Read Part One of my response here.
Read Part Two of my response here.

Here is the third part of my response to Waltke’s follow-up piece:

Tensions and Paradox

It is the clear presence of “tensions and paradoxes” in the Bible (as Waltke puts it) that brought me to a recognition that Biblical Theology is a preferred reading strategy, embracing as it does the dramatic, narrative content of Scripture, and so is quite suited to address the theological diversity and contextual rootedness of Scripture.

I am glad Waltke acknowledges the presence of real tensions and paradoxes in the Bible, as I always knew he did. He clarifies, however, that this acknowledgment extends only to the point were no sorts of “foibles”(i.e., errors or other infelicities) result.

Apart from the problem we have already mentioned, that of determining the nature of “foible,” another issues is raised here. It is important to ask whether Waltke’s caveat does justice to his own principle that the Bible is “truth itself” (quoting WCF [Westminster Confession of Faith] 1.4). If Scripture is God’s revealed truth, consistent in all its parts, profitable for all sorts of correction, reproof, etc., is there really room for tensions and paradoxes of any sort at all? What purpose do these tensions and paradoxes have in a Bible that is, according to Waltke’s own standard, “consistent in all its parts?”

My answer is that they reflect the variegated human settings that the portions of the Bible were written in, and I have no further need to reconcile this fact with what is happening “in the mind of God” other than saying, “If we believe that the Bible is God’s word, then, quite obviously, God is OK with all of this.” The question now becomes “what do we learn about God from how he himself, in his wisdom, speaks?”

But Waltke’s principle, as outlined in WCF, does not allow that option. At best, it admits to the “tensions and paradoxes” somewhat begrudgingly, relegating them to the realm of mystery, and that are somehow reconcilable in “God’s mind.” In other words, their presence has no positive theological value. They are more unfortunate marks of Scripture that run afoul of confessional commitments but, as we all know, are “ultimately” reconcilable.

The assumption is that the reconciling of these tensions is what is required of a text that is of divine origin. And if they cannot be reconciled here and now, we “know” they can be reconciled eventually, and, presumably, God will one day show us all how the pieces all fit together. In the meantime, our task to make sure these marks of Scripture do not distract us from assessing Scripture’s nature. Waltke does not lay out this line of thinking explicitly, but it is there nonetheless.

For me, the tensions, etc., of the Bible are not there for us to see how clever we can be at reconciling them, nor how patient and faithful we can be to expect some future reconciliation. Rather, they are marks of God’s accommodation and so should be addressed deliberately with a view toward gaining positive theological information from them.

On a related point, Waltke points out that I do not address his statements that I&I imputes “foibles” to God. Perhaps, but I think the point of my previous response was to question the basis upon which Waltke determines what is or is not a “foible.” Again, this is no clever word game I am playing, nor is it a disingenuous stall tactic. Rather, this matter is central to the under discussion. And there is sufficient diversity in the church, both now and throughout history, to justify such a query.

For some, it is a “foible” to say that Genesis 1 reflects anything other than a literal, historical, even scientific account of things, since, otherwise, Scripture could not be “truth itself.” Others define “truth itself” in such a way that the mythic content and tempo of Genesis 1 are not a foible but part of what it means for God to speak in any meaningful sense in antiquity. Waltke is certainly more in the latter camp (although not as far as I am), but the more important issue is to determine on what basis such decisions should be made. This is very much on the table among conservatives and evangelicals, in my opinion—at least it should be.

Similarly, Waltke takes issue with the use of Pesher in the NT, which he dubs “unaccredited exegesis.” I am not sure exactly what that means, but it begs the question “accredited by whom and on what basis?” In a nutshell, this type of question lies at the heart of my previously published response, but I do not seem to have persuaded Waltke of its importance.

Read Part One of my response here.

Below is the second part of my response to Waltke’s follow-up piece.

Nonsense and Logic

Waltke is concerned to maintain basic parameters of logic and to keep God from speaking “nonsense.” I think, though, that the entire point of our exchange has been to determine what in fact we have the right to label as “nonsense” and what a biblically oriented “logic” looks like. I may be missing something, but Waltke does not seem to consider this option.

Waltke repeatedly asserts that such things as human error in Scripture (which Hodge and Warfield themselves admitted to exist, by the way—see their booklet Inspiration, 27-28), or things commonly understood as mistakes, are unworthy of a book of ultimately divine origin. I do not wish to play word games, but I must continue to insist that just what these words mean, i.e., how they are to be defined, are the very things that need clearer definition precisely by bringing “biblical behavior” to the forefront of our debates rather than quick appeal to theological prolegomena.

To pick one extreme example, for some (not Waltke) it is “nonsense” to consider the differences of historical representation among the four Gospels or the synoptic accounts of Israel’s history in the Deuteronomistic History (Dtr) and the Chronicler. Diverse historical presentations in Scripture are “nonsense” because, since God is the author of Scripture, and Scripture is therefore “truth itself,” there really can be no synoptic “problem.”

I think Waltke and I are on the same footing when we respond, “No, the Bible itself will not allow for such an assessment of the nature of Scripture. The data do not support the theory.”

In principle, this is were we both are, but I would suggest that a real difference between Waltke and me is the extent to which we are willing to go in applying this same principle to other biblical phenomena. So, for example, I seem to be more willing to allow “Bible in its historical context” to determine what type of “logic” the Bible demonstrates and what constitutes “nonsense.” I am not only willing (begrudgingly) but fully prepared to engage the Second Temple hermeneutical context of the Chronicler in order to explain the differences between his account of Israel’s history and that of Dtr, as well as how the NT authors employ the OT.

All of this can be phrased as a question: What limits do we put on the contextual, historical, situatedness of the Bible for explaining biblical phenomenon, and therefore the nature of Scripture, and WHY, ON WHAT BASIS, do we place those limits? Or put another way, At what point do we, should we, say, “No, since this is the word of God, we can only go so far”? Or yet another way, At what point in applying an incarnational model are we ascribing error to God rather than merely observing the Bible’s “human nature”? These are ways of phrasing the disagreement between us, and further clarity would be achieved if we all dug a bit deeper to expose and critically evaluate the foundations of our thinking. At this stage, I do not think Waltke’s response moves us to greater clarity.

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

It is clear that, after initially being in warm support of the project represented in Inspiration and Incarnation: Evangelicals and the Problem of the Old Testament (I&I) (see his blurb on the back of the book), Waltke has had a change of heart after a second reading. He and I discussed this matter at some length over the past year or two, and we both thought an exchange in WTJ would be fruitful. I appreciate Waltke’s candor in his views and the respectful tone with which he presents them.

I am posting these articles because I think they lay out clearly two very different approaches to dealing with some pressing matters of biblical interpretation and perhaps lay some groundwork for how those with training and interest in biblical studies can further this conversation.

Waltke and I clearly have sharp differences on a number of issues but this exchange is (I trust) free of rancor and condescension. What has struck me in the last several months is the considerable gap there is among some between the manner in which important matters are discussed and the basic ethic that Jesus promulgated, an ethic that even the most ardent secularists throughout history have taken note of and even admired. This is not to deflect the importance of debate and sharp disagreement, as I hope this exchange demonstrates, but neither Watlke nor I want to contribute to such dysfunction in the church. We hope, rather, that the complex and perennial academic points can rise to prominence, as they should. I hope readers enjoy and profit from this exchange.

Download Revisiting Inspiration & Incarnation by Bruce Waltke (PDF)

Download Response to Bruce Waltke by Peter Enns (PDF)

But, during my teaching years at Westminster, I began turning more and more to Harvie’s writings, for various reasons. Mainly, I wanted to make sure that current students would be exposed to one of the most creative and eclectic theological minds WTS has ever produced.

As I began rereading his works, especially Eternal Word & Changing Worlds, I began to realize something else, namely the extent to which Harvie’s mature reflections on the nature of Reformed theology and theological education overlapped with my own developing thoughts.

I would like to believe that my thinking reflected Harvie’s direct influence, and that may be the case, although if so, it would have been more through osmosis. More likely, my own spiritual/academic track forced me to do some synthetic thinking of my own. Harvie’s development as a thinker grew in no small measure out of his 20 years as a missionary in Korea and his work with prostitutes.

My own “trial by fire” at Harvard—which parallels that of many, many other evangelicals over the last few generations—was far less memorable, but no less personal and meaningful. What I share with Harvie is an experience of being forced to do synthetic, creative thinking by watching my own theological formulations leave a rather insulated world and interact with humanity. To put it more positively, EWCW is an example, too few and far between, in my opinion, of the WTS tradition moving beyond its defensive boarders and bringing its perspective to much-needed arenas—not to “correct” others but to engage them and so be more Reformed and Christian in thought as a result.

There are numerous literary high-water marks in the WTS tradition, and EWCW is one of them. In my opinion it is the single most penetrating and insightful theological work the WTS tradition has ever produced. One of the things that distinguishes this book from any other written by a WTS professor is the book’s missional (or as Harvie called it in the lingo of the day, “missiological”) focus, and how missional concerns should and in fact invariably do affect our theological constructs and how, as a result, we need to rethink the task of theological education.

The general point of EWCW is expressed in the subtitle: Theology, Anthropology, and Mission in Trialogue. Harvie’s goal was to produce a piece of synthetic, cross-disciplinary theology. His method is to look at the dialogue between cultural anthropology and theology in the past (18th-19th centuries), how present challenges affect the nature of that dialogue, and, Harvie’s vision for the future of theology and theological education. One of things I so appreciate about this synthesis is Harvie’s recognition that theology is not an isolated discipline, but should, and in fact invariably is, affected by general developments and progress in human thought. Harvie’s work was focused on the social science, but the same tenor of dialogue and mutual interaction is also relevant for theology and the physical sciences. (For example, see my review of The Bible, Rocks, and Time)

The book is divided into three parts, each part containing three chapters. Parts one and two, which Harvie entitles “Shaped by the Past” and “Challenged by the Present,” form the context within which his programmatic statements in part three (“Reaching for the Future”) are to be understood.

Parts three is where the money is. Parts one and two form the theoretical basis. My quotes will come from part three, and I will leave it to you who are interested to see how he supports his observations from parts one and two.

From time to time, I will post some quotes from EWCW. I won’t comment on them; I don’t need to. I hope it will encourage students of theology especially to familiarize themselves with Conn’s work and to be challenged in their own thinking about the task of theology.

It and all the future installments of this essay will be linked from the I&I page on this site, or click the title below to go directly to part:

The Authority of Scripture is a Function of Its Divine Origin, not Its Cultural Expression, Although the Bible that the Spirit Has Given the Church is a Thoroughly Encultured Product

More coming soon.

At any rate, in response to the faculty’s request, I produced a 38-page paper that was distributed to the board at their request and to the faculty. It also appears to have been fairly widely circulated (which, as I state on page one of that report, is perfectly fine by me). The report in full even appears on at least one website that I know of.

My original intention was simply to leave the matter where it was, in the hands of the faculty and board, so as not to draw undo attention to seminary matters (even though I felt that this paper would have proved helpful to numerous readers). As it stands now, the attention drawn to this issue is quite pervasive, comes from various sources, and without any aid from me.

In light of these developments, reproducing certain portions of that paper makes a degree of sense.

First, since the paper already has a wide distribution, including electronically, it makes sense that it appear in some fashion on the web page of its author. Second, in the interest of academic discourse, I feel it is very much worthwhile to lay out some of my thinking here for interested readers. Third, what I consider to be misunderstandings and mischaracterizations of my theology continue to be disseminated, both from those outside of the seminary (I will admit I read some of the discussions on blogs, most often with some dismay) but also by those closer to home. Those interested in this matter may benefit from hearing my own thoughts presented in what I hope are reasonably sized chunks. And just to be clear, I by no means intend to suggest that disagreement with my positions constitutes “misunderstandings and mischaracterizations.” I do feel, however, that some criticisms of my position are based on assumptions of the nature and purpose of Reformed Theology, confessional commitment, the nature of Scripture, etc., that I do not hold, nor are they held by most people with whom I interact daily. That is what I wish to clarify here.

What will follow (over the next several days), therefore, is a series of distillations from the 38-page paper that I feel are most pertinent to the ongoing theological discussion. This will likely take several posts. I will also make some adjustments of the original to allow the separate portions to stand as individual posts.

First portion will appear tomorrow.

I am finding that these three categories simply cannot be held apart for long. It was Al the person and biblical scholar that drove him to Biblical Theological reflections and on the nature of the OT in light of Christ. It was his Biblical Theological work that drove him to a deeper relationship with Christ, and therefore with others, as well as giving further impetus for his other academic work.

In this respect, Al was certainly a Westminster product. He combined a mature and open relationship with Christ; as a biblical scholar, he would go without hesitation wherever the text and his work lead; and he brought all of this to bear on the coherence of Scripture as it is summed up in the Messiah.

In other words, Al embodied what the biblical tradition at Westminster has represented among Christian institutions. Now, as I said about Al in a previous post I now say about Westminster: I do not engage in hagiographa (except about the Yankees). But this Biblical Theological (i.e., Redemptive-Historical) approach to the Old Testament, which I feel did not come to maturity until the work of Al’s teachers, Ray Dillard and Edmund Clowney, is an emphasis that makes Westminster unique among Reformed and evangelicals institutions anywhere. There. I said it. Let the criticisms come.

Still, I feel this is true. The particular way of engaging the OT as a redemptive-historical narrative that culminates in Christ’s death and resurrection, and, as importantly, that now demands to be reread in light that central hermeneutical event, is a hallmark of the Westminster hermeneutic. It is legacy that I and others are deeply proud of, and we are so happy to have been taught by and also to have worked with Al, whose teaching and scholarship overflowed with this rich and biblical emphasis.

Part of Al’s Biblical Theological depth was born out of his love for literature in general. As he was fond of saying “there are no free motifs” in the Bible. It is a book rich in intertextuality that is meant to be explored and articulated by the careful reader. Al’s gifts in literary analysis was also seen in his love for movies. His weekly movie discussion nights were quite the hot item. I went once or twice, but any group that can identify movies by who produced it, or what French genre it was representative of, is over my head and I quickly lose interest. If there isn’t at least one explosion every 15 minutes, even today, I think of it as an “Al film” and I turn it off. On a more poignant note, I had the privilege of being at Al’s bedside for most of the day when he died. His bed was in a room lined with shelves, each filled to the brim with movies, and each case was numbered. I distinctly remember seeing numbers well over a 1000, only to find out later “there are more.”

Al’s skills in literary and film analysis helped him see literary (and therefore theological) connections in biblical texts. To put it more strongly, Al looked for connections, themes, etc. He felt it was his job, as a Biblical Theologian to explore Scripture rather than accept mundane observations. He and I spoke on and off about the overlap between such an attitude toward biblical interpretation and Jewish Midrashim, a thought that had not escaped his alert gaze, nor one that caused him any chagrin.

I could continue at length, but perhaps it is fitting to stop here with one final observation. The legacy that Al represented was passed on well to many, many students, and to many of his colleagues over the years. He was a hybrid of a second and third generation Westminster student (i.e., taught by both some 1st generation and 2nd generation faculty). Al was privy to many of the nuances of the long Westminster legacy that few today can claim. And he did it with a grace that few can match. Our loss has been great, but we honor his memory and the Lord he served.

One thing worth mentioning is that it is very artificial for me to separate the two, because so many of our interactions involved some type of academic issue, whether teaching, grading, writing, scheduling classes, why I wasn’t doing what I was told, etc.

Back in the mid-80’s Al was already hard at work in an office specially set up for him. I was new to WTS, taking Hebrew, and was friends with a PhD student, John Marcott, who was helping Al in some project. I remember it having to do with something like “tagging” the Hebrew text, computers, a lot of big, noisy machines, and stacks of books and papers.

I am probably the last person at the seminary qualified to explain what Al did, exactly. Several colleagues have tried to explain it to me, but it is like explaining PCA politics to a newly converted homeless person. I do remember John taking a stab at it, and, apparently reacting to my blank stare, just saying, “Al is a smart cookie.” But I already knew that.

It wasn’t until I joined the faculty that someone (I can’t remember who) boiled it down for me in a way that even I could understand: “Whenever you open up your computer and see Hebrew, Al did that.” Of course, some of you under-enthusiastic Hebrew students may not be very happy with that, but remember this includes not just the text but the parsing aids, dictionaries, etc. See, Al was watching out for you. (I would have said, in Soup Nazi fashion, “No parsing aid for you.”)

I don’t think that means Al did absolutely everything, but it does mean that he got it started and a lot of people who sell Bible software with the Hebrew text of the Old Testament, in one way or another, owe it all to Al, who, in the early 80’s, realized that (1) he has an engineering degree, (2) he reads Hebrew, (3) computers are likely going to get more popular rather than less popular. To this day I don’t quite understand why Al did not become a billionaire, with several houses, robot servants, and part ownership in the Boston Celtics. (Actually, I know something about that story, but it is complex and beside the point here.)

All kidding aside, Al had a truly international reputation as a result of his work in Hebrew and computing. In fact, Al’s reputation was stronger in Europe than it was here. One need only hang around with Al at the national SBL conference (a yearly conference for biblical scholars, also known as the “Sea of Tweed” conference). A lot of people would be there looking for Al, coveting his time to query him on matters related to Hebrew computing. He ran special sessions at SBL where he would teach the teachers.

Al never received his PhD, but that was because he was too busy changing the face of the study of the Hebrew Bible.

Now—and this is where the professional and personal merge—it is simply startling to me to know how much time Al could put into other matters and still be able to pull off what he did academically. He was a committed and patient teacher; he was well-read in numerous fields of study, including Deuteronomy, the Deuteronomistic Historian and Isaiah (which included an intimate control of the Hebrew text); he supervised more than his share of doctoral and ThM dissertations, and Al’s level of supervision was above and beyond the call of duty; he spent loads and loads of time with students and colleagues; he was the department head from the time Tremper Longman left Westminster until he took up is duties as VP for Academic Affairs—the latter adding a considerable burden to his already full plate. And amid all this, he battled cancer for just over a year.

In all these things, I know that Al occasionally struggled with the lack of recognition he received in his own back yard, but that concern was raised only rarely and privately. His demeanor was consistently humble, self-effacing, directed towards servanthood rather than power, as lesser people in his position might have sought after.

Al had enough to do, but I still wish he could have written more. But, alas, you can’t do everything. But you know, the Lord does not call us to do everything, just to do what we do in his name faithfully and for his honor. In that respect, Al’s list of accomplishments could fill my thumb drive.

May we honor and remember Al Groves, he of blessed memory, for his long and faithful service to the risen Lord.