“Do You Also Wish To Go Away?”

disciples leave jesusSunday, August 26, is the Twenty-First Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B). Mass Readings: Joshua 24:1-2, 15-17, 18, Psalm 34:2-3, 16-21, Ephesians 5:21-32, John 6:60-69

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Despite everything God does for us, we can still be ungrateful. We still have free will, and we can choose to turn our backs on him.

Joshua presented the leaders of Israel with a choice: Would they serve the true God or would they serve the false gods of the nations? This occurred during the first generation to live in the Promised Land. They had received all the benefits God had assured them he would provide, and they were grateful. They declared that they would follow the Lord, for he “brought us and our ancestors up from the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, and who did those great signs in our sight. He protected us along all the way that we went, and among all the peoples through whom we passed.”

Despite this initial resolve, Israel’s gratitude faded, and many eventually rejected God and began to worship idols, bringing disaster upon the nation. It doesn’t have to take generations for this to happen. People can abandon God even though they’ve just experienced his blessings.

When Jesus fed the five thousand, countless disciples saw how he miraculously multiplied the loaves. But when he then declared an even greater miracle—that he would offer us his flesh and blood in the Eucharist—many balked. Jesus knew this, and he told them: “Among you there are some who do not believe.” He refused to water down his teaching on the Eucharist, and then we read one of the saddest verses in the Bible: “Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him” (John 6:66).

Think about that: These people were already so committed to Jesus that they had become his travelling companions, like the twelve apostles. But despite this commitment, and despite the miracle they had just seen, they refused to accept his teaching and turned their back on him.

Today many people abandon their Catholic Faith because the Church has “hard sayings” that people don’t want to accept. But when Jesus asked the twelve if they also wanted to depart, St. Peter replied, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.” Peter didn’t deny that Jesus’ saying was hard, but he accepted it anyway. In the same way, we can accept the difficult teachings of the Church, because Jesus is guiding it.

St. Paul tells us that “Christ loved the Church and gave himself up for her,” caring for it the way each and every one of us cares for our own bodies. Not only does Jesus love and care for the Church, he also loves and cares for each one of us, especially when we encounter hardship in life. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord rescues them from them all.” Knowing that God loves us and cares for us no matter what happens gives us the hope and courage we need to remain his disciples.

Being Wise in Evil Days

gods-wisdom-vs-mans-wisdom-1-638Sunday, August 19, is the Twentieth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B). Mass Readings: Proverbs 9:1-6, Psalm 34:2-7, Ephesians 5:15-20, John 6:51-58

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In the first century, the number of believers in the true God was vanishingly small. The world was swallowed in pagan darkness, and the wicked emperors of Rome ruled the Mediterranean world. No wonder St. Paul said “the days are evil.”

Today, we also live in evil days. So many have turned away from God, falling back into the same lies and deceptions that filled the pagan world. Like St. Paul and the first Christians, we even face the prospect of persecution for our faith.

This is why we must be wise: “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time” that is given to us. Fortunately, God is willing to supply us with the wisdom we need. By listening to God’s word, we heed the call: “You that are simple, turn in here! . . . Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.”

Sometimes the insights God gives are surprising from a human perspective. When Jesus declared that he is the bread of life and that he would give his flesh for the life of the world, many in his audience “disputed among themselves, saying, ‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat?’” But Jesus did not back down. He didn’t explain away his words as a symbol or a metaphor. Instead, he forcefully declared: “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.”

The message of Christ sometimes contains “hard sayings” like this, but because they come from God himself—the source of all truth—we can rely on them. In contrast to the shrewdness of men, they represent the true wisdom that leads to eternal life.

That God has shared such amazing insights with us is cause for rejoicing, and we have a duty to tell others of the wonders God has prepared for us, both in this life and the next: “I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.” By doing so, we shine a light in the darkness around us and help bring the light of Christ to every soul with which we share the gospel. It’s often said it’s better to light one candle than to curse the darkness, and sharing the wisdom of God with others is a key part of our mission as Christians. It is one way that light triumphs over darkness.

Another way the light triumphs is by refusing to give in to all the causes of disappointment we face. The fact that God is working in our lives is a constant source of hope. Even though the days in which we live may be evil, we can still lead lives of great joy, for we know God himself, the font of goodness and joy. This makes it possible—no matter what difficulties or dangers we face—for Christians to always sing “hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts.”

Understanding the “Unanimous Consent” of the Church Fathers

In 1546, the Council of Trent issued a decree which prohibited people from interpreting Scripture “contrary to the unanimous consent of the Fathers.”

The meaning and significance of this concept has been widely misunderstood, so let’s take a look at the subject.

Here are 15 things to know and share . . .

 

1) What was the context of the decree?

The Council of Trent (1545-1563) was called to deal with two subjects: (1) doctrinal errors that were being spread by the Protestant Reformers and (2) internal reforms needed within the Catholic Church. Consequently, historian Hubert Jedin notes:

By the terms of the decision of 22 January [1564], dogma and reform were to be discussed simultaneously and every dogmatic decree was to be matched by a decree on Church reform (A History of the Council of Trent 2:87-88).

Therefore, the decrees of Trent are divided between those of a doctrinal nature and those of a disciplinary nature. Thus the fourth session of the Council thus released two decrees:

  • Decree Concerning Canonical Scriptures
  • Decree Concerning the Edition, and the Use, of the Sacred Books

The first of these decrees was dogmatic (i.e., concerning doctrinal matters), and it dealt with which books the Catholic Church regards as sacred and canonical.

The second decree concerned Church reform (i.e., disciplinary matters), and it’s the one that mentions the unanimous consent of the Fathers.

 

2) What subjects did the second decree cover?

It dealt with several abuses that had been proposed for reform by one of the Council’s committees (Jedin, 70-71). The final, published form of the decree established several disciplinary norms:

  • Of all the Latin editions of Scripture then in circulation, the Vulgate would be used as the standard one “in public lectures, disputations, sermons, and expositions.”
  • No one is to interpret the Scripture contrary to the sense held by the Church or the unanimous consent of the Fathers.
  • Printers are not to publish copies of the Scriptures unless they have been approved by the local bishop; the same applies to books of a theological nature, which also must carry their authors’ names; and the same applies to the circulation of unprinted manuscripts.
  • No one is to use the words of Scripture in superstitious or profane practices (e.g., incantations or defamatory libels).

The second decree also empowered bishops to impose appropriate penalties on those who violated these norms.

 

3) What did the second decree say about the unanimous consent of the Fathers?

The relevant provision says:

Furthermore, in order to restrain petulant spirits, [the Council] decrees, that no one, relying on his own skill, shall—in matters of faith, and of morals pertaining to the edification of Christian doctrine—wresting the sacred Scripture to his own senses, presume to interpret the said sacred Scripture contrary to that sense which holy mother Church—whose it is to judge of the true sense and interpretation of the holy Scriptures—hath held and doth hold; or even contrary to the unanimous consent of the Fathers; even though such interpretations were never (intended) to be at any time published.

Contraveners shall be made known by their Ordinaries [i.e., bishops], and be punished with the penalties by law established.

The core of this statement is:

No one . . . shall—in matters of faith and of morals . . . —interpret the said sacred Scripture contrary to that sense which holy mother Church . . . hath held and doth hold; or even contrary to the unanimous consent of the Fathers; even though such interpretations were never (intended) to be at any time published.

 

4) What does this mean?

It means that the Council is establishing a law providing that—even in writings not intended for publication—Catholics are not to contradict (1) the teaching of the Church about the meaning of Scripture or (2) the unanimous consent of the Fathers about what it means, and if they do, their bishops can apply appropriate penalties.

 

5) Is this an infallible doctrine?

Here we encounter a major misunderstanding of the text.

Trent’s doctrinal decrees contain infallible teachings. These are found among its canons, which use the formula “If anyone says . . . let him be anathema”—anathema being a type of excommunication that existed at the time (not a condemnation to hell).

However, this is not a doctrinal decree but a reform decree. It does not have canons, and it does not use the requisite anathema formula, as the quotation above indicates.

Consequently, it’s establishing a discipline—a law—that barred Catholics from contradicting Church teaching or the unanimous consent of the Fathers about the meaning of Scripture, even in writings not intended for publication.

This law is based on doctrinal principles—which we will cover below—but it isn’t itself a doctrine. It’s a discipline regulating discourse within the Church (note the context, which deals with the edition of Scripture to be used in public, what book printers must and mustn’t do, how people are to avoid profaning God’s word).

The status of this requirement as a law was underscored by Pope Leo XIII (1878-1903), who referred to it as a “very wise law” (Providentissimus Deus 14) and by Pope Pius XII (1939-1958), who included it among “the rules and laws promulgated by the Church” (Divino Afflante Spiritu 47).

 

6) Does the decree mean that Catholics can’t interpret the Bible and must simply repeat what the Church or the Fathers say it means?

No. The decree doesn’t say anything so restrictive. Catholics are free to read and interpret the Scriptures.

The law merely established that they weren’t to contradict Church teaching or the unanimous consent of the Fathers when these sources had a definitive teaching on the meaning of a passage.

 

7) Are there many such passages?

No. Pope Pius XII pointed out in his encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu:

There are but few texts whose sense has been defined by the authority of the Church, nor are those more numerous about which the teaching of the Holy Fathers is unanimous (n. 47).

Catholic biblical interpreters thus have a broad liberty of interpretation. As Leo XIII stated:

By this very wise law the Church by no means retards or blocks the investigations of biblical science, but rather keeps it free of error, and aids it very much in true progress. For, to every private teacher a large field is open in which along safe paths, by his industry in interpretation, he may labor efficaciously and profitably for the Church (Providentissimus Deus 14).

 

8) What is the status of the law today?

There is more to its legislative history than we can cover here, but the short answer is that it is no longer part of Church law per se.

Trent added the requirement to the body of canon law that existed at the time, which was scattered in many documents. Subsequently, Vatican I (1870) renewed the decree, and when canon law was codified (brought together in a single volume) in 1917, the first edition of the Code of Canon Law contained provisions that gave the requirement ongoing legal force.

However, Vatican II (1962-1965) did not repeat the requirement, and after the Council it was dropped from the legal instruments where it still existed.

When the 1983 Code of Canon Law was released, it abrogated both the 1917 Code and “any universal or particular penal laws whatsoever issued by the Apostolic See unless they are contained in this Code” (see can. 6, §1, 1° and 3°).

Consequently, canon law has been revised in a way that the decree no longer has legal force.

However, this does not mean that we don’t have to honor the doctrinal principles behind it.

 

9) What are the doctrinal principles behind the decree?

In the case of Catholics not contradicting the teaching of the Church regarding the meaning of Scripture, the decree spelled out the underlying doctrinal principle. Catholics aren’t to do this because the Church “is to judge of the true sense and interpretation of the holy Scriptures.”

That’s just as true today as ever, and Catholics are bound today to honor the teaching of the Church when it intervenes authoritatively on the meaning of a Scripture passage.

However, apart from a handful of cases, the Church presently gives interpreters very broad liberty in how they take particular passages (see my piece, The Limits of Scripture Interpretation).

Trent did not spell out the doctrinal principles underlying the requirement that Catholics not contradict the unanimous consent of the Fathers. However, it was explored by Leo XIII in Providentissimus Deus:

The Holy Fathers, we say, are of supreme authority, whenever they all interpret in one and the same manner any text of the Bible, as pertaining to the doctrine of faith or morals; for their unanimity clearly evinces that such interpretation has come down from the apostles as a matter of Catholic faith. The opinion of the Fathers is also of very great weight when they treat of these matters in their capacity of doctors, unofficially (n. 14).

Here he considers two different situations:

  1. When the Fathers “all interpret in one and the same manner any text of the Bible, as pertaining to the doctrine of faith and morals,” and
  2. “When they treat of these matters in their capacity as doctors [i.e., teachers], unofficially.”

In the first situation, he says that their unanimity shows that “such interpretation has come down from the apostles as a matter of Catholic faith,” while in the second situation he says that their opinion is “of very great weight.”

We thus need to distinguish, in any given case, which of these two applies. If it is the latter then a modern interpreter needs to give the Fathers’ views due weight, but he is not ultimately bound to accept them.

If, however, something they teach is a matter of Catholic faith, then it is binding.

In fact, to say that something is “a matter of Catholic faith” is a term of art in theology that indicates an infallibly defined teaching.

This means that we need to situate Leo XIII’s statement within the doctrinal development that has occurred on when the Church teaches infallibly.

 

10) What doctrinal development has occurred on the Church’s infallibility?

When Leo XIII issued Providentissimus Deus  in 1893, the First Vatican Council (1870) had met and defined papal infallibility.

However, because of the wars going on in Europe at the time, the Council was unable to complete its work, and it fell to Vatican II to formulate other aspects of the Church’s infallibility. This was done in its document Lumen Gentium.

It held that God has given the Church a charism of infallibility. This gift protects the Church as a whole from error in matters of belief (in credendo), and it protects the Church’s Magisterium from error in matters of teaching (in docendo). Infallibility manifests in the following ways:

  • Through the sensus fidelium (the sense of the faithful, “from the bishops down to the last member of the laity”)
  • Through the “ordinary magisterium” of the bishops scattered throughout the world, teaching in union with the pope
  • Through the “extraordinary magisterium” of the bishops meeting in an ecumenical council
  • Through the “extraordinary magisterium” of the pope when he issues an ex cathedra statement

The conditions for the first of these are discussed in Lumen Gentium 12 (cf. CDF, Mysterium Ecclesiae 2) and the others in Lumen Gentium 25.

 

11) How do the Fathers relate to these categories?

The Fathers were a mixed group. Some were bishops (e.g., St. Augustine), some priests (e.g., St. Jerome), some deacons (e.g., St. Ephrem the Syrian), and some lay faithful (e.g., St. Anthony of Egypt).

The Fathers as a whole thus do not represent the Church’s Magisterium, which consists only of the bishops teaching in union with the pope.

They would, however, be representative of the whole people of God in their day, and thus a unanimous consensus among them could be taken as an unerring manifestation of the sensus fidelium.

On the other hand, the Fathers who were bishops would be capable of exercising the Church’s infallibility, and a unanimous consensus among them could be taken as an infallible exercise of the ordinary magisterium.

 

12) How would a consensus of the Fathers as a whole manifest the unerring sensus fidelium?

According to Lumen Gentium 12:

The entire body of the faithful . . . cannot err in matters of belief. They manifest this special property by means of the whole peoples’ supernatural discernment in matters of faith when from the bishops down to the last of the lay faithful they show universal agreement in matters of faith and morals.

One of the keys to understanding this passage is recognizing that the Church’s infallibility applies “in matters of belief” (Latin, in credendo). This is a technical term referring to truths which must be believed as part of the faith, as opposed to mere theological opinions. They therefore represent things which have a definitive character—things that are to be held by the faithful definitively.

The passage then indicates that the unerring sense of the faithful is manifested in these matters when three conditions are met:

  1. “The entire body of the faithful . . . from the bishops down to the last of the lay faithful” is involved
  2. “They show universal agreement”
  3. This agreement concerns “matters of faith and morals”

For the Fathers to fulfill these conditions regarding the interpretation of Scripture, we would need to understand them as representative of the people of God of their time, which is reasonable, thus fulfilling condition (1).

The Fathers then would need to show universal agreement, fulfilling condition (2). The precise nature of this agreement will be discussed below.

Finally, to fulfill condition (3), the matter in question would have to be the interpretation of a particular Scripture text involving “matters of faith and morals.” This is significant because, as Leo XIII noted in Providentissimus Deus:

[The Fathers], in interpreting passages where physical matters are concerned, have made judgments according to the opinions of the age, and thus not always according to truth, so that they have made statements which today are not approved. Therefore, we must carefully discern what they hand down which really pertains to faith or is intimately connected with it . . . for in those matters which are not under the obligation of faith, the saints were free to have different opinions, just as we are (n. 19).

Here the pontiff has in mind matters like the geocentric model of the cosmos, which was one of “the opinions of the age” in which the Fathers lived but which was a “physical matter” that did not “really pertain to faith.”

As noted above, the Fathers would have to be in agreement that this interpretation represents a mandatory belief for all Christians—that it is a belief to be held definitively.

This corresponds to Leo XIII’s distinction between what the Fathers hand on as “a matter of Catholic faith” versus what they teach “in their capacity of doctors, unofficially” (Providentissimus Deus 14).

 

13) How would the bishop Fathers exercise the ordinary magisterium infallibly?

According to Lumen Gentium 25:

[The bishops] proclaim Christ’s doctrine infallibly whenever, even though dispersed through the world, but still maintaining the bond of communion among themselves and with the successor of Peter, and authentically teaching matters of faith and morals, they are in agreement on one position as definitively to be held.

The following conditions thus need to be met:

  1. The bishops are “dispersed through the world”
  2. They maintain “the bond of communion among themselves and with the successor of Peter”
  3. They are “authentically [i.e., authoritatively] teaching matters of faith and morals”
  4. They “are in agreement on one position as definitively to be held”

Conditions (1) and (2) represent the normal state of the Fathers.

Condition (3) corresponds to Leo XIII’s distinction between what the Fathers hand on as “a matter of Catholic faith” versus what they teach “in their capacity of doctors, unofficially” (Providentissimus Deus 14).

For it to be fulfilled in our context, the subject of their authoritative teaching would have to be the interpretation of a particular Scripture text regarding “matters of faith and morals”—as opposed, for example, to merely “physical matters” or “the opinions of the age” (Providentissimus Deus 19).

Finally, condition (4) would be fulfilled when they unanimously agree on this particular interpretation of Scripture “as definitively to be held.”

 

14) What kind of unanimity would the Fathers need to display?

The Church has not given us a mathematical way of determining what kind of consensus the Fathers would need to display either for the body as a whole to represent the unerring sense of the faithful or for the bishop Fathers to infallibly exercise the ordinary magisterium.

In fact, the difficulties of verifying when the conditions regarding these two modes of infallibility are met are the main reason we need the extraordinary magisterium (i.e., the infallible definitions issued by ecumenical councils and popes).

However, we can discern the general circumstances that need to occur:

  1. We would need a large number of the Fathers to address the interpretation of a specific passage of Scripture. One could not say that a consensus existed among them—much less a unanimous one—if only a relatively small number address the passage.
  2. They would need to teach a single interpretation of this passage as true. Assessing this could be somewhat complex because the Fathers could see passages as teaching several things, based on the different senses of Scripture. However, they would have to hold at least one of these interpretations in common.
  3. They would need to teach this interpretation as definitive—i.e., not just something they believe to be true but that something all Christians must hold to be true. Otherwise, the conditions needed for the unerring sense of the faithful or the infallible exercise of the ordinary magisterium would not be met.

It is frequently pointed out that absolute unanimity is not needed and that a moral unanimity suffices. This is true. However, the Fathers represent such a small number of individuals that even a few dissenting voices on a question would prevent us from describing their consensus as unanimous.

In fact, even a single, highly influential Father—such as an Augustine—who held a contrary view could be seen as preventing unanimity, though a Father of minor status might not.

In view of the difficulty in verifying that the needed conditions have been met, Pius XII’s judgment that the unanimous consent of the Fathers applies only to a few passages seems justified (Divino Afflante Spiritu 47).

Anyone who has worked with the texts of the Fathers knows that it is difficult to find cases where the above conditions have been fulfilled.

The Fathers are a relatively small group of individuals, often only a few of them comment on a given passage of Scripture, and when they do they frequently make different proposals about its meaning.

When there is a reasonable doubt, one must assume that infallibility has not been engaged, for “no doctrine is understood as defined infallibly unless this is manifestly evident” (Code of Canon Law 749 §3).

 

15) What’s the bottom line?

The concept of the unanimous consent of the Fathers is widely misunderstood.

Trent established a discipline that barred Catholics—even in writings not meant for publication—from contradicting the unanimous consent of the Fathers regarding the interpretation of Scripture.

This law remained in force until the 20th century, but it lost legal force following the Second Vatican Council.

However, the law was undergirded by important theological principles that remain in force and that have been illuminated by doctrinal development.

The unanimous consent of the Fathers as a whole can manifest the unerring sense of the faithful, and the bishops among the Fathers represented the Magisterium of their day and thus could teach infallibly under the usual conditions for the infallible exercise of the ordinary magisterium.

The number of cases where this applies to the interpretation of a particular passage of Scripture is small, but such cases must be taken seriously.

Domitian and the Persecution That Didn’t Happen

DOMITIANIt’s common to encounter claims that the Roman emperor Domitian was a major persecutor of Christians and that he demanded divine worship, insisting on being called “Lord and God.”

It’s even common to hear these “facts” cited as important keys for determining the date and meaning of the book of Revelation, with Domitian serving as its famous “beast.”

But there’s a problem. Here are the real facts . . .

 

The Real Domitian

Domitian reigned between A.D. 81 and 96, and like all of the Roman emperors in this period, he had flaws.

Ancient authors even accuse him of being responsible for the death of his brother, Titus, who had preceded him in office.

He also angered the aristocracy, and he was eventually assassinated by court officials.

However, ancient Roman authors don’t accuse him of being the kind of monster that Caligula or Nero were.

Neither do the earliest Christian sources accuse him of instituting a major persecution of the Faith.

 

A False Narrative Develops

Biblical Archaeology Review recently ran a piece in which biblical scholar Mark Wilson looked at the origin of how the idea of a Domitianic persecution developed. He writes:

Eusebius in his Church History (CH) provides the first reference to Domitian persecuting the church.

Writing over three centuries later in the early fourth century C.E., this ancient Christian historian first quotes Melito of Sardis, who mentioned that Domitian brought slanderous accusations against Christians (CH 4.26.9).

He also cites Tertullian, who claimed that Domitian was cruel like the emperor Nero (r. 54–68 C.E.), but that Domitian was more intelligent, so he ceased his cruelty and recalled the Christians he had exiled (CH 3.20.9).

Eusebius also quotes Irenaeus, who claimed Domitian’s persecution consisted only of John’s banishment to Patmos and the exile of other Christians to the island of Pontia (CH 3.18.1, 5).

Despite these cautious statements by three earlier authors, Eusebius then spun his own alternative fact by claiming that Domitian, like Nero, had “stirred up persecution against us” (“anekinei diōgmon”; CH 3.17).

From here the tradition was enlarged by Orosius (d. 420 C.E.), who, in his History Against the Pagans, wrote that Domitian issued edicts for a general and cruel persecution (7.10.5).

Despite a lack of evidence, [Roman historian Brian] Jones observes that the tradition concerning Domitian’s persecution persists: “From a frail, almost non-existent basis, it gradually developed and grew large.”

Melito of Sardis and Irenaeus of Lyons were individuals who wrote in the late second century, less than a hundred years after Domitian’s reign, and Tertullian wrote at the end of the second and the beginning of the third centuries. They report only that he slandered Christians and exiled some. If they don’t provide evidence of a wide-scale persecution, then it’s very unlikely there was one. Furthermore:

No pagan writer of the time ever accused Domitian, as they had Nero, of persecuting Christians. Pliny [the Younger], for example, served as a lawyer under Domitian and wrote in a letter to Trajan (r. 98–117 C.E.) that he was never present at the trial of a Christian (Letters 10.96.1). This is a strange claim for one of Domitian’s former officials if Christian persecution were so prevalent.

 

“Lord and God”?

What about the claim that Domitian insisted on being worshipped as a god during his lifetime and even demanded the title “Lord and God” (Latin, Dominus et Deus)? Wilson writes:

The poet Statius (Silvae 1.6.83–84) states that Domitian rejected the title Dominus as his predecessor Augustus (the first Roman emperor) had done.

The historian Suetonius (Life of Domitian 13.2) does report that Domitian dictated a letter that began, “Our Lord and Master orders . . . ,” but it was only his sycophantic officials who began to address him in this way.

The story was again embellished by later historians to the point that Domitian is said to have ordered its use.

Jones thinks the story incredible because Domitian was known for his habitual attention to theological detail in traditional Roman worship, so he would not have adopted such inflammatory divine language.

After their deaths, the best that emperors could hope for was to be called Divus (Divine), not Deus (God).

If Domitian were such a megalomaniac who ordered worship to himself, why haven’t any inscriptions been found using this formula?

In fact, no epigraphic evidence exists attesting to Christians being forced to call him “Lord and God.”

 

The Last Refuge of a Failing Hypothesis

Wilson writes:

[Biblical scholar] Leonard Thompson notes that a more critical reading of Eusebius raises doubts about a widespread persecution of Christians under Domitian. He concludes that “most modern commentators no longer accept a Domitianic persecution of Christians.”

However, that hasn’t stopped some from trying to rescue the hypothesis:

Some writers consider Revelation as a source for a persecution by Domitian, although John never identifies a specific emperor. If so, then Revelation would be the only ancient source pointing to such a persecution.

This is a sign of a failing hypothesis: Using the very data that the hypothesis was supposed to illuminate to prop it up instead.

Revelation contains many things that are unclear, and the Domitianic hypothesis was supposed to be a historical certainty that could unlock Revelation and make its meaning clear. Instead, after we realized we don’t have evidence for a Domitianic persecution, the ambiguities in Revelation are now being used to prop up the idea that one occurred.

This is circular reasoning.

 

Breaking out of the Circle

In fact, we have good evidence that Revelation was written well before Domitian’s reign.

First, in Revelation 11:1-2, John is told:

Rise and measure the temple of God and the altar and those who worship there, but do not measure the court outside the temple; leave that out, for it is given over to the nations, and they will trample over the holy city for forty-two months.

This is an unambiguous reference to the temple in Jerusalem. It describes the temple as still in operation (“those who worship there”). But the temple was destroyed by Roman forces in August of A.D. 70, indicating that Revelation was written before this date.

Second, in Revelation 13:18, we read:

This calls for wisdom: let him who has understanding reckon the number of the beast, for it is a human number [lit., “the number of a man”], its number is six hundred and sixty-six.

A few manuscripts give the number as 616 instead of 666.

From elsewhere in Revelation, we learn that the beast is linked to a line of kings that rules the world, that it demands worship, and that it persecutes Christians. This sounds very much like the line of Roman emperors—especially Caligula and Nero, who portrayed themselves as living gods—and it so happens that both 666 and 616 are the numbers you get when you add up the letters in different ways of spelling “Nero Caesar.”

Nero—the fifth Roman emperor—reigned from A.D. 54 to 68, which suggests that he was or had been on the scene, allowing the original readers to calculate his number.

That would put the writing of Revelation sometime between A.D. 54 and 70. But can we be more specific? We can.

Third, in Revelation 17:9-10 we read:

This calls for a mind with wisdom: the seven heads [of the beast] are seven mountains on which the woman is seated; they are also seven kings, five of whom have fallen, one is, the other has not yet come, and when he comes he must remain only a little while.

The most natural reading of this is that the kings are the line of Roman emperors, who reigned from Rome’s famous seven hills. The first five emperors were Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero. These are the five who are fallen.

The “one [who] is” would be the sixth emperor—Galba—who reigned from June of 68 to January of 69.

The “other [who] has not yet come” would be the seventh emperor—Otho—and he did, indeed, reign “only a little while,” from January of 69 to April of 69—just three months.

This would put the writing of Revelation during the reign of Galba, between June of 68 and January of 69.

Once we detach Revelation from the idea of a non-existent, lethal persecution under Domitian, so much falls into place.

The Limits of Scripture Interpretation

Biblical-Interpretation-imageAt Catholic Answers, we get questions all the time like, “What is the Catholic position on this Scripture passage?” Many people seem to have the idea that the Catholic Church has an official interpretation of every passage of Scripture. It isn’t true.

The Church has no official commentary on Scripture. The pope could write one if he wanted, but he hasn’t. And with good reason: Scripture study is an ongoing, developing field. To create an official commentary on Scripture would impede the development of this field.

It’s one thing to create an official textbook for a field that has been fairly well worked out. That’s the case with catechetics, which is why the Church can produce a text like The Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Catechetics can be viewed as the applied science of giving instruction in the faith, and the faith is something we’ve known well for a long time. Not only was it “once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3) back in the first century, we have had twenty centuries of practice to show us which ways of explicating the faith tend to lead to misunderstandings. All that gives us a good handle on what would need to go into an official catechetical text commenting on all the major points of the faith.

But the field of Scripture study does not allow for anything like that. One reason is that the Bible is so much larger in scope. One could provide an adequate summary of the basics of the faith in a few hundred well-crafted propositions. But Scripture contains tens of thousands of individual propositions, and to comment on the authentic meaning of each of them would swell the needed number of propositions into the hundreds of thousands or millions. And that is before one takes into account two complicating factors:

First, Scripture has more than one level of meaning. The two basic levels are the literal and the spiritual senses, the latter of which may contain up to three different kinds of meanings, depending on whether it foreshadows something in the New Testament, something at the end of time, or what moral lesson it may teach. Since the literal sense and the subdivisions of the spiritual sense can each be ambiguous (that is, they can carry more than one meaning by the author’s design), the multiplicity of meanings would guarantee that a commentary on the meaning of Scripture would run into the millions of propositions.

Second, while the Holy Spirit has always maintained in the Church a consensus on the individual points of the faith, he did not choose to do so for the individual propositions of Scripture. As a result, there is widespread debate over the correct interpretations of particular texts. In preparing an official commentary on Scripture, the Church would either have to catalogue each permissible interpretation—further multiplying the size of the work—or settle hundreds of thousands of individual debates.

All of this serves to show why the Church has never undertaken the composition of an official Bible commentary. The project would involve a massive expenditure of the Church’s resources when there is simply no pressing need to do so.

It is much simpler to adopt the approach that the Church has in fact pursued—that is, to allow Scripture scholars liberty to interpret any Bible passage in whatever way they feel the evidence best supports provided certain minimal boundaries are not crossed.

What are those boundaries? They have changed somewhat over time.

For example, earlier this century the Pontifical Biblical Commission (PBC) was a body capable of issuing authoritative rulings on what could and could not be taught regarding Scripture. As biblical higher criticism gained ground, the PBC initially issued rulings that held the ideas of the new study in significant disdain, and in some cases forbade the teaching of certain ideas that had been derived using this methodology.

Eventually the nature and mandate of the PBC changed, and its rulings ceased to have force. We may view that either as a bad thing or a good thing, but it’s a fact.

Though today the PBC’s disciplinary rulings are no longer in force, the boundaries that mark off impermissible interpretations of Scripture are still known. The Catechism of the Catholic Church notes that Vatican II enumerated three criteria (CCC 111; cf. Dei Verbum 12), each of which has a long history in biblical interpretation.

The first of these was that “serious attention must be given to the content and unity of the whole of Scripture if the meaning of the sacred texts is to be correctly worked out” (DV 12). This means that no properly understood assertion of Scripture will ever contradict another. If it does so, it must be a false interpretation.

The second criteria was that “the living tradition of the whole Church must be taken into account” when interpreting Scripture (ibid.).

Among other things, the judgment of the Church’s magisterium must not be violated. As when evaluating ecclesiastical statements in general, the strength with which the Church’s judgment has been proposed must be taken into account. The highest form of Church approbation regarding the interpretation of a verse would be for the magisterium to infallibly define the sense of the verse—or a part of its sense. This has been done in a small number of cases.

Only a few passages of Scripture have had their senses partially (not fully) defined by the extraordinary magisterium. For example, according to the Council of Trent:

(1) The reference being “born of water and the Spirit” in John 3:5 does include the idea of baptism.

(2–3) In telling the apostles “Do this [the Eucharist] in memory of me” in Luke 22:19 and 1 Corinthians 11:24, Jesus appointed the apostles priests.

(4–5) In Matthew 18:18 and John 20:22–23, Jesus did confer a power on the apostles to forgive sins, and not everyone shares this power.

(6) Romans 5:12 refers to the reality of original sin.

(7) The presbyters referred to in James 5:14 are ordained and not simply elder members of the Christian community.

Finally, the third limiting criterion named by Vatican II was that the exegete must also take into account “the harmony which exists between elements of the faith” (DV 12), which the Catechism expresses by stating that the exegete must “be attentive to the analogy of faith. . . . [i.e.,] the coherence of the truths of faith among themselves and within the whole plan of revelation” (CCC 114). This means that Scripture cannot be interpreted in a way that contradicts what is theologically certain.

In addition to these definite boundaries to permissible biblical interpretations, there are also influences that should apply to the process of interpreting Scripture. If other books of Scripture probably—though not certainly—teach something, then that should influence the way a given book is read. If the magisterium leans toward but has not infallibly proposed a particular interpretation, that should have a corresponding influence.

The liberty of the Scripture interpreter remains extensive. Taking due consideration of the factors that influence proper exegesis, the Catholic Bible interpreter has the liberty to adopt any interpretation of a passage that is not excluded with certainty by other passages of Scripture, by the judgment of the magisterium, or by the analogy of faith. That is a great deal of liberty, as only a few interpretations will be excluded with certainty by any of the factors circumscribing the interpreter’s liberty

A Surprising and Loving God

Elijah_breadSunday, August 12, is the Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B). Mass Readings: 1 Kings 19:4-8, Psalm 34:2-9, Ephesians 4:30-5:2, John 6:41-51

* * *

Israel’s wicked king and queen had slain the prophets of the Lord and threatened to kill the prophet Elijah, too. In despair, and aware of his own unworthiness, Elijah fled into the wilderness and begged God to take his life. Instead, God did the unexpected. He sent an angel who miraculously provided bread and water for the prophet, to give him strength for a long journey to the mountain of God.

When we are at the point of despair, God can reach into our lives also and draw us to him. Depending on where we’re starting from, that may involve a long journey. But God will provide for our needs, even in surprising ways. Then, like the Psalmist, we will be able to share the good news of what he has done for us: “This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord, and was saved from every trouble.”

God’s love for us precedes our love for him. He is the one who takes the initiative in drawing us to him. Jesus tells us, “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me.” In his love, God offers the possibility of salvation to everyone. The Second Vatican Council taught: “Since Christ died for all men, and since the ultimate vocation of man is in fact one, and divine, we ought to believe that the Holy Spirit in a manner known only to God offers to every man the possibility of being associated with this paschal mystery” (Gaudium et Spes 22).

Our task is to respond to God’s call and to trust him to provide for our needs, no matter how long or difficult the journey may seem. Just as God provided for Elijah with miraculous food and drink, he does the same for us. Jesus gives himself to us in the Eucharist: “Growth in Christian life needs the nourishment of Eucharistic Communion, the bread for our pilgrimage until the moment of death” (CCC 1392).

No gift is greater than that of Jesus himself. “Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died.” But Jesus is “the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever.” The idea that Jesus would give us his own flesh and blood in the Eucharist is amazing—as is the fact he would willingly die on the Cross for our salvation.

In response to such surprising acts of love, we have a duty to make them known to others: “My soul makes its boast in the Lord; let the humble hear and be glad.” We also have a duty to love others and make sacrifices to help them, for they are also on their own journeys and will one day meet God face-to-face. We must allow God to use us as means to help them, to provide for their needs, by following Jesus’ own example: “Be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

God Calls Us from Our Comfort Zone to What Really Matters

comfort_zoneSunday, August 5, is the Eighteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B). Mass Readings: Exodus 16:2-4, 12-15, Psalm 78:3-4, 23-25, 54, Ephesians 4:17, 20-24, John 6:24-35

* * *

We all have a comfort zone—a place, a way of living that we’re used to, where we feel safe and secure, even if it isn’t ideal. But at times, God calls us out of our comfort zone so that he can give us something better.

For the Israelites, Egypt was their comfort zone. No, it wasn’t ideal. They were living as slaves, and they eagerly responded to Moses’ call of deliverance. But when the initial euphoria of liberation wore off and they encountered the hardships of travel to the Promised Land, their faith wavered. Instead of trusting God to provide for their needs, they began to resent Moses for taking them out of Egypt and looked back fondly on their life in slavery, when “we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread.”

Then God did the unexpected, he sent them flesh to eat in the form of quails, and he rained bread from heaven, so that “mortals ate the bread of angels.” The bread was completely outside of human experience, and the Israelites didn’t know what to call it.

Centuries later, when people followed Jesus into the desert and began to be hungry, he also provided them bread in a completely unexpected way by miraculously multiplying the few loaves they had with them. This led them to follow him even further into the wilderness, so they might experience even more miracles of this sort.

But Jesus planned to give them something even better. As “the bread of life,” he would give them his own flesh in the Eucharist, for “whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” By this, he wasn’t referring to physical hunger or thirst but something more profound. He was presenting himself as “the true bread from heaven” that spiritually “gives life to the world.”

This reveals to us how God calls us from our comfort zone—from lives of slavery to sin where we feel secure, wrapped up in worldly concerns like having flesh in the pot and physical bread to eat. He calls us to liberation from these lives, and though breaking free of sin can cause discomfort and hardship, God will give us what we need to get through these trials.

God calls us to a life of freedom and holiness, where Jesus himself provides for all our needs—both physical ones (by miraculously multiplying loaves if needed) and spiritual ones (by giving us his very self in the Eucharist). Our ultimate destination—the true Promised Land—still lies before us, in the eternal life which is to come. And though we still meet hardships on the journey, we can trust Jesus to see us through them.

In response, we “must no longer live as the Gentiles live.” We must no longer live as we did in Egypt. Instead, we must bravely face the road ahead, rejoicing in God’s providential care in this life and in the eternal home he has for us in the next.

The Lord Is My Shepherd

jesus shepherdSunday, July 22, is the Sixteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B). Mass Readings: Jeremiah 23:1-6, Psalm 23:1-6, Ephesians 2:13-18, Mark 6:30-34

* * *

You may think that we live in a divided and dangerous time, but the ancient world was a violent place, in which different groups constantly competed for land, resources, and prestige. Warfare was so common that the Old Testament offhandedly refers to the season of spring as “the time when kings go to war.” Since it lay at a crossroads between powerful nations, Israel was regularly invaded, and there was great hostility between the Israelites and the Gentiles—the peoples of “the nations.”

Even within Israel, all was not well. The nation had leaders who cared only for themselves and not the people they were charged to protect. Therefore, through the prophet Jeremiah, God declared, “Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture!” The Lord himself had mercy on his sheep and promised to “appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them so that they need no longer fear and tremble.” In particular, he promised the days of a coming Messiah, “when I will raise up a righteous shoot to David; as king he shall reign and govern wisely.”

This happened in the first century, when the Jewish people were laboring under the heavy yoke of Roman rule. They longed for the Messiah to come and deliver them from their oppression by the Gentiles, and they responded eagerly to the message of Jesus, hoping that he would drive out the Romans and restore Israel to its former glory. When Jesus saw the vast crowds that followed him into the wilderness, “his heart was moved with pity for them,
for they were like sheep without a shepherd”—vulnerable, disorganized, without anyone to care for and protect them.

But Jesus would provide something better than political deliverance. Instead, he came to save both Jews and Gentiles from the ancient bondage of sin and hostility. Previously, God used the Law of Moses to protect the Israelites, to give them cultural cohesion and to make it easier for them to follow the true God instead of idols. But now Jesus’ death and his gift of the Holy Spirit would enable both groups to live together in harmony and holiness. Thus St. Paul tells his readers, “In Christ Jesus you who once were far off have become near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace, he who made both one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, through his flesh, abolishing the law with its commands and legal claims.”

Today all of us—Jews and Gentiles—can live together in peace, following the one Shepherd that God has sent. Today we can all have the confidence and freedom from fear that comes from knowing that “the Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. In verdant pastures he gives me repose; besides restful waters he leads me; he refreshes my soul.” Though we face trials in life, today each one of us can trust the Good Shepherd and know that “only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord.”

No Doubt About It: Jesus Was a Miracle Worker, and Everyone Knew It

Akin-EHRMAN1Despite their disagreements, both believing and skeptical Bible scholars can agree on certain things about the life of Jesus.

One of these is that, during his day, Jesus had a reputation as a miracle-worker. Accounts of his healings, exorcisms, and other miracles are found throughout the Gospels.

While skeptical scholars may dismiss miracles like the Feeding of the Five Thousand, the Walking on Water, and the Resurrection, even they admit that the evidence we have points to Jesus performing healings and exorcisms.

Not that they believe these were genuinely supernatural, but they’re prepared to concede that Jesus engaged in activities similar to those of modern faith-healers and exorcists, that some of the people he ministered to reported a relief of their symptoms, and that he thus gained a reputation as a wonder-worker.

However, Bart Ehrman—ever a contrarian—begs to differ.

 

Ehrman’s View

In his book, Jesus Before the Gospels, Ehrman writes:

I want to consider whether it is absolutely certain that Jesus was already understood to be a miracle worker even in his own day, prior to his death.

My view of that question is a minority position, but one that I want to explain.

I think the answer is no.

I am not saying that I know for certain that Jesus was not considered a miracle worker during his life. But I do think there are grounds for doubt (p. 221).

To say that his position is a minority one is an understatement. I can’t think of anyone—outside the realm of mythicists who don’t think Jesus even existed—who doesn’t hold that Jesus had a reputation as a miracle worker.

So how does Ehrman argue his case? He says:

Let me begin by making two points that I think everyone can agree on: (a) With the passing of time, Jesus’s miracle-working abilities became increasingly pronounced in the tradition, to an exorbitant extent; and (b) the stories of his miracles were always told in [sic] to make a theological point (or more than one point) about him (ibid.).

Based on these two points, Ehrman makes two general arguments.

 

Ehrman’s First Argument

In essence, the first argument is that—after Jesus’ death—stories about his miracles grew over time, both in terms of the sheer number of them and in how impressive the reported miracles were.

From that, one could infer that, the earlier you go, the fewer and the less impressive the miracle stories would be. And, Ehrman would suggest, perhaps there were none at all in Jesus’ lifetime.

To back up the initial premise of this argument, he writes:

That Jesus’s miracle-working abilities increased the more Christians told stories about him should be pretty obvious to anyone familiar with the noncanonical Gospels.

In chapter 1 I referred to some of the striking accounts: as a newborn Jesus was a walking, healing Son of God; as an infant he ordered palm trees to bend down to provide his mother with some fruit; as a five-year-old he could make mud sparrows come to life, wither playmates who got on his nerves, and kill with a word teachers he found irritating; after his miraculous life, at his resurrection he emerged from the tomb as tall as a mountain; and on and on.

These, of course, are simply the narratives I’ve already mentioned—not the sum total of what one can find in the accounts (ibid.).

Here Ehrman refers to things reported in several noncanonical gospels. The childhood-related stories come from the Infancy Gospel of Matthew (aka Pseudo-Matthew) and the Infancy Gospel of Thomas.

The reference to his being as tall as a mountain when he came out of the tomb comes from the Gospel of Peter.

What can we say about these?

 

More Time = More Stories

It’s certainly true that there are more stories about Jesus performing miracles in print today than there are in the surviving literature of the first and second centuries.

This is a function of the fact that people have had an additional eighteen centuries to write books about Jesus.

Some of these are novels—like Ben-Hur or The Robe—and the authors of historical fiction regularly produce new accounts of miracles in their works, even though they expect their audience to recognize the fictional nature of the accounts and don’t expect them to believe these miracles actually took place.

Also, there have been people like Joseph Smith who wrote books that are ostensibly non-fiction, such as the Book of Mormon, which also contain new stories of Jesus performing miracles. In these cases, the authors do expect the reader to believe that the stories actually took place.

There are thus more stories about Jesus’ miracles today just because people have had more time to write them.

Some of these stories are no doubt more dramatic for the same reason: The more time you have to think things up, the more time you have to think up really dramatic things.

But this doesn’t give us a good reason to suppose that there were no stories about Jesus’ miracles in his own day.

 

What You’d Need to Show

If you want to show that the number of stories circulating about Jesus’ miracles in his own day may have been zero then you need to show something much more specific than just a general trend toward more stories over time.

You’d need to show an early and steep trend. You’d need to show that there was a trend to a dramatic rise in the number of miracle stories in the first and second century.

You’d also need to show that these stories were not understood as fictions (like the miracles in modern novels) or as symbols but as things that people were expected to take as the literal truth.

Only on the basis of such a trend could one propose that the number of miracle stories in circulation went from zero in Jesus’ day to the large number reported in the canonical Gospels.

This is something Ehrman fails to do.

 

Ehrman’s Noncanonical Examples

There are problems with each of the three noncanonical gospels Ehrman cites.

To begin with, the Infancy Gospel of Matthew was not written until the seventh century, which is way too late to show any kind of trend existing in the first century, when the canonical Gospels were written.

By contrast, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of Peter were probably written in the second century, making them potentially relevant. However, there are problems here also.

It is not clear that the authors of the Infancy Gospels (pseudo-Matthew and pseudo-Thomas) expected people to take their stories as real history.

Early Christians liked fiction just as much as we do, and there are works of early Christian fiction.

Furthermore, the authors of Christian fiction often did not explicitly label their works as fiction, just as modern author’s don’t. If you look at the beginning of Ben-Hur, you won’t find any warning saying, “This is just a novel. Don’t take it as real history.”

Modern authors expect their readers to tell the difference between history and fiction, and ancient authors could expect the same thing—particularly when their audience is reading about things not found in the Gospels being read in church.

When you go through the Infancy Gospel of Thomas and the quaint stories it contains about Jesus’ childhood (making sparrows out of mud and bringing them to life, striking people dead, etc.), it’s easy to imagine the author simply making up these stories as part of an exercise in historical fiction—something he never meant people to take as real history.

Just like Anne Rice never meant people to take seriously the things she made up in her book about Jesus’ childhood (which, incidentally, includes material from the Infancy Gospel of Thomas).

We thus have a real question about whether the stories of this work were ever intended to be taken as literal history.

The same is true about the Gospel of Peter.

 

Jesus’ Head Above the Skies?

Here’s Ehrman’s own translation of the relevant passage:

39 [T]hey saw three men emerge from the tomb, two of them supporting the other [i.e., Jesus], with a cross following behind them.

40 The heads of the two reached up to the sky, but the head of the one they were leading went up above the skies.

41 And they heard a voice from the skies, “Have you preached to those who are asleep?”

42 And a reply came from the cross, “Yes” (Lost Scriptures, 33).

So Jesus is being supported by two men whose heads read up to the sky and Jesus’ head reaches above the sky. They are followed by a floating cross, and when God speaks, the cross speaks a reply.

Did the author mean for all this to be taken literally?

The ancients were not stupid. They trafficked in symbols, and it’s easy to think the author (pseudo-Peter) expected the author to recognize the non-literal nature of the account.

In particular, incredible heights read like deliberate hyperbole to make theological points: the two figures accompanying Jesus are heavenly in nature (their heads reach to heaven), and Jesus himself is superior even to them (his head reaching above the heavens).

There are thus real reasons to doubt that any of the examples Ehrman cites are relevant to showing the existence of an early and steep trend of Christians inventing miracle stories that were meant to be taken as real history.

But let’s suppose I’m wrong. Suppose that both the authors of the Infancy Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of Peter did mean for people to take these stories literally.

What then?

 

Looking at Other Non-Canonical Gospels

If there was the kind of early, steep trend that we need, we would expect to see it in other early noncanonical gospels.

Do we?

One of the best-known second century gospels is the Gospel of Thomas, which is a collection of sayings. According to Ehrman himself:

The book records 114 “secret teachings” of Jesus. It includes no other material: no miracles, no passion narrative, no stories of any kind (Lost Scriptures, 19).

Huh. So no miracles in Thomas. Doesn’t really fit the pattern that Ehrman is proposing.

I haven’t done a careful study of the other second/third century gospels and done a count of the miracle stories they contain (many are too fragmentary for that), but my impression is that they don’t support the trend, either.

In fact, many of them are principally dialogues where Jesus talks to people to communicate (Gnostic) teachings—not works filled with miracle narratives.

 

Looking at Early Non-Gospels

A related problem is that, if early Christians were rapidly inventing new stories about Jesus’ miracles, this trend ought to show up in works that aren’t narratives about his life.

For example, the Apostolic Fathers and later, second century authors ought to be reporting them.

We ought to find them saying things like, “I know this isn’t found in the Gospels, but here’s this really awesome story about a miracle Jesus did.”

Once again, I haven’t done a study for purposes of making a count, but my impression is that—while they may mention a few noncanonical miracles—there is no general and accelerating trend to reporting new Jesus miracles in their works.

 

Preliminary Conclusion

We don’t seem to have evidence for the kind of trend that Ehrman needs to show if he wants to argue that there may have been no stories of Jesus working miracles in his own day.

And things only get worse when we look at the canonical Gospels.

That’s what we’ll talk about next time . . .

Genesis and Justification: Misreading a Famous Text

abraham_and_stars_1xThere’s a famous passage in Genesis that often comes up in discussions of salvation. It says Abraham “believed the Lord; and he reckoned it to him as righteousness” (Gen. 15:6).

Protestant pastors frequently preach on this passage, and they frequently get it wrong.

Really wrong.

Here’s why . . .

 

Why It Comes Up

This passage frequently comes up in preaching about salvation because it’s used that way in the New Testament.

Paul quotes it in two places (Rom. 4:3-25, Gal. 3:6), and James quotes it once (Jas. 2:23).

This makes sense, because the Genesis passage connects faith and righteousness.

It was thus logical for the New Testament authors to use the passage in discussions of how we become justified (righteous) through faith in Christ.

It’s also logical for us today to also use the passage—whether we’re Protestant or Catholic.

But we need to use it the right way.

Unfortunately, that’s not always done.

 

The Wrong Way to Use It

Protestant preachers frequently use Genesis 15:6 (and Paul’s quotations of it) to argue for the classical Protestant understanding of justification. That model goes something like this:

  1. We are all sinners and therefore unrighteous before God.
  2. In our sinful state, we can’t become righteous before God by good works.
  3. However, if we place our faith in God, he will forgive our sins and reckon us righteous even though we are not.
  4. This reckoning is something that happens as a once-for-all event in the Christian life known as “justification.”

Points 1 and 2 are true, and points 3 and 4—though flawed—contain elements of truth.

The problem that concerns us here is that Protestant preachers tend to assume Genesis 15:6 maps onto the classical Protestant model in a straightforward way.

At first glance, this isn’t unreasonable, for Paul uses the verse to support justification by faith rather than works.

But the matter isn’t as straightforward as people assume.

 

A One-to-One Mapping

If Genesis 15:6 mapped directly onto the classical Protestant model of justification, the following would result:

  1. Abraham was a sinner and therefore unrighteous before God.
  2. In his sinful state, Abraham could not become righteous before God by good works.
  3. But Abraham came to have faith in God in Genesis 15:6, so he forgave Abraham’s sins and reckoned him righteous even though he was not.
  4. This reckoning was a once-for-all event in Abraham’s life, his justification before God.

But when you read Genesis 15, this is not what is happening.

Not. At. All.

 

Read the Context

To understand what’s happening, you need to start by reading the events that led up to it. Those are found in Genesis 14.

Basically, a war started between two groups of kings, one of whom was the king of the wicked city Sodom. During the war, Abraham’s kinsman Lot—who had been living in Sodom—was taken captive.

When Abraham heard about this, he mustered a group of more than three hundred fighting men from his own household and defeated the opposing kings. He thus rescued Lot, the other captives, and their goods.

Afterward, in thanksgiving for his victory in battle, Abraham went to Melchizedek—a priest of God most high—and gave him a tenth of all the spoils.

Then the king of Sodom offered Abraham a reward, telling him, “Give me the persons, but take the goods for yourself” (Gen. 14:21).

Abraham refused this reward, saying that he’d sworn an oath not to take anything from the king of Sodom.

God then comes to Abraham in a vision and says, “Fear not, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great” (Gen. 15:1).

Abraham asks how this will be, for he has no children, and his current heir would be Eliezer of Damascus, a slave born in his household.

God tells him, “That man shall not be your heir; your own son shall be your heir.” Then he takes Abraham outside and has him look at the stars, telling him, “So shall your descendants be” (Gen. 15:4-5).

At this point we read: “And he believed the Lord; and he reckoned it to him as righteousness.”

 

An Initial Question

We should note there is an ambiguity in Genesis 15:6—it says that “he reckoned it to him” as righteousness.

This can be read two ways: (1) God reckoned Abraham righteous or (2) Abraham reckoned God righteous.

The latter has been supported by some interpreters, including Jewish ones, and it makes sense in context: Abraham believed that God would give him a multitude of descendants, and he regarded this this as a sign of God’s righteous goodness.

However, this is not the way the New Testament takes the verse. On all three occasions where it’s quoted, the authors understand God as reckoning Abraham as righteous.

For Christians, that guarantees that this is a proper way of looking at the text (even if it is not necessarily the only way of looking at it, since Scripture operates on more than one level).

 

A Very Different Picture

If we understand God reckoning Abraham righteous, how well does the passage match the classical Protestant view of justification?

Not well at all.

Notice how different the whole approach of the text is. Abraham is not being presented as a sinner who can’t redeem himself by good works but who then comes to have faith in God and who is then forgiven his sins and declared righteous (even though he is not) in a once-for-all, life-changing event.

Quite the opposite is true! Abraham is already a follower of God, someone who already has faith in him, and the context stresses Abraham’s good works and righteousness:

  • He defeated the evil kings.
  • He rescued Lot and the other captives.
  • He went to a priest of God and gives thanks for the victory.
  • He refused any reward from the wicked king of Sodom.
  • And so God himself promised to give Abraham a reward instead.

The fact God is rewarding Abraham for what he has done shows this isn’t a case of a sinner coming to God and repenting so he can obtain forgiveness. It’s God rewarding a follower for faithful service.

That means Abraham isn’t acquiring righteousness here for the first time. He is already righteous, as his actions have shown.

Then Abraham believes the incredible promise that he will have a multitude of descendants, despite his age (cf. Rom. 4:19, Heb. 11:12), and God reckons that act of belief as a new act of righteousness on Abraham’s part.

Some translations bring this aspect out better than others. The New American Bible does a particularly good job. It says that the Lord: “attributed it to him as an act of righteousness.”

Notice, by the way, that Abraham’s act of faith also wasn’t generic in nature. Abraham already believed in and trusted God in a general way. Here he is believing something very specific: that God will give him a multitude of descendants—a point Paul recognizes when he uses the verse (Rom. 4:17-22).

And notice the righteousness isn’t a counterfactual, purely legal thing: Believing God when he tells you he will do something is a righteous act. Abraham did something actually righteous here.

All of this means that we need to be careful when we apply this verse to discussions of justification.

It is relevant to the subject. Thus Paul makes the point that Abraham wasn’t circumcised at the time this happened (Rom. 4:9-12), so God can view someone as righteous even though he’s not circumcised and thus doesn’t have works of the Jewish Law (Rom. 3:28-30).

But it’s a mistake to map the passage onto the classical Protestant view of justification.