show due regard for the Divine inspiration and providential preservation of Scripture, must agree with Burgon on this matter.”25

These writers are just the tip of the iceberg. Indeed, so universal is the doctrinal underpinning of preservation found among MT/TR advocates that Bart Ehrman could say.

One cannot read the literature produced by the various advocates of the Majority text without being impressed by a remarkable theological concurrence. To one degree or another, they all (to my knowledge, without exception) affirm that God’s inspiration of an inerrant Bible required His preservation of its text.26

And even Theo Letis, a TR advocate himself, flatly states, “The only reason that the Majority Text proponents even argue for the Byzantine text is because theologically they have both a verbal view of inspiration—and as a hidden agenda an unexpressed (at least as part of their present method) belief in providential preservation.”27

To sum up: on a lay level, as well as on a pseudo-scholarly level, and even on a scholarly level, inspiration, preservation and the TR/MT are linked intrinsically. According to Byzantine text advocates, you cannot have one without the other.

B. The Critique

There are a number of serious problems with the theological premise of Byzantine text advocates. Generally speaking, however, they all fall into one of three groups: (1) a question-begging approach, (2) faulty assumptions, and (3) a non-biblical doctrinal basis. As will be readily seen, there is a great deal of overlap between these three areas.

1. Question-Begging Approach

Majority text proponents beg the question for their view on at least three fronts.

a. What do you count? First, they only count Greek manuscripts. Yet, there are almost twice as many Latin NT manuscripts as there are Greek (over 10,000 to approximately 5,500). If the Latin manuscripts were to be counted, then modern translations would be vindicated rather than the King James, because the early Greek manuscripts which stand behind the vast bulk of Latin manuscripts and behind modern translations are quite similar.28 At one point, E. F. Hills argued that “God must preserve this text, not secretly, not hidden away in a box for hundreds of years or smoldering unnoticed on some library shelf, but openly before the eyes of all men through the continuous usage of His Church.”29 Preservation is therefore linked to public accessibility. It is precisely at this point that the argument for counting only Greek manuscripts begs the question. As Ehrman points out:

[According to Hills,] the subsequent preservation of the New Testament text did not extend to guaranteeing the accuracy of its translation into other languages, but only to protecting the relative purity of the Greek text itself. Here, of course, his prior argument that God preserved the text for the sake of His church becomes irrelevant—since only a select minority in the church has ever known Greek.30

b. When do you count? Majority text advocates tacitly assume that since most Greek manuscripts extant today belong to the Byzantine text, most Greek manuscripts throughout church history have belonged to the Byzantine text. But this assumption begs the question in the extreme, since there is not one solid shred of evidence that the Byzantine text even existed in the first three centuries of the Christian era.31 Not only this, but as far as our extant witnesses reveal, the Byzantine text did not become the majority text until the ninth century. Furthermore, for the letters of Paul, there is no majority text manuscript before the ninth century. To embrace the MT/TR text for the corpus Paulinum, then, requires an 800-year leap of faith. Not only is this a severe instance of petitio principii, but it also is a cavalier treatment of historical evidence unbecoming of those who boast a faith which cannot be divorced from history. No majority text advocate would tolerate such a fideistic leap regarding the person and work of Christ;32 how then can they employ it when it comes to the text?

c. Where do you count? Suppose we were to assume that only Greek manuscripts should be counted. And suppose further that public accessibility is a legitimate divine motive for preservation. Given these two assumptions, one would expect the Byzantine text-type to be readily accessible in all pockets of the ancient Greek-speaking world. But that is demonstrably not true. For example, it was not readily available to Christians in Egypt in the first four centuries. After carefully investigating the Gospel quotations of Didymus, a fourth-century Egyptian writer, Ehrman concludes, “These findings indicate that no ‘proto-Byzantine’ text existed in Alexandria in Didymus’ day or, at least if it did, it made no impact on the mainstream of the textual tradition there.”33 What confirms this further is that in several placed Origen, the great Christian textual scholar, speaks of textual variants that were in a majority of manuscripts in his day, yet today are in a minority, and vice verse.34 Granting every gratuitous concession to majority text advocates, in the least this shows that no majority text was readily available to Christians in Egypt. And if that is the case, then how can they argue for a majority on the basis of public accessibility?

2. Faulty Assumptions

More serious than a question-begging approach are several decidedly faulty assumptions made by MT/TR advocates. These assumptions are shown to be faulty either by the force of logic or empirical evidence.

a. Preservation is a necessary corollary of inspiration. E. F. Hills argued:

If the doctrine of the divine inspiration of the Old and New Testament Scriptures is a true doctrine the doctrine of the providential preservation of these Scriptures must also be a true doctrine. It must be that down through the centuries God has exercised a special providential control… . God must have done this …35

In other words, preservation proceeds from and is a necessary consequence of inspiration. Or, in the words of Jasper James Ray, “the writing of the Word of God by inspiration is no greater miracle than the miracle of its preservation …”36 Ehrman has ably pointed out the logical consequences of such linkage:

Any claim that God preserved the New Testament text intact, giving His church actual, not theoretical, possession of it, must mean one of three things—either 1) God preserved it in all the extant manuscripts so that none of them contain any textual corruptions, or 2) He preserved it in a group of manuscripts, none of which contain any corruptions, or 3) He preserved it in a solitary manuscript which alone contains no corruptions.37

The problem with these first and second possibilities is that neither one of them is true: no two NT manuscripts agree completely—in fact, there are between six and ten variations per chapter for the closest two manuscripts.

Is it possible that the NT text was preserved intact in a single manuscript? No one argues this particular point, because it is easily demonstrable that every manuscript has scribal errors in it. However, one group does argue that a particular printed edition of the NT has been providentially preserved. Proponents of the Textus Receptus (as opposed to those who argue for the majority text38) believe that the TR satisfies this third requirement. There are numerous problems with such a view,39 but it should be noted that TR advocates are at least consistent in putting preservation on the same level with inspiration.

Nevertheless, there seems to be one major flaw in their approach, from a biblical standpoint: If the TR equals the original text, then the editor must have been just as inspired as the original writers, for he not only selected what readings were to go in this first published edition, but he also created some of the readings. To be specific, the last leaf of Erasmus’ copy of Revelation was missing, so he “back-translated” from Latin into Greek and thereby created numerous readings which have never been found in any Greek manuscript. This should cause some pause to those conservative Protestants who hail Erasmus’ text as identical with the original, for such a view implies that revelation continued into at least the sixteenth century. Not only this, but Erasmus was a Roman Catholic who battled papists and Protestants alike—the very man against whom Martin Luther wrote his famous Bondage of the Will. Are conservative Protestants willing to say that this man was just as inspired as the apostle Paul or John? What is especially ironic about this is that most TR advocates reject the text of Westcott and Hort because (in part), as high church Anglicans, they had Roman Catholic leanings!40

b. Preservation must be through “majority rule.” To be sure, most scholars who employ the doctrine of preservation as a test-critical argument do not embrace the TR as equal to the original text. In this, they are not as consistent about the corollary between inspiration and preservation, but they are certainly more rational in other ways. Nevertheless, there are four serious objections to the argument that preservation must be through “majority rule.” First, no where does the Bible state how God would preserve the NT text. Thus their argument is based squarely on silence.

Second, as Sturz points out,

… the Bible itself reveals that there have been occasions when there has been a famine or dearth of the Word of God. One thinks, for example, of the days of Josiah (2 Kings 22:8ff.) when apparently the Scriptures were reduced to one copy. Nevertheless, it still could be said that God’s Word was preserved.41

Third, in light of this biblical precedent of how God preserved a portion of the Old Testament, can we not see the hand of God guiding a man such as Constantin von Tischendorf to St. Catherine’s Monastery at the base of Mount Sinai, only to discover codex Sinaiticus—the oldest complete NT known to exist—shortly before it would have met an untimely demise as kindling for the furnace?42 There are, in fact, countless stories of manuscript discoveries which seem to speak quite eloquently for God’s providential preservation of the text.43 A more biblically based view of God’s providential ways would not argue that God’s hand is only seen or always seen in “majority rule.”

Fourth, theologically one may wish to argue against the majority: usually it is the remnant, not the majority, that is right. If the history of Christianity teaches us anything, it teaches us that the majority is rarely right. Taylor points out a particularly cogent analogy:

… Hills’ understanding of God’s providential dealings in history fails to account for greater problems than the comparatively minor differences between the Textus Receptus and its modern rival. For example, God in His providence allowed in the medieval ages the doctrine of justification by faith to be almost eclipsed from public understanding until the Reformation leaders again called attention to that doctrine. Would Hills have God concerned that an exact form of the New Testament text be available but unconcerned about serious and widespread soteriological misunderstandings?44

The weight of this argument is especially felt when one considers that the variations between the majority text and modern critical texts are qualitatively very minor; most would say that no doctrine is affected by such differences.45 If God did not protect a major doctrine like justification, on what basis can we argue that he would protect one form of the text over another when no doctrinal issues are at stake?46

c. Public accessibility of a pure text is a theological necessity. We have touched on this to some degree already—at least by way of analogy. But the argument is also contradicted by direct evidence. Pickering believes that “God has preserved the text of the New Testament in a very pure form and it has been readily available to His followers in every age throughout 1900 years.”47 There are two fundamental problems with this view.

First, assuming that the majority text (as opposed to the TR) is the original, then this pure form of text has become available only since 1982.48 The Textus Receptus differs from it in almost 2,000 places—and in fact has several readings which have “never been found in any known Greek manuscript,” and scores, perhaps hundreds, of readings which depend on only a handful of very late manuscripts.49 Many of these passages are theologically significant texts.50 Yet virtually no one had access to any other text from 1516 to 1881, a period of over 350 years. In light of this, it is difficult to understand what Pickering means when he says that this pure text “has been readily available to [God’s] followers in every age throughout 1900 years.”51 Purity, it seems, has to be a relative term—and, if so, it certainly cannot be marshaled as a theological argument.

Second, again, assuming that the majority text is the original, and that it has been readily available to Christians for 1900 years, then it must have been readily available to Christians in Egypt in the first four centuries. But this is demonstrably not true, as we have already shown.52 Pickering speaks of our early Alexandrian witnesses as “polluted” and as coming from a “sewer pipe.”53 Now if these manuscripts are really that defective, and if this is all Egypt had in the first three or four centuries, then this peculiar doctrine of preservation is in serious jeopardy, for those ancient Egyptian Christians had no access to the pure stream of the majority text. Therefore, if one were to define preservation in terms of the majority text, he would end up with a view which speaks very poorly of God’s sovereign care of the text in ancient Egypt.54

d. Certainty is identical with truth. It seems that the underlying motive behind MT/TR advocacy is the equation of certainty with truth. For TR advocates, certainty is to be found in a printed edition of the New Testament. Hills’ despair of finding absolute textual certainty through the standard means of textual criticism ultimately led him to abandon textual criticism altogether and replace it with a settled text, the Textus Receptus. Theo Letis, the self-proclaimed heir of Hills’ mantle, argues that “without a methodology that has for its agenda the determination of a continuous, obviously providentially preserved text … we are, in principle, left with maximum uncertainty, as Edward Hills characterizes it, versus the maximum certainty afforded by the methodology that seeks a providentially preserved text.”55

For MT advocates, certainty is found in the majority of manuscripts. Pickering argues, for example, that “If the Scriptures have not been preserved then the doctrine of Inspiration is a purely academic matter with no relevance for us today. If we do not have the inspired Words or do not know precisely which they be, then the doctrine of Inspiration is inapplicable.”56 At one point Pickering even states that uncertainty over the text also makes inspiration untrue.57

In response, several things can be mentioned. First, it should be noted that in one respect TR advocates are much more consistent than MT advocates: not only do they put preservation on exactly the same level as inspiration, but they also can be more certain about the text, since they advocate a printed edition. But their argumentation is so palpably weak on other fronts that we will only make two observations here: (a) since the TR itself went through several different editions by Erasmus and others, TR advocates need to clarify which edition is the inspired one; (b) one simply cannot argue for the theological necessity of public accessibility throughout church history and for the TR in the same breath—for the TR did not exist during the first 1500 years of the Christian era. (Rather inconsistent, for example, is the logic of Theo Letis when he, on the one hand, argues that God must have preserved the pure text in an open, public, and accessible manner for Christians in every generation58 and, on the other hand, he argues that “the Latin and non-majority readings [of the TR] were indeed restorations of ancient readings that fell out of the medieval Greek tradition”!59)

Second, regarding MT proponents, several criticisms can be leveled, two of which are as follows. (a) Pragmatically, there is in reality less certainty in their approach than there is among reasoned eclectics. In the Byzantine text, there are hundreds of splits where no clear majority emerges. One scholar recently found 52 variants within the majority text in the spaces of two verses.60 In such places how are majority text advocates to decide what is original? Since their method is in essence purely external (i.e., counting manuscripts), in those places the majority text view has no solution, and no certainty. At one point, Pickering recognized this lack of certainty: “Not only are we presently unable to specify the precise wording of the original text, but it will require considerable time and effort before we can be in a position to do so.”61 Ironically, therefore, according to Pickering’s own theological construct, inspiration for him must be neither relevant nor true. (b) Logically/theologically, the equation of inspiration with man’s recognition of what is inspired (in all its particulars) virtually puts God at the mercy of man and requires omniscience of man. The burden is so great that a text critical method of merely counting noses seems to be the only way in which human beings can be “relatively omniscient.” In what other area of Christian teaching is man’s recognition required for a doctrine to be true?

Finally, a general criticism against both the MT and TR positions: the quest for certainty is not the same as a quest for truth. There is a subtle but important distinction between the two. Truth is objective reality; certainty is the level of subjective apprehension of something perceived to be true. But in the recognition that truth is objective reality, it is easy to confuse the fact of this reality with how one knows what it is. Frequently the most black-and-white, dogmatic method of arriving at truth is perceived to be truth itself. Indeed, people with deep religious convictions are very often quite certain about an untruth. For example, cultists often hold to their positions quite dogmatically and with a fideistic fervor that shames evangelicals; first-year Greek students want to speak of the aorist tense as meaning “once-and-for-all” action; and almost everyone wants simple answers to the complex questions of life. At bottom this quest for certainty, though often masquerading as a legitimate epistemological inquiry, is really a presuppositional stance, rooted in a psychological insecurity.62

To sum up so far: The TR/MT advocates get entangled in numerous question-begging approaches and faulty—even contradictory—assumptions in their arguments concerning the providential preservation of the text. That is not the worst of it, however. Their view also is non-biblical.

3. Non-Biblical Doctrinal Basis

We are often told that the consistently Christian view, or the only orthodox view of the text is one which embraces the Byzantine text-type, and that to embrace a different form of the text is to imbibe in heresy. Although this charge is vigorously denied by non-MT/TR evangelicals, the tables are rarely turned. It is our contention, however, that to use the doctrine of preservation in support of the MT/TR is to have a non-biblical view which cannot consistently be applied to both testaments. The majority text-preservation connection is biblically unfounded in four ways, two of which have already been touched on.

a. Biblical silence. As we have argued concerning the faulty assumption that preservation must be through “majority rule,” the scriptures nowhere tell us how God would preserve the NT text. What is ironic is that as much ink as MT/TR advocates spill on pressing the point that theirs is the only biblical view, when it comes to the preserved text being found in the majority of witnesses, they never quote one verse. Although they accuse other textual critics of rationalism, their argument for preservation via the majority has only a rational basis, not a biblical one. “God must have done this”63—not because the Bible says so, but because logic dictates that this must be the case.

b. Old Testament examples of preservation. Again, as we have already pointed out, the few OT examples of preservation of scripture do not herald the majority, but only the mere existence of a written witness. This fact leads to our third point—that the argument from preservation actually involves bibliological contradictions.

c. A Marcionite view of the text. Marcion was a second century heretic whose literary remains are found only in essays written against him. Metzger points out that

The main points of Marcion’s teaching were the rejection of the Old Testament and a distinction between the Supreme God of goodness and an inferior God of justice, who was the Creator and the God of the Jews. He regarded Christ as the messenger of the Supreme God. The Old and New Testaments, Marcion argued, cannot be reconciled to each other.64

It is our contention that majority text advocates follow in Marcion’s train when it comes to their doctrine of preservation because their theological argument does not work for the Old Testament. If our contention is true, then the dogmatic basis for the majority text is bibliologically schizophrenic. The evidence is of two kinds.

First, the argument that the divine motive for preservation is public availability—as poor an argument as it is for the Greek text—is even worse for the Hebrew. Not only is it alleged that “God must do more than merely preserve the inspired original New Testament text. He must preserve it in a public way … through the continuous usage of His Church,”65 but that “down through the ages God’s providential preservation of the New Testament has operated only through believers …”66 But the Hebrew scriptures were neither preserved publicly—on display through the church as it were—nor only through Christians. In light of this, how can majority text advocates escape the charge of Marcionism? In what way can they argue that a bibliological doctrine is true for the NT but is not true for the OT?

Second, it is demonstrable that the OT text does not meet the criteria of preservation by majority rule. Although the Masoretic textual tradition (which represents almost the entirety of the extant Hebrew manuscripts) is highly regarded among most OT textual critics, none (to my knowledge) claim that it is errorless.67 Most OT scholars today would agree with Klein that “Samuel MT is a poor text, marked by extensive haplography and corruption—only the MT of Hosea and Ezekiel is in worse condition.”68 In fact, a number of readings which only occur in versions (i.e., not in the extant Hebrew manuscripts at all), or are found only in one or two early Qumran manuscripts, have indisputable claim to authenticity in the face of the errant majority.69 Furthermore, in many places, all the extant Hebrew manuscripts (as well as versions) are so corrupt that scholars have been forced to emend the text on the basis of mere conjecture.70 Significantly, many such conjectures (but not all) have been vindicated by the discovery of the Dead Sea scrolls.71 Majority text advocates simply do not grapple with these OT textual phenomena. And if they were to do so and were even to prove many minority text readings or conjectures false, our point would still stand. Only if they could demonstrate that all minority text readings and all conjectures were inferior (or at least probably so), could their argument hold water. The indisputable fact is that OT textual criticism simply cannot be conducted on the basis of counting noses. Since this is the case, either majority text advocates must abandon their theological premise altogether, or else be subject to the charge of a bibliological double standard.

d. The biblical doctrine of preservation In light of the occasional necessity of conjectural emendation for the OT text, it is our contention that not only is the majority text argument for preservation entirely wrong-headed, but so is any doctrine of preservation which requires that the exact wording of the text be preserved at all. In spite of the fact that even opponents of the MT/TR view embrace such a doctrine,72 it simply does not square with the evidence. Only three brief points will be made here, in hopes of stimulating a dialogue on this issue.

First, the doctrine of preservation was not a doctrine of the ancient church. In fact, it was not stated in any creed until the seventeenth century (in the Westminster Confession of 1646). The recent arrival of such a doctrine, of course, does not necessarily argue against it—but neither does its youthfulness argue for it. Perhaps what needs to be explored more fully is precisely what the framers of the Westminster Confession and the Helvetic Consensus Formula (in 1675) really meant by providential preservation.

Second, the major scriptural texts alleged to support the doctrine of preservation need to be reexamined in a new light. I am aware of only one substantial articulation of the biblical basis for this doctrine by a majority text advocate. In Donald Brake’s essay, “The Preservation of the Scriptures,” five major passages are adduced as proof that preservation refers to the written Word of God: Ps. 119:89, Isa. 40:8, Matt. 5:17–18, John 10:35, and 1 Pet. 1:23–25.73 One of the fundamental problems with the use of these passages is that merely because “God’s Word” is mentioned in them it is assumed that the written, canonical, revelation of God is meant.74 But 1 Pet. 1:23–25, for example, in quoting Isa. 40:8, uses ῥῆμα (not λόγος)—a term which typically refers to the spoken word.75 Brake’s interpretation of Ps. 119:89 (“For ever, O Lord, your word is settled in heaven”) is, to put it mildly, improbable: “The Word which is settled in heaven was placed there by a deliberate and purposeful act of God Himself.”76 It seems that a better interpretation of all these texts is that they are statements concerning either divine ethical principles (i.e., moral laws which cannot be violated without some kind of consequences) or the promise of fulfilled prophecy.77 The assumptions that most evangelicals make about the doctrine of preservation need to be scrutinized in light of this exegetical construct.

Third, if the doctrine of the preservation of scripture has neither ancient historical roots, nor any direct biblical basis, what can we legitimately say about the text of the New Testament? My own preference is to speak of God’s providential care of the text as can be seen throughout church history, without elevating such to the level of doctrine. If this makes us theologically uncomfortable, it should at the same time make us at ease historically, for the NT is the most remarkably preserved text of the ancient world—both in terms of the quantity of manuscripts and in their temporal proximity to the originals. Not only this, but the fact that no major doctrine is affected by any viable textual variant surely speaks of God’s providential care of the text. Just because there is no verse to prove this does not make it any less true.78

C. Conclusion on the Arguments concerning Preservation

In conclusion, MT/TR advocates argue from a theological vantage point which begs the question historically and logically. More serious than petitio principii, they make several faulty assumptions which not only run aground on rational and empirical rocks, but ultimately backfire. The most telling assumption is that certainty equals truth. This is an evangelical disease: for most of us, at some point, the quest for certainty has replaced the quest for truth. But even for majority text advocates, this quest must, in the last analysis, remain unfulfilled. The worst feature of their agenda, however, is not the faulty assumptions. It is that their view of preservation not only is non-biblical, it is also bibliologically schizophrenic in that it cannot work for both testaments. And that, to a majority text or Textus Receptus advocate—as it would be to any conservative Christian—is the most damaging aspect of their theological agenda.

II. INSPIRATION

Under the general topic of inspiration are two arguments: (1) if any portion of the NT is lost, then verbal-plenary inspiration is thereby falsified; and (2) only in the Byzantine text-type do we have an inerrant NT. This first argument is really the converse of the argument from preservation, while the second argument is a corollary of a corollary.

A. Does Loss of Text Falsify Inspiration?

In his paper, “Mark 16:9–20 and the Doctrine of Inspiration,”79 Wilbur Pickering argues that if any portion of the NT is lost, then inspiration is not only irrelevant—it also is not true:

Among those who wish to believe or claim that Mark’s Gospel was inspired by the Holy Spirit, that it is God’s Word, I am not aware of any who are prepared to believe that it could have been God’s intention to terminate the book with efobounto gar.80

Are we to say that God was unable to protect the text of Mark or that He just couldn’t be bothered? I see no other alternative—either He didn’t care or He was helpless. And either option is fatal to the claim that Mark’s Gospel is “God-breathed.”81 … if God was powerless to protect His Word then He wouldn’t really be God and it wouldn’t make all that much difference what He said.82 … If God permitted the original ending of Mark to be lost then in fact we do not have an inspired text.83

Anyone who denies the authenticity of Mark 16:9–20 cannot consistently affirm the Divine Inspiration of Mark 1:1–16:8. I now submit the question to the reader: have I not demonstrated that to reject Mark 16:9–20 is to relinquish the doctrine of Divine Inspiration—for Mark, certainly, but by extension for the rest of the Bible?84

Majority text advocates, as we have seen, argue that if there is uncertainty over the wording of the text, inspiration becomes irrelevant. Pickering’s argument goes one step beyond: if part of the text is lost, then “we do not have an inspired text.”

This argument seems flawed on five fronts. First, it is special pleading. One has to accept Pickering’s (incomplete) syllogism for this to be true: if God was not able or did not care to protect the text, then inspiration is not true. Why is it not possible for the text to be originally inspired but now lost? Apparently, once again, inspiration necessitates preservation. Further, why is it necessary to impugn either God’s power or his goodness if part of the NT is lost? Analogously, would anyone argue that if Christians—who are born of God—sin, then God is either powerless or not good enough to prevent them from sinning?

Second, as we have already mentioned in the first section of this paper, Pickering assumes that inspiration necessitates preservation. Yet, if our arguments against this supposition are correct, then this new argument (viz., lack of preservation implies non-inspiration) carries no weight.

Third, this approach is also Marcionite if there is ever a need for conjectural emendation for the Old Testament. Since that is the case, the loss of text (whether it be one word or a whole chapter) in principle cannot be used as a theological argument for a text critical viewpoint—otherwise proponents of such a view have to say that the OT is not inspired.

Fourth, there is a tacit assumption on the part of Pickering that everything a biblical author writes is inspired. But this is almost certainly not true, as can be seen by the lost epistles of Paul and the agrapha of Jesus. The argument is this: there seem to be a few, fairly well-attested (in patristic literature), authentic sayings of Jesus which are not found in the Gospels or the rest of the New Testament. Of course, evangelicals would claim that they are inerrant. But they would not be inspired because inspiration refers strictly to what is inscripturated within the canon. Further, Paul seems to have written three or four letters to the Corinthians, perhaps a now-lost letter to the Laodiceans,85 and apparently more than a few letters before 2 Thessalonians.86 If some NT epistles could be lost, and even some authentic sayings of Jesus could show up outside the NT, then either they were not inspired or else they were inspired but not preserved. Assuming the former to be true, then the question facing us in Mark’s Gospel is whether an inspired writer can author non-inspired material within the same document—material which is now lost. Such a possibility admittedly opens up a Pandora’s box for evangelicals, and certainly deserves critical thought and dialogue. Nevertheless, the analogies with the lost epistles of Paul and the authentic, non-canonical agrapha of Jesus seem to damage Pickering’s contention that if the last portion of Mark’s Gospel is lost, then inspiration is defeated.

Finally, although Pickering is unaware of any evangelical who thinks Mark ended his Gospel at verse 8, there does indeed seem to be an increasing number of scholars who believe this, evangelicals included among them.87 Ernest Best states, for example, that “It is in keeping with other parts of his Gospel that Mark should not give an explicit account of a conclusion where this is already well known to his readers.”88 Further, he argues that “it is not a story which has been rounded off but an open story intended to draw us on further.”89 At one point he makes a rather intriguing suggestion:

Finally it is from the point of view of drama that we can appreciate most easily the conclusion to the Gospel. By its very nature the conclusion forces us to think out for ourselves the Gospel’s challenge. It would have been easy to finish with Jesus’ victorious appearances to comfort the disciples: they all lived happily ever after. Instead the end is difficult … The readers or hearers of Mark know the disciples did see Jesus … Listen to the story as a believer and work it out for yourself. It is like one of Jesus’ own parables: the hearer is forced to go on thinking.90

Although one would not say that Ernest Best is an arch-conservative, his overall interpretation of the reason for the shorter ending should cause no offense to evangelicals, as is evident by the fact that a number of evangelicals do believe that the Gospel was intended to end at verse 8.91

The argument that loss of text invalidates inspiration is, therefore, seen to be logically fallacious, bibliologically inconsistent, and irrelevant for those evangelicals who believe that Mark intended to end his Gospel at the eighth verse of chapter sixteen.

B. Does the Byzantine Text-type Have Sole Claim to Inerrancy?

Occasionally, MT/TR advocates appeal to inerrancy in support of the Byzantine text-type’s superiority. The argument is not new,92 but it has received a clear articulation recently by James A. Borland. In his article, “Re-examining New Testament Textual-Critical Principles and Practices Used to Negate Inerrancy,”93 Borland argues that the Alexandrian readings of ’Ασάφ in Matt. 1:7, ᾿Αμώς in 1:10, and τοῦ ἡλίου ἐκλιπόντος in Luke 23:45 are errors and must, for this reason, be rejected (for otherwise they impugn the character of the biblical authors and thereby falsify inerrancy). The reason such are errors, according to Borland, is that, with regard to the Matthean passage, Asaph and Amos were not kings (thus, spelling errors on the part of early Alexandrian scribes); and with regard to the Lukan passage, since “a solar eclipse is impossible astronomically during the full moon of the Passover when sun and moon are 180 degrees apart in relation to the earth”94 and since the verb ἐκλείπω, when used with ἥλιος, normally indicated an eclipse,95 Luke would err if he had written this. In both the Matthean texts and the Lukan passage, the Byzantine text-type has readings which do not involve such errors (respectively, ’Ασά, ᾿Αμῶν, καὶ ἐσκοτίσθη ὁ ἥλιος [“and the sun was darkened”]). Borland’s conclusion is that (1) only in the Byzantine text-type do we have an inerrant Bible and (2) we must pour our text-critical methodology through the doctrinal grid of inerrancy.96

Our critique of Borland’s linking of inerrancy to the Byzantine text-type is fourfold. First, his argument seems to question either the intelligence or the doctrinal conviction of virtually all members of the Evangelical Theological Society as well as any other non-MT/TR inerrantists—stretching from B. B. Warfield to D. A. Carson. Carson goes so far as to say: “I cannot think of a single great theological writer who has given his energies to defend a high view of Scripture and who has adopted the TR, since the discovery of the great uncials and, later, the papyri and other finds.”97

Second, Borland’s view suffers from historical myopia. That is to say, he is superimposing his modern-day, twentieth-century definition of inerrancy on the text. But should not our definition of inerrancy be shaped by both the biblical statements which imply this doctrine as well as the phenomena which indicate how the biblical authors understood it? One is reminded of a typical layman’s understanding of inerrancy: the events of the Gospels must be in strict chronological sequence, the red letters in the Bible refer to the ipsissima verba (exact words) of Jesus, etc. Faced with the contrary evidence, would it be appropriate to change the text to suit one’s doctrine? More analogous still is the Purist controversy in the seventh century.

The beginning of the seventeenth century was marked by the rise of the Purist controversy. The Purists maintained that to deny that God gave the New Testament in anything but pure classical Greek was to imperil the doctrine of inspiration. The Wittemberg Faculty, in 1638, decreed that to speak of barbarisms or solecisms in the New Testament was blasphemy against the Holy Ghost. Hence, a correct conception of the peculiar idiom of the Apostles was impossible, and the estimate of different readings was seriously affected by this cause. Readings of existing editions were arbitrarily mingled, the manuscripts employed and the sources of variants adopted were not properly specified, and a full survey of the apparatus was impossible.98

In other words, in the seventeenth century many evangelicals argued that the Textus Receptus was not inspired and that many of its readings were even “blasphemy against the Holy Ghost.” They too had a myopic view of inerrancy, and they too poured their text-critical method through a dogmatic grid—but their conclusions were exactly the opposite of Borland’s!

Third, in letting his doctrinal position dictate the outcome of his textual criticism, Borland proves his own position wrong. There are plenty of passages far more troublesome to inerrancy than Matt. 1:7 or Luke 23:45. In fact, these passages hardly constitute a serious difficulty.99 To be consistent, Borland ought to advocate conjectural emendation wherever inerrancy seems to be in jeopardy. Who would not like a clean harmony between the two records of Judas’ demise, uniform parallel accounts of Peter’s threefold denial of Jesus, or an outright excision of the census by Quirinius? If Borland is unwilling to perform such radical surgery to the text under the guise of inerrancy, then why does he wave this doctrinal stick at significantly lesser problems? One can only suspect that inerrancy is not driving his decisions; rather, a preservation-majority connection is.100

Finally, we question whether it is an epistemologically sound principle to allow one’s presuppositions to dictate his text-critical methodology. It is our conviction that this is neither honest to a historical investigation nor fair to one’s evangelical heritage. If our faith cannot stand up to the scrutiny of rigorous investigation, then our beliefs need to be adjusted. But if we always jerk back the fideistic reins when the empirical horse goes too fast for us, then the charges of obscurantism, scholasticism, even pietistic dribble are well deserved. Borland believes that “unhappily our widely accepted textual-critical principles and practices may help to accommodate them in their jesting against the inerrancy of Scripture.”101 But surely the jesting will be louder and stronger if we change the rules of the game because the other team is winning!

In many respects, the theological premise of the TR/MT proponents is commendable. Too many evangelicals have abandoned an aspect of the faith when the going gets tough. That certain students of the NT have held tenaciously to a theological argument concerning the text of the NT speaks highly of their piety and conviction. If their view were biblically founded, it would also speak highly of their orthodoxy. But, as we have seen, their theological a priori is neither biblically, nor logically, nor historically sound.

Concerning preservation, their underlying motive that the quest for certainty is identical with the quest for truth speaks volumes about their method. Their most self-defeating argument is that truth must be found in the majority—for not only does this contradict God’s normal modus operandi, but it does not at all work for the Old Testament. Thus those who practice textual criticism by “majority rule” end up with a doctrine which promotes a bibliological double standard. At precisely this point they are out of step with orthodoxy, resembling more the ancient heretic Marcion in their view of the text.

Byzantine text advocates’ arguments which are related more directly to inspiration and inerrancy also falter. Pickering’s argument that loss of text falsifies inspiration is, once again, Marcionite (for there is loss of text in the OT), and his lone example—the longer ending of Mark—is irrelevant to anyone who thinks that the evangelist intentionally ended his Gospel at 16:8. Borland’s argument is that the presuppositions of inerrancy must drive our text-critical methodology and that, consequently, only in the Byzantine text-type do we have an inerrant text. This view was found to be not only isolationist (in which inerrancy is defined only in twentieth century terms which are, moreover, not shared by the vast bulk of twentieth century inerrantists), not only inconsistent (otherwise he would have to appeal to conjectures wherever he felt the text erred), but also epistemologically, historically, and evangelically unsound.

In sum, there is no valid doctrinal argument for either the Textus Receptus or the majority text. A theological a priori has no place in textual criticism. That is not to say that the majority text is to be rejected outright. There may, in fact, be good arguments for the majority text which are not theologically motivated. But until TR/MT advocates make converts of those who do not share with them their peculiar views of preservation and inspiration, their theory must remain highly suspect.


1 Originally published in Grace Theological Journal 12 (1992) 21-51; also published in New Testament Essays in Honor of Homer A. Kent, Jr. (ed. Gary T. Meadors; Winona Lake, IN: BMH Books, 1991): 69-102. No changes have been made to the original essay except for note 42.

2 The New King James Bible, New Testament (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1979).

3 One of the promotional means of the publisher is the sponsoring of concerts. On July 18, 1988, I attended one of these concerts at Reunion Arena in Dallas, Texas, where approximately 18,000 people were in attendance. At the end of the concert Dr. Arthur L. Farstad, editor of the NKJV, promoted this Bible. His chief “sales pitch” was text-critical in which he argued that Mark 16:9–20 was authentic and that modern translations, by deleting it (or at least by casting doubts on its authenticity), delete Christ’s resurrection from Mark’s gospel. His statement, however, was not altogether accurate, for although there is no resurrection appearance by Christ if the gospel ends at v. 8, there is still a resurrection! Whether intentional or not, the impression left on the audience was that the NKJV is a more orthodox translation than other modern versions.

4 For a discussion of this, see my article, “The Majority Text and the Original Text: Are They Identical?,” Bibliotheca Sacra 148:590 (April–June 1991) 151–69.

5 This statement is not meant to imply that MT=TR, but that within this school of thought are two divisions—those who hold that the printed edition of Erasmus (TR) is the original and those who hold that the reading of the majority of extant Greek witnesses is the original.

6 This breakdown is somewhat artificial, since the arguments from inspiration and inerrancy are closely tied to preservation as well. However, our organization is due chiefly to the fact that the arguments from preservation are more traditional and universal among TR/MT advocates, while the arguments from inspiration/inerrancy are of more recent vintage and are more idiosyncratic.

7 In passing, Peter Ruckman could be mentioned as the most extreme “King James only” advocate, going so far as to argue that even the Greek and Hebrew text need to be corrected by the KJV! Cf. his The Christian’s Handbook of Manuscript Evidence (Pensacola: Pensacola Bible Institute, 1970) 115–38; Problem Texts (Pensacola: Pensacola Bible Institute, 1980) 46–48.

8 Not only has he influenced many laymen, but David Otis Fuller dedicated the book, Counterfeit or Genuine[:] Mark 16? John 8?, of which he was the editor (2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Grand Rapids International Publications, 1978), to “Jasper James Ray, Missionary Scholar of Junction City, Oregon, whose book, God Wrote Only One Bible, moved me to begin this fascinating faith-inspiring study” (p. v). Further, even Zane C. Hodges, formerly professor of NT at Dallas Theological Seminary, and arguably the prime mover in the modern revival of the “Traditional Text,” “admits that it was the reading of Ray which began his investigation of textual criticism” (David D. Shields, “Recent Attempts to Defend the Byzantine Text of the Greek New Testament” [Ph.D. dissertation, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, Fort Worth, Texas; December, 1985] 26. This is based on an interview Shields had with Hodges on January 15, 1985).

9 Junction City, OR: Eye Opener Publishers, 1955.

10 “A multiplicity of differing Bible versions are in circulation today, resulting in a state of bewildering confusion. Some versions omit words, verses, phrases, and even chapter portions … Among these [versions] you’ll not find the Bible God gave when holy men spake as they were moved by the Holy Spirit …” (ibid., 1).

11 The following are representative statements: “… the TEXTUS RECEPTUS … is God’s sure foundation on which to rest our eternal salvation” (32). “It is impossible to be saved without ‘FAITH,’ and perfect-saving-faith can only be produced by the ‘ONE’ Bible God wrote, and that we find only in translations which agree with the Greek Textus Receptus refused by Westcott and Hort” (122). “Put poison anywhere in the blood stream and the whole becomes poisoned. Just so with the Word of God. When words are added or subtracted, Bible inspiration is destroyed, and the spiritual blood stream is poisoned. In this respect the revised Bibles in our day seem to have become spiritual guinea pigs, with multiple hypodermic shots-in-the-arm by so called Doctors of Divinity, who have used the serum of scholasticism well mixed with modern free-thinking textual criticism. When the Bible words are tampered with, and substitution is made, the Bible becomes a dead thing with neither power to give or sustain life. Of course, even under these conditions, it is possible to build up church membership, and report many professions. But what about regeneration? Are they born again? No person can be born again without the Holy Spirit, and it is evident the Holy Spirit is not going to use a poisoned blood stream to produce healthy Christians. Therefore, beware, beware, lest your faith become marred through the reading of corrupted Revised Versions of the Bible” (9).

12 In his introduction, Ray states that he “knows that the teaching of this book, regarding Textual Criticism, goes contrary to what is being taught in almost every college, seminary, and Bible school… . The reader may say, ‘How can so many good, sincere educated people be wrong?’ Herein lies the ‘mystery of iniquity’ (2 Thess. 2:7)” (ii). Later he argues: “Many of these men [who use modern versions] are true servants of the Lord, and we should, with patience and love, try to reveal the truth to them. They have been ‘brain-washed’ by their teachers; who were ‘brain-washed’ by other teachers in a ‘chain-reaction’ on back to Westcott and Hort who, in 1881, ‘switched’ most of our seminaries and Bible schools from the dependable TEXTUS RECEPTUS to inferior manuscripts, such as codex Sinaiticus and Codex Vaticanus. Of course this ‘chain-reaction’ could be traced on back to its beginning in Genesis 3:1, where (Satan) the serpent said unto the woman, ‘Yea, hath God said?’ In the humanistic theology of today we would hear something like this: ‘These words are not in the best manuscripts’” (101).

13 Ibid., 102.

14 Ibid., 104.

15 Further, inspiration and preservation are linked to tradition—especially the tradition of the English Bible, for Ray argues: “The Bible God wrote has been providentially preserved for us in the Greek Textus Receptus, from which the King James Bible was translated in 1611. Any version of the Bible that does not agree with this text, is certainly founded upon corrupted manuscripts” (ibid., 106).

16 David Otis Fuller, for example, in Counterfeit or Genuine, speaks of “bastard Bibles” (10) and echoes J. J. Ray in condemning virtually all evangelical institutes of higher learning for using other than the Textus Receptus or the King James Version: “This is a David and Goliath battle with practically all of the evangelical seminaries and colleges, Bible institutes, and Bible schools slavishly following essentially the Westcott and Hort Greek Text and the Westcott and Hort theory, both of which are fallacious in every particular” (12). He adds further, as did Ray, that Satan is the mastermind behind this defection from the King James and TR: “born-again Christians in this twentieth century are facing the most malicious and vicious attack upon God’s inspired Holy Word since the Garden of Eden. And this attack began in its modern form in the publication of the Revised Version of the Scriptures in 1881 in England” (9).

Donald A. Waite, a Dallas Seminary graduate, argues in his The Theological Heresies of Westcott and Hort (Collingswood, NJ: Bible for Today, 1979), that the two Cambridge dons were unregenerate, unsaved, apostate, and heretical (39–42). David D. Shields in his dissertation on “Recent Attempts to Defend the Byzantine Text of the Greek New Testament,” points out that “the evidence on which [Waite] bases these conclusions often would indict most evangelical Christians. Even in the author’s perspective, Westcott and Hort have theological problems, but the extreme severity of Waite’s approach would declare anyone apostate and heretical who does not hold to his line” (55).

Wilbur Pickering, another alumnus of Dallas Seminary, and the president of the Majority Text Society, although normally not as prone as many others to such language, does sometimes imbibe in vitriolic speech. For example, in his master’s thesis, “An Evaluation of the Contribution of John William Burgon to New Testament Textual Criticism” (Dallas Theological Seminary, 1968), he declares that the most ancient manuscripts came from a “sewer pipe” (93). In his book, The Identity of the New Testament Text (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1977)—a book which has become the standard text in support of the majority text—Pickering states, for example, that “Aleph and B have lied” and that “Aleph is clearly a bigger liar than B” (126), and that all the ancient manuscripts on which modern critical text are based are “convicted liars all” (135). Pickering has toned down  his language in his second edition (1980), perhaps due to book reviews such as R. A. Taylor’s in JETS 20 (1977) 377–81, in which such “emotionally-loaded language” is seen as clouding the issue (379). (In this second edition he says that “Aleph and B have … mistakes, … Aleph is clearly worse than B” [135], and the ancient manuscripts are “blind guides all” [145].)

Theodore P. Letis, editor of The Majority Text: Essays and Reviews in the Continuing Debate (Fort Wayne, IN: Institute for Biblical Textual Studies, 1987), seems to use fulminatory language against everybody, for he is in something of a theological no man’s land: his volleys are directed not only at modern textual criticism, but also at majority text advocates (since he advocates the TR)—and even against inerrantists! He speaks, for example, of “the idolatrous affair that evangelicals are having with the red herring of inerrancy” (22); those who advocate using modern-language Bibles (including the translators of the New King James Version) are “in pragmatic league with the goddess of modernity—Her Majesty, Vicissitude” (81); virtually all modern translations imbibe in Arianism (203); ad hominem arguments are everywhere to be found in his book.

17 Which Bible?, 5th ed. (Grand Rapids: Grand Rapids International Publications, 1975) 8–9.

18 True or False? The Westcott-Hort Textual Theory Examined, ed. D. O. Fuller (Grand Rapids: Grand Rapids International Publications, 1973) 5. This linking of inspiration and preservation is also seen most clearly in Fuller’s statement that “The Scriptures make it quite clear that He [God] is also well able to insure the providential preservation of His own Word through the ages, and that He is the Author and Preserver of the Divine Revelation. The Bible cannot be accounted for in any other way. It claims to be ‘Theopneustos,’ ‘God-breathed’ (2 Timothy 3:16)” (Which Bible?, 5). It is significant that Fuller gives no proof-text for preservation here, for to him if the Bible is inspired it must be providentially preserved.

19 In Shields’ dissertation (“Recent Attempts”), the first three chapters are entitled “The Popular Defenders of the Textus Receptus,” “The Scholarly Defenders of the Textus Receptus,” and “The Defenders of the Majority Text.” In each chapter there is a section (or two) on Burgon and the impetus he provided for the various groups (there is even a Dean Burgon Society which quite explicitly promotes his views). One may, with some justification, feel that very little new has been said by MT/TR advocates after Burgon.

20 J. W. Burgon, The Traditional Text of the Holy Gospels Vindicated and Established (arranged, completed, and edited by E. Miller; London: George Bell and sons, 1896) 12.

21 Wilbur N. Pickering, “An Evaluation of the Contribution of John William Burgon to New Testament Textual Criticism: (Th.M. thesis, Dallas Theological Seminary, 1968) 86.

22 Ibid., 91.

23 More recently, Pickering has linked inspiration and preservation so closely that he argued that a denial of one was a denial of the other: “Are we to say that God was unable to protect the text of Mark or that He just couldn’t be bothered? I see no other alternative—either He didn’t care or He was helpless. And either option is fatal to the claim that Mark’s Gospel is ‘God-breathed’” (“Mark 16:9–20 and the Doctrine of Inspiration” [a paper circulated to members of the Majority Text Society, September, 1988] 1).

24 E. F. Hills, The King James Version Defended (4th ed.; Des Moines: Christian Research, 1984) 2.

25 “The Magnificent Burgon,” in Which Bible?, 90.

26 Bart D. Ehrman, “New Testament Textual Criticism: Quest for Methodology” (M.Div. thesis, Princeton Theological Seminary, 1981) 40. Shields echoes the same viewpoint in his dissertation (“Recent Attempts”) where in each of his first three chapters in which he interacts with various proponents of MT/TR, there is extensive material on “theological perspective,” including inspiration and providential preservation. He summarizes that “the strong theological basis from which all advocates for primacy [of the Byzantine text-type] argue is a poor starting-point for determining the text of the New Testament and creates a history of the text which contradicts known facts” (p. 3 of abstract). Since Ehrman wrote his thesis and Shields his dissertation, Theo Letis has altered this picture to some degree: he is the first member of the MT/TR school (as far as I am aware) who, though affirming providential preservation, denies inerrancy (see n. 16).

27 Letis, Continuing Debate, 9. One might argue that Zane Hodges does not have such an agenda and that therefore he is an exception to the rule. At one point, in fact, Hodges himself seems to say this. In his interaction with Gordon Fee over this issue Hodges states: “To speak of ‘all modern advocates of the TR’ as having a ‘hidden agenda’ is an impermissible argumentum ad hominem. It also is not true. I, for one, would be quite happy to accept the Westcott-Hort text as it stands if I thought that the grounds on which it rested were adequate… . My agenda at least—and I speak here only for myself—is precisely what I have expressed it to be—namely, a call to re-examine the claims of the majority text in the light of increasingly perceived deficiencies of the theory that underlies today’s editions. I happen to think that a man’s theology can affect his textual theories, but I am perfectly willing to entertain sensible arguments from any quarter no matter what theology they may be associated with” (“Modern Textual Criticism and the Majority Text: A Response,” JETS 21 [1978] 145–46).

As Ehrman points out, however, there are two objections to Hodges’ alleged neutral stance: (1) “While Hodges is right that some theological presuppositions may have no effect on one’s approach toward textual criticism, it is equally clear that others certainly will. If one affirms as a theological ‘given’ that God would not allow a corrupted form of the New Testament text to be widely accepted, then, despite disclaimers, any argument to the contrary must be rejected out of hand. For the sake of personal integrity an individual such as Hodges may adduce strictly historical arguments for his position; but if one assumes this doctrine to be true and refuses to reconsider, then any textual method that does violence to it will be automatically rejected. For this reason, Hodges cannot ‘entertain sensible arguments from any quarter no matter what theology they may be associated with’” (49–50). (2) “The other problem with Hodges’s position is that he himself does not hold to it consistently. In another work [“A Defense of the Majority Text,” Dallas Seminary, n.d., p. 18], Hodges openly states that his historical (note, historical, not theological) arguments for the superiority of the Majority text will appeal only to those of similar theological conviction… .” (50). Not only this, but elsewhere Hodges rejects Hort’s views because of their rationalistic presuppositions, arguing that the “New Testament text is not like any other ancient text” and that “the logic of faith demands that documents so unique cannot have had a history wholly like that of secular writings” (Hodges, “Rationalism and Contemporary New Testament Textual Criticism,” BSac 128 [1971] 29–30). Ehrman concludes from this that “apart from the fact this amounts to little more than rhetoric, a paradigmatic argumentum ad hominem, it is clear that Hodges chooses to reject the principles of Wes[t]cott and Hort simply because they do not accept his doctrine of revelation and preservation. Under such circumstances, to turn around and say that all arguments for the contrary position will be given rational consideration is nothing short of misleading” (51).

28 B. M. Metzger, The Early Versions of the New Testament: Their Origin, Transmission and Limitations (Oxford: Clarendon, 1977) 359.

29 E. F. Hills, The King James Version Defended!, 31.

30 Ehrman, “Quest for Methodology,” 43.

31 See Wallace, “The Majority Text and the Original Text,” 159–66.

32 Ironically, in this instance majority text advocates—all of whom are theologically conservative—share by analogy some similarities with Bultmann’s separation of the Christ of history and the Christ preached by the early church (i.e., the Christ of faith or kerygmatic Christ).

33 B. Ehrman, Didymus the Blind and the Text of the Gospels (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1985) 260 (italics added).

34 See Wallace, “The Majority Text and the Original Text,” 166.

35 Hills, King James Version Defended!, 8.

36 Ray, God Wrote Only One Bible, 104.

37 Ehrman, “Quest for Methodology,” 44.

38 These two text deposits are not identical: there are almost 2,000 differences between them.

39 E.g., which TR? One of the editions of Erasmus, or Beza, or the Elzevirs? The TR has gone through numerous changes, not the least because Erasmus did a rather poor job of editing the text. Further, once one argues for the infallibility of the TR, any arguments drawn from public accessibility must be limited to the time of the Reformation and beyond, since the TR has scores of readings which not only were not in the majority beforehand, but were also nonexistent.

40 Not infrequently MT/TR advocates quote from the Life and Letters of Fenton John Anthony Hort, 2 vols. (London: Macmillan, 1896). A favorite passage is where Hort writes to Westcott on October 17, 1865: “I have been persuaded for many years that Mary-worship and ‘Jesus’-worship have very much in common in their causes and their results” (2:50). Cf. B. C. Wilkinson, “Our Authorized Bible Vindicated,” in Which Bible?, 279; D. A. Waite, The Theological Heresies of Westcott and Hort, 39–42.

In passing, it could, with equal justification, be mentioned that not only was Erasmus more Catholic than either Westcott or Hort, but even Burgon had a hidden agenda in his vigorous defense of the longer ending of Mark: he held to baptismal regeneration and Mark 16:16 seemed to him to be the strongest proof-text of this doctrine. E. F. Hills writes that he was “strenuously upholding the doctrine of baptismal regeneration” (“The Magnificent Burgon,” in Which Bible?, 87). That this is not an argumentum ad hominem is evident by the fact that his personal beliefs directly affected his text-critical approach. (It is perhaps not insignificant that when Hills’ essay was reproduced in True or False? [in Fuller’s introduction], this line about Burgon’s beliefs was dropped.)

41 H. A. Sturz, The Byzantine Text-Type and New Testament Textual Criticism (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1984) 41–42.

42 Cf. B. M. Metzger, The Text of the New Testament: Its Transmission, Corruption, and Restoration, 2d ed. (Oxford: University Press, 1968) 42–45. Recent evidence has come to light that suggests that the monks at St. Catherine’s were not burning leaves of ancient manuscripts at all and that Tischendorf’s account may indeed have been told so that what was in reality a theft would look like a rescue mission. I am currently investigating this version of how Codex Sinaiticus made its way from Egypt to Russia.

43 One thinks, for example, of C. H. Roberts rummaging through the basement of the John Rylands Library of Manchester University in 1935, only to chance upon a small scrap of papyrus which included portions of five verses from John’s gospel (18:31–33, 37–38), and was dated in the first half of the second century. In light of the radical German view of the date of John as c. a.d. 170 (harking back to F. C. Baur a century earlier), this small fragmentary copy of John’s gospel, as one scholar put it, “sent two tons of German scholarship to the flames.”

44 R. A. Taylor, “The Modern Debate Concerning the Greek Textus Receptus: A Critical Examination of the Textual Views of Edward F. Hills” (Ph.D. dissertation, Bob Jones University, 1973) 156.

45 Cf., e.g., D. A. Carson, The King James Version Debate: A Plea for Realism (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1979) 56.

46 Sturz gives some further helpful analogies (Byzantine Text-Type, 38): “Preservation of the Word of God is promised in Scripture, and inspiration and preservation are related doctrines, but they are distinct from each other, and there is a danger in making one the necessary corollary of the other. The Scriptures do not do this. God, having given the perfect revelation by verbal inspiration, was under no special or logical obligation to see that man did not corrupt it. He created the first man perfect, but He was under no obligation to keep him perfect. Or to use another illustration, having created all things perfect, God was not obligated to see that the pristine perfection of the world was maintained. In His providence the world was allowed to suffer the Fall and to endure a defacement of its original condition.”

47 Pickering, “Burgon,” 90.

48 Pickering states, “In terms of closeness to the original, the King James Version and the Textus Receptus have been the best available up to now. In 1982 Thomas Nelson Publishers brought out a critical edition of the Traditional Text (Majority, “Byzantine”) under the editorship of Zane C. Hodges, Arthur L. Farstad, and others which while not definitive will prove to be very close to the final product, I believe. In it we have an excellent interim Greek Text to use until the full and final story can be told” (Identity, 150).

49 Metzger, The Text of the New Testament, 100.

50 Cf., in particular, 1 John 5:7–8 and Rev. 22:19.

51 To be sure, Pickering was unaware that there would be that many differences between the TR and Majority Text when he wrote this note. Originally, his estimate was between 500 and 1,000 differences (“Burgon,” 120). But in light of the 2,000 differences, “purity” becomes such an elastic term that, in the least, it is removed from being a doctrinal consideration.

52 Literally scores of studies have been done to prove this, none of which Pickering seems to be aware. Gordon Fee speaks of Pickering’s “neglect of literally scores of scholarly studies that contravene his assertions” and “The overlooked bibliography her is so large that it can hardly be given in a footnote. For example, I know eleven different studies on Origen alone that contradict all of Pickering’s discussion, and not one of them is even recognized to have existed” (A Critique of W. N. Pickering’s The Identity of the New Testament Text: A Review Article,” WTJ 41 [1978–79] 415).

53 “Burgon,” 93.

54 We could add here an argument concerning the early versions. None of the versions produced in the first three centuries a.d. was based on the Byzantine text. But if the majority text view is right, then each one of these versions was based on polluted Greek manuscripts—a suggestion that does not augur well for God’s providential care of the NT text, as that care is understood by the majority text view. But if these versions were based on polluted manuscripts, one would expect them to have come from (and be used in) only one isolated region (for if only some Christians did not have access to the pure text, God’s sovereignty might be supposed still to be left intact). This, however, is not the case: the Coptic, Ethiopic, Latin, and Syriac versions came from all over the Mediterranean region. In none of these locales was the Byzantine text apparently used. (For further discussion and documentation, see Wallace, “The Majority Text and the Original Text,” 161–62.)

55 Letis, Continuing Debate, 200.

56 Pickering, “Burgon,” 88.

57 W. N. Pickering, “Mark 16:9–20 and the Doctrine of Inspiration” (unpublished paper distributed to members of the Majority Text Society, September, 1988) 1.

58 Letis, Continuing Debate, 192–94.

59 Ibid., 17.

60 K. Aland, “The Text of the Church?” (TrinJ 8 [1987] 136–37), commenting on 2 Cor. 1:6–7a. To be fair, Aland does not state whether there is no clear majority 52 times or whether the Byzantine manuscripts have a few defectors 52 times. Nevertheless, his point is that an assumption as to what really constitutes a majority is based on faulty and partial evidence (e.g., von Soden’s apparatus), not on an actual examination of the majority of manuscripts. Until that is done, it is impossible to speak definitively about what the majority of manuscripts actually read.

61 Identity of the New Testament Text, 150. In Pickering’s theological construct, then, the doctrine of inspiration has no significance, for elsewhere he argued “If we do not have the inspired Words or do not know precisely which they be, then the doctrine of Inspiration is inapplicable” (“Burgon,” 88).

62 Along this line is a significant corollary: those Christians who must have certainty in nonessential theological areas have a linear, or “domino,” view of doctrine: if one falls, all fall. A  more mature Christian, in our view, has a concentric view of doctrine: the more essential a doctrine is for salvation (e.g., the person of Christ), the closer it is to the center of his theological grid; the less essential a doctrine is (e.g., what he believes about eschatology), the more peripheral it is.

63 Hills, King James Version Defended!, 8.

64 B. M. Metzger, The Canon of the New Testament: Its Origin, Development, and Significance (Oxford: Clarendon, 1987) 91–92.

65 Hills, King James Version Defended!, 29.

66 Ibid., 26.

67 E. Würthwein, The Text of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979), for example, argues that “an arbitrary procedure which hastily and unnecessarily dismisses the traditional text … can lead only to a subjective form of the text which is uncertain historically and without any claim to theological relevance” (111). He further argues that the Masoretic text “has repeatedly been demonstrated to be the best witness to the text. Any deviation from it therefore requires justification” (113). Yet, as conservative as he is, he hastens to add, “But this does not mean that we should cling to [the Masoretic text] under all circumstances, because it also has its undeniable faults …” (ibid.). For similar statements regarding the value, but not inerrancy, of the Masoretic textual tradition, see F. E. Deist, Toward the Text of the Old Testament (Pretoria: Kerkboekhandel Transvaal, 1978) 247–49; R. W. Klein, Textual Criticism of the Old Testament: The Septuagint after Qumran (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974) 62–63; F. F. Bruce, Second Thoughts on the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964) 61–69.

68 Klein, Textual Criticism of the Old Testament, 70. Cf. also F. M. Cross, The Ancient Library of Qumran and Modern Biblical Studies (Garden City: Doubleday, 1958) 179–81; E. Tov, “The State of the Question: Problems and Proposed Solutions,” in 1972 Proceedings: IOSCS and Pseudepigrapha, ed. R. A. Kraft (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1972) 3; and especially E. C. Ulrich, The Qumran Text of Samuel and Josephus (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1978) 193–221.

69 Cf. the discussions (and demonstrations) to this effect in D. Barthélemy, Critique Textuelle de l’Ancien Testament: 2. Isaïe, Jérémie, Lamentations (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1986) 361–62 (Isa. 49:12), 403–7 (Isa. 53:11); Würthwein, Text of the Old Testament, 106–10 (on 108 he argues that Qumran MS 1QIsaa at Isa. 2:20 is superior to MT); J. A. Sanders, The Dead Sea Psalms Scroll (Ithaca: Cornell University, 1967) 17; E. Tov, The Text-Critical Use of the Septuagint in Biblical Research (Jerusalem: Simor, 1981) 70–72, 288–306; W. H. Brownlee, The Meaning of the Qumran Scrolls for the Bible (New York: Oxford University Press, 1964) 216–35; G. Vermes, The Dead Sea Scrolls: Qumran in Perspective, rev. ed. (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977) 203–9; Cross, Ancient Library, 169, 189, 191; Bruce, Second Thoughts, 61–62, 66–69; Klein, Textual Criticism of the Old Testament, 62, 71, 74–76; C. E. Pfeiffer, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Bible (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1969) 101–9.

70 Cf. especially J. Kennedy, An Aid to the Textual Amendment of the Old Testament (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1928). In the editorial note N. Levison comments that “Dr. Kennedy was very conservative theologically… . [yet] he was possessed with an intense passion for the correction of the Massoretic Text, and, as will be seen from the contents of this book, it was no mere speculation but considered and conscientious study that led him to his conclusions” (p. vii). But note also Brownlee, Meaning of the Qumran Scrolls, 231 (where he accepts an emendation by C. C. Torrey for Isa. 53:11, since “if the verse is to be scanned as poetry at all, some such alteration is necessary”); Klein, Textual Criticism of the Old Testament, 76 (on 1 Sam. 14:47); Würthwein, Text of the Old Testament, 108 (on Jer. 2:21); Bruce Second Thoughts, 69 (on Isa. 21:8; 53:11; and Deut. 32:8); Deist, Towards the Text of the Old Testament, 247–49,  260; D. M. Fouts, “A Suggestion for Isaiah XXVI 16,” forthcoming in Vetus Testamentum (prepublication draft courtesy of the author).

71 Ulrich notes that Josephus preserved “at least four genuine Samuel readings which were preserved by no other witness until 4QSama was recovered” (Samuel and Josephus, 2). Cf. also Cross, Ancient Library, 189 (“4QSama and 1 Chron. 21:16 preserve a verse [2 Sam. 24:16b] which has dropped out of MT by haplography …”); Würthwein, Text of the Old Testament, 142 (1QIsaa confirms conjectures at Isa. 40:6 and 40:17); Barthélemy, Critique Textuelle, 361–62) (1QIsaa at Isa. 49:12) 403–7 (Isa. 53:11); Brownlee, Meaning of the Qumran Scrolls, 218–19 (Isa. 11:6; 21:8) 225–26 (Isa. 49:12) 226–33 (Isa. 53:11).

72 Taylor’s comments in “Modern Debate” are representative: “It is essential, then, that this distinction be maintained between the concepts of inspiration, which insures the reliability of the divine revelation, and preservation, which insures the availability of the divine revelation” (148); “It is certain that if God took such pains to insure by inspiration the accuracy of the original manuscripts, He would not leave to an undetermined fate the future of those writings” (154); “Nothing of the inspired writings has been lost as a result of the transmission of the text. This, too, is in keeping with God’s preservation of the Scripture” (163). Cf. also Sturz, Byzantine Text-Type, 39–49, et al.

73 Donald L. Brake, “The Preservation of the Scriptures,” in Counterfeit or Genuine?, 175–218. This essay is a modification of Brake’s Th.M. thesis (Dallas Seminary, 1970). “The Doctrine of the Preservation of the Scriptures.”

74 In passing, it should be noted that all these proof-texts, if they refer to the written word at all, refer to the OT. The bibliological inconsistency is thus heightened, for MT/TR advocates apply this doctrine only to the NT.

75 BAGD, 735 (1).

76 Brake, “Preservation,” 181–82. Apparently Brake means by this that an exact written copy of the originals was brought to heaven. Not only is this difficult to believe, but it renders the “public accessibility” idea absolutely worthless.

77 “The scripture cannot be broken” (John 10:35), in its context, means “all will be fulfilled” or “all of it is true” rather than “we must have every word preserved.” “Not one jot or tittle from the law will pass away until all is fulfilled” (Matt. 5:18) plainly refers either to the ethical principles of the law or the fulfillment of prophecy, or both. (The validity of each of these options turns, to some degree, on how πληρόω is used elsewhere in Matthew and the weight given to those texts—e.g., are Matthew’s OT quotation introductory formulae [ἵνα πληρωθῇ in 1:22; 2:15; 4:14, etc., connecting the term to eschatological fulfillment] more significant or is Jesus’ own use of πληρόω [in 3:15, connecting it to ethical fulfillment] more significant?) Either way, the idea of preservation of the written text is quite foreign to the context.

Occasionally Matt. 24:35 (“Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away”) is used in support of preservation. But once again, even though this text has the advantage of now referring to Jesus’ words (as opposed to the OT), the context is clearly eschatological; thus the words of Jesus have certainty of fulfillment. That the text does not here mean that his words will all be preserved in written form is absolutely certain because (1) this is not only foreign to the context, but implies that the written gospels were conceived at this stage in Heilsgeschichte—decades before a need for them was apparently felt; (2) we certainly do not have all of Jesus’ words recorded—either in scripture or elsewhere (cf. John 20:30 and 21:25).

78 A possible objection to this statement might be that, on the one hand, we criticize MT advocates for their rational leap of linking preservation to the majority, while on the other hand, here we argue for providential care without having a biblical basis. Is this not the same thing? No. That preservation is to be seen in the majority is an a priori assumption turned into a doctrine; that the doctrinal content of the Bible is not affected by the variants is an a posteriori demonstration which stops short of dogma. Thus if a viable variant were to turn up that affected a major doctrine, our view of God’s providential care would not be in jeopardy, though it would be reworded. An analogy might be seen in two twentieth century wars: One could say that God’s hand was seen in the Allies’ defeat of the Axis in World War II, as well as the Coalition’s defeat of Iraq in the Persian Gulf War. But on occasion, a given battle in which the weather conditions had previously been reported as quite favorable to the Allies’/Coalition’s cause turned out to be unfavorable, this would not alter our overall picture of God’s sovereignty. Rather, we simply could not appeal to that battle in support of our view. Similarly, our view of God’s providential care of the text does not depend on the nonexistence of viable variants which teach heresy precisely because we are not affirming such on a doctrinal level. Our statement is made solely on the basis of the evidence. And just as historical investigation might uncover certain environmental conditions, or mechanical failures,  etc., which were unfavorable to the Coalition forces for a given battle, still the outcome of the Persian Gulf War is not at all altered by such evidence—even so any new discoveries of manuscripts may cause us to reshape how we speak of God’s providential care of the text, but the overall fact derived from empirical evidence is still the same.

79 A paper circulated to members of the Majority Text Society, September, 1988.

80 Pickering, “Mark 16:9–20 and the Doctrine of Inspiration,” 1.

81 Ibid.

82 Ibid.

83 Ibid.

84 Ibid., 4.

85 Col. 4:15–16 speaks of a letter coming to the Colossians from the Laodiceans. This is either now lost (the known “Letter to the Laodiceans” is forged) or is the letter to the Ephesians which circulated counterclockwise through Asia Minor, going from Ephesus, to Laodicea, to Colossae.

86 The statement in 3:17 (“this greeting is in my own hand, Paul’s, which is a sign in every letter [of mine]”) seems to imply a well-known practice. Yet, most NT scholars would date only Galatians and 1 Thessalonians as coming prior to this letter—i.e., among the known letters of Paul.

87 So much so that W. R. Telford could argue, “While a number of scholars would still adhere to the view that the Gospel originally extended beyond 16:8, more and more are coming to the opinion that it was intended to end at 16:8, and that it does so indeed, in literary terms, with dramatic appositeness” (“Introduction: The Gospel of Mark,” in The Interpretation of Mark, ed. W. R. Telford [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985] 26). Cf. also C. S. Mann, Mark: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Vol. 27 in the Anchor Bible (Garden City: Doubleday, 1986) 659 (“Mark did indeed finish his gospel at v. 8, and … he had a specific and well-defined purpose in doing so”); R. P. Meye, “Mark 16:8—The Ending of Mark’s Gospel,” BibRes 14 (1969) 33–43 ; H. Anderson, The Gospel of Mark, in the New Century Bible Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976) 351–54; H. Paulsen, “Mark xvi. 1–8,” NovT 22 (1980) 138–70; N. R. Petersen, “When Is the End Not the End? Literary Reflections on the Ending of Mark’s Narrative,” Interp 34 (1980) 151–66; T. E. Boomershine and G. L. Bartholomew, “The Narrative Technique of Mark 16:8,” JBL 100 (1981) 213–23. Among those who are evangelicals (in the strictest sense of the word—i.e., inerrantists), a number of authors antedating Pickering’s essay held to this view: cf., e.g., N. B. Stonehouse, The Witness of Matthew and Mark to Christ (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1944) 86–118; W. L. Lane, The Gospel of Mark in the New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974) 582–92; J. D. Grassmick also seems to lean toward this view (Mark in the Bible Knowledge Commentary [Wheaton: Victor Books, 1983] 193–94).

88 E. Best, Mark: The Gospel as Story (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1983) 73.

89 Ibid., 74.

90 Ibid., 132.

91 See n. 87. Besides literary criticism, another argument could be used to support the view that the gospel ended here: only if Mark’s Gospel were originally published in codex form (in which case the last leaf could have possibly fallen off) could one argue that the ending of Mark was lost. But if, as extrabiblical parallels are increasingly showing to be more likely, the Gospel was originally written on a scroll, then the last portion of the book, being at the center of the scroll, would be the least likely portion of the book to be lost.

92 Cf., e.g., G. Salmon, Some Thoughts on the Textual Criticism of the New Testament (London: John Murray, 1897) 26; H. C. Hoskier, “Codex Vaticanus and Its Allies,” in Which Bible?, 143.

93 J. A. Borland, “Re-examining New Testament Textual-Critical Principles and Practices Used to Negate Inerrancy,” JETS 25 (1982) 499–506; reprinted in Letis, Continuing Debate, 46–57. All references in this paper are to the original article in JETS.

94 Borland, “Negate Inerrancy,” 504.

95 Ibid., 505, n. 22.

96 Ibid., 506.

97 D. A. Carson, The King James Version Debate: A Plea for Realism (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1979) 71.

98 M. R. Vincent, A History of the Textual Criticism of the New Testament (New York: Macmillan, 1899) 94. Timothy J. Ralston of Dallas Seminary is to be credited with pointing out this quotation to me.

99 All that needs to be noted is that variant spellings of proper names were in existence in the first century, as well as in the LXX (thus, “Asaph” and “Amos,” though unusual spellings, are hardly to be classified as errors); and, as Borland himself admits, ἐκλείπω with ἥλιος, though usually meaning “to eclipse,” does not always have this technical nuance. Nevertheless, Borland is quite right that both passages strike one as a bit peculiar. But if they strike us a little odd, then surely they did the same for the ancient scribes—who would have changed the text out of their own pietistic motives. What Borland simply cannot explain is how the Alexandrian readings arose in the first place, rendering them more probably original.

100 Throughout his article Borland speaks of “the vast numerical superiority” of his preferred reading (“Negate Inerrancy,” 504). He concludes the article by saying, “In our quest for the true reading we must not confine ourselves to a few early MSS while forgetting the thousands of MSS that each bear an independent testimony to the text” (ibid., 506).

101 Ibid., 506.

Related Topics: Inspiration, Textual Criticism

Is Intra-Canonical Theological Development Compatible with a High Bibliology?

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Preface

I must confess: I am neither a systematic theologian nor the son of a systematic theologian. My realm is exegesis. But it is also biblical theology. In the past quarter of a century, I have wrestled with James, struggled with Peter, and wept with Paul. The humanity of the Bible has become precious to me because it underscores all the more the transcendence and majesty of the One to whom it bears witness. At the same time, my own evangelical convictions, my own theological training, has not been forgotten. And my views of bibliology are a part of that package. This paper is a continuation of my struggle—not with Peter, but with the tension between the divine Word and the human words that together we call the Holy Bible.

Definition of Terms

I need to begin this essay by defining the basic terms. These include “intra-canonical,” “theological development,” and “high bibliology.” We will forego the definition of “compatible.” By “intra-canonical” I mean within the Bible, as opposed to trajectories into early church history. This may be between the testaments or even within either testament. By “theological development,” I mean something similar to progressive revelation. That is, the movement from a more primitive understanding of some theological truth to a more advanced understanding. And here, I am speaking about the perspective of the biblical writer, not later interpreters. By a “high bibliology,” I mean the doctrinal confession of the Evangelical Theological Society—that the scriptures are indeed the Word of God written, that they are verbally and plenarily inspired. Putting all this together, the question I am asking is this: Is it consistent with a high bibliology to claim that there is a movement from a more primitive to a more advanced theological understanding within the pages of Holy Writ?

In a very real sense, this question gets at the heart of the two sides of scripture: it is both a divine and a human product. It is the Word of God and the words of men. It embodies universal and divine truths that are written for particular occasions in human language. Verbal-plenary inspiration finds its counterpart in grammatical-historical exegesis.

Twenty-five years ago, the question of the human side of the equation in theological formulation was addressed with some urgency from within our camp. In 1977, Clark Pinnock noted that “Although Protestant orthodoxy confesses both the divine and the human element in the Bible, as it also does in Christology, it has been happier affirming its divine authority than admitting its human characteristics.”1 In his 1980 study, Gordon Lewis concurred: “One has to agree [with Pinnock], after considerable research, that not as much attention has been devoted to the human as to the divine side of Scripture by conservative scholars. This may be explained because of the need to defend its divine side and because of the complexities that consideration of the humanity involves. Nevertheless, neglect of the human aspect in comparison with the divine can hardly be denied.”2

It seems to me, however, that not much has been done to explicitly redress this situation. Recently, David Dockery wrote: “It is our belief that the divine-human tension is the most crucial issue in contemporary discussions concerning Christian Scripture.”3 On the one hand, the tensions between the divine and human, though acknowledged by evangelicals, are almost always focused on the nature of language. And even here, there is in some sense a recognition of the limitations and even imperfections of human communication. From Calvin to Kantzer, those who embrace verbal inspiration and inerrancy have no problem allowing for non-substantive errors in the text.4 But from my limited exposure to the realm of dogmatics there seems to be little more than lip service to the historical—the ad hoc nature of the sixty-six individual documents that were later collected into one large corpus. Just as there are limitations in human language, so there are limitations in historical perspective. But if, as evangelicals often loudly proclaim, our treatment of the Bible needs to be grounded in both a grammatical and a historical exegesis, then it is a glaring oversight not to integrate our bibliology with the unfolding drama of redemption.

Evangelicals are fond of saying that the written Word of God bears a certain analogy to the incarnate Word of God—e.g., both have divine origin, both are mediated through human agency, and both have the result that they are impeccable (in the case of Christ)/inerrant (in the case of the Bible). To the extent that this analogy is valid, then should we not also say, with equal force, that our method of investigation of each of them should involve a strong historical component? The incarnation demands of us historical rigor. God invaded time-space history and he expects his followers to verify the data as best they can. That is why the stone was moved before the tomb—not to let Christ out but to let the disciples in, so that they could see with their own eyes that no corpse lay there. And that is why Paul goes to great lengths to insist on the historicity of the resurrection, even to the point of claiming that over five hundred ajdelfoiv5 saw the risen Lord on one occasion, “of whom the majority are still alive” (1 Cor 15.6). The apologetic value of such a statement is grounded in its historical verifiability. Although the Gospels have their share of undefined times and places in which events occurred, they also are full of sufficient historical detail. In this respect, the Bible itself emulates the incarnation: as the apostolic witness could speak of “what we have seen with our eyes… what our hands handled” (1 John 1.1), so subsequent generations of believers can say that about the written Word.

In other words, when we take a hands-off approach to the historicity of the scriptures, then are we not treating them as more divine and less human that the Theanthropic Person to whom they bear witness? Long ago, the Church rejected a docetic Christology—while still embracing the utter worthiness and perfection of the God-man. But has the Church also rejected a docetic bibliology? I am not convinced that it has, and the tragic consequences of such a stance are that Christ becomes the handmaiden to the Bible rather than the other way around. My thesis in this paper is that it is possible to maintain both theological development within the Bible and a high bibliology. But in order to do so, we have to be prepared to embrace more of the human face of the Word of God.

The Process of Inspiration

For starters, we need to touch on the process of inspiration. It is a mystery that only a few brave souls dare to define.6 Yet this process is the very thing that addresses the human role in the production of scripture. Most are content to speak of the results of inspiration.7 And even when it comes to the process, most theologians speak only of the verbal or linguistic process. The historical process is all but ignored.

Regarding the verbal process, there seems to be a wide variety of opinions within evangelicalism. Some come perilously close to a mechanical dictation view, though denying such only by fiat rather than by substantive argument.8 Others move decidedly away from this position, while still trying to maintain some form of verbal inspiration.9 All of us are steering a course between Scylla and Charybdis. Certain things must be affirmed or denied within an evangelical framework—e.g., a denial of verbal dictation, an affirmation of the final product as originating from God—but there is a lot of fudge room between these two poles. And various evangelicals struggle with how verbal is verbal. Along these lines, consider the following statement:

The sacred writers were not machines. Their self-consciousness was not suspended; nor were their intellectual powers superseded. Holy men [spoke] as they were moved by the Holy [Spirit]. It was men, not machines; not unconscious instruments, but living, thinking, willing minds, whom the Spirit used as his organs. Moreover, inspiration did not involve the suspension or suppression of human faculties, so neither did it interfere with the free exercise of the distinctive mental character of the individual.

This viewpoint gives full weight to the human face of scripture, while acknowledging that God was behind the scenes. It sounds very similar to the dynamic or conceptual view of inspiration—especially regarding its accent on the free will of the authors—yet it comes from the pen of the great Princeton theologian, Charles Hodge.10

I happen to like what a theology professor of mine told me in his office years ago about the whole process. He noted some differences among the synoptic accounts, and declared that whether God inspired one verb or another, as long as both were within the field of meaning that he wished to communicate, either one was acceptable. This professor’s view of verbal inspiration thus was not that God was putting in the mind of the author the actual word that he must use, but rather that he was keeping him from using something outside an acceptable linguistic field. Inspiration, to this thoroughly evangelical professor, was in some ways more negative than positive. God kept the human author from error but did not dictate the exact form of the message. Judging by the grammatical peculiarities in our Gospels and in the NT as a whole, I find this approach to verbal inspiration the most satisfactory because it does not turn a blind eye to the data of the text.11

All of this addresses the linguistic or verbal side of inspiration. But what about the plenary or historical side? This is actually best handled as we think about the process of revelation.

The Process of Revelation and Discovery

Closely tied to the process of inspiration is the process of revelation and discovery. Although almost never developed, theologians have touched on this subject. Consider the following statements:

Millard Erickson addresses the issues of scripture’s sometimes temporary authority: “It will be necessary to determine what is the permanent essence of the message, and what is the temporary form of its expression. … It is quite possible for something to be historically authoritative without being normatively authoritative.”12 Elsewhere he says, “If we understand God to have worked in a process of accomplishing redemption for man, revealing himself and his plan gradually, we will weight later developments more heavily than earlier ones.”13

In his chapter on the clarity of scripture, Wayne Grudem notes that various recipients of biblical revelation were sometimes confused: “… they simply needed to wait for further events in the history of redemption…” He goes on to note “the progress of growth in understanding concerning the implications of Gentile inclusion in the church … or the frequent doctrinal and ethical issues that had to be corrected by the New Testament epistles.”14

David Dockery notes that “The human authors were not lifted out of their culture or removed from their contexts. They were not autonomous, but functioning members in communities of faith, aware of God’s presence and leadership in their lives.”15 He then affirms “the possibility of theological development within the Old and New Testaments and even within the individual authors themselves.”16

Each of these evangelical theologians is affirming that there is progressive revelation in scripture. Although they offer minimal evidence for such, it is easy to come by. Consider these examples. Isaiah 61.1-2 gives no indication that the coming of the Messiah would be in two stages, but Jesus’ quotation of this text in Luke 4 seems to imply that he knew that he would come again. His Olivet Discourse confirms this. Daniel 12.1-2 is the clearest text in the OT on the resurrection. It is, in fact, very difficult to find the resurrection doctrine taught earlier than this. Most likely, the reasons for this new revelation at this juncture in salvation history were related to the removal of the Jews from the promised land: once their present no longer looked very rosy they began to long for the future. And because of the length of the Babylonian Captivity, that future hope had to go beyond this life. This future hope set the stage for a more decidedly eschatological outlook in the NT. Or consider the doctrine of the Trinity. Although it is sometimes alleged to be clearly found in the OT, one has to wonder why there is no hint of a Jewish understanding of this doctrine in the intertestamental period. And any exegesis of OT texts that implies that the human authors were trinitarian is both naïve and indefensible.

Within my own tradition, there is a rich heritage of embracing progressive revelation. In Article V of the Dallas Seminary doctrinal statement, it states:

We believe that it has always been true that “without faith it is impossible to please” God (Heb. 11:6)… However, we believe that it was historically impossible that [OT saints] should have had as the conscious object of their faith the incarnate, crucified Son, the Lamb of God (John 1:29), and that it is evident that they did not comprehend as we do that the sacrifices depicted the person and work of Christ. We believe also that they did not understand the redemptive significance of the prophecies or types concerning the sufferings of Christ (1 Pet. 1:10-12)…

This same doctrinal statement elsewhere says that salvation is “only through faith in Christ…” Now these two statements—the object of faith of OT saints and the object of faith of NT saints—are in formal contradiction with one another. The only way to resolve them is to recognize that a proper reading of the Bible embraces progressive revelation.

Not all evangelicals of course would see such discontinuity between the testaments, but suffice it to say that non-dispensational evangelicals have had no problems with the bibliology of dispensationalists. And that bibliology incorporates a rather robust progressive revelation.

Whether we define progress as the movement from something worse to something better,17 or from something incomplete to something more complete, implicit in the recognition of progressive revelation is that something more than mere perspectival differences are to be found in the various books of the Bible. This means that—for lack of a better term—the readers of fuller revelation will by that revelation correct their impression of divine truth that had been gained from earlier or more primitive revelation.

At this point, some of you may be disappointed with how I am defending the thesis that theological development is consistent with a high bibliology. I am not going to elaborate on how these two can be harmonized; I only wish to note that respected evangelical theologians—whose bibliological commitments are not in doubt—embrace this thesis. In the remainder of this paper, however, I will explore some of the ramifications of the human side of this equation.

Three Fundamental Questions

  1. Can there be progressive revelation within the New Testament?

If it is true that there is progressive revelation between the testaments, then we can have no theological argument against progressive revelation within the NT. Any arguments against this supposition must be other than theological, for otherwise we have become marcionite in our bibliology. That is, if a high bibliology allows progressive revelation between the OT and the NT, and even allows it within the OT, to deny it within the NT on theological grounds is to become bibliologically schizophrenic. Any arguments against this must be founded on other pillars.

What other reasons are there for denying intra-NT progressive revelation? The fundamental reason is historical. The NT was written over a period of no more than about half a century—and covering a period of no more than a hundred years, while the OT took over a millennium to produce. Thus, to argue for progressive revelation in the OT is both reasonable and necessary, while in the NT it is neither. The timeframe of the NT is too collapsed to allow for theological development.

The irony in this historical argument is that it is sometimes found on the lips of modern-day theologians—theologians who have witnessed more technological progress in their lifetime than the previous twenty centuries of theologians combined! Knowledge is doubling so fast nowadays that printed encyclopedias have become obsolete. I submit that what the 20th century was to technology, the first century AD was to theology. In the history of mankind, what could be more cataclysmic, more revolutionary, than the incarnation, death, resurrection, and ascension of the Theanthropic Person? The Christ-event is the middle point in all of history, as Conzelmann so eloquently noted in his Die Mitte der Zeit.18 All that came before anticipates it; all that comes after builds on it. We will develop this point a little later, but suffice it to say for now that the historical argument against intra-NT theological development does not seem to do justice to the monumental revelatory significance of Jesus of Nazareth.

  1. How does one biblical author learn about the new insights of a previous author?

If God gives new revelation to one biblical writer at a given period in time, do—or how do—subsequent biblical writers learn of it? Is such material revealed to them, or do they learn of it through normal human means, especially by reading the earlier writing? Is their interpretation necessarily going to be right or complete? If one biblical writer came to certain conclusions by way of his own insights, would subsequent writers necessarily have to come to the same conclusions when interacting with the earlier writer’s documents?

These are serious questions that we do not have time to fully examine in this brief paper. I will offer some tentative reflections on the matter, in hopes of stimulating others to think more about this issue. I will only attempt an answer to the first of these questions here, and reserve the rest for the next section.

If God gives new revelation to one biblical writer at a given period in time, do—or how do—subsequent biblical writers learn of it? It seems that the customary modus operandi of the process of revelation and discovery is that once a truth is revealed in scripture later writers learn of it through the normal channels of human inquiry. Daniel had to read in Jeremiah to learn of the extent of the Babylonian Captivity (Dan 9.2); Ezra had to read the law of Moses to the people and interpret it if they—or he—were to understand God’s will (Neh 8); the apostles needed to hear from Peter about his vision and his experience at Cornelius’ house, rather than have a similar vision or experience, in order to embrace Gentile inclusion in the church (Acts 10-11).19

This is not always the case, of course. The magi and Joseph both received divine revelation about Herod (though we do not know the exact content of the message to the magi [Matt 2.12-14]).20 And Paul got his gospel by direct revelation from the ascended Lord, after the rest of the apostolic band had apparently received it from Jesus while he was with them. Yet Paul seemed apprehensive about the validity of his gospel when he visited Jerusalem, and consequently chose to have a private meeting with some of the apostles— “in order to make sure that I was not running, or had not run, in vain” (Gal 2.2).21

Although my research is preliminary, my working hypothesis is that unless unusual circumstances warranted it, later biblical writers would learn of revelations or insights given to an earlier author through normal human means. But this leads to the third question.

  1. Is progressive revelation always linear? That is, are the later revelations always the most advanced?

Ultimately, the question we are asking is both methodological and chronological: Is the progress of revelation along linear lines, or is it more multifaceted than that? Essentially, if there is room for formal (as opposed to substantive) contradiction within the Bible in one direction, why not the other? That is, since in the former case we must argue from a chronological and historical perspective to erase the  contradiction, is that not also valid in the case of one biblical writer misunderstanding the full import of an earlier one?

Is there evidence within the text of scripture that addresses some of the above questions? I think there is. To take but two examples: (1) the use of the OT in the NT, and (2) 2 Peter 3.15-16. In the former case, many evangelicals would argue that the resultant message was right but the method for extracting it was hermeneutically or exegetically invalid. That is, that the revelation given to the OT author is not entirely understood by the NT writer who uses and interprets his text. The passages used to support this contention are too numerous to list here. But if this supposition is valid, then it implies that later biblical writers did not always correctly grasp the meaning of earlier revelation.

In the latter case, Peter complains about the difficulty of interpreting Paul’s letters: “And regard the patience of our Lord as salvation, just as also our dear brother Paul wrote to you, according to the wisdom given to him, speaking of these things in all his letters. Some things in these letters are hard to understand, things the ignorant and unstable twist to their own destruction, as they also do to the rest of the scriptures” (2 Pet 3.15-16, NET). On the one hand, Peter recognizes that Paul has been given a measure of wisdom from the Lord, and that what he has written is indeed scripture. On the other hand, Peter complains about the difficulty of interpreting Paul’s letters, though noting that there is a certain line that he has not crossed—that of distorting the meaning of Paul’s letters resulting in his own destruction. Peter’s complaint about Paul seems to suggest that later biblical writers did not always fully grasp the meaning of earlier revelation or insights. Yet Peter has understood enough of Paul to declare himself to be within the realm of truth. But this text does seem to imply that one biblical author can write on the same topic as an earlier biblical author and yet have a more primitive understanding.

Not all understand 2 Peter 3.15-16 in this way of course. However, what needs to be considered is how 2 Peter is similar to or distinct from Paul’s letters in its theological outlook. We get a feel for this by examining Peter’s first letter to begin with. F. W. Beare noted, in his commentary on 1 Peter, that

…the book is strongly marked by the impress of Pauline theological ideas, and in language the dependence upon St. Paul is undeniably great. All through the Epistle, we have the impression that we are reading the work of a man who is steeped in the Pauline letters, who is so imbued with them that he uses St. Paul’s words and phrases without conscious search, as his own thoroughly-assimilated vocabulary of religion. Entire passages are little more than an expansion or restatement of Pauline texts, and whole verses are a kind of mosaic of Pauline words and forms of expression. As a theologian, the writer has a mind of his own and is no mere echo of Paul, it is abundantly evident that he has formed himself on Paul’s writings.22

Beare uses this argument to show that Peter was not the author of 1 Peter. We have dealt with that issue elsewhere and will not be occupied with it here,23 except to note that, in our understanding, the first letter was consciously modeled on Paul’s letters so that the readers would feel comfortable and ‘at home’ reading this letter from Peter. In order to make headway with Paul’s churches, Peter felt that the best approach would be to employ one of Paul’s associates as his own amanuensis.24 The question that we are concerned with is this: If 1 Peter and 2 Peter are both by the apostle Peter, and if 1 Peter was written before 2 Peter (as 2 Peter 3.1 seems to affirm), does the apostle display the same knowledge of Paul’s letters in his second letter? I do not know of anyone who has even come close to demonstrating that this is the case.25 The second letter displays no acquaintance with Paul’s letters, except in the explicit comment about them in 3.16. There is no dependence, no verbal similarity, no thematic parallel between Paul and 2 Peter. It is for this twin reason—the deep dependence of 1 Peter on Paul’s letters and the total absence of such in 2 Peter—that I have come to the twofold conclusion that (1) 1 Peter almost surely was composed by an associate of Paul’s as Peter’s amanuensis, and (2) 2 Peter was composed by Peter himself, without the benefit of employing one of Paul’s friends. If this is the case, then it raises the issue of how much Peter actually knew of Paul’s letters, and how much of them he actually understood.

I wish to touch on but two points in 2 Peter that seem to stand in tension with Paul, both of which focus on 2 Peter 2.1. There we read of the coming false teachers who will “deny the Master who bought them, bringing swift destruction on themselves.” As the author develops his argument, it is difficult to avoid the impression that he thinks that these false teachers were, in some sense, ‘redeemed,’ and that they were now headed for hell. The question is, Where in Paul is such a soteriology taught—one in which redemption is universal and loss of salvation is possible? The Arminian will quickly affirm such a soteriology in Paul, while the Calvinist will deny it both in Paul and in 2 Peter. The problems here are very real, and I neither wish to make light of them nor do I wish to tritely assume that Peter and Paul stand in contradiction with one another. One way out of this dilemma, however, is see theological development as not always going in a linear direction. That is, that Peter’s soteriology is not as developed as Paul’s is.

The possibility thus exists that later biblical writers reflecting on earlier writings do not always get it. Therefore, it is possible that an earlier biblical writer may have greater theological development in one area than another writer who uses his material. How we articulate what the later writer got right looms large for constructing a high bibliology. I am, frankly, troubled by these questions. But I hasten to add—they are questions, not affirmations, in my mind.

Two Potential Examples

As I reflect on theological development in the NT, I take a theologically minimalist approach. That is, I try to put myself in the sandals of a first-century Jew living in Israel, rather than the shoes of a 21st century Christian. I become a Missourian—you have to “show me” that God is doing something altogether new and different. To be sure, there is plenty of evidence for this! But I try to resist the temptation of reading the NT through Chalcedonian lenses. Indeed, I think that if this is all we do, we are in essence placing our bibliology higher than our Christology because we are giving priority to a theological reading of the text above the historical and incarnational. Not only this, but we are ignoring the early patristic period and the struggles that they had both of articulation and insight.

I agree with McGrath on this score: “The doctrine of the Trinity can be regarded as the outcome of a process of sustained and critical reflection on the pattern of divine activity revealed in Scripture, and continued in Christian experience. This is not to say that Scripture contains a doctrine of the Trinity; rather, Scripture bears witness to a God who demands to be understood in a Trinitarian manner.”26 If this is so, then we must engage in careful thinking about what the apostles consciously embraced about God, as well as what they were groping to understand and express.

Now the most intriguing question in my mind relates to when the apostles began to embrace the deity of Christ. Surely it was not when he emerged from the Jordan River! Only a canonical and theological reading of the text which ignores the historical would be so perverse. The principal question that occupies the minds of Jesus’ disciples is echoed in Mark 4.41 when he stilled the storm: “Who is this man?” We must remember that these disciples were Jews, steeped in their rich tradition of monotheism—a monotheism that reached a new pinnacle after the stench of the Babylonian deities filled their nostrils for seven decades. They simply had no ready category for thinking of this Galilean carpenter as God in the flesh. We must not confuse their loyalty to Jesus as an embracing of his deity. Even when Peter addresses him, according to Matthew, as “Son of the Living God” (Matt 16.16), it is doubtful that this meant deity, for Peter immediately rebuked Jesus after the Lord spoke of his sufferings (16.22). One does not customarily rebuke God.

Although I will not develop it here, I believe that R. T. France was on the right path when he declared,

It is in this light [the strict Jewish monotheism out of which nascent Christianity grew] that we must understand the fact… that the explicit use of God-language about Jesus is infrequent in the NT, and is concentrated in the later writings… It was such shocking language that, even when the beliefs underlying it were firmly established, it was easier, and perhaps more politic, to express these beliefs in less direct terms. The wonder is not that the NT so seldom describes Jesus as God, but that in such a milieu it does so at all.27

Although many would see the apostles embracing the deity of Christ immediately after his resurrection, I suspect it took somewhat longer for this to become a settled conviction. There are no more than half a dozen NT texts that speak of Jesus as qeov", and all but one of them occur in the 60s or later. To be sure, there are plenty of other NT texts that seem to imply his deity, especially those that quote OT passages which originally referred to YHWH. But when these texts were used by the apostles, and especially when their implications were clearly understood by the apostles, is not something that yields facile answers.

Second, I simply wish to raise the issue of how we interpret eschatological texts. This is of significantly less importance, but may be easier to follow. I offer a view of the coming kingdom that is both in keeping with progressive revelation and also allows me to keep my job!

The idea of a time-fixed earthly kingdom is not taught until Rev 20. Reading the Bible chronologically reveals that the millennial kingdom is not clearly distinguished from the eternal state until the last book of the Bible. Amillennialists have argued this for some time; and their point is that therefore Rev 20 needs to be interpreted in light of earlier prophecies. But surely they would not do this with the first and second comings of Christ: that is, even though the two comings are not clearly distinguished in the OT, amillennialists recognize that the Bible affirms a second coming. My point is that progressive revelation shows that just as the two mountain ranges of Christ’s two comings are virtually indistinguishable in the OT, so also the two future stages of the kingdom do not get distinguished until AD 96. 

Specifically, the OT texts do not make a distinction between the earthly kingdom and the eternal state (cf. the intermingling of the two in Isa 65.17-25).  Only with exegetical gymnastics can one find this distinction between the earthly kingdom and eternity in the Olivet Discourse.28 1 Cor 15.21-28 is often used as a prooftext for the millennial kingdom, but without Rev 20, no one would see it.29 Hindsight is 20/20. Further, 2 Pet 3.10 seems to view the Lord’s return as ushering in eternity (“But the day of the Lord will come like a thief; when it comes, the heavens will disappear with a horrific noise, and the heavenly bodies will melt away in a blaze, and the earth and every deed done on it will be laid bare.”30)  Likewise, 2 Thess 1.9-10 seems to ‘telescope’ the eschaton (in that there is no gap between the Lord’s return and the eternal destruction of the wicked). 

On the one hand, I believe the amillennialists have had a superior exegesis. Premillennialists sometimes have such a flat view of revelation that they see things that are impossible historically. For example, is it really plausible to say, as Leon Wood does in his commentary on Daniel, that we should read Dan 2.44 as “the God of heaven will set up a kingdom which will not be destroyed for an age”?31 The Aramaic term lamáh (equivalent to the Hebrew ‘olam) can, of course, in some contexts mean ‘age’ rather than ‘eternity.’ But to argue that here is pure dogma. Wood says, “According to Revelation 20:3, the millennial kingdom lasts 1000 years, the duration of time intended here.”32 There is not a shred of evidence in all of Daniel to suggest that he intended 1000 years. Wood simply argues this from the vantage point of Rev 20. 

On the other hand, if we can embrace theological development in the NT, we should have little problem seeing Rev 20 as the pinnacle of revelation about the kingdom. And even though the kingdom is never explicitly mentioned as a thousand-year period prior to this chapter, if this book is the last book of the Bible then, as Millard Erickson argued, “If we understand God to have worked in a process of accomplishing redemption for man, revealing himself and his plan gradually, we will weight later developments more heavily than earlier ones.”33 This means that the amillennial way of reading Rev 20 in light of earlier statements may well be methodologically wrongheaded. Instead, we probably need to understand those earlier statements in their historical setting and regard the final revelation on this topic to be the fuller revelation. In the least, neither the embarrassment that premillennial exegesis has had, nor the subsequent fanciful interpretations it has produced, over certain eschatological texts is necessary.34

Conclusion

These are some of the questions I have been wrestling with. One question that naturally comes up after such points as this paper is considering is this: Aren’t these fine points too subtle for the man in the pew? How can he ever read his Bible with any understanding if the historical conditions are not intricately perceived? In response, let me say four things. First, the average lay person already has some sense of the historical development of the Bible. If he worships on Sunday, if he asks God for forgiveness of his sins without feeling the need to sacrifice some animal, if he senses no pangs of guilt for eating a ham sandwich, the average layman understands (or at least embraces) that man’s relation to God in the Old Testament is different from his relation to God in the New. I have found that Christian leaders all too often do not give the benefit of the doubt to the capacity of their flock for grasping the meaning of scripture. To put it bluntly: Many lay people are a lot smarter than most seminary students! Let’s give them some credit for being able to grasp theological development within the canon. Second, the best hermeneutic has never been determined by the lowest common denominator. Thus, for those lay folks who may be a little slow or who take a strongly canonical approach to their understanding of scripture, we must always keep in mind that the audience does not determine meaning. Meaning is more a matter of the author’s intention, whether he successfully conveyed his meaning to all of his readers or not. Third, the priesthood of the believer does not exclude the fact that lay people truly need to learn from those who study the scripture in the original languages and in its original setting. Nowadays, the priesthood of the believer is taken to mean that we should all pool our ignorance, and allow the silliest of interpretations to have the same validity as one that is built on solid ground. This is the American way, but it is hardly what the Reformers had in mind when they underscored the importance of this precious doctrine. Otherwise, why would they repeatedly insist that pastors learn Greek and Hebrew? One major difference between the Catholic view of the role of the priest and the Protestant view of the role of the pastor is that in the Protestant view the lay person is directly responsible to God to know the truth, and as much as the lay person needs to learn from pastors and expositors, he does not bow to their authority without question. In Catholicism, the magisterium does not give the lay person the luxury of thinking through interpretive options and behavioral options. Unfortunately, the modern-day evangelical tacit assumption about the priesthood of believers has nothing to do with the Reformers’ model, but follows American democracy for its cues. Fourth, with training and time, the average lay person can be educated to grasp the meaning of the Bible historically as well as theologically. Whether one accepts this as good doctrine or not, the fact that many (if not most!) American evangelicals are broadly dispensational suggests that pastors and church leaders have had a great deal of success in training their flocks to understand the progressive development of biblical revelation. After all, dispensationalism is a complex system of doctrine that is not likely to be learned by a lay person simply reading his Bible! Again, whether dispensationalism is a proper interpretive grid for reading scripture, the fact that it is widely embraced by lay folks at least illustrates that what I am proposing in this paper can find no substantive objection from the pew.

Epilogue

This paper raises some larger concerns for evangelicals, especially how we go about doing theology. As I have interacted with evangelical exegetes for several years now, all too often when the conversations turn to confessional statements and doctrinal positions, words are spoken in hushed tones accompanied by nervous glances. Much of the time, the issue revolves around the incompatibility of theological formulations with the data of the text. The problem, to put things bluntly, is this: Theologies are almost always written by theologians who are simply unaware of the exegetical issues. And this means that they often create modern-day constructs in a vacuum—constructs that do not adequately take into account the human elements of the Bible. At the same time, exegetes nowadays are often getting so specialized that they can have the luxury of ignoring the theological implications of the meaning of the text.35

In light of this growing segregation between theologians and exegetes, is it not time for both sides to interact with one another a bit more? Can we really do theology in isolation from the historical exegesis of the text? If we do, we will continue both to promote a docetic bibliology and to contribute to the dumbing down of the church. Can we really do exegesis in isolation from the confessing community? If we do, we will only unmask our arrogance and our total dependence on rationalism.


1 Clark Pinnock, “Three Views of the Bible in Contemporary Theology,” in Biblical Authority, ed. Jack Rogers (Waco: Word, 1977) 60-61.

2 Gordon R. Lewis, “The Human Authorship of Inspired Scripture,” in Inerrancy, ed. Norman L. Geisler (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1980) 230.

3 David S. Dockery, Christian Scripture: An Evangelical perspective on Inspiration, Authority and Interpretation (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1995) 37. William J. Webb has recently addressed this issue implicitly, by arguing for a redemptive hermeneutic that takes into account the historical occasion and cultural backdrop of the writing of scripture. At this very hour, there is in fact a paper being presented by C. C. Daniel on Webb’s book, Slaves, Women & Homosexuals: Exploring the Hermeneutics of Cultural Analysis (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2001).

4 John Calvin sometimes noted the infelicities in the language of the biblical writers, such as in Rom 5.15: “Although he [Paul] frequently mentions the difference between Adam and Christ, all his repeated statements… are elliptical. Those, it is true, are faults in his language, but in no way do they detract from the majesty of the heavenly wisdom which is delivered to us by the apostle” (The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Romans and Thessalonians, trans. David and Thomas Torrance [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1960] 114). J. I. Packer appropriately comments on Calvin’s view of these grammatical and stylistic impoverishments: “Calvin would fault an apostle for poor style and bad grammar but not for substantive inaccuracy” (“John Calvin and the Inerrancy of Holy Scripture,” in Inerrancy and the Church, ed. John D. Hannah [Chicago: Moody, 1984] 178-79). In Kenneth Kantzer’s essay on “Inerrancy and the Humanity and Divinity of the Bible,” he notes that “Inerrancy teaches us that God kept the Biblical writers from bearing false witness as they wrote the Bible. However inglorious human language may be, and therefore, however imperfect the human language of the Bible may be, it still always tells the truth” (in The Proceedings of the Conference on Biblical Inerrancy 1987 [Nashville: Broadman, 1987] 156 [italics added]).

5 Although traditionally translated ‘brothers,’ this term often refers to both men and women in Koine Greek (so BDAG on ajdelfov"). As a sidenote, this is a good place to illustrate the sometimes misleading nature of older, gender-exclusive translations for today’s native English speakers. Who today would naturally think that ‘brothers’ includes both men and women?

6 Note especially Lewis, “Human Authorship,” 258 [italics added]:

How did the Holy Spirit do this? How does one person influence another? Why do some have a more effective impact on people than others? Undoubtedly many factors are involved, and the Scriptures provide little in the way of answers to questions of how. How God guides providentially, how He answers prayer, or how the Spirit regenerates we are not told in detail. We should not be surprised, then, that we are not told more about how the Holy Spirit inspired His providentially prepared spokesmen to write what He wanted written.

However, we do know several things about the process: (1) We know that the Holy Spirit so specially controlled the human authors’ judgment that what they wrote is God’s judgment. (2) We know that, apart from supernatural control, finite and fallen men could not have expressed such authoritative pronouncements. … (3) We know that the Scriptures did not originate by the will of man but by God’s breathing them out… (4) We know that the divine spokesmen were “carried along by the Holy Spirit” (2 Peter 1:21). (5) We know that the Spirit’s supervision applied to the written Word that would be available after the human writer was gone and that all of the previously written Old Testament and New Testament was viewed as the word of the prophets and other authors telling of the power and the coming of the Lord Jesus (2 Peter 1:16, 19-21)[.] (6) We know that the Spirit’s inspiration had the writing of Scripture, not subsequent readers of Scripture, as its object. Inspiration cannot be reduced to illumination. (7) We know that not all Scripture was given by dictation.

7 The following are representative statements: “Neither Luther nor Calvin devote much space to the ‘mechanics’ of inspiration: they are far more interested in the results” (B. A. Gerrish, “Biblical Authority and the Continental Reformation,” SJT 10 [1957] 355, n 2). “These men of God had known God, learned from Him, and walked with Him in their spiritual pilgrimage for many years. God had prepared them through their familial, social, educational, and spiritual backgrounds for the task of inscripturating His word. The experiences of Moses, David, Jeremiah, Paul, Luke, John, and Peter differ, yet throughout their lives God was working to prepare and shape them, even their own vocabulary, to pen the Scriptures. Beyond this, we dare not say much regarding the how of inspiration, except to affirm God’s providential oversight in the entire process of inspiration” (Dockery, Christian Scripture, 43 [italics added]). “When we say that all the words of the Bible are God’s words, we are talking about the result of the process of bringing Scripture into existence. To raise the question of dictation is to ask about the process that led to that result or the manner by which God acted in order to ensure the result that he intended” (Wayne A. Grudem, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1994] 80).

8 E.g., Millard J. Erickson, Christian Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1983): “The verbal theory insists that the influence of the Holy Spirit extends beyond the direction of thoughts to the selection of words used to convey the message. The work of the Holy Spirit is so intense that each word is the exact word which God wants used at that point to express the message. Ordinarily, great care is taken to insist that this is not dictation, however” (1.207). And “… there will be, in the vocabulary of the writer, one word that will most aptly communicate the thought God is conveying (although that word in itself may be inadequate). By creating the thought and stimulating the understanding of the Scripture writer, the Spirit will lead him in effect to use one particular word rather than any other” (ibid., 215). After discussing this view at length, he asks, “But is such thought control possible short of dictation?” (ibid., 1.218). In this paragraph he gives the analogy of a church secretary who knew his thought processes and style so intimately that she could mimic such at will. But this analogy breaks down at precisely the point Erickson is trying to establish: Do the biblical writers mimic God’s style? Does God have a writing style? Further, do they even know they are writing scripture? In the case of the church secretary, her job is not to write for herself, but to, in effect, be a ghost writer for the pastor. But is that how the biblical writers thought of themselves? The problem is that all high views of inspiration have to address the interrelation of inspiration and canonicity, or the process of inspiration and the biblical author’s self-conscious recognition that what he is writing is indeed scripture. But the history of the canon (both internally and externally) speaks decidedly against assuming that the biblical authors were always, or even usually, self-conscious that what they were writing was scripture.

9 “In cases where the ordinary human personality and writing style of the author were prominently involved, as seems the case with the major part of Scripture, all that we are able to say is that God’s providential oversight and direction of the life of each author was such that their personalities, their backgrounds and training, their abilities to evaluate events in the world around them, their access to historical data, their judgment with regard to the accuracy of information, and their individual circumstances when they wrote, were all exactly what God wanted them to be, so that when they actually came to the point of putting pen to paper, the words were fully their own words but also fully the words that God wanted them to write, words that God would also claim as his own” (Grudem, Systematic Theology, 81 [italics added]). Beyond this is the dynamic view of inspiration, as found in the writings of A. H. Strong, E. Y. Mullins, Donald Bloesch, G. C. Berkouwer, Paul J. Achtemeier, and William J. Abraham. Dockery summarizes this position: “It sees the work of the Spirit in directing the writer to the concepts he should have and then allowing great freedom for the human author to express this idea in his own style, through his own personality, in a way consistent with and characteristic of his own situation and context” (Christian Scripture, 54). To be sure, not all of these scholars would hold to verbal inspiration, but some would.

10 Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology  (reprint ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1973) 1.157 (italics added).

11 As Calvin noted, so I would agree: the style and syntax of the biblical authors sometimes leaves something to be desired. For example, each evangelist spells the same verb in more than one way (e.g., ei\pon/ei\pan, or h\lqan/h\lqon), Paul uses run-on sentences in some places, such as Eph 1.3-14, that are so cumbersome that they can be labeled ein Monstrosität. And the Seer of Patmos fills his Apocalypse with grammatical solecisms that would give a grammar teacher a nervous breakdown. Yet evangelicals see all of this as verbally inspired because such things do not impact the substance of the message. Nevertheless, the fact that they do impact the form of the message seems to indicate that God permitted some measure of freedom for the human author.

12 Erickson, Christian Theology 1.259. He unpacks this a bit in another place, where he discusses “a number of criteria by which the permanent factors or the essence of the doctrine may be identified: (1) constancy across cultures, (2) universal setting, (3) a recognized permanent factor as a base, (4) indissoluble link with an experience regarded as essential, and (5) final position within progressive revelation” (121).

13 Ibid., 123.

14 Systematic Theology, 108 (italics added).

15 Dockery, Christian Scripture, 44.

16 Ibid., 45 (italics added). At this point, Dockery cites the excellent and provocative essay by Richard N. Longenecker, “On the Concept of Development in Pauline Thought,” in Perspectives on Evangelical Theology, edd. K. S. Kantzer and S. N. Gundry (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1979) 195-207.

17 C. H. Dodd, The Authority of the Bible, rev. ed. (London: Nisbet, 1938), in his chapter called “Progressive Revelation,” begins by noting that “The idea of a ‘progressive revelation’ is not altogether without difficulty. Progress means an advance from something worse to something better” (269). His treatment of this issue may not be entirely satisfactory to evangelicals, but it is certainly worth reading (269-85), especially because of its ultimately christocentric focus.

18 Hans Conzelmann, Die Mitte der Zeit: Studien zur Theologie des Lukas (Tübingen: Mohr, 1960). The English translation of this work follows the subtitle, The Theology of St Luke.

19 One also thinks of the dietary restrictions placed on Adam in the Garden, who then presumably passed this information on to Eve (Gen 2). Her garbled version of it to the serpent, in which she adds a tactile restriction to the dietary one (Gen 3.3), illustrates how a later individual in scripture may have a less clear understanding of a revelatory statement than an earlier individual. However, since neither Adam nor Eve were biblical authors, the relevance to our discussion is probably minimal.

20 Of course, neither the magi nor Joseph were writers of scripture, so the parallel is not exact.

21 It is an intriguing thought that Paul’s doubts might be tied to his knowledge of how new revelation was normally administered by God—viz., given once to an individual who then dispensed it to others.

22 F. W. Beare, The First Epistle of Peter: The Greek Text with Introduction and Notes, 3rd ed., revised and enlarged (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1970) 44.

23 See D. B. Wallace, “First Peter: Introduction, Argument, and Outline,” available online at http://bible.org/docs/soapbox/1peotl.htm.

24 I am not arguing here that Silvanus was necessarily that associate, as the idiomatic expression “I have written through Silvanus” (1 Peter 5.12) only indicates that he was the letter-bearer, not the amanuensis, in spite of how it sounds to modern ears.

25 Ironically, those who deny Petrine authorship to the second letter are more prone to argue that this letter was in line with Paul’s thought, and that the author understood Paul to a large degree, largely because the letter would have been composed at a significantly later date when Paul’s letters would have been collected and studied. But these commentators simply do not offer anything like a sustained demonstration that 2 Peter is in line with Paul theologically.

26 Alister McGrath, Christian Theology: An Introduction, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1997) 294.

27 R. T. France, “The Worship of Jesus—A Neglected Factor in Christological Debate?”, Vox Evangelica 12 (1981) 25.

28Note that Matt 25.34 (“inherit the kingdom”) and 25.46 (“the righteous [will enter] into eternal life”) are, most naturally, speaking about the same event. Yet, if we try to distinguish the millennium from the eternal state in this discourse we have something of a contradiction. Further, it is equally difficult to distinguish the tribulation before the Lord’s return  from the Jewish War. I strongly suspect that Jesus himself was unaware of such distinctions (cf. Matt 24:36; Mark 13.32).

29Cf., e.g., Fee’s NICNT commentary, loc. cit. The most we can get out of 1 Cor 15.21-28 is that there may be some time for Christ to do his ‘clean-up operation’—that is, to bring everything, including death, under submission to his sovereignty. But to read into this text a one thousand year period is unwarranted. Indeed, it seems equally plausible to extract from this text the notion that Christ is now reigning and is bringing everything under his submission (v 25). “Then comes the end” (v 24), in this scenario, would support a postmillennial/amillennial position. Suffice it to say that the millennium is anything but clear in this text.

30 NET Bible translation.

31L. Wood, A Commentary on Daniel, 71. 

32Ibid., 73.

33 Erickson, Christian Theology, 123.

34 It may be objected that there is really no parallel between the OT portrayal of the coming Messiah in comparison with the NT, and the progressive unfolding of the millennial kingdom, because there is only one passage that suggests a thousand-year earthly kingdom, yet there are several passages that speak of the second coming of Christ. Three responses are in order here: (1) There are no texts that speak of the Messiah’s coming in two stages until he was already here in his first coming. But there is one text that speaks of the earthly kingdom as distinct from the eternal state—even before either began. Thus, in this respect, premillennialism is even clearer than the two comings of Christ for the respective reader groups. (2) At the same time, one has to wonder about evangelicals’ (especially dispensationalists’) preoccupation with eschatology, and the dogma that is attached to our conclusions. Analogously, if we had lived during the intertestamental period, much—if not most—of our theological convictions would have to be thrown out with the inbreaking of the new age in the coming of Jesus. I suspect that we have overstated our positions, and have overprioritized them as well, when the clear teachings of scripture have been moved more and more to the periphery of our thinking. Certainly, a need both for greater humility and for a more carefully nuanced doctrinal taxonomy is called for. (3) One also has to wonder whether we have misread many of these eschatological texts. If the multiple fulfillment of the OT texts respecting the Messiah’s advent(s), the Day of the Lord, the tribulation, etc. is meant to be something of a pattern, there is a great probability that many of the eschatological narratives should be read as also having multiple fulfillment—in spite of the fact that we have almost always read them as bearing only one fulfillment. Ultimately, on all such texts, the only sure interpretation is the one that is given ex eventu.

35 This issue was forcefully brought out by one who was at home in both worlds (S. Lewis Johnson, Jr., “Romans 5:12—An Exercise in Exegesis and Theology,” in New Dimensions in New Testament Study, edd. M. C. Tenney and R. N. Longenecker (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1974) 298-316. Unfortunately, the disconnect that Johnson noticed nearly three decades ago has grown into a great divorce today.

Related Topics: Canon, Theology

Irony in the End: A Textual and Literary Analysis of Mark 16:8

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Editor’s Note: Kelly Iverson was one of my interns for the 2000-2001 school year at Dallas Theological Seminary. This paper was read at the southwestern regional conference of the Evangelical Theological Society in April 2001. Kelly’s Th.M. thesis expanded on this theme as well.
Daniel B. Wallace

Introduction

The Synoptic Gospels devote considerable attention to the passion narrative. All recount Jesus’ anointing at Bethany, preparation for the Passover, the Last Supper, the Passover meal, the prediction of Peter’s denial, the events at Gethsemane, Jesus’ arrest, Peter’s denial, the crucifixion, Jesus’ death and burial, and the events at the empty tomb.

Matthew continues with the women’s encounter of the resurrected Christ (28:9-10) and the giving of the Great Commission in Galilee (28:16-20). Luke concludes with post-resurrection appearances along the road to Emmaus (24:13-31), with the disciples (24:36-49),1 and in the ascension (24:50-53).

But in the Gospel of Mark, just when Jesus’ cameo appearance is expected one stumbles into a significant textual problem. Far from being banished to an obscure nook of the Nestle-Aland apparatus even most English Bibles note that “some of the oldest manuscripts do not contain vv. 9-20.”2

So where does the Gospel of Mark end? How does Mark’s message of “good news”3 (1:1) conclude? Does it end with what appears to be “bad news” (i.e., the women fleeing from the tomb without saying a word) or does the curtain of Mark’s Gospel close in a manner similar to the other Synoptics?

The consensus among New Testament scholars is that 16:8 represents the concluding verse of Mark’s Gospel, however, this theory has not gone unscrutinized. Since his publication of The Last Twelve Verses of Mark in 1974,4 William Farmer has been the leading advocate5 for the minority, yet historically predominant position that vv 9-20 represent the original reading.6 The primary objective of this paper is not to contend with the contemporary consensus but to evaluate (1) William Farmer’s argument for the longer ending, (2) possible explanations for the abrupt ending, and (3) several literary proposals for Mark’s conclusion.

An Evaluation of William Farmer’s Text-Critical Argument

Textual criticism is governed by one overriding principle (i.e., choose the reading which best explains the rise ozf the others) and two sub-canons (i.e., the more difficult and shorter reading is preferred).7

Farmer concludes that the longer ending is original by suggesting that vv 9-20, especially the reference to handling snakes and drinking deadly poison (16:18) presents a more difficult reading.8 He says, Mark 16:9-20 “contains promises of Jesus to which the church has never succeeded in accommodating itself, except by unconscious repression. Most Christians do not know what these verses teach. They are seldom if ever expounded from the pulpit and almost never appealed to in didactic circumstances. Christians have long since learned to live with these promises by paying them no attention and to regard all efforts to take them seriously as bizarre acts of unfaith on the part of ignorant or misguided sectarians.”9

Sometime during the early second century, Farmer argues, a conscious decision was made by Alexandrian scribes to excise these unusual verses.10 The texts produced by this scriptorium set the standard for the Alexandrian text-type and gave rise to the great uncials omitting vv 9-20 (a B) and became, at least for a time, the text used by Origen. His widespread travel throughout the Mediterranean and influence upon the early church likely promoted the Alexandrian text-type omitting vv 9-20.11

While this reconstruction is intriguing one is forced to ask why the Alexandrian scribes would have omitted the last twelve verses of Mark. If, as Farmer suggests, the truly objectionable portion of the pericope was the reference to handling snakes and drinking poison (v. 18), it seems extremely odd that the entire resurrection account was excised. Farmer anticipates this objection and cites the apparent difficulties in v 9 as further rationale for the deletion. In Mark, Mary Magdalene is the first to meet the resurrected Christ but in 1 Cor 15:5 Peter is the first to see the risen Lord. Likewise, in Matthew Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene and Mary (the mother of James)12 but in Mark only Mary Magdalene is privy to the resurrection.13 These factors, in Farmer’s mind, proved to be the stimulus behind the scribal omission of vv 9-20.

Farmer’s proposal has several flaws. First, he attempts to substantiate the expurgation of Mark 16:9-20 based upon alleged parallels with Homeric text-critical practices in Alexandria.14 He argues that the often unsubstantiated use of obeli to highlight inauthentic texts inevitably led to their omission in future transmissions.15 However, this runs contrary to the practices of the Alexandrian scribes who were noted for their scrupulous care of the text generally marking spurious additions rather than deleting them.16

Second, even if v 9 contradicts other know Scriptures and v 18 represents a bizarre promise, why would the scribes have excised all twelve verses? Why not simply omit or alter the two verses in question? Is it really reasonable to assume that two verses posed such a theological quandary as to necessitate the truncation of Mark’s entire post-resurrection account?

Third, Murray Harris points out that there are “numerous inconsistencies” in the resurrection narratives that are obvious “to anyone who has examined the texts.”17 Surely the scribes recognized these difficulties. Then why was Mark the only Gospel to be altered? Why was Mark singled out as opposed to Matthew, Luke, or Paul?

Fourth, one must seriously question Farmer’s appeal to the longer ending being the most difficult reading. Despite the complexity of harmonizing the longer ending’s resurrection account with the Synoptics and Paul and the strange teaching in v 18, the ending of Mark’s Gospel would be much more difficult if 16:8 was the concluding verse. There is no doubt that Mark’s abrupt ending would have sparked serious consideration. For not only do both Matthew and Luke provide resurrection accounts, but Paul argues that the resurrection is the linch pin of the Christian faith (1 Cor 15:17).

In the final analysis, Farmer’s hypothesis raises more questions than it answers. Simply put it seems that the consensus is correct. Due to the difficulty of the original reading vv 9-20 were probably manufactured at a very early period in church history to provide what seemed like a more appropriate conclusion to an extremely odd ending.

Possible Explanations for the Abrupt Ending

Having argued that the last twelve verses appear to be a later scribal addition, we are left with yet another question. Did Mark intend to end his Gospel at v 8? Three options seem plausible, either (1) Mark was unable to finish the Gospel due to death, martyrdom, imprisonment, etc., (2) the original ending was lost at a very early date prior to the multiplication of the manuscript, or (3) Mark purposely ended his account at v 8.18

Option (1) though possible is purely conjecture and lacks any concrete evidence.19 Option (2) makes several questionable assumptions. First, if the book was not in widespread circulation, Mark or someone familiar with the autograph could have easily corrected a lost ending.20 If the ending was in circulation then it seems highly improbable that the entire textual tradition vanished.21 The only legitimate means of arguing this view is to suppose that the conclusion was lost during an extremely narrow window of time subsequent to Mark’s death (and for that matter anyone else familiar with the text) and prior to widespread circulation.22

Second, the hypothesis that the ending was lost assumes that the Gospel originally circulated in the form of a codex.23 If this were the case then the mutilation and/or misplacement of the last leaf (i.e., the ending) would be readily understandable given its somewhat precarious position in the book. Considerable evidence has been marshaled to suggest the early and widespread use of the codex in early Christian literature. BUT there is little evidence to date the birth of the codex prior to the 2nd century.24 In fact, three New Testament books that post-date the second evangelist independently suggest that Mark’s Gospel was written on a scroll.

There is compelling evidence to think that Luke-Acts, Hebrews, and Revelation were all written on scrolls.25 This being the case, although the employment of the codex may have come during the infancy of the church, its penetration and adoption in the 1st century seems to have been limited. It seems unlikely then that Mark’s Gospel, which scholars acknowledge pre-dates these other books, was written on a codex. If this is correct, as seems to be the case, then a lost, hypothetical ending is difficult to substantiate. For unlike the codex where the beginning and end of the document were most susceptible to damage, the end of the scroll was the most secure piece of the document.26

Generally the beginning of the scroll was located on the outside of the document. One hand was used to unwind the scroll and the other was used to roll up the previously read portion.27 When the document had been read in its entirety, the text was then re-rolled to allow the next reader to start from the beginning.28 The end of a document was almost always on the inside of the scroll where it was sheltered from damage. In other words, if any portion of Mark’s Gospel were preserved it would likely be the conclusion.

Option (3), which is the theory presented in this paper, is that Mark intentionally ended his Gospel at v 8. Though this view has gained support, several objections have been raised against it. First, many have suggested that a book can not end with γάρ. In 1926 R. R. Ottley published an article in which he cited several examples of sentences ending with γάρ (Homer Od. Iv 612, Aesch. Agam. 1564, Eurip. Med. 1272, 1276, Eurip. Orestes 251, Eurip. Iph. Aul. 1355, and in the LXX [Gen 14:3; Isa 16:10; 29:11]) the most notable of which came from Genesis 18:15 where Sarah, barren in her old age, laughed at the angelic messenger’s announcement that she would conceive and give birth to a child.29 When confronted by Abraham, Sarah denied it, ἐφοβήθη γάρ—a similar expression used by Mark in 16:8.30

Despite the emergence of other literary parallels,31 many scholars continued to insist that a paragraph ending with γάρ was not the same as a book ending with γάρ.32 Then in 1972 P. W. van der Horst published a landmark article.33 In the 32nd treatise of Plotinus (a philosophical work) it was demonstrated that a book could end with γάρ.34 Van der Horst concluded his article by suggesting that “the proof was really not necessary for common sense alone could argue that, if a sentence or paragraph can end with γάρ, a book can too.”35

The second major argument leveled against the abrupt ending is that an open ending is a literary technique absent from ancient literature.36 Conclusions in ancient literature, it is asserted, were like bow ties that wrapped together the various strands of the story leaving the reader with little to wonder about. Therefore, “to suppose that Mark originally intended to end his Gospel in this way implies both that he was totally indifferent to the canons of popular story-telling, and that by a pure accident he happened to hit on a conclusion which suits the technique of a highly sophisticated type of modern literature.”37

There is no question that the abrupt statement, “for they were afraid,” is an unusual ending. However, J. L. Magness’ review of Hebrew, Greek, and Roman literature has demonstrated that open, abrupt conclusions were accepted and understood by ancient writers and readers.38 Actually, several biblical texts illustrate Magness’ conclusion. Shockingly, the book of Jonah ends with God’s unanswered question posed to a pouting prophet, the parable of the prodigal son leaves the response of the disgruntled brother in question (Luke 15:11-32), and in Mark 6:45-52, the pericope highlighting Jesus jaunt across the water ends uneventfully with the statement, “for they had not gained any insight from the incident of the loaves, but their heart was hardened” (6:52). Though the statement provides some analysis of the preceding narrative, it hardly answers all the reader’s questions. What should the disciples have learned from the incident of the loaves? And how had their hearts become hardened? Similar abrupt endings are littered throughout Mark’s Gospel (e.g. 9:30-32; 12:13-17).39

Furthermore, to assume that Mark’s conclusion must meet the standards of ancient literary patterns depicts a fundamental misunderstanding of the Gospel genre. Though the Gospels possess characteristics similar to Greco-Roman biography and narrative “they stand too far removed to be associated with other literary tradition meaningfully or helpfully.”40 Because the Gospels represent a unique blend of history and theology, Mark’s ending need not fit a stereotypical mold.

Did Mark fail to finish his Gospel? Was the last leaf of the Gospel lost? Or did Mark intentionally end his account with the abrupt statement, ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ? Although certainty is impossible, the evidence seems to indicate that Mark 16:8 is the most plausible option. Stonehouse correctly observes, while “some of these suppositions must be admitted to possess a degree of plausibility, they should be envisioned as serious possibilities only if, after Mark 16:1-8 is studied in connection with the evident aim and method of this evangelist.”41

Mark 16:8 From a Literary Perspective

Since the shift in scholarly consensus during the middle of the 20th century, literary critics have been anything but shy in attempting to explain Mark’s unusual ending. Although scores of possibilities and permutations exist, the brevity of this paper allows only an examination of the most popular proposals.42

(1) The women’s response was a positive reaction to the angelic messenger.43 Those advocating this position argue that throughout Mark’s Gospel fear44 is a normal response to divine revelation or a miraculous event. A similar reaction occurs in the transfiguration (9:2-8), where Peter dumbfounded by the glorified presence of Christ, Elijah, and Moses foolishly offers to build three tabernacles. His request is quickly rebuked by the heavenly voice but his brash proposal is explained by the fact that he was afraid (ἔκφοβοι γάρ ἐγένοντο [9:6]). Lane concludes from this and other similar texts45 that, “those who are confronted with God’s direct intervention in the historical process do not know how to react. Diving revelation lies beyond normal human experience, and there are no categories available to men which enable them to understand and respond appropriately.”46 Therefore, the women’s response in 16:8 should be understood as a wholly appropriate response to the incomprehensibility of the resurrection.

While there is no doubt that fear is a typical response to an epiphany or divine revelation one must seriously question whether this can be deemed an entirely positive reaction.47 In Mark 4:14, the disciples’ fearful response to the stilling of the storm clearly has negative overtones as it is juxtaposed with Jesus’ stern rebuke for their unbelief. In Mark 5:15, the people respond in fear after Jesus healed the demoniac, but rather than embracing Christ they plead with him to leave the region (5:17). In the sandwiched accounts of 5:21-43, Mark highlights the faith based fear of the hemorrhaging women (5:33-34) as opposed to the unbelieving fear of the synagogue official (5:36). Although Herod’s fear of John the Baptist was positive in some respects (i.e., he kept him safe)(6:20) it was certainly not strong enough to avert his execution. In Mark 6:50, fear is again cast with negative overtones when the disciples are enjoined “not to be afraid” when they see the ghost walking across the water. After Jesus’ second seminar on the passion, the disciples’ misunderstanding and confusion results in their fearful refusal to ask any questions (9:30-32). Again in 10:32 fear and confusion are linked as Jesus’ followers maintain bewilderment about the “first and the last” (10:23-31) and the journey to Jerusalem (10:33-34). In 11:18, the religious leaders’ fear must be understood in view of their plot to kill Jesus. Similarly, in 11:32 and 12:12 it is the convictionless fear of the people that stymies the religious leaders’ plans.

In summary, fear is a normal response but of the twelve occurrences of φοβέομαι in the second Gospel only one can be considered positive, one is somewhat vague (6:20), and the other ten have negative associations. For Mark φοβέομαι has a negative connotation often used as a pejorative denoting unbelief or confusion. Given this background the burden of proof lies with those who argue that the women’s response in 16:8 is a positive event. Even despite the abundant evidence, this interpretation seems contrary to the natural reading of the text. The fact that the women were “amazed” to see the angelic messenger is normal (16:5) but the women’s response to the messenger’s instruction is nothing short of disobedience. Instead of remaining calm (16:6) and informing the disciples (16:7) the women fled in fear with out saying anything to anyone (16:8)!48

(2) The women’s response was a total failure signifying Mark’s polemic against his adversaries.49 Most scholars recognize Mark’s unusually harsh portrayal of the disciples. But promoters of this view argue that the women’s failure sealed the fate of the Twelve. The angelic command at the tomb was met with complete disobedience by the women. Jesus was left jilted in Galilee, the twelve were never informed of the resurrection, never restored to service, and never received apostolic commissioning. Obviously, proponents of this view recognize that the other Synoptic accounts do record these events. However, they insist that “Mark 16:8b must be read at full face value with all its sundry ramifications!”50 The purpose of this radical redaction was part of the evangelist’s rhetorical strategy in which the disciples were used as representatives of Mark’s theological opponents. Mark concluded with the complete failure of the disciples with the intent of communicating the ultimate fate of his opponents. Mark’s Gospel then is a polemic against the community’s theological adversaries and depicts their final condemnation. Thus it is argued that the women’s response in 16:8 is a tragic, disastrous conclusion to Mark’s Gospel. 

The primary objection to this view, similar to that of the first, is that it fails to teeter 16:7 with 16:8. In 16:7 the young man informs the women that the previously planned rendezvous (14:27-28) with the disciples will proceed as planned. In 16:8 the women flee from the tomb in fear. The difficulty with this position is that it emphasizes the failure of the women in v 8 at the expense of the promise in v 7. This is problematic because throughout Mark’s Gospel Jesus’ promises find fulfillment. For example, Jesus accurately predicts: that the disciples would find a colt (11:2), the location for the Passover meal (14:13-15), his betrayal by Judas (9:31; 10:33; 14:18-21), the falling away of the disciples (14:27), Peter’s denial (14:30), his death (8:31; 9:31; 10:34; 12:8), and his resurrection (8:31; 9:9, 31; 10:34).51 When the young man informs the women that Jesus will meet the disciples in Galilee “just as he told” them (14:27-28), the reader has every expectation that the promise will be fulfilled.

(3) The women’s response is ironic, evoking the reader’s reflection and projection.52 Proponents of this view recognize, as do all literary critics, the inherent tension in Mark’s final two verses. “The juxtaposition of the expectation introduced in 16:7 with the terminal frustration of it in 16:8 requires the reader to review what he has read in order to comprehend this apparent incongruity and its meaning for the narrator’s message. The text ends, but the readerly work . . . goes on.”53 Mark’s ending rather than posing an irreconcilable problem, forces the reader to reflect back upon the narrative. Either the reader must interpret 16:8 through the grid of the preceding narrative or the preceding narrative through 16:8. However, throughout the second Gospel Mark proves himself to be a competent narrator. Consistently, the reader finds the predictions recorded by Mark reaching their fulfillment.54 The narrator has established his credibility and the expectation that Jesus will be reunited with the disciples in Galilee. Thus the promise in 16:7 must be fulfilled, branding a strictly literal reading of 16:8 “suspect” in favor of an “ironic substitute.”55 V 8 does not stunt Jesus previous promise to meet the disciples in Galilee (14:28), rather it is a rhetorical statement that spurs the reader backwards to reflect upon the preceding narrative in order to project the forthcoming events in Galilee.

There is no doubt that the ending of Mark’s Gospel is ironic. But how is it ironic? Does the irony diminish a plain reading of 16:8? Unfortunately this view suffers from several logical flaws. First, the basis for this interpretation is predicated on the demonstrated reliability of the narrator. But it is precisely this reliability that is immediately jettisoned. Indeed, if the narrator has secured the reader’s confidence via sixteen plus chapters, does he not deserve the same deference in the last verse? Given Mark’s track record, is it likely that he sacrificed his credulity in the concluding verse of the book? Given Mark’s faithfulness, the failure of the women in 16:8 should not be side stepped. Second, to argue that the “certainty of the disciples’ restoration sets aside the possibility of the women’s silence” is a false choice.56 One need not resort to this interpretation just because he finds difficulty reconciling the promise of Jesus with the failure of the women. Other literary options do exist and should be explored. A satisfying proposal must affirm and balance both 16:7 and 16:8.              

(4) The women’s failure challenges the reader to pick up where the disciples failed.57 This view treats the ending as open and unfulfilled. “For those of us so used to stories with a resolution, it is tempting to dull the shock of this ending by adding what we know from the other Gospels or the history of the Christian movement.”58 But the disciples’ flight (14:50) and the women’s blunder leave the story unresolved begging for some form of closure. Who then will proclaim the good news? The “crisis of interpretation invites the implied reader, and, indeed, the real reader to take up the actions required for closure: becoming that disciple of Jesus who will proclaim the Gospel message.”59 Since everyone else has abandoned Jesus, the reader is invited to become the faithful follower of Christ and witness to the world. Thus rhetorically, Mark’s unusual ending functions as an implicit apostolic commission similar to the other Gospels (Matt 28:18-20; Luke 24:46-49; John 21:15-23)

Although homiletically attractive, this view fails to deal with the specifics of 16:7. The messenger’s command was to “go and tell Peter and the disciples.” Obviously, the reader is in no position to do this. Even if he were, why would he be instructed to share the gospel with those that had already believed? Are we to presume that the statement is a soteriological indictment against Peter and the disciples? Who then are Peter and the disciples? Furthermore, it is doubtful that the command in 16:7 can be considered a generalized call to gospel proclamation. Instead the women are instructed to tell the disciples about a previously discussed, though future meeting in Galilee. Therefore “given the specifics of Mark 16:7, the reader is logically not in a position to succeed where the women failed.”60

(5) Mark’s ending holds out promise despite the disciple’s proclivity for failure.61 According to this view, neither 16:7 nor 16:8 is allowed to trump the other verse. The Gospel ends with an affirmation of both promise and failure - promise for a future restoration of the disciples but immediate failure for the women. The angelic words in 16:7 are a promise that failure is not the end for the disciples. As predicted, the messenger points to a time in the near future when the disciples will be reconciled to Christ. But this does not negate or diminish the disobedience of the women’s fear and subsequent silence. Although the failure follows the promise the reader intuitively knows that the end is not really the end. The fact that Jesus’ words “will not pass away” (13:31) coupled with the consist cycle of prediction and fulfillment in Mark’s Gospel gives the reader confidence that the description of the disciples’ post resurrection activities (Mark 13) is not contingent on the women’s obedience. The very fact that Mark’s Gospel was written indicates the promise was ultimately fulfilled and word got out. “In this light the juxtaposition of 16:7 and 16:8 provides a paradigm for Christian existence according to Mark—the word of promise and the failure of the disciples, and yet the word of promise prevailing despite human failure.”62 

By far, this option best explains the unusual nature of Mark’s ending. However, given Mark’s introductory remarks concerning the “good news of Jesus Christ” (1:1) in what way is the conclusion congruent with this statement? After all, the book ends in seeming disaster. One of the dominant themes in Mark’s Gospel is the issue of discipleship. Although unanimity is generally an anomaly, all would agree that the disciples are cast unfavorably in the second Gospel.63 Even a cursory reading of Mark is likely to leave one depressed rather than impressed with the nature of discipleship. One gets the distinct impression that the disciples are blundering idiots. They are unperceptive, hard hearted, self-seeking, cowardly, and faithless.64 And yet it is precisely this tendency for failure juxtaposed with promise that can actually be called “good news.” Mark paints the disciples with warts and all. But these blemishes viewed within the context of the purity and promises of Christ generate hope rather than despair for the disciple.65 As Joel Williams has said, “Mark presents true followers who fail, but he also offers hope, because he shows that Jesus does not give up on them. Jesus is able to restore his disciples, or any of his own who stumble, and to make fishers of men. Mark ends his Gospel with a fitting message to the fallible followers of Jesus who read his story. There is hope for those who fail, but the path is never easy and the dangers are real.”66

As satisfying as this option is it fails to account for Mark’s messianic secret.67 Throughout Mark’s Gospel Jesus consistently instructs people (and demons) to refrain from telling others about His activities (cf. 1:34; 3:12; 5:43; 7:36; 8:26; 8:30; 9:9). Despite these injunctions Jesus’ words are often disobeyed (1:45; 7:36). Towards the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry He informs the three that this communication embargo will be lifted after the resurrection (9:9). It is precisely this expectation which casts irony over the women’s actions in 16:8. Prior to the resurrection, Jesus’ followers had been instructed to remain silent, but didn’t; after the resurrection the women were instructed to go and tell, but don’t! Even the wording of the text in 16:8 (οὐδενὶ οὐδὲν εἴπαν) hints at this irony by providing an echo of the first explicit secrecy command in 1:44 (μηδενὶ μηδὲν εἴπῃς).68 It may very well be that Mark has intertwined promise, failure, and the messianic secret into the ending. The prevalence of the theme throughout the Gospel and the irony of the women’s silence deserve further investigation.

Conclusion

This paper has attempted to demonstrate three things. First, Farmer’s argument that vv 9-20 represent the original reading raises too many questions to be considered a plausible option. Second, although certainty is impossible the evidence suggests that Mark intentionally concluded his account with the abrupt statement ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ. There is ample evidence that Mark’s original ending was not mysteriously lost, that γάρ can end a sentence, and that an open ending was occasionally used in ancient literature. And third, Mark’s ending makes sense of the preceding narrative. The juxtaposition of promise and failure “provide a paradigm for the interplay between divine promise and human failure in Christian existence.”69


1 This includes the eleven disciples and “others” (Luke 24:33).

2 For example, the NASB, NKJV, NRSV, and NIV all note the textual problem in vv 9-20.

3 BDAG (403) defines εὐαγγέλιον in 1:1 as “details relating to the life and ministry of Jesus, good news of Jesus.”

4 William Farmer, The Last Twelve Verses of Mark (Cambridge: University Press, 1974). Farmer was working on a revision of this book during the composition of this paper but passed away in December of 2000. It remains to be seen whether or not his revision will be published. 

5 More recently Clayton Croy (“The World according to Gar: The Debate over Mark’s Ending at 16:8,” A paper read at the Society of Biblical Literature annual conference in Nashville, November 2000.) has advocated that vv 9-20 are not original but that the autograph continued past 16:8.

6 The longer ending (vv 9-20) is clearly the most attested reading. It is validated by almost all of the extant Greek manuscripts, a significant number of minuscules, numerous versions, and scores of church Fathers. Geographically it is represented by the Byzantine, Alexandrian, and Western text types. However, one should be careful not to reduce textual criticism into an exercise of manuscript counting. Though the longer ending is widely attested, the vast bulk of manuscripts are from the generally inferior, Byzantine text type dating from the 8th to the 13th centuries (except Codex A which is a 5th century document). Due to the solidarity of the Byzantine text type we may assume that this represents at least a fourth century reading (Bruce M. Metzger, The Text of the New Testament: Its Transmission, Corruption, and Restoration, 3rd ed. [New York: Oxford University, 1992], 293).

The abrupt ending (1) is found in the two oldest Greek manuscripts. These Alexandrian uncials a B, both 4th century manuscripts, are supported by the Sinaitic Syriac manuscripts, approximately one hundred Armenian texts and two Georgian manuscripts from the 9th and 10th centuries, and several church Fathers including Clement of Alexandria and Origen. That this reading was more prominent is supported by Eusebius and Jerome who claimed that vv 9-20 were absent from almost all known manuscripts (ibid., 226). It is also significant that Codex Bobiensis (k) omits the longer ending as this is deemed the “most important witness to the Old African Latin” Bible (ibid., 73). The genealogical solidarity of the two primary Alexandrian witnesses suggest that this reading can be dated to the 2nd century (Metzger, Text of the New Testament, 215-216).

To say the least, the evidence is conflicting. One should be careful not to make a firm decision one way or the other regarding Mark’s ending based on the external data alone. Though the majority of New Testament scholars believe that vv 9-20 are not original, virtually none come to this conclusion based purely on the external evidence. Even Farmer must confess that, “while a study of the external evidence is rewarding in itself and can be very illuminating in many ways . . . it does not produce the evidential grounds for a definitive solution to the problem. A study of the history of the text, by itself, has not proven sufficient, since the evidence is divided” (Farmer, Last Twelve Verses of Mark, 74).

Most text-critics appeal to the internal evidence in order to demonstrate that vv 9-20 are non-Marcan. One is immediately struck with the awkward transition between vv 8 and 9. In v 8, the subject, “they” referring to Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome (16:1) is implicit within the third, plural verb, ἐφοβοῦντο. But in v 9 the subject changes to “He” (from the third, singular verb ἐφάνη). The transition is striking because the subject is unexpressed. Furthermore, in v 9 Mary Magdalene is introduced as though she were a new character even though her presence has already been established in the immediate context (15:47; 16:1) while Mary the mother of James and Salome disappear from the entire narrative. This awkward transition coupled with numerous words and phrases that are foreign to Mark, suggest the decidedly inauthentic nature of this ending. 

Several examples should prove the point. In 16:9 we find the only occurrence of the verb φαίνω in the New Testament with respect to the resurrection (though the same verb is used in Luke 9:8 to describe Elijah’s re-appearance). Equally as unusual is the construction παῤ ἧσ ἐκβεβλήκει, which is a grammatical hapax. In v 10, the verb πορεύομαι which is found 29 times in Matthew and 51 times in Luke is not found in Mark 1:1-16:8, but repeatedly in the longer ending (vv 10, 12, 15). In v 11, The verb θεάομαι which occurs in Matthew (6:1; 11:7; 22:11; 23:5) and Luke (7:24; 23:55) finds no parallel in Mark except for its multiple occurrence in the longer ending (16:11, 14). In v 12, the expression μετὰ ταῦτα which occurs frequently in Luke (1:24; 5:27; 10:1; 12:4; 17:8; 18:4) and John (2:12; 3:22; 5:1, 14; 6:1; 7:1; 11:7, 11; 13:7; 19:28, 38; 21:1)  has no precedence in Mark. φανερόω which neither Matthew or Luke use to describe resurrection appearances is found in vv 12 and 14 (J. K. Elliott, “The Text and Language of the endings of Mark’s Gospel,” TZ 27 [1971]: 258). The phrase ἕτερος μορφή is also unique to Marcan vocabulary. Neither ἕτερος nor μορφή occur elsewhere in Mark and μορφή only appears in Paul’s description of the kenosis (Phil 2:6, 7). In v 14, ὕστερος, although used by the other evangelists, is a decidedly non-Marcan term having no precedence in 1:1-16:8. Mark seems to prefer ἔσχατος over ὕστερος as evidenced by several parallel passages in which Mark opts for the former over the later term found in Matthew (cf. Matt 21:37–Mark 12:6; Matt 22:27–Mark 12:22). In v 18, aside from other lexical and syntactical phenomenon one is struck by the unusual exegetical hapax. No other text in Scripture provides a promise for the handling of snakes and imbibing deadly poison without adverse repercussions. In v 19, though Mark sparingly uses the conjunction οὖν, the phrase μὲν οὖν is not found in 1:1-16:8. The longer ending concludes in v 20 with a litany of non-Marcan vocabulary: συνεργέω is not found in Mark or the Gospels and appears to be a Pauline term (Rom 8:28; 1 Cor 16:16; 2 Cor 6:1) but it is never used with Jesus as the subject, and βεβαιόω along with ἐπακολουθεω are also foreign to the Synoptic Gospels.

As is somewhat evident, the internal evidence raises significant problems with Mark 16:9-20. The awkward transition between vv 8 and 9 and the non-Marcan vocabulary has led the vast majority of New Testament scholars to conclude that the longer ending is inauthentic. In fact, even Farmer (Last Twelve Verses of Mark, 103), the leading proponent for the authenticity of the last twelve verses, must confess that some of the evidence warrants this conclusion.

7 Michael W. Holmes, “New Testament Textual Criticism,” In Introducing New Testament Interpretation, ed. Scot McKnight (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1989), 56.

8 Farmer, Last Twelve Verses of Mark, 109.

9 Ibid., 65.

10 Ibid., 70-71.

11 For a general critique of Farmer’s entire thesis, see J. N. Birdsall, Review of Last Twelve Verses of Mark, by William R. Farmer, JTS 26 (1975): 151-60.

12 Matt 28:9 says, “Jesus met them.” Them (αὐταῖς) is a third person feminine plural pronoun whose antecedent is Mary Magdelene and the other Mary introduced in 28:1.

13 Farmer, Last Twelve Verses of Mark, 65.

14 Ibid., 72.

15 Ibid., 15-17.

16 Metzger, Text of the New Testament, 296.  Even Farmer admits, “we lack positive confirmation that Alexandrian editorial practice actually led to the omission of our ending of the Odyssey” (Farmer, Last Twelve Verses of Mark, 17).

17 Murray J. Harris, Raised Immortal: Resurrection and Immortality in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 67.

18 Metzger, Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, 105.

19 Lightfoot argues, had this been the case, the early church would certainly have attempted to complete the incomplete ending, yet source criticism suggests that neither Matthew nor Luke possessed copies of Mark extending beyond 16:8 (R. H. Lightfoot, The Gospel Message of St. Mark [Oxford: University Press, 1952], 83).

20 Ned Bernard Stonehouse, The Witness of Matthew and Mark to Christ (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Guardian, 1944), 99. See also J. M. Creed, “The Conclusion of the Gospel according to Saint Mark,” JTS 31(1930): 176.

21 Lightfoot, Gospel Message of St. Mark, 82.

22 Though logically challenging, this view has been supported by numerous well-respected scholars. For example Bruce Metzger, Text of the New Testament, 226-29 and Robert H. Gundry, Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 1009-12 are proponents of this view. Gundry cites twelve reasons why v 8 must begin a new pericope (with the obvious implication that vv. 9-20 were lost) yet fails to deal with the historical plausibility of this view.

23 This is the view taken by Roberts and Skeat (Colin H. Roberts and T. C. Skeat, The Birth of the Codex [London: Oxford University Press, 1983], 55).

24 Of the 172 extant biblical manuscripts dating between the 2nd—4th centuries, 92% (158 out of 172) are codices. This is in sharp contrast to the meager 9% (178 out of 2047) of extant secular literature written on codex. Roberts and Skeat reject the notion that the impetus for Christian usage of the codex was due to economy, compactness, comprehensiveness, convenience, ease of reference, the medieval experience, or conservatism (contra Peter Katz, “The Early Christians’ Use of Codices Instead of Rolls,” JTS 44 [1945]: 63-65, who suggests that the rise of the codex was a reaction to Judaic tradition). Instead, they tentatively conclude that the rise of the codex was likely in conjunction with the origin of the nomina sacra and “its introduction must date well before A. D. 100” (ibid., 37, 39-41, 45-53, 63). This last statement may be an overstatement given the fact that no manuscript evidence supports this position.

25 First, that Luke-Acts was originally composed as two separate scrolls coincides with the nature and practices of early scribes. In antiquity, papyrus rolls could be purchased up to thirty-five feet in length (for an excellent discussion of the manufacture and specifications of the scroll see Harry Y. Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church: A History of Early Christian Texts [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995], 44-48). Although a manuscript could be assembled piece by piece, most writers planned their text to accommodate the manuscript they purchased (A. Q. Morton and G. H. C. MacGregor, The Structure of Luke and Acts [New York: Harper & Row, 1964], 12-13). Interestingly, the Gospel of Luke contains approximately 19,000 words and Acts approximately 18,000, each of which would have filled an average size papyrus scroll (seven to ten meters). Rolls exceeding this length, though possible to manufacture were too awkward for handling (Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church, 47). This striking symmetry, coupled with the recapitulation of the ascension supports the theory that Luke-Acts was constructed on two separate scrolls.

Second, the authorship of the book of Hebrews presents a challenging problem for exegetes. Did the author intend to make this an anonymous work? Or did the address become detached from the rest of the document? If one assumes that the original autograph was composed on a scroll then the absence of an address has a rather straightforward explanation. It was relatively common to inscribe the name of the author and the title of the work on the verso (i.e., the back of the document) of the roll’s first sheet (C. H. Roberts, “The Ancient Book and the Ending of St. Mark,” JTS 40 [1939]: 254. Sosylus papyrus and P. Ryl. I 19 provide examples of this type of inscription; Jack Finegan, Encountering New Testament Manuscripts: A Working Introduction to Textual Criticism [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974], 31). This way, when the scroll was properly rolled both the author and the title were visible without having to unroll the scroll. It may be, that soon after the book of Hebrews was completed the author’s name was smeared or worn beyond recognition by a scribe or carrier handling the scroll. It is also possible that the address may have been written on the recto side of a blank sheet attached to the roll (an example of this is in the Berlin Hierocles [Roberts, “Ancient Book and the Ending of St. Mark,” 254]). If this were the case, then it may have been that this sheet was dismembered as the most susceptible portion of the roll was the outer sheet. 

Third, the book of Revelation which is generally dated around A.D. 95 during the reign of Domitian also seems to have been written on a scroll (G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text, The New International Greek Testament Commentary, ed. I. Howard Marshall and Donald A. Hagner [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999], 4). John is instructed in 1:11 to record his revelation in a βιβλίον which could refer to either a book (i.e., a codex) or scroll (BDAG, 176). However, the βιβλίον opened by the Lamb in Rev. 5:1 is clearly a roll. The fact that the numerous σφραγῖδας (“seals”)(5:1, 2, 5, 9; 6:1, 3, 5, 7, 9; 8:1) must be broken seems strange if the document were a codex. Some have argued that the reading of the scroll would have necessitated breaking all seven seals. However, there is evidence to suggest that individual parts of the document could be read as individual seals were broken. This might have been more apparent if the book had been “unrolled” (ὰνειλω), rather than “opened” (ὰνοιξαι)(Rev. 5:2, 3, 4, 5, 9; 6:1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 12; 8:1), but the use of ὰνοιξαι with relation to a scroll is not without precedent (cf. LXX Isa 37:14)(Beale, The Book of Revelation, 342-343). Similarly, John’s βιβλίον also appears to be a roll as he is instructed not to σφραγίσῃς (“seal up”) the words of the revelation 22:10.  

26 Generally speaking, it was customary for the author/scribe to affix a clean sheet to the beginning and end of the scroll for even greater protection (Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church, 47).

27 Roberts and Skeat, Birth of the Codex, 49.

28 Inevitably, some scrolls were not re-rolled (similar to our modern problem with VHS and audio tapes), however the sheet attached at the end of the document would have provided protection from this neglect (Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church, 47).

29 R. R. Ottley, “εφοβουντο γαρ Mark xvi 8,” JTS 27 (1926): 408.

30 In Gen 18:15 ἐφοβήθη is 3rd singular, aorist passive, while in Mark 16:8 ἐφοβοῦντο is 3rd plural, imperfect middle. 

31 Kraeling cited examples from Pap. Oxy. no. 1223 (a 4th century business document) and  John 13:13 in the Peshitta (Carl H. Kraeling, “Brief Communications: A Philological Note on Mark 16:8,” JBL 44 [1925]: 357-58).  See also Morton S. Enslin, “εφοβουντο γαr Mark 16:8,” JBL 46 (1927): 62-68 and Henry J. Cadbury, “Brief Communications: Mark 16:8,” JBL 46 (1927): 344-45. The publication of Menander’s classic Greek comedy Dyscolos again reinforced the “correctness of the construction with terminating γάρ” (Frederick W. Danker, “Menander and the New Testament,” NTS 10 [1964]: 365-66).

32 Moule called the continued discussion “rash” (C. F. D. Moule, “St Mark xvi. 8 Once More,” NTS 2 [1955]: 58).

33 P. W. van der Horst, “Can a Book End with a gar? A Note on Mark XVI.8,” JTS 23 (1972): 123.

34 Ibid., 123-24. P. W. van der Horst was quick to note that according to the respected Plotinus scholar, Richard Harder, treatises 30, 31, 32, and 33 were part of a larger composite work that was fractured into smaller units by Plotinus’ pupil and editor, Porphyry. However, Porphyry obviously did not consider it a literary gaffe to end the treaty with ga,r. As Harder suggested, Porphyry’s editorial decision was likely not an autonomous one, but was triggered by Plotinus’ own markings as the other treatises “all begin with a recapitulation, which indicates at least a large breathing-space between them.” 

35 Ibid., 124. More recently, technological advances such as the development of search engines like Thesaurus Linguae Graecae (TLG) and Accordance have made the identification of lexical and semantic constructions exponentially easier. For example, a simple search on TLG reveals that from the 800 B.C. through A.D. 300 there are 624 sentences that end in ga,r. Although the data can not prove that Mark ended his Gospel at v 8, it certainly makes it a possibility. See also BDAG, 189.

36 Wilfred Lawrence Knox, “The Ending of St. Mark’s Gospel,” HTR 35 (1942): 17-23.

37 Ibid., 22-23.

38 James Lee Magness, “Sense and Absence: Structure and Suspension in the Ending of the Gospel of Mark,” (Ph.D. diss., Emory University, 1984).

39 Thomas E. Boomershine and Gilbert L. Bartholomew, “The Narrative Technique of Mark 16:8,” JBL 100 (1981): 213-23.

40 Robert H. Gundry, “Recent Investigation into the Literary Genre ‘Gospel,’” In New Dimensions in New Testament Study, ed. Richard N. Longenecker and Merrill C. Tenney, 97-114 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1974), 114. Gundry objects to the use of Gospel genre as it “implies a literary tradition of that kind prior to our Gospels” (114). Though this may be so, the term is simply being used here as nomenclature to describe the literary qualities of Gospel literature. See also L. W. Hurtado, “Gospel (Genre),” In Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels, ed. Joel B. Green, Scot McKnight, and I. Howard Marshall, 276-82 (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1992), 278-79.

41 Stonehouse, Witness of Matthew and Mark to Christ, 99.

42 Joel Williams’ article (“Literary Approaches to the End of Mark’s Gospel,” JETS 42 [1999]: 21-35) provides a helpful summary of the major proposals which will be used in this paper.

43 Scholars holding this view include William L. Lane, The Gospel according to Mark, The New International Commentary on the New Testament, ed. F.F. Bruce (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974), 591-92; Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “Fallible Followers: Women and Men in the Gospel of Mark,” Semeia 28 (1983): 44; Timothy Dwyer, “The Motif of Wonder in the Gospel of Mark,” JSNT 57 (1995): 57-8; Stonehouse, Witness of Matthew and Mark to Christ, 108; David Catchpole, “The Fearful Silence of the Women at the Tomb: A Study in Markan Theology” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa 18 (1977): 3-10; Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel according to Saint Mark, Black’s New Testament Commentaries, ed. Henry Chadwick (London: A & C Black, 1991; reprint Peabody: Hendrickson, 1999), 387. 

44 Catchpole (“Fearful Silence of the Women,” 7) notes that Mark uses four “fear” words: ἐκθαμβέομαι, ἔκστασις, τρόμος, and φοβέομαι.

45 Cf. 4:41; 5:15, 33, 36; 6:50; 9:6, 32.

46 Lane, 590.

47 See Andrew T. Lincoln, “The Promise and The Failure: Mark 16:7, 8,” JBL 108 (1989): 286-287 and Thomas E. Boomershine, “Mark 16:8 and the Apostolic Commission,” JBL 100 (1981): 228-229.

48 Furthermore, Mark’s use of φεύγω in 16:8 conjures up images of the disciples flight in 14:50, which although was predicted (14:27) should be understood, at least in part, in terms of the flight of the anonymous young man in 14:51-52. Hester concludes that the naked young man “serves to emphasize the flight of the disciples . . . the disaster of such a response is emphasized by the cultural code of nudity, a sin of shame and vulnerability” (J. David Hester, “Dramatic Inconclusion: Irony and the Narrative Rhetoric of the Ending of Mark,” JSNT 57 [1995]: 74-5). 

49 Representatives of this view include: Theodore J. Weeden, Mark – Traditions in Conflict (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971), 44-51, 101-17; Werner H. Kebler, Mark’s Story of Jesus (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 83-7; John Dominic Crossan, “Empty Tomb and Absent Lord (Mark 16:1-8),” in The Passion in Mark: Studies on Mark 14-16, ed. Werner H. Kelber (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976), 135-52; idem, “Mark and the Relatives of Jesus,” NovT 15 (1973): 81-113.

50 Weeden, Mark – Traditions in Conflict, 50.

51 Williams, “Literary Approaches to the End of Mark’s Gospel,” 29.

52 See Jack Dean Kingsbury, Conflict in Mark: Jesus, Authorities, Disciples (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 112-15; Norman R. Peterson, “When is the End not the End? Literary Reflections on the Ending of Mark’s Narrative,” Interpretation 34 (1980): 151-66; idem, “The Reader in the Gospel,” Neot 18 (1984): 49.

53 Peterson, “When is the End not the End?,” 153.

54 See option (2) for examples of promise/fulfillment texts in Mark.

55 Peterson, “When is the End not the End?,” 156.

56 Williams, “Literary Approaches to the End of Mark’s Gospel,” 32.

57 Advocates of this view include Boomershine, “Apostolic Commission,” 225-239; David Rhoads, Joanna Dewey, and Donald Michie, Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel, 2ed (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), 143; Hester, “Dramatic Inconclusion,” 83-5; Paul Danove, “The Characterization and Narrative Function of the Women at the Tomb (Mark 15,40-41.47; 16,1-8),” Bib 77 (1996): 395-97; Mary Ann Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel: Mark’s World in Literary-Historical Perspective (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 288-99.

58 Rhoads, Dewey, and Michie, Mark as Story, 143.

59 Danove, “Characterization and Narrative Function of the Women,” 397.

60 Williams, “Literary Approaches to the End of Mark’s Gospel,” 33

61 See Lincoln, “Promise and Failure,” 283-300; Williams, “Literary Approaches to the End of Mark’s Gospel,” 21-35; Donald H. Juel, A Master of Surprise: Mark Interpreted (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994), 116.

62 Lincoln, “Promise and Failure,” 292.

63 See for example Mark Allen Powell, “Toward a Narrative-Critical Understanding of Mark,” Int 47 (1993): 343-44; Frank Matera, “The Incomprehension of the Disciples and Peter’s Confession (Mark 6,14-8,30),” Bib 70 (1989): 153-72; Malbon, “Fallible Followers,” 29-48.

64 Cf. 4:10-13, 35-41; 6:45-52; 8:14-21, 32-33; 9:33-34; 10:35-41; 14:32-41, 50, 66-72.

65 There is much discussion regarding the νεανίσκος in 16:5.  Is this a “young man” or an “angel?” Lincoln (“Promise and Failure,” 292-3) astutely observes that Mark may have been intentionally vague to sandwich the flight of the other νεανίσκος in 14:51 and further emphasize the promise/failure motif. “The figure in 14:51 and that in 16:5 are both described in the same threefold way—a young man (νεανίσκος), wearing (περιβεβλημένος), and the description of the garment worn. But a transformation has taken place in regard to this last item. As we saw, in 14:51 the young man was dressed for death – in a shroud. In 16:5 he is dressed as befits the new occasion of resurrection – in a white robe (cf. Rev 7:9, 13, 14). The figure who failed abysmally in the face of death is now restored as the messenger of resurrection and restoration . . . so perhaps the very presence of the angelic young man is also a veiled promise that failure will not be the end” (ibid., 293). Lincoln may very well be correct given Mark’s tendency to sandwich blocks of material (see James R. Edwards, “Markan Sandwiches: The Significance of Interpolation in Markan Sandwiches,” NT 31 [1989]: 193-216).

66 Williams, “Literary Approaches to the End of Mark’s Gospel,” 35.

67 Ibid. Williams completely neglects this issue. Lincoln’s article (“Promise and Failure,” 290-1) makes the best attempt to account for the secrecy motif but lacks a full discussion on the theme. The term was originally coined by William Wrede (The Messianic Secret, translated by J. C. G. Greig [Greenwood, S.C.: Attic, 1971]). Wrede contended that the secrecy motif was a redaction by the early church to compensate for the fact that Jesus never claimed to be the Messiah. For a historical sketch of the Messianic secret see, James L. Blevins, The Messianic Secret in Markan Research, 1901-1976 (Washington: University Press of America, 1981). Although Wrede’s work was a landmark in Marcan studies it has been sufficiently dismissed by most modern scholars. For a nice critique see J. D. G. Dunn, “The Messianic Secret in Mark,” TynBul 21 (1970): 92-117.  Dunn even argues that the use of the term “Messianic secret” is overly broad, suggesting that the healing miracles should not be grouped under the category of Messianic secret as none “of [Mark’s] miracles performed publicly led the spectators to conclude that Jesus was Messiah”(p. 94). Dunn’s comments are valid, however, rather than having an anaphoric reference to Wrede, the term “Messianic Secret” has become synonymous with the secrecy motif in much of the current literature.  

68 Frederick W. Danker, “Postscript to the Markan Secrecy Motif,” CTM 38 (1967): 25.

69 Lincoln, “Promise and Failure,” 293.

Related Topics: Text & Translation, Textual Criticism

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