The Illusive Reader

Six months ago, if you would have asked me about the topic of my dissertation, I would have told you that it was a study of the Protevangelium of James. My answer today would be largely the same. If you would have asked me (six months ago) to describe for you the identity of the reader in my study of Prot. Jas., however, I would have looked at you like you were insane: I am the reader, right? Wrong.

To be sure, the question of the reader has always been in the back of my mind: interpretation of ancient texts demands an ancient perspective, after all. If one approaches Prot. Jas. (or the Bible) in terms of one’s modern sensibilities, the result is likely anachronism, at least from a historical-critical point of view. This is of course not to say that modern readers cannot rightly interpret ancient texts. Rather, it is to say that modern readers must make judgments about what an ancient text can and cannot say on its own terms. Recently, however, the issue has become fuzzier (at least in the context of my project).

Without going into too much detail, my project involves the ways in which Prot. Jas. affects the imaginations and hermeneutical sensibilities of its readers. This involves discernment of various echoes in the text, as well as the new meaning engendered by those echoes. In short, my project focuses on what is going on between Prot. Jas. and, say, the Gospel of Luke.

The specific identity of the reader in the context of this project has proven to be quite important, and increasingly more complicated. Namely, to claim that there is an echo in this or that text implies the presence of a reader who is able to hear said echo without recourse to a lexicon or electronic database of ancient texts…clearly, I am not that reader.

I have several options with respect to how I’m going to frame what I mean by reader:

1. Implied Reader (Wolfgang Iser)
2. Informed Reader (Stanley Fish)
3. Intended Reader (Erwin Wolff)
4. Model Reader (Umberto Eco)
5. Super Reader (Michael Riffaterre)
6. Authorial Audience (Wayne Booth)

My task is to figure out what the differences are between these different readers, many of whom do not exist and never have existed in any objective sense, as well as why those differences actually matter to my project. As this project continues to unfold, I’m hoping to dedicate some posts in the near future to each of these readers. We shall see.

Enchiridion Biblicum Online

For those interested, I was just made aware that the Enchiridion Biblicum, comprised entirely of Catholic documents pertaining to the study of Scripture, is available online, in English, for free. This is a wonderful resource for anyone interested in theological exegesis, especially in a Catholic context. Not sure how long it’s been up, but it’s new to me!

Find it here.

Peanuts, Biblical Studies and Systematic Theology

A brief commentary on the separation of the theological disciplines:

Some Thoughts on Medieval Exegesis

In the last week or so, I’ve waded through quite a few works concerning exegetical practice of the medievals. Opinions seem to be varied regarding the level of constraint (or lack thereof) that characterizes a medieval approach to the Bible. That is, to what degree are medieval theologians to be considered “responsible” exegetes in their level of respect for the literal meaning of the text. I cite here two opinions…the first from Denis Farkasfalvy’s Inspiration and Interpretation, and the second from David Steinmetz’s classic piece, The Superiority of Pre-Critical Exegesis. Enjoy:

In medieval exegesis the relationship between interpretation and philosophical reflection is often unclear. Lacking a sense for the historical dimension of reality (at least in the modern sense of the term), the medieval exegete may not realize that he must not force upon the biblical text the concepts and the terminology of another culture or age. Medieval exegesis is, therefore, like a kaleidoscope. It is full of shiny items, including many true gems, but also objects that are like glass beads or false gold, appealing to the eye but without lasting value (Farkasfalvy, 151).

Modern literary criticism has challenged the notion that a text means only what its author intends it to mean far more radically than medieval exegetes ever dreamed of doing. Indeed, contemporary debunking of the author and the author’s explicit intentions has proceeded at such a pace that it seems at times as if literary criticism has become a jolly game of ripping out an author’s shirt-tail and setting fire to it (Steinmetz, 37).

Call me crazy, but I’m inclined to affirm both of these statements.

Exegesis as Biography

In 1925 (Feb 1), Rudolf Bultmann gave a lecture to a crowd in Marburg on the topic, “The Problem of a Theological Interpretation of the New Testament.” In this lecture, he makes the point that the fingerprints of the exegete will always be found on the fruits of their labor:

There is no bare interpretation of ‘what is there,’ but in some way (a specific way, in fact, for each case) the interpretation of the text always goes hand in hand with the exegete’s interpretation of himself. We do not encounter history in the same way that we do nature; we can assume a distance from nature; but we stand in history and are a part of it. Therefore, every word we utter about history is necessarily a word about ourselves; that is, it discloses how we interpret our own existence; it shows what sort of openness we have to the possibilities of our existence as humans.

Apart from the distinct Heideggarian “odor” that permeates this lecture (Heidegger, in fact, was in the audience when Bultmann delivered it for a second time in Göttingen, five days after the original delivery in Marburg), I found it to be quite a provocative and interesting read.

One of the hallmarks of the discussion surrounding the issue of “theological exegesis” or “theological interpretation” seems to be a brazen rejection of the idea that exegesis without presuppositions as a fantasy, and that the New Testament demands to be read and interpreted in the same spirit in which it was written. That is, the texts of the New Testament were written in a spirit of faith, and to read them solely from the perspective of a cold, detached observer will ultimately lead to a skewed (or at least limited) perception of their meaning.

In a more recent work (“The Superiority of Pre-Critical Exegesis, sic et non,” Trinity Journal 24 (2003)), Daniel Treier draws what I find to be a helpful distinction between “meaning” and “significance” of a text. Treier claims (rightly, I think) that scholars operating outside the realm of faith, whether intentionally or by virtue of their lack of faith, may say much about the meaning of a given text. To speak to a text’s significance, however, belongs to the interpreter who is willing and able to read the text from the perspective of faith.

Treier’s distinction (which, notably, has been made by others), I think helps to maintain the importance of practicing historical-critical methodology alongside “theological exegesis.” To suggest doing away with the former (as more than a few are apt to do, both in proposition and practice) will almost certainly lead to a naïve reading of the Old and New Testaments in which our modern worldview and concerns are forced into a thought-world that is often foreign to our own.

Having surveyed much literature on theological exegesis, I have found that one of the most pressing issues for the discussion is how exactly to keep interpretations of the biblical text grounded. That is, how does one acknowledge and honor one’s own faith perspective while simultaneously maintaining that ancient texts have their own concerns that may be different from those that we bring to them? It is an open question, and I don’t pretend to have the answer, but I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Fitzmyer on Inerrancy and Inspiration

A couple months ago, I wrote a post concerning the relationship between authority and inspiration. I chose not to deal with the question of inerrancy in that post, mostly because I felt it would require more patience and space than I had at the time. I’m currently working my way through Joseph Fitzmyer’s The Interpretation of Scripture, and I have found his discussion of inspiration and inerrancy to be quite relevant to this discussion.

In his discussion of Dei Verbum, Vatican II’s constitution on divine revelation, Fitzmyer refers to inspiration as the charism by which human beings were moved by God to record aspects of divine revelation. He defines revelation as the self-manifestation of a personal God and the making known of the mystery of God’s will for humanity (8). Inspiration, therefore, is expressive of the belief that the biblical authors wrote from their experiences of a God who worked among them.

The question of inerrancy, however, is of a different sort than that of inspiration. For Fitzmyer, the two concepts are not coterminous, but they are related, as inerrancy is for him a consequence of inspiration. Inerrancy, he writes (citing Dei Verbum §11), refers to the quality of assertions in Scripture which pertain to salvation. It cannot (and should not) be applied to every statement made as if it were historically true, and this protects the exegete from what Fitzmyer calls “crass fundamentalism” (8).

 

 

Rahner on Exegesis and Dogmatic Theology

Karl Rahner, writing to his colleagues:

You know less about exegesis than you should. As a dogmatic theologian you rightly claim to be allowed to engage in the work of exegesis and biblical theology in your own right, and not just to accept the results of the exegetical work of the specialist…But then you must perform the work of exegesis in the way it has to be done today and not in the way you used to do it in the good old days…Your exegesis in dogmatic theology must be convincing also to the specialist in exegesis.

From “Exegesis and Dogmatic Theology” in Theological Investigations 5, cited in Joseph Fitzmyer, The Interpretation of Scripture, 12.