In some cases, my exegetical disagreements with Waltke are simply in-house, intramural matters that are not relevant to the issue of the nature of Scripture (e.g., Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Job, and others). In other cases, the exegetical differences stem from the more programmatic differences between us outlined in the first series of posts. On those issues, I remain of the opinion that what is needed is not the reassertion of doctrinal prolegomena but a re-examination of hermeneutical foundations. In this exchange between Waltke and me, that re-examination has barely begun, but it has begun, in my opinion. No one in this debate—Waltke, me, or anyone else—is free of blind spots.

Our handling of Scripture is never pure, never free of some bias (which was one of my major points against Waltke in my first response, where he claimed exegetical objectivity). For people like Waltke, me, and many, many others trained in the rich, complex, and challenging world of biblical studies, there is always some conversation going on in our heads between the methods we employ and the theological circles we call home. As the past several generations of evangelical scholarship have amply demonstrated, this internal conversation has brought tremendous progress in our understanding of the Bible, but not without some significant theological tensions.

The problem is that these tensions are often seen as (1) wholly destructive, and (2) the “fault” of biblical scholarship. Both assertions are false. Challenges to accepted structures of thinking create tensions, but this is not necessarily simply “destructive” of some erstwhile pure system of thought. Tension, however uncomfortable, is the place where growth and progress flourish. Moreover, the fault may not lie with the challenging nature of biblical scholarship so much as with the inflexibility of theological systems.

I have said this on other occasions and it bears repeating: the tensions in conservative American Christianity that began in earnest in the 19th century were not so much “caused” by higher-critical scholarship, but by the clash of some very legitimate newer insights into the Bible (e.g., pentateuchal authorship, the ANE background to Genesis, etc., etc., etc.) with older theological paradigms that were not suited to address these newer insights. I understand that the matter is a bit more complicated than I lay out here, but the general contours are clear to me. The resulting liberal/fundamentalist divide was perhaps an inevitable perfect storm, but neither option does justice to the rich possibilities before us.

If I may continue a rather reductionistic analysis (which is not accurate on the level of historical analysis, but is alive and well, nonetheless—indeed, perpetuated—in some popular circles): liberals looked at our developing knowledge of the ancient world of the Bible and said “A ha, I told you. The Bible is nothing special. Israelite religion is just like any other ancient faith. You conservatives need to get over yourselves.” The fundamentalist response was (fingers firmly planted in ears) “La la la la la la, I do not hear you. There may be a millimeter of insight in some of what you are saying, but if what you are saying is true, our theology—which is the sure truth of Scripture, handed down through the ages—is false, and that is unthinkable.”

Battle lines were drawn rather than theological and hermeneutical principles reassessed.

I am drawing out this point somewhat because I am hoping that this exchange with Waltke can be seen, on both our parts, as a conscious attempt not to repeat past mistakes of drawing lines in the sand prematurely and so encourage yet another “battle for the Bible.” It may be time, as my teen-age daughter tells me, to “seriously chill” (I need to remind her of what an oxymoron is) and ask afresh, with now several generations of mountains of data and reflection behind us, “What is our Bible, anyway? What is it here for? What do we do with it? What is it prepared to say? What does it mean to handle it properly?”

For some, I am sure, these are a discouraging, unnecessary, or heretical set of questions to be asking. For others, they offer a cool breeze of possibility that neither God nor his word can be so easily captured to do our bidding. This, at least, is what I am aiming at in these exchanges with Waltke. It is not a competition between us, to see who can bench press more, academically speaking, and impress those watching. We are each trying to explain why our Bible looks and acts the way it does. Each of our paradigms offers explanatory power while also being the fruit of exegetical work, and that hermeneutical circle is irrevocably unavoidable regardless of where you land on individual issues. At the end of the day, it is the paradigm that is deemed most coherent and persuasive in explaining our Bible that will rise to the surface (see my article “Some Thoughts on Theological Exegesis of The Old Testament: Toward a Viable Model of Biblical Coherence and Relevance“), provided we are ready and willing to allow our own thoughts on the matter to be challenged along the way.

Read Final Reponse to Bruce Waltke: The OT and Theological Diversity and the OT in its interpretation in the NT

It is no throwaway line when I relay, again, my appreciation to Waltke for being so candid in his views and for participating in this discussion. As readers of the previous posts have no doubt seen, Waltke and I have clear areas of disagreement on a number of important issues, and the sort of back-and-forth exhibited here is of the nature of academic discourse and vital for any progress.

As one can see in Waltke’s piece, he divides his comments into three sections: Introduction, The Old Testament and Theological Diversity, and The Old Testament Interpretation in the New Testament. I will reflect on each of these sections in turn. Waltke’s comments deserve a detailed response, so I think it is best to spread out my thoughts over numerous posts to appear over a couple of weeks or so. The first several posts will interact with Waltke’s comments in his Introduction.

Introduction

Waltke does well in laying out some of the overarching concerns he has both with I&I (Inspiration and Incarnation: Evangelicals and the Problem of the Old Testament [Grand Rapids: Baker, 2005]) and with my previous interaction with him. I will list some of those concerns that strike me as most pertinent and offer some reflections of my own.

I&I and the Westminster Standards

I have already commented at some length on this website on how I&I relates to the Westminster Standards, but let me reinforce a point or two here.

I appreciate that Waltke does “not doubt” that I intend “to stay true to the Westminster Standards,” but this is not my goal. Neither the Westminster Standards nor any other ecclesiastical document is the lens through which we read Scripture, a point I learned as an M.Div. student at Westminster. My intention, rather, is to understand Scripture as the inspired yet historically conditioned document that it is, and to bring into that investigation not only previous theological formulations but true developments in biblical studies over the past several generations. In a word, my aim is synthesis.

I remain unpersuaded that either a 17^th century confession of faith or its defenders are in the position of chief adjudicator of the matters before us. This is not to relegate the Westminster Standards, or other ecclesiastical documents, to the trash heap, quaint relics of by-gone eras that can be dismissed without a second thought. Rather, it is to recognize that, despite their value, they are necessarily limited in scope and in need of ongoing critical discussion. The issues Waltke and I are debating are largely, if not exclusively, modern ones, and so cannot be left simply in the care of earlier thinkers, however much they are still worthy of serious attention and respect.

Truth is not determined by the degree to which one is faithful to a tradition. Rather, a tradition is evaluated by the degree to which it reflects the truth. And this, I continue to affirm, is an ongoing theological exercise. Hence, as I have argued elsewhere, the only model of confessional commitment that can maintain this conversation between the vital past and present challenges is one that maintains a self-conscious degree of flexibility, or better, an expectation of self-criticism, lest the confession become the church’s ultimate authority.

The same holds, I feel, for the history of Reformed thought. However important earlier figures may be, surely we must allow as a very real option the possibility of their being fallible in their knowledge, without being accused of “abandoning” the Reformed faith in the process.

To be sure, others are free to disagree. I have no personal qualm about that. But if intention to remain “true” to a “tradition” (which already assumes its non-growth) drives an academic assessment of real evidence (most of which was wholly unavailable when the tradition’s trajectories were set), one runs the risk of adjusting evidence to what one already “knows” to be true.  We do not tolerate such sloppy thinking in any other area of human discourse, but when it comes to theological discourse in some circles, it seems to be the preferred method of interaction. When one’s position is by definition unfalsifiable, any meaningful exchange of ideas functionally ceases. Any tradition that aims to promote truth rather than obscure it must be eager to be open to critical evaluation.

Waltke, however, despite his opening comment, knows better and his subsequent comments reflect in my estimation an authentic attempt to listen to Scripture (even if certain assumptions continue to rear their head, as we will see is subsequent posts).

Next post: Nonsense and Logic