Ched Spellman

A Poem for Maundy Thursday

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Thu, 24 Mar 2016 13:15:00 +0000

Maundy Thursday is the Thursday of what is called Holy Week, which commemorates the week before Jesus died (the week before Easter). Often Christian churches gather for a special service on this Thursday evening.

At this gathering, the church takes communion and reflects on the events leading up to the crucifixion (the last supper; his trial; crucifixion). The word "Maundy" comes from the Latin word for "command" (mandatum), from the words of Jesus in John 13:34: "A new command I give you: Love one another."

The service anticipates Easter Sunday, but specifically focuses on the last hours of Jesus' life and his death. Often the service will feature dimmed lights and a single candle burning through the service, to be snuffed out as the crucifixion account concludes and the service quietly and abruptly ends. The design of the service is to enable us to feel the shock and pain of this death and fuel a longing for resurrection.

Maundy Thursday, A Poem

The candle is lit. The lights are dimmed.
The service has begun.

As the melting marks our progress
We do as we are told
Among the reading and response
Watching narrative unfold

We see him set his face like flint
Toward a bitter destination
We hear his silence fill the court
Absorbing biting accusation

The void his words have left
Filled now with darker sound
The hint of kiss
  The curse of foe
    The pound of fist
      The rooster crow

I eat the bread and drink the cup
Bearing stains I can't deny
Think of blood he sweat and bled
Hear my heart shout "crucify"

The old, old story strange and new
The weight of murdered son
His dying breath is on his lips
The closing song is almost done

There. Now. It is Finished.

The room is darker now.
The smell of the snuffed out candle
Creeps toward the worshipers.
And Hope must wait for another day.

Esther and Her Elusive God, Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Fri, 11 Mar 2016 15:59:00 +0000

Title: Esther and Her Elusive God: How a Secular Story Functions as Scripture
Author: John Anthony Dunne
Publisher: Wipf&Stock, 2014
Price: $20.00 (amz)
Binding: Paperback
Pages: 158

Esther and Mordecai: Heroes or Villains? Were they models of piety and faithfulness, or did they assimilate into their cultural context? Should we emulate their character and their response to the pagan Persian culture they were forced to live in? Or, is this a life they chose?

Even asking the question seems absurd for most Bible readers. However, John Anthony Dunne argues that the story of Esther is a “secular story” that portrays its main characters in a much more negative light than is often thought. Dunne is currently pursuing a doctorate on Paul’s understanding of suffering in the book of Galatians. In his spare time, he wrote a book on Esther (pp. xi-xii).

In part one, Dunne discusses Esther as “a secular story” by outlining the ways Esther and Mordecai have assimilated into Persian culture (chapter 1) and essentially neglected their Jewish religious heritage (chapter 2). In Greek translations of the story, oftentimes these very details are modified in order to portray the characters in a more positive and faithful way (chapter 3). In part two, Dunne reflects on the role that Esther plays in the canon (chapter 4) and in the church (chapter 5). In these last chapters, Dunne seeks to show the effect that Esther’s unique narrative has had on readers.

Unsatisfied with the way Esther is often presented, Dunne aims “to provide the church with an alternative to the popular understanding of the story” (p. xi). To explain, Dunne outlines the standard take on Esther’s story: “God remains hidden in the story, never mentioned of course, but many believe his presence is implied, assumed, suggested, or (paradoxically) emphasized on every page” (p. 1). To this interpretation, Dunne counters, “Yet does such an approach really do justice to the story?” (p. 1). For him, the dominant interpretation of Esther is “much more in line with the later Greek translations of the story than the original Hebrew” (p. xi). Arguing that Esther is “the chief narrative of the Old Testament in terms of literary skill, story-telling, and subtlety,” Dunne works with “the assumption that Esther is a misunderstood story” (p. 3).

He explains that the oddities of the Esther narrative are either “neglected” or “adjusted.” The heart of Dunne’s characterization of the book is that “the typical view of Esther and Mordecai fails to account for a number of important factors” (p. 17). These factors include the omission of any mention of God, the lack of concern for “the land” of Israel, and the very different religious vocabulary used by the characters. Further, Esther and Mordecai seem to be presented as “ethnic Jews” that are not particularly connected to the religious elements of Judaism. An experienced reader of the Old Testament will immediately sense a difference in style and content when reading the book of Esther.

Dunne’s explanation for these oddities is that “Esther is a secular story,” in the sense that “the people of God portrayed in Esther appear to have experienced a decline in faith and religious adherence to the God of their ancestors” (p. 3). For Dunne, this effect is due ultimately “to the result of assimilation, the undoing of Israel’s commission to be ‘set apart’ from the nations” (p. 3). The missing pieces of Esther (God’s name, prayer, etc), for Dunne, all point toward “the secularity and assimilation of God’s people. And yet, this unfaithful people experienced such an incredible deliverance—attended by multiple ‘coincidences’—that we will ultimately be led to conclude that the elusive God of Esther was steadfast and faithful, preserving his people though they did not deserve it” (pp. 4-5).

Dunne here attempts a difficult task. He wants to engage the reception history of Esther at the academic level, but he also wants to translate these findings for a broad audience. In this vein, he succeeds in writing a brief and accessible entry point into this approach to Esther’s narrative (the main text is only 130 pages). While engaging in text-critical details in one chapter, he analyzes VeggieTales and the ordering principles behind the Chronicles of Narnia the next. This results in a readable book that will allow a broad audience to encounter his provocative analysis.

Negative judgment of the book of Esther or its characters is not necessarily novel. Historical-critical scholars typically deny the historicity of the book, question the details and plausibility of the narrative elements, or conclude that the book is a work of fiction designed to function completely outside the context of the canon. Dunne does not focus on these types of arguments (e.g., he opts not to comment on the historicity question: pp. 5-7). His primary purpose is to investigate the narrative itself and grapple with the way it has been received (and modified!) by its readers.

In analyzing this reception history, though, Dunne perhaps overplays the notion of Esther being a “secular story.” Dunne asks throughout the book how a “secular story” like Esther could “function as Scripture.” Some places he calls it a “seemingly secular story” (p. 11). Most of the book, though, builds a “cumulative case for the assimilation and secularity of the characters” (p. 11, emphasis added). More direct reflection on the hermeneutical difference between the secularity of the characters and the secularity of the author’s narrative (story) would help clarify the nature of Dunne’s arguments. He has shown that the figures Esther and Mordecai are presented as secularized Jews living in a foreign land. However, the case remains to be made that the Esther narrative is itself a “secular story.”

One of the reasons that this distinction is necessary is because it will affect the way in which one perceives and handles the book of Esther as a whole. For instance, in the chapter on “Esther & Canon” (pp. 95-110), Dunne considers the canonicity of the Esther narrative. Given the secularity of the story, he asks, what place does it have in the canon? This way of raising the question, though, highlights the abovementioned definitional issue. In other words, a pressing question is: in what way is the story secular? If the secular portrayal of the characters is a feature of the author’s compositional strategy, then the narrative (story) itself should not necessarily be classified as secular.

The primary reason that sensitive readers of the book experience unease at the story (as evidenced by the neglect or adjustment mentioned above) is precisely because the biblical author has guided them down this path. For example, we would not know that Esther and Mordecai were forgetting Passover unless it was shown to us at strategic moments in the narrative progression. To give another example, the author himself is the one who casts Mordecai in the guise of Haman at the end of the story. The author has strategically selected these elements in order to produce this effect on readers.

As Dunne notes, the critique of Esther and Mordecai is implicit and skillfully done. Noting this aspect of the narrative prompts the question, How would we know that they are “secular” except for the compositional strategy and the canonical context within which we encounter the book? Is it possible also that the canonical context itself is the element that allows us to see the surprising secularity of Esther and Mordecai in its starkest contrast (i.e., the book’s relationship to Daniel and Ezra-Nehemiah). Thus, it seems possible to affirm the core of Dunne’s insights into Esther’s narrative while maintaining the hermeneutical impact of its location within the Hebrew Bible.

Because the option of ignoring or downplaying the oddities and difficulties of Esther is inadequate, those who disagree in part or on the whole with Dunne’s take on the book will need to offer alternative explanations that deal adequately with the narrative’s textual realities.

Notes:

This review also appears in Themelios 39.3 (November 2014): 517-19.
Cf. Dunne's interaction with my interaction (i.e., he has a quibble with my quibble).
See also Dunne's excellent recent article on the "Hiddenness of Esther" in C. S. Lewis' Till We Have Faces in the C. S. Lewis Studies journal, Sehnsucht

The Text in the Middle, Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Thu, 10 Mar 2016 20:15:00 +0000

Title: The Text in the Middle
Author: Michael B. Shepherd
Publisher: Peter Lang, 2014
Price: $82.95 (amz)
Binding: Hardback
Pages: 193

For several years, Mike Shepherd has been publishing works that highlight the compositional features of biblical literature. In The Twelve Prophets in the New Testament (New York, NY: Peter Lang, 2010), he argued that the New Testament writers used and understood the twelve Minor Prophets within the literary context of the Book of the Twelve. In The Textual World of the Bible (New York, NY: Peter Lang, 2013), he examined the way biblical authors summarize and interpret previous narratives as they recount the history of redemption and compose their own texts. In The Text in the Middle, Shepherd furthers this broader project by examining a network of intertexual connections that span the biblical canon.

Shepherd begins with the assumption that “the Hebrew Bible is a text composed of other texts” and that “those ‘other texts’ are within the Bible itself” (p. 1). He argues that those who helped shape the Hebrew Bible into a coherent collection gave the texts a specific perspective by their compiling and editorial work. The Hebrew Bible “was thus built to interpret itself” and later biblical readers including the authors of the New Testament “understood this phenomenon and were greatly influenced by it” (p. 1).

In this study of inner-biblical exegesis, Shepherd focuses on what he terms “bridge texts” or “texts in the middle” (p. 2). Shepherd explains, “This is where a citation of a text occurs, but the way in which the text is cited has already been anticipated in a previous citation of the original text, thus involving at least three texts (primary, secondary, and tertiary)” (p. 2). Recognizing the difficulty of identifying the “direction of dependence” in cases of inner-biblical exegesis, Shepherd looks for “clues as to how those who gave these texts their final shape wanted readers to understand intertextual links” (p. 3).

The book itself consists of a long series of case studies that involve multiple texts (apx. 90 groupings!). The four chapters cover citations from the Pentateuch (chaps 1-2), the Prophets (chap 3), and the Writings (chap 4). Each chapter consists of main headings that list the passages that the following subsection will examine. This organization gives the volume a technical feel, but it also means that the groupings unfold organically and that a specific textual example is relatively easy to locate.

Shepherd’s analysis shines when he examines a genuine “bridge” text. In these cases, the explanatory power of his approach is evident. For instance, Shepherd shows how the writer of Hebrews draws on Psalm 8 in order to illustrate the incarnation of Jesus (see pp. 7-9). This particular psalm, though, is already an interpretive reflection on the creation narratives of Gen 1-2. Further, the “exegetical warrant” for connecting the general comments about mankind in Psalm 8 to Jesus is the connection that already exists in the Psalter between this psalm and Psalm 110 which speaks of a messianic priest-king. In fact, these texts appear in close proximity in the opening argument of Hebrews (i.e., Heb 1:3, 13).

Accordingly, Shepherd argues, “the writer’s exegesis of Psalm 8 is based upon a holistic reading of the book of Psalms” (p. 9). Similarly, Shepherd shows that when Hebrews speaks of entering God’s rest in Heb 4:1-11, the writer not only draws on the conclusion to the creation narrative in Gen 1-2, but also on the notion of Sabbath rest in Exod 20:11 and the promise of entering the land in Josh 13:1 and Judg 1:27-33 (see pp. 11-13).

This type of study broadens the scope of investigation to include not only the way that the New Testament authors draw on the Old Testament, but also the intertextual activity already at work within the Hebrew Bible. For instance, Shepherd notes that “theologians sometimes cite Rom 9:13 in support of the view that Paul is talking about corporate election rather than individual election” (p. 45). This seems to be the case when Paul quotes Mal 1:2-3, which speaks of the nations of Israel and Edom rather than individuals like Jacob and Esau. However, Paul also quotes Gen 25:23, “a text that announces both the birth of two individuals and the birth of two nations” (p. 45).

In this case, “the Malachi text is an exegesis of the Genesis text” and “Paul’s text is thus an exegesis of an exegesis” (p. 45). Because the Malachi text connects the “story of two sons” with the “history of two nations,” Paul can “move fairly freely between the election of individual and that of corporate entities” (p. 45). For Shepherd, recognizing that the author of Malachi is interpreting the Genesis narrative is critical when interpreting Paul’s understanding of the Malachi text.

Though there are many “text in the middle” examples, perhaps a more accurate general description of the nature of most of the textual case studies comes much later in the volume: “the phenomenon of inner-biblical exegesis involving three or more texts” (p. 108). In most groupings, Shepherd coordinates and considers a “constellation of texts” (p. 43).

For instance, Shepherd discusses the various ways that subsequent biblical authors understand and utilize the account of the Lord’s covenant with David in 2 Sam 7:1-17 (see pp. 122-29). Prophetic texts like Zech 6:12-13 and poetic texts like Psalm 89 and 132 allude to different features of the Davidic covenant in their messages of future deliverance. The author of Chronicles and the New Testament writers also understand Jesus’ messianic role through the lens of the Davidic covenant (1 Chron 17:1-15; Lk 1:32-33; Acts 2:30; Heb 1:5). Though in many cases like this one there is no true bridge text in the middle (as he defines it), through these examples Shepherd clearly demonstrates how frequent intertextual connections appear in all parts of the biblical canon.

This fuller intertextual awareness will enhance the study of all of the texts under review and enable readers to appreciate the intertextual nature of biblical literature. Some of Shepherd’s treatments are strikingly brief and would require further development to persuade most readers (sometimes only a few sentences for a large number of texts; the final chapter on the Writings is also only six pages). Shepherd’s discussion of methodological issues is also surprisingly condensed (pp. 1-4, 107-09).

Because his work covers so many texts, a little more reflection on the method he uses to make exegetical decisions would benefit the reader trying to keep track. Nevertheless, virtually every page brims with grammatical, syntactical, and text-critical insight. Because of Shepherd’s deep grasp of the Hebrew Scriptures and the biblical languages, his work here is an important supplement to similar works from the field of New Testament studies.

A critical reader of this volume could rightly conclude that in many cases Shepherd makes but does not demonstrate and/or explain the connection between two or more texts. While generally acknowledging this conclusion, a sympathetic reader will also recognize that Shepherd has located hundreds of intertextual goldmines and provided guidance for how they might be gainfully excavated by students, scholars, and pastors.

Perhaps the most valuable aspect of this work, then, is that it forces the reader to consider the textual logic of a large swath of biblical literature and offers a compelling model of close reading.

Also in Southeastern Theological Review 6.2 (Winter 2015): 236-38.

Gospel Writing: A Canonical Perspective, Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Wed, 09 Mar 2016 12:15:00 +0000

Title: Gospel Writing: A Canonical Perspective
Author: Francis Watson
Publisher: Eerdmans, 2013
Price: $48.00 (amz)
Binding: Paperback
Pages: 665

How and why the Gospels came to be is an enduring topic of interest among the churches and among biblical scholars and theologians.

In Gospel Writing: A Canonical Perspective, Francis Watson engages these lines of inquiry and seeks to consider the historical, hermeneutical, and theological significance of the fourfold Gospel corpus. Indeed, Watson understands his work to be an exercise in “historically informed theological hermeneutics” (9).

There are three parts to Watson’s study. In part one, Watson tells the story of how the fourfold Gospel was “eclipsed” in the modern period among New Testament scholars. There are both similarities and differences between the four Gospels. One way of navigating this situation is to “harmonize” the differences and demonstrate that there are no contradictions. Watson here describes Augustine’s work in producing a “harmony” of the Gospels that emphasizes the similarity of the narratives.

Next, Watson describes the development of the “Gospel synopsis” in the modern period that emphasizes the differences in the accounts. Watson argues that the foundational assumption of the approaches at both ends of this spectrum is the notion that any “difference” is a problem that means the truth of the gospel message is compromised. Watson contends that both the harmonizing and source-critical impulse deconstructs the diversity-protecting “canonical” function of a fourfold Gospel corpus.

In part two, Watson attempts to “reframe” Gospel origins by examining the composition of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John alongside other “gospel” narratives that were not later recognized as canonical. From Watson’s perspective, this type of comparative analysis is necessary because the New Testament writings are best understood as part of a broader literary environment of early Christian writings. New Testament scholars, Watson insists, need “to be concerned with the second century no less than the first” (xii).

Watson outlines the standard “two source” theory of gospel origins that posits that Mark wrote first, and then Matthew and Luke independently utilized Mark and a “sayings” source (Q). Drawing on the recent critiques of the existence of Q, Watson argues for what he calls the “L/M theory.” In this model, Mark writes first, and then Matthew expands Mark’s narrative by adding substantial blocks of discourse. Then, Luke writes using both Mark and Matthew as a source. In this scenario, Luke not only copies his sources but he also interprets these prior texts. Watson sees Luke as an involved interpreter of Matthew’s Gospel who omits, supplements, interprets, and re-interprets Matthew’s use of Mark.

If Luke writes in conscious relation to Matthew, Watson reasons, then the “two source” theory is simply not feasible (which requires Matthew and Luke to write independently from one another). Watson provides both the evidence he believes refutes the two-source theory as well as the exegetical studies that point to Luke’s knowledge of, dependence on, and reflective interpretation of Matthew and Mark. Consequently, though many will disagree with aspects of Watson’s proposals (e.g., the prominence Watson affords to texts like the Gospel of Thomas), the analysis in this section represents a serious fresh approach to gospel origins and the compositional strategies of the gospel writers.

Watson concludes his study in part three by sketching a “canonical construct” that can be seen in the reception history of the fourfold Gospel collection in the early church. In Watson’s view, there was a robust fluidity between canonical and non-canonical writings in the first and second centuries, as gospel literature continued to proliferate. By the time of Eusebius in the fourth century, however, the fourfold gospel “construct” has suppressed the several streams of non-canonical gospel literature and created the canonical/non-canonical boundary. Historically, there is a move to limit the plurality of gospel narratives and establish a politically achieved consensus about Gospel origins. Here Watson engages several familiar patristic figures: Clement of Alexandria, Eusebius, Irenaeus, Origen, and Jerome.

One important point of contention with Watson’s overall approach is his working definition of “canon.” Watson argues that the prevailing canonical criteria was and is “reception” within a community (see 604-16). Defining canon in this way leads Watson to downplay any notion that there is anything inherent in the writings themselves (e.g., either content, style, or genre) that would distinguish them from any other Christian writing of the early church period. In light of this level literary playing field, Watson argues, it is only of arbitrary significance that the “canonical” gospels were composed in the “first century” and other gospel literature was written later.

Consequently, Watson typically characterizes the boundaries of the canonical collection as late and oftentimes politically motivated decisions. However, it is difficult to demonstrate that the leaders of the early church did not see authorship and something like “apostolicity” as a critical consideration that anchors discussions of a writing’s canonical status. Watson’s dismissal of this traditional position is less helpful than his other proposals.

While brimming with technical minutia, Watson’s study maintains a narrative thrust that pulls the reader along. His various hypotheses allow him to recount the journey Jesus’ teaching took from oral sayings, to written sources, to carefully composed gospel narratives. Though debatable in the way all such reconstructions are, Watson’s account of the process of composition, canonization, and consolidation of the four Gospels among the churches is in many ways remarkable in its scope and depth of detail.

Watson also demonstrates the need for students of the New Testament canon to be able to account for the broader literary environment of the early church period. Regardless of how one understands the non-canonical writings, one must be able to reckon with them. Distinguishing between this type of literature strikes at the heart of what it meant to form a Gospel collection in the first and second centuries and what it means to share in the confession that these and only these four Gospels are the church’s guide for understanding Jesus Christ.

One of Watson’s most important achievements here, too, is that his study forces the reader again and again to consider what it means for the churches to have four similar but distinct Gospel narratives.

Notes:

See also the nifty companion website they put together for chapter 11 ("Image, Symbol, Liturgy"), which complements Watson's discussion of how the four Gospels are represented in art. As he observes, "Patristic theologians use the visionary texts to think through the fourfoldness of the canonical gospel, and they do so because these texts provide them with striking images or parables of fourfold difference within a common orientation towards Christ" (555).
Author Interview with Watson (from Eerdman's page).
This review also appears in SWJT 58.1 (Fall 2015): 124-26.

From Jesus to the New Testament, Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Tue, 08 Mar 2016 15:04:00 +0000

Title: From Jesus to the New Testament: Early Christian Theology and the Origin of the New Testament Canon
Author: Jens Schröter
Publisher: Baylor University Press, 2013
Price: $59.95 (amz)
Binding: Hardcover
Pages: 417

This volume is a translation of Jens Schröter’s 2007 book Von Jesus zum Neuen Testament (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007) and is the first entry in the Baylor-Mohr Siebeck Studies in Early Christianity series that aims to bring substantial German works to an English-speaking audience. As the first volume of the series, Schröter’s study of the New Testament canon is strategic. Indeed, engaging the story of how the New Testament canon came to be involves wide swaths of history, theology, and literature.

The studies in this volume were written independently and edited together to form this collection. Schröter asserts that the common point of reference in each essay is “the question of what the Christian understanding of reality is founded upon and how this understanding, which has its foundation in the writings of the New Testament, can claim a place in the discussion of the interpretation of reality” (xiii). He asks, How did the early churches form “a distinct religious self-understanding?” (1). His task, in other words, is ambitious, inter-disciplinary, and requires deep integration of the history, literature, and theology of the New Testament.

The book’s four major parts reflect the formation process Schröter seeks to delineate. In part one, Schröter examines the nature of the historical task and what it actually means to reconstruct a history of a collection such as the New Testament (chaps 1-4). In the context of asking “how the past is appropriated as history and becomes a common point of reference for a community,” Schröter zeroes in on the “identity-creating function of conceptions of history” (1). A community’s identity-shaping “history” is not happenstance, but rather comes through a “constructive” effort to frame formative events of the past through “interpretation, placement in larger contexts, and differentiation from competing interpretations” (1).

For Schröter, this methodological discussion informs and sets the parameters on a historical investigation of the early Christian communities and the way their identity is formed in light of Jesus, the apostles, and the traditions associated with them. He ends this section on the “hermeneutics of history” with a case study on the resurrection of Jesus (chap 4). Belief in the resurrection, Schröter contends, does not end the historiographical pursuit of the early church but rather guides the construction of meaning and the interpretation of traditions (68-70).

Building on this historiographical discussion, in part two, Schröter examines the traditions surrounding the figures of Jesus, Paul, and Luke. In each of these areas, Schröter seeks to illuminate the “formation of a distinctive Christian view of reality” that emerged within “the framework of a Jewish discussion” (xiii). In part three, Schröter moves to consider what these traditions look like “on the way to the New Testament” (249). Here, Schröter first considers the relationship between Jesus and the Gospels (chap 12) and the apostles and the book of Acts (chap 13). Schröter then considers the emergence of the New Testament canon within the stream of early Christian history and literature (chap. 14). In this section of the book, Schröter “thematizes the development” (xiii) of individual traditions and writings as they formed into an authoritative collection that becomes binding on the Christian communities and foundational for their social identity.

Schröter concludes the volume in part four with a reflection on the nature of “New Testament theology.” Here, Schröter seeks to integrate his historical and literary investigation into a comprehensive account of New Testament theology. What meaningful impact, Schröter asks, is the canon to have on the theology of the New Testament writings? Because the New Testament canon represents a discernible effort to correlate the various diverse strands of Christian teaching and preaching, Schröter concludes that “a theology” of the New Testament is both possible and legitimate even on explicitly historical grounds. The study of an authoritative New Testament canon is not merely a dogmatic imposition but represents a historically verifiable pursuit (see 317-49). Thus, this collection of “binding” writings represents the core consensus and confessional worldview of the early church.

According to the “canonical principle” of the early churches, “the New Testament writings mutually and in this placement together are an expression of Christian faith” (341). Therefore, “canonical interpretation” is entirely appropriate precisely because “it corresponds to the emergence of the New Testament canon” (341). Schröter’s historical defense of the legitimate role of the canon in the interpretation of the New Testament is cumulative (building on the studies throughout his work) and instructive (relevant to recent developments in canon studies).

One obvious value of this volume is Wayne Coppins’ clear, readable translation of Schröter work. This window into German scholarship on the New Testament canon is very helpful. Schröter himself characterizes the translation as one that shows “great care” and “an astonishing sensitivity” to the original German text (see xii). This means that there are some long, complex sentences and phrases that feel translated (e.g., the decision to use “New Testament science” rather than “New Testament studies”). On the whole, though, the prose reads cleanly and clearly. Because the editors chose to include cross-references to the original German edition, this English volume is a well-suited entry-point into this important area of German scholarship.

Schröter’s treatment and integration of historical, theological, and hermeneutical areas demonstrate also that a full account of the New Testament requires all three lines of inquiry. Isolating one of these elements will produce a needlessly thin account of the New Testament canon. For instance, even while discussing the “construction of history” in the early Christian communities, Schröter immediately clarifies his intent to connect this analysis to the emerging canonical texts of this community (e.g., see his introductory clarifications, 1-2). In this move, Schröter also continually highlights the “interpretive character of historical work” (2). This type of methodological analysis will be helpful for scholars working on the history of the New Testament canon as they critically consider their own interpretive assumptions when examining the data (e.g., in the minimalist-maximalist debate).

Another example is the way that Schröter deconstructs the false dichotomy between “theology” and “history.” For Schröter, the book of Acts is a case-in-point. Forcing Luke to be either a theologian of redemptive history or a historian of the early church is problematic and inadequate. Because he foregrounds historiographical methodology in part one, Schröter is well-positioned to demonstrate that Luke as a competent writer is able to “rework” his historical and cultural knowledge “into a conception that allows the developments about which he reports to appear as a coherent complex of events directed by God” (3; see esp. his discussion of “Luke as a historiographer,” 205-226). This is not a suspect process of interpolation but rather a task that is simply a feature of a biblical author’s compositional strategy.

This particular feature of Luke’s work in Acts, then, informs the book’s role within the literary context of the New Testament canon. Further, in this canonical context, Acts connects the theology of the Gospel narratives to the theological discourse of Paul and the other apostolic epistles (see 273-304). For Schröter, the canonical context both preserves the real diversity of the New Testament writings and also presents a means by which these writings can function as a unity. The New Testament canon itself, then, represents “the historical formation of this unity” (343).

Through each of these areas of study, Schröter demonstrates the need for interpreters of early Christianity, the apostolic writings, and the New Testament canon to consider their assumptions, methods, and the manner in which they relate history, hermeneutics, biblical texts, and the nature of canonical collections. While readers of SWJT will likely strongly disagree with some of Schröter’s historical-critical starting points, his substantive work in this volume will need to be taken into account by those seeking a robust understanding of the New Testament canon.

Also in SWJT 58.1 (Fall 2015): 122-24.

The Birth of the Trinity, Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Mon, 07 Mar 2016 12:15:00 +0000

Title: The Birth of the Trinity: Jesus, God, and Spirit in New Testament and Early Christian Interpretation of the Old Testament
Author: Matthew W. Bates
Publisher: Oxford University Press, 2015
Price: $90 (amz)
Binding: Hardcover
Pages: 234

“What do you think about the Christ? Whose son is he?”

When Jesus asks a group of Jewish leaders this question, he aims not only to test their Scripture memory but also their reading strategy. After they correctly answer that the Christ is the son of David, Jesus proceeds with a textual question about Psalm 110: “How is it then that David, in the Spirit, calls him Lord . . . If then David calls him Lord, how is he his son?” Jesus’ simple question about the identity of the person speaking and the one being spoken about in this text stumps the Pharisees, and this type of interpretive riddle has left plenty of readers silent since that day in Jerusalem (see Matt 22:41-46).

In The Birth of the Trinity, Matthew Bates argues that the intertextual question Jesus poses in Matthew 22 relates to an area of study freighted with theological significance. In particular, Bates argues that by grappling with just these types of Old Testament texts, New Testament writers and theologians in the earliest church gave shape to the basic contours of the doctrine of the Trinity. Bates teaches at Quincy University, and this volume extends and applies some of the broad hermeneutical proposals Bates develops in The Hermeneutics of the Apostolic Proclamation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012).

The path Bates leads readers down involves four significant steps. First, he demonstrates that key theologians of the early church such as Justin Martyr and Irenaeus utilized a “person-centered” reading strategy in their attempt to understand the nature of strategic instances of divine discourse in the Old Testament.

Accordingly, the second step Bates takes is to show how these early church leaders connected this person-centered reading strategy to the most central developments of the doctrine of the Trinity. Bates’s thesis is that “a specific ancient reading technique, best termed prosopological exegesis, that is evidenced in the New Testament and other early Christian writings was irreducibly essential to the birth of the Trinity” (p. 2). Bates surveys several contemporary “models” for constructing Trinitarian theology (chapter 1), and argues that a neglected approach is the one that emerges in “continuity” with this “prosopological exegesis” (p. 26).

The third step Bates makes involves demonstrating the textual and theological payoff of this approach for the conception of the interior life of the Trinity in the earliest church. Bates pursues this ambitious goal in chapters 2-6 of the volume. These five chapters form the heart of the book. Here Bates seeks to provide a “theologically attuned exposition” of Old Testament passages that were understood by later interpreters to be instances of divine dialogue (p. 7).

The picture that emerges from these texts is not a “philosophically defined Godhead internally differentiated by procession or subordination” but rather “a Father, Son, and Spirit who are characterized by relentless affection and concern for one another” (p. 7). For Bates, “some of the deepest and richest aspects of the interior life of the persons who would later come to be identified as members of the Trinity” are “expressed in the very pages of the New Testament itself” (p. 5). “Surprisingly,” he notes, these instances “have not yet been plumbed” (p. 5).

As Bates outlines, the events spoken of in these bits of divine dialogue span the entire history of redemption. Readers are able to hear “divine dialogues from the dawn of time” (chapter 2) as the Son addresses the Father before the foundations of the world (Ps 110, Ps 2). This dialogue also contains “theodramatic strategems” regarding the Son’s incarnational mission in redemptive history (chapter 3), as the Son articulates his motives in carrying out the will of the Father (Ps 40, Isa 42:1-9, 49:1-12). Capturing the climax of redemptive history in the cross of Christ, texts like Ps 22 allow readers to overhear “cross-shaped conversations” (chapter 4) as the Son cries out to the Father during his suffering on earth.

Peering further into this dialogue, we hear the Son cling to the hope of rescue (chapter 5) and also reflect with the Father about eventual and ultimate triumph at God’s right hand (chapter 6). In this way, Bates observes, “divine discourse [frames] the whole, from creation to new creation” (p. 174). For each of these instances of divine discourse, Bates examines the Scriptural passages cited, the New Testament context, and also the hermeneutical assumptions involved in making the connection.

In his fourth and final step, Bates shifts from the relatively descriptive history of interpretation to contemporary hermeneutics and considers the enduring legacy and legitimacy of prosopological interpretation (chapter 7). He asks, when the earliest church interpreted the Scriptures in a theodramatic way and assigned “various divine persons to explain dialogical shifts,” was this “a good reading of Scripture?” (p. 176).

To help answer this question, Bates outlines the presuppositions necessary to employ prosopological exegesis. These include the reality of a divine economy, the divine authorship of the Scriptures, the “unity and plot-arrangement” of the Scriptures, and the possibility of “prophetic participation in the divine economy” (pp. 191-92). Bates also provides a series of controls for the art and science of “good theodramatic” readings of Old Testament passages (see pp. 196-202). Among the most important “prudent but critical” controls is that a theodramatic interpretation be “rooted in genuine sites of dialogical shift, conversation, speech, or address” in an Old Testament passage (p. 196).

While Bates does not find every instance of patristic prosopological exegesis equally compelling, he argues that the “character assignments” proposed by those in the earliest church are “plausible if certain presuppositions are granted” (p. 202). Bates concludes his book by urging readers to consider tuning into this theodramatic reading strategy of the earliest Christians and to overhear the dialogue of the “conversational God” that it amplifies (pp. 203-05).

For the field of Trinitarian theology, Bates establishes several new lines of textual and theological inquiry to consider in pursuit of a “biblical” theology of the Trinity. For instance, Bates opens up a text-immanent way of placing the focus on “persons” at the center of the Trinitarian logic of the biblical authors (see pp. 175-76). As he summarizes, “in conjunction with early Christian experiences of Jesus and certain philosophical and mediatorial factors, the idea of separate persons in timeless, intimate communion within the Godhead—Father, Son, and Spirit—was especially fostered and nurtured by a specific reading technique that the earliest Christians utilized as they engaged their ancient Jewish Scripture” (p. 3).

In other words, it was hermeneutics rather than Hellenism that led to the “consolidation of ‘person language’ to express the three-in-one mystery” (p. 7).

In this regard, a lingering question for readers familiar with the broader conversation of Christology is the relationship between Bates’s Christology of Divine Persons and Richard Bauckham’s Christology of Divine Identity. A clear result of Bates’s study is a rejection of “the backward movement Christology schema” (p. 2) of scholars such as James Dunn and Bart Ehrman. Agreeing with those who would argue for an “early high Christology” (e.g., Larry Hurtado), Bates contends that the presence of prosopological exegesis within the New Testament and among the readers of the earliest Christian church rules out this retrospective approach to Christology.

Beyond these distinctions, though, the relationship between Bates and Bauckham seems at once closer and more nuanced. Bates distances himself from Bauckham at a few key points, but he also notes several areas of overlap throughout his exegetical analysis (e.g., pp. 19-26, 91-92, 100, 203-04). Because of the widespread influence of Bauckham’s Christology of Divine Identity approach and the explanatory power of Bates’s Christology of Divine Persons, further thinking on this particular methodological intersection might be the most challenging and exciting prospect of Bates’s book. My initial suspicion is that Bates’s and Bauckham’s approaches are more like fraternal twins rather than distant cousins.

One further aspect along these lines relates to the role of the Spirit. Most of the divine dialogue in the Hebrew Scriptures that the biblical authors note and that Bates and the early church highlight relate to conversations between the Father and the Son. Though Bates notes that at strategic places, it is possible the Spirit is the “person” that speaks in an Old Testament passage, he also argues that in most cases the Spirit’s role is in inspiring the Old Testament author as he provides the “script” of a divine dialogue between the Father and the Son: In these cases, the Spirit “always [supplies] the words” (p. 7). Further reflection on the Spirit’s role in the composition or scripting of these divine conversations would be a helpful complement to Bates’s work.

In a relatively brief volume, Bates brings an important aspect of historical theology and patristic research to bear on the theological development of the doctrine of the Trinity. Indeed, because Bates labors to coordinate his study of the compositional strategies of the New Testament writers, the interpretive approach of the earliest church, and the theological logic of Trinitarian discussions, he is able to deliver a refreshing and interdisciplinary work.

Notes:

This volume will be available in paperback at a reduced price ($27.95) in November.
See a preview of the TOC and introduction at Bates' Academia page
Review also forthcoming in JETS (2016).

Hebrews and Divine Speech, Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Wed, 20 Jan 2016 00:15:00 +0000

Title: Hebrews and Divine Speech (Library of New Testament Studies)
Author: Jonathan I. Griffiths
Publisher: T&T Clark, 2014
Price: $112 (amz)
Binding: Hardcover
Pages: 216

The book of Hebrews opens with a majestic declaration.

The God who spoke “in many times and in many ways” in the past has now “spoken in a son.” In a revision of his 2010 Cambridge University dissertation, Jonathan Griffiths seeks to grapple with the impact and significance of this revelatory claim. In particular, Griffiths asks, what does the writer mean when he says that God speaks, and how does this theology of divine speech relate to the rest of Hebrews?

Griffiths pursues his study along several distinct lines of inquiry. His primary focus is on the theology of God’s speech in Hebrews. One feature of this discussion is whether there is a logos Christology at work in Hebrews, where Jesus is identified as the “word of God” incarnate (see esp. pp. 42-48). Griffiths argues that while many texts in Hebrews imply this connection (e.g., Heb 1:1-2, 4:12-13, 11:3), the writer “stops short of making an explicit affirmation of that kind” (p. 162). Rather, throughout Hebrews, “the Son’s person and work are presented as the means by which God has spoken his eschatological word” (p. 162). Griffiths concludes that while Hebrews is not dependent on Philo or too closely aligned to the thinking of John’s Gospel, Hebrews does contain a “discernible and sustained ‘word’ Christology” (p. 162).

In pursuing this theology of divine speech, Griffiths limits the scope of his investigation to the key terms λογός and ῥῆμα (both of which are usually translated as “word”). In doing so, Griffiths seeks to allow the details of the text to shape the contours of his theological conclusions about the nature and function of God’s speech. This criteria also narrows the focus of the study to the manageable scope of the eight passages in Hebrews that feature these key terms.

Framed by an orienting introduction and conclusion, the bulk of the work consists of eight chapters devoted to one of these passages: Heb 1:1-4 on God’s speech “in” his son; Heb 2:1-4 on God’s spoken salvation; Heb 4:2-16 on God’s living word; Heb 5:11-6:12 on the form and expected effect of God’s word; Heb 6:13-7:28 on God’s spoken and effective oath; Heb 11:3 on God’s word of creation; Heb 12:18-29 on God’s saving and judging word from Zion; and Heb 13:7, 17, and 22 on God’s word in relation to the community’s leaders.

In each chapter, Griffiths briefly exegetes the given unit, analyzes the use of the key words, and then considers their contribution to a theology of divine speech. Though a narrow focus on key terms can fall prey to the vagaries of word-studies, Griffiths intentionally keeps his eye on the broader discourse context and the relationship between words and concepts (see pp. 7-27). His limited scope also allows him to keep his treatments of each passage succinct and building toward his theological conclusions.

From these exegetical investigations, Griffiths observes that in Hebrews the term λογός does not directly “identify” Jesus as the divine word, but rather the writer uses this word with “almost complete consistency to identify forms of divine speech” (p. 162). The term ῥῆμα, too, is used exclusively to denote some type of divine discourse (Heb 1:3, 6:5, 11:3, 12:19). Sharing a similar but distinctive function in the writer’s strategy, these two words complement each other with λογός emphasizing the message communicated and ῥῆμα highlighting the experience and physical manifestation of God’s speech (see pp. 62-63, 126-30, 140-41). According to Griffiths, whenever the writer uses λογός in a phrase, “it serves to identify the speech form that it modifies as divine speech and to draw attention to its character as such” (p. 163).

A theological implication from this conclusion is that, in Hebrews, to encounter the divine word “entails an encounter with Christ” and access to “the reality of salvation” (p.165). Conversely, this encounter can also be an occasion for judgment (see esp. the analysis of Heb 12:18-29 on pp. 131-52). Thus, Griffiths here demonstrates that Hebrews’ theology of God’s speech relates directly to the primary purpose of the epistolary sermon, namely, to exhort the hearers to “Press on!”

After considering the theology of divine speech in Hebrews and working through the relevant uses of λογός and ῥῆμα, Griffiths considers the relationship between God’s word and the writer’s word of exhortation. Does the writer of Hebrews consider his homily “to the Hebrews” to be included in the category of divine speech? In other words, does the writer consider his words to his hearers to be part of God’s word to his people?

With the appropriate nuance, Griffiths answers in the affirmative. Because of the careful way that the writer characterizes God’s speech in Hebrews, Griffiths insists, the phrase “word of exhortation” (Heb 13:22, τοῦ λόγου τῆς παρακλήσεως) is a critical feature of his compositional strategy and loaded with theological freight. Indeed, Griffiths argues that his analysis “raises the possibility that the writer wishes to signal that his own discourse forms part of the complex of divine speech presented in Hebrews” (p. 163). From this perspective, this word of exhortation represents the speech of God himself (see also Griffiths’ treatment of Heb 4:13 and 5:11).

Because of its character as a divine word of exhortation, too, Hebrews embodies a sense of urgency and authority. This divine word is also a contemporary word. Through the Old Testament Scriptures, the writer insists, God still speaks to his people. For Griffiths, the writer furthers this theological connection by locating his own written sermon within the long line of divine discourse found in the biblical canon. As Griffiths articulates, “in the moment of the delivery of the Hebrews sermon, the writer is himself the exhorter, and it is to him that they are listening ‘today’” (p. 165).

Arguing that the ambiguity of Heb 12:25 is intentional (i.e. who is the one speaking?), Griffiths contends that the writer “wishes to imply that as the addressees hear his sermon, they are hearing God’s voice” (p. 165). Accordingly, those who hear Hebrews spoken “today” are also forced to respond to God’s word “today” (see pp. 55-60, 79-89). In this light, the writer “clearly holds high expectations for the effectiveness of preaching the divine word” (p. 167).

Griffiths’ argument here has substantial implications for the doctrine of revelation and Scripture. If Griffiths’ basic analysis is correct, then Hebrews represents an instance within the New Testament where a biblical author himself conceives of his writing not only as the “word of man” but as the very “word of God.” This volume, then, will be a strategic resource for those searching for signs of a canon-consciousness among the New Testament writers and also for those striving to find fresh ways of formulating a high view of Scripture.

In sum, Griffiths’ study of the theology of God’s speech in Hebrews has a clear structure, a manageable scope, and produces measured but meaningful conclusions. Further, he keeps his analysis rooted in specific passages in Hebrews but also branches out to the theological forests of Christology, soteriology, and bibliology. These features make Griffiths’ volume a fruitful contribution to Hebrews studies, New Testament theology, and theological interpretation.

Also in Themelios 40.2 (August 2015): 305-06.

Still Sick in the Bay of Biscay: An Unremarkable Reflection

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Fri, 04 Dec 2015 17:15:00 +0000

“Still sick, -in the Bay of Biscay - Lat. 47 N. Long. 3 W.”

–William Carey, Journal entry for June 15, 1793.

I heard these words in the Angus Library at Regent's Park College in Oxford, UK where the original manuscripts of many of William Carey's letters and journals are housed.

This particular entry resonated with me at that particular moment, not the least because I was still experiencing the drag of jet lag and flirting with a migraine. Pro Tip: This is not the best disposition for a walking tour of the city! I was initially intrigued by Carey’s statement and upon further reflection, I think his terse journal entry is instructive for a fully formed understanding of the missionary and pastoral task.

One of the reasons Carey kept the journal was to keep his supporters back home informed of his mission work during his trip to India. In the previous entry for June 14, Carey grimly recounts, "Sick, as were all my family and incapable of much reflection." The next day on June 15, the effect lingers, "Still sick," followed by the latitude and longitude. All Carey records is where he's at and how he feels. The entry itself is sparse, unglamorous, and strikingly unremarkable.

No, "Though my physical body grows sick of the sea with each tumult of this billowing ocean, my soul sallies forth on the waves of supernal bliss as I sojourn to the mission field on celestial wings fueled by the verve of my Spirit-wrought blood-earnestness . . ." Not even a, “You call me out upon the waters . . .”

Just, "Still sick."

A few days later, an entry reads, "Nothing remarkable."

If you’ve been in ministry for any length of time, you’ve likely had more than one “still sick in the bay of Biscay” type of day. The minister or missionary must be fueled by more than the "thrill" of adventure when the only thing on the horizon is the "chill" of illness or a long string of unremarkable days.

If we could see Joseph’s journal entry about a decade into his imprisonment in Egypt, it might read, “Still wrongly accused and misunderstood. Still in prison.” Centuries later an apostle under house arrest might have recorded on his parchment sometime after his third denied request, “Thorn still in place. Still hurts.” Sunburnt and weary, a Jewish carpenter waiting and wandering in a Judean wilderness might have written, “Day 39. Still hungry. Nothing remarkable.” Before Jesus faces the devil on day 40, he endures the drudgery of day 39.

In his second letter to the Thessalonians, Paul connects the task of living out the gospel to the work of making a living. Paul and his co-workers were not idle among them, but “with toil and labor” they “worked night and day” so that they would not be a burden (2 Thess 3:8). They even reasoned, “If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat” (3:10). Some among them were walking in idleness, “not busy at work, but busybodies” (3:11). Paul strongly encourages them “in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living” (3:12). After this specific admonition, Paul backs up and gives a general application. He urges, “Do not grow weary in doing good” (3:13). Fittingly, then, Paul begins his conclusion to the letter by saying, “Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all” (3:16).

The believer who toils and labors, who works quietly and earns a living, and who does not grow weary in doing good is able to do so precisely because of the promise of the Lord’s continuing presence in those moments. Union with Christ means the Lord of peace remains present in your joy, in your pain, in your liftoffs, and in your layovers.

The Christian life is exhilarating. But every journey includes the trial of transit, and sometimes those lulls can make you seasick. The glories of the gospel oftentimes (perhaps most of the time) are proclaimed in the throes of weakness and within the steady rhythms of the unremarkable. The gospel is not only big enough to leap the gap between departures and destinations; it’s also able to settle into the strain of the mundane.

One of the lifelines for the minister who is “in it for the long haul” is the confidence that the God of this gospel grants perseverance in the pastoral task even when you’re still sick and there’s nothing remarkable to report.

Confessing the Trinity as the full-orbed center

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Thu, 03 Dec 2015 00:15:00 +0000

The thoughtful person places the doctrine of the Trinity in the very center of the full-orbed life of nature and mankind. The confession of the Christian is not an island in mid-ocean but a mountain-top overlooking the entire creation. And it is the task of the Christian theologian to set forth clearly the great significance of God’s revelation for (and the relation of that revelation to) the whole realm of existence. The mind of the Christian is not satisfied until every form of existence has been referred to the Triune God and until the confession of the Trinity has received the place of prominence in our thought and life.

—Herman Bavinck, Doctrine of God, 329.

Colossians (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Thu, 22 Oct 2015 17:15:00 +0000

Title: Colossians (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible)
Author: Christopher R. Seitz
Publisher: Brazos, 2014
Price: $29.99 (amz)
Binding: Hardcover
Pages: 217

Volumes in the Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible series aim to interact with biblical books while spanning the horizons of biblical studies and theological interpretation of Scripture. Each entry has attempted this task from a unique approach. In this volume, Old Testament scholar Christopher Seitz comments on the New Testament epistle to the Colossians.

In Prophecy and Hermeneutics (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2007), Seitz sought to re-evaluate the typical critical issues involved in an “introduction” to the prophetic writings. In this study, he pursues a similar task for the New Testament letters. As part of the Brazos series, Seitz’s assignment was to “throw off” the “usual patterns of commentary design” and pursue “some fresh angles of vision” (p. 16). Seitz himself cautiously outlines his “canonical approach” as one that seeks to assure that the historical setting stays “in proper proportion to what the text actually highlights and prioritizes in its final total form” (p. 51).

Accordingly, one of his guiding presuppositions is that “Paul’s letters come to us in a given canonical form” and that this form “foregrounds certain things and lets other things fall out of specific focus” (p. 20). In other words, the issues that need special attention are those that are especially emphasized in the text somehow. Otherwise, for Seitz, certain critical issues get “hyperextended” and receive a level of focus “arguably in disproportion to their significance for interpretation” (p. 20, 22). This network of assumptions informs his “canonical reading” of the letter and also governs the critical issues he chooses to examine.

Many in the field will immediately balk at Seitz’s downplaying of the relevance of historical background for the interpretation of the letter. In particular, many will want more examination of the contours of the “Colossian Heresy” that Paul is responding to in Col 2. Seitz demonstrates an awareness of the current scholarly discussion on this issue, but he focuses on what he sees as the more pertinent task, tracing Paul’s argument within the horizon of the letter itself. Thus, rather than reconstruct a profile of Paul’s interlocutors, Seitz argues that Paul himself is perhaps aware of a specific unified body of false teaching but intentionally does not address its details directly. Rather, Paul articulates the scope and impact of the work of Christ and then uses this blazing center to demonstrate the emptiness of any alternatives. Along these lines, Seitz detects three “factuals” about the one cross of Christ that refute three corresponding “counterfactuals” that represent salvific alternatives (see pp. 119-43). For some, this will be the most contested section of the commentary, but this careful way of perceiving the totality of Paul’s argument here is particularly cogent.

One question that hangs over any approach that seeks to take into account the broader canonical context is the question of authorship. Further, study of the New Testament epistles often wades through the quagmire of arguments regarding pseudepigrapha. On this account, Seitz contends that arguments for Colossians as pseudonymous have insurmountable difficulties with the textual presentation of the letter (see pp. 45-56). Beyond this, Seitz enters the question of authorship tentatively. Part of Seitz’s perspective is that the notion of authorship itself is much more complex than often admitted. As he notes, “authorship as meant in the antique world and in our own are very different conceptions” (p. 48).

This grappling with authorship and composition is important, although Seitz’s own solution also participates in this “agony of authorship.” On the one hand, Seitz insists, “a text has an author of some description” (p. 55). For instance, he quotes a number of authors who speak of “Paul” as author with great hesitation and comments, “That is a lot of words to conclude that the use of Paul without scare quotes is an appropriate way to speak of the letter’s author“ (p. 55). However, his comment here might also reach his own articulation of this issue: “There are far fewer problems with simply using the word ‘Paul’ than the alternatives” (p. 55).

In this discussion, Seitz convincingly demonstrates that even for those who reject the presence of pseudepigraphy in the New Testament, further work is needed in articulating the notion of authorship, the nature of composition, and the impact that a collection has on the concept of authorial intention when interpreting the epistles.

A further feature of Seitz’s approach is his sustained attention to the impact of reading Colossians within an established Pauline corpus. He shares a pre-modern emphasis on Colossians as part of “a literary collection that orients” the individual letters “toward one another as a totality” (p. 23). Similar to the book of the twelve Minor Prophets, Seitz sees the letters of Paul “as individual writings subsisting in an ordered canonical collection” (p. 23). This move means first that he considers the shape of the Pauline corpus to have interpretive significance.

Detecting development in Paul’s thinking (early and late) is common fare in Pauline studies. From Seitz’s approach, the Pauline corpus locates this development in Paul’s maturing understanding of his apostolic office. The letter collection itself, Seitz insists, “guards the historical specificity” and also “allows for development and movement” (p. 42). This development is coherent and organic rather than contradictory or a sign of pseudepigraphic imposters toward the end of the collection. In other words, the shape of the Pauline collection highlights a shift in emphasis in Paul’s thinking, one that accords with the historical transition in Paul’s role from itinerant preacher to imprisoned letter-writer. Paul’s apostolic mission, then, is embodied and made available for future generation by means of the “legacy of his letters” (p. 42). For Seitz, this type of movement is part of the “hermeneutical challenge of the canonical reality before us” (p. 37).

Along these lines, Seitz regularly utilizes other Pauline letters as interpretive aids in understanding what Paul is on about in Colossians. He rejects that this move is simply a synchronic harmonization but rather argues that it is actually rooted in the historical realities of the early church that received multiple letters from Paul. Indeed, for Seitz, the broadening scope of the intended audience of letters like Ephesians and Colossians indicates that “canonical shaping is extending beyond individual letters and has to do with the phenomenon of an emerging collection as such” (p. 37). These shared features are compositional and strategic rather than ancillary by-products of occasional correspondence. The “concern for preservation” and association in a collection, then, is possibly at work “in the very act of conceiving and composing a letter” (p. 37n26).

To give an example, Seitz points out words, phrases, and the theology in Colossians that is echoed in Ephesians. Seitz thinks that the “letter from Laodicea” (Col 4:16) is the letter we know today as Ephesians (see p. 109, 117, 180n6, and 190-91). In this view, then, the parallels with Ephesians are part of a compositional strategy where Paul envisions these letters as literary companions. The setting of Philemon and the other “prison epistles” also form a fitting and natural backdrop to a Colossian correspondence written “in chains” (see pp. 28-31, 179-84). Seitz notes the historical discussion that seeks to reconstruct and identify Paul’s specific imprisonment, but he then quickly highlights the way Paul himself accounts for his various imprisonments theologically. For Seitz, “the canonical form brokers basic historical information but at the service of theological significance” (p. 31).

“The traditional position of Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians as written by Paul in Rome,” Seitz asserts, is the one “suggested by the presentation of the letters themselves, given what they choose to share with us” (p. 30). The letter to the Colossians, then, is particularly suited to highlight the function of canon because it is written by Paul from prison to a congregation he has never visited. Part of the message of Colossians is Paul’s theological reflection on the way that the gospel will continue to spread after his apostolic ministry has ended (see pp. 32-35). His presence is mediated by his letter.

In marked contrast to his wide-ranging missionary journeys, Paul’s final phase of apostolic ministry is prayer, intercession, and letter-writing. For Seitz, the fact that Paul is in prison shapes the way he understands his apostolic role: The apostle Paul is not travelling to new places with the gospel, but his letters are! These examples of Seitz’s perspective on the relationship between historical reconstruction and textual interpretation possess the most potential for fresh readings but also represent some of the most debated aspects of his approach.

A related contribution Seitz makes is his reflective account of Paul’s nuanced use of the Old Testament in Colossians. Why does Paul only allude to the Hebrew Scriptures and not cite them directly? For Seitz, Paul does not present Jesus as a replacement of Torah, but rather, Paul makes theological moves that “accord” with the texts, theology, and themes of the Old Testament. While he does not directly quote the Old Testament, throughout the letter, Seitz explains, Paul embodies the theological judgments and Scriptural logic that is present in important Old Testament texts. In this sense, the allusions cannot be “mapped on a tidy exegetical grid,” but rather “indicate an allusive penetration of [Paul’s] thought and argument” (p. 45). In this way, Paul is able to bring the meaning of the Scripture to bear in a letter addressed to gentile believers who would gradually encounter the Old Testament through the preaching of the New Testament churches.

Seitz also articulates an Old Testament perspective on several interpretive and theological issues in the letter. To give just a few examples, Seitz explains the parallelism of Hebrew poetry that Paul echoes in the “Christ hymn” in Col 1:15-23 (pp. 86-101), demonstrates that Paul’s high Christology here is deeply compatible with the monotheism of the Hebrew Scriptures (pp. 100-101), and repeatedly points out the interpretive relevance of Gen 1-3 as an intertextual backdrop for the letter.

The commentary itself progresses at a brisk pace with a clear focus on certain elements. For instance, Seitz consistently examines the nature of textual transitions. As he moves through the letter, Seitz keeps the larger argument in view and relates the passage at hand to that broader purpose. In this vein, Seitz strategically uses the “excursus” to allow the commentary proper to flow and read as a “single sustained argument” (p. 56). Seitz is convinced that in Colossians there is a “coherence to the units when taken in relationship to one another” (p. 54). The commentary consistently reflects this concern for the design of the discourse. These features make the commentary refreshingly readable and appropriately succinct.

In my opinion, Seitz’s commentary on Colossians represents the kind of contribution that the Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible envisions: a refreshing interpretation of the letter that is informed by multiple interpretive horizons and also makes several suggestive advances in Pauline studies. As Seitz memorably orients his readers, “At some point the canonical portrayal sits there before us and requests that we take it seriously as a factor in interpretation” (p. 25). This commentary will surely prove fruitful for those who are serious about pursuing this particular task.

Also in JETS 58.3 (September 2015): 655-58.

Scripture Formed Prayers

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Thu, 27 Aug 2015 00:15:00 +0000

For freshness of utterance, for breadth of comprehension, for elevation of thought, for intimacy of heart, there is no prayer like that which forms itself in the words and thoughts of Scripture.

J. Graham Miller, as cited by Donald Whitney, Praying the Bible, 65.

Deuteronomy and Exhortation in Hebrews: A Study in Narrative Re-presentation, Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Sat, 25 Jul 2015 14:15:00 +0000

Title: Deuteronomy and Exhortation in Hebrews: A Study in Narrative Re-presentation
Author: David M. Allen
Publisher: Mohr Siebeck, 2008
Price: $90.00 (amz)
Binding: Sewn paper
Pages: 277

The first time I taught a class on the book of Hebrews, I was not thoroughly acquainted with the secondary literature on the book. I was only a few feet deep in the swift stream of scholarly discussions.

That semester, I was also teaching a course on the Pentateuch. This experience left a deep impression on my understanding of the writer’s argument in the letter. As we worked through the textual strategies of the Pentateuch as a book in the morning, we often came across those same texts, themes, and theological conclusions in the afternoon Hebrews course. There were a few students in both courses, and we agreed that it was sometimes difficult to remember which class we were supposed to be in! In short, the intensive reading and discussion of the Pentateuch and the letter to the Hebrews created an intertextual force field that gave me a line of sight across the terrain of the biblical canon.

In the Hebrews course, we kept returning again and again to the final chapters of Deuteronomy. In particular, we kept hearing hints of the melody line from the “song of Moses” as we worked through Hebrews. Several times throughout the semester, I thought, someone needs to write a high-level monograph on the relationship between Hebrews and Deuteronomy, with at least an initial focus on the “song of Moses” in Deut 32.

Deuteronomy and Exhortation in Hebrews
Thus and so, I was pleased to come across David M. Allen’s book, Deuteronomy and Exhortation in Hebrews: A Study in Narrative Re-presentation. In this reworking of his doctoral dissertation (at the University of Edinburgh), Allen examines the relationship between the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy and the New Testament letter to the Hebrews.

Recognizing the avalanche of secondary literature on the New Testament’s use of the Old Testament, Allen pursues a specific avenue of inquiry: “the way in which an individual OT book functions corporately within the letter” (4). So, Allen examines the use of Deuteronomy in the letter, “attempting to discern how the latter’s various OT motifs might contribute to a ‘Deuteronomic’ reading of the letter” (4). Allen’s approach is “intertextual in a broad, though not unlimited sense” (15). He limits his scope to “that exchange between the textual worlds created by Deuteronomy and Hebrews” (15). In particular, Allen argues that it is “perfectly possible that the author’s choice of OT materials (quotations, allusions, echoes, characters, themes et al) are not merely an apologetic or coincidental proof texts, but rather corporately reconstruct a familiar OT narrative that serves the author’s hortatory purpose” (4).

This statement indicates two areas that make Allen’s study a unique contribution. First, Allen examines the use of individual citations of Deuteronomy but also couples that with an analysis of the impact of the book as a whole on the writer’s argument. Second, Allen seeks to uncover the effect and impact of Deuteronomy on the exhortation sections of the letter. Following broadly George Guthrie’s insight that there are discernible strands of both exposition and exhortation in the letter, Allen assesses the use of the Old Testament in these particular sections (see 12-15). These exhortation sections sometimes do not receive as much intertextual analysis as the exposition sections (e.g., the Christological development of Heb 1:1-14).

In his study of Deuteronomy, as well, Allen focuses on the “Deuteronomic paraenetic material” that has a “life of its own distinct from the legal corpus” (13). Allen argues in this regard that “the vast majority of connections between the two texts are found within their respective hortatory material” (13).

Accordingly, one of Allen’s central contributions is to bring together a close study of the use of the Old Testament in the letter (with an emphasis on the book of Deut) with an extended analysis of the exhortation sections of both writings.

Relating the Letter to the Hebrews
and the Book of Deuteronomy

As Allen notes early on, Hebrews and Deuteronomy share some striking parallels (see p. 5):

Both texts appeal to past events/history as grounds for action in the present.
Both invest the land motif with a soteriological character, and define apostasy in terms of the failure to enter that land.
Both are sermonic or homiletic in character and appeal for attention to the spoken word.
Both climax in discourse focused around two mountains, with cursing and blessing motifs prominent in each montage.
Likewise, each one explicates a covenant that marks the end of the Mosaic era and a consequent change in leadership to a figure named Ἰησοῦς.

"Such surface similarities," Allen insists, "are actually symptoms of, or signposts to, a Deuteronomic reading of Hebrews” (5).

Allen treats Deuteronomy as a compositional whole that includes Deut 1-34, recognizing that “this was the textual form likely available to the NT writers” (9). Further, the “Deuteronomic posture” is one that accounts for “the narrative’s dominant pre-entry perspective” (10, Allen adds, “however ‘fictitious’ this might be”). The book’s final form perspective is “the Moab, pre-entry handover moment of the discourse” (10). The implied audience of Deuteronomy, then, “stand at the threshold of entry into the land and await the prophesied blessing or curse which would subsequently accompany life within it” (10).

For Allen, this whole-book perspective of Deuteronomy is what should impact a reading of Hebrews.

To demonstrate the reality of this inner-biblical connection, Allen examines the various ties that bind these books together. In chapter two, Allen provides a study of the text and function of the Song of Moses in Deut 32. This is a strategic text within the scope of Deuteronomy, and it also has an “independent existence” as a well-cited often “sung” text in the history of Israel/Judaism.

In chapter three, Allen examines the Deteronomic quotations, strong allusions, echoes, and narrative allusions in Hebrews. He identifies 6 quotations, 6 strong allusions, 5-6 echoes, and 3 narrative allusions to the text of Deuteronomy. The song of Moses in Deut 32 is referred to at least 8 times. Moses’ song, though, also provides a particularly prominent theological and conceptual backdrop to the exhortation sections of the letter. As Allen writes, “this impressive and consistent textual use of Deuteronomy suggests that Hebrews has reflected upon its source text’s narrative situation in order both to shape its hortatory purpose and to articulate evocatively the consequences of apostasy” (109).

Alongside these strong textual links, there are also a number of other features that coordinate Deuteronomy and Hebrews. In chapter four, Allen highlights three major themes that are prominent in both texts: the centrality of “covenant,” the blessing/cursing imagery, and the focus and appeal to the “land.” In chapter five, Allen uncovers the “homiletical affinities” between Hebrews and Deuteronomy (156ff). The homiletic shaping of Hebrews indicates that “its argument mirrors that of its Deuteronomic source” (198). The story of Deuteronomy, then, is “replayed within the [New Covenant] context of Hebrews” (198).

In chapter six, Allen brings his argument to a climax by examining “re-presentation” in both Deuteronomy and Hebrews. After laying the exegetical (chap 3), thematic (chap 4), and rhetorical (chap 5) groundwork, Allen here constructs his climactic intertextual insight.

The book of Deuteronomy, and in particular Deut 28-34, is designed to interpret and “re-present” Israel’s history. This re-presentation is for the purpose of persuading contemporary readers that the Mosaic covenant is obsolete and a new covenant is needed. The audience, then, is poised on the threshold of an entirely new way of relating to God as his covenant people. The “situational relationship” between the respective audiences is “the common Deuteronomy-Hebrews thread, with both audiences positioned at the critical moment of decision at the threshold of their inheritance” (203).

Accordingly, Hebrews not only cites and draws themes from Deuteronomy. Rather, Hebrews appropriates an entire complex of features (audience, purpose, literary type, and method) from Deuteronomy. The frequent engagement with the final chapters of Deut is not an accident; rather, “it happens consistently through the letter’s hortatory material, gives collective explanatory power to the epistle's admonitions, and in toto composes a perspective of new covenant handover at the threshold of the land” (225).

In other words, these two books share a wide interpretive horizon, and they invite their readers to join them there.

The “Deuteronomic Posture” of Hebrews
After demonstrating the large volume of intertextual exchange between Hebrew and Deuteronomy, Allen is able to argue that the “Deuteronomic posture” is the “unifying narrative for the letter’s exhortations” (225). Allen summarizes the import of this connection:

The frequent textual citation of Deuteronomy, the replication of key themes such as covenant and land, the adoption of the Song and its association with the end of the Mosaic era all point to an overarching re-presentation of the Deuteronomic choice between life and death, apostasy and faithfulness, blessing and curse. Deuteronomy’s paraenesis becomes Hebrews’ paraenesis.

Hebrews, therefore, does not just use Deuteronomy; it becomes a new Deuteronomy and challenges its predecessor’s contemporary hegemony.

By undertaking this intertextual engagement with Deuteronomy, the epistle’s writer transfers his audience away from their allegiance to an outdated, redundant Sinai existence, dons Mosaic garments and addresses them afresh on the plains of Moab. Within Hebrews’ new covenant situation, the exhortation to “Choose Life” remains as pressing as ever.

For good reason, Allen’s volume has impacted the discussion of Hebrews’ use of the Old Testament. As noted above, Allen’s work provides a fresh impetus for interpreters to consider the role of the Pentateuch’s narratives in the coherence and artistry of the exhortation sections of the letter.

Further, in addition to the helpful exegesis of intertextual links, the most important contribution of this work is the way it is able to account for the non-citational uses of Deuteronomy within the letter.

Allen’s overarching thesis and many of his textual connections still need to be examined, re-evaluated, and further developed; however, he has skillfully set these two biblical books in relation to one another and has compellingly demonstrated that this particular construal is not arbitrary but rather a profoundly text-immanent feature.

Also in Midwestern Journal of Theology 14.2 (Fall 2015): 108-13.

Difficult to Overestimate David

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Mon, 20 Jul 2015 18:15:00 +0000

It is difficult to overestimate the extent of the influence of the covenant with David (2 Sam 7:1-17) in biblical theology. Without question the New Testament authors understand the historical Jesus of Nazareth to be the son of David of whom this covenant speaks (e.g., Luke 1:32-33; Acts 2:30; Heb 1:5).

Such a messianic reading of the covenant is consistent with the presentation and reading of the covenant in the Hebrew Bible and in the early history of interpretation (e.g., 4QFlor).

—Michael Shepherd, The Text in the Middle, 122-23.

Review of BibleWorks 9: A Few of my Favorite Features

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Mon, 22 Jun 2015 11:15:00 +0000

After noting the general layout, conception, and workflow of BW9 (and its usability on a Mac), I want to conclude with a rundown of a few of my favorite features in the program.

I’ll limit myself to three: searches, manuscripts, and vocabulary resources.

The Depth and Complexity of Searches
Perhaps the most important strength of Bibleworks is and has always been the depth of its search capabilities. If you will only use a Bible program to look up verses or parallel versions, then there are online resources are readily available for free. Also, if you are looking for the Greek/Hebrew text along with basic morphological data and some exegetical helps, there are an increasing number of websites and online platforms that will suit your needs.

However, there is simply no way to duplicate the depth, speed, and complexity of the searches that BW9 allows you to execute. This functionality ranges from the very simple to the very complex.

For example, you can simply double-click on Χριστός in a verse to find all the instances of this word + form in the current search version, or you can search for this word preceded by any preposition in the NT (i.e., typing '*@p* Χριστός in the command line with BNM tagged search version). Further, with the Graphical Search Engine (GSE), you can execute increasingly complicated searches [1].

When you combine this searching capacity with the fact that all the results are automatically synced to all the other resources that BW9 puts at your fingertips, it is clear that BW gives you more than enough “bang for your buck.”

Integration of Manuscript Images
In my recent book on the canon, I note the significance of manuscript evidence for discussions about the biblical canon:

Another important recent development is the wealth of manuscript evidence now available to historians of the biblical canon. Discovery of ancient manuscripts and artifacts is ongoing. The growing number of extant manuscripts that have been discovered in the last century has enhanced historiographical reconstructions of the history of canon formation. As Hurtado notes, ‘Christian manuscripts from the second and third centuries witness strongly to the rich and diverse fund of texts produced, read, copied, and circulated among Christians’. Further, there has been a concomitant recognition that these manuscripts have a story to tell and have a tangible bearing on questions of canon formation.

For instance, the manuscript fragments of many of the New Testament documents indicate that they were circulated within codex-bound collections very early in their existence. The nature of the extant manuscript evidence lends legitimacy to the task of examining the function of individual writings within collection units (e.g. Romans within the Pauline corpus) and also the function of those discrete units within the larger biblical collection (e.g. the Pauline corpus within the New Testament). [2]

In light of this, one of the new features available in BW9 that I’m most excited about is the “BibleWorks Manuscript Project” (“Mss” tab in the Analysis Window). In this tab, you have access to high quality images of some of the most significant Greek codex manuscripts of the biblical canon (OT + NT).

For example, Codex Sinaiticus (Codex א), Codex Vaticanus (Codex B), and Codex Alexandrinus (Codex A) are all available [3]. What is more, the transcriptions of many of these manuscripts are integrated and synced to the rest of the program (the BW team plans to keep developing the amount and accuracy of this data).

So, when you study a particular passage, BW9 automatically locates the transcription and the exact location of the verse under review on the manuscript image itself.

The manuscript image can be viewed within the analysis window or can be accessed by itself in a pop-out window.

Most of these images have been made available for some time online, but the ability to access these images and manuscripts within the BibleWorks ecosystem is very helpful. Because of this feature, students, pastors, and scholars can study some of the most significant manuscript copies of the biblical text that are available as part of their normal exegetical study. I’m now able to see these images and access these texts on demand and on a daily basis. What a remarkable gift.

Potential for Vocabulary Building
Some of the improved features present the produce of BW’s exegetical engines in a format that makes vocabulary building and familiarity with the biblical languages easy and intuitive. In addition to tools like the “vocabulary builder” that allows you to customize vocabulary lists according to usage frequency, passages, books, or larger selected sections, the “use tab” is also helpful in this regard.

The "use tab" displays the instances of a selected word within the context of the current biblical book.

The simple display allows for a lightning fast “book level” picture of how an author uses a particular word in a particular writing. This feature has the added potential of helping interpreters keep word studies firmly rooted in usage (where they belong!).

BW9 allows me to look at words, phrases, and sentences in a variety of ways and angles. These vocabulary tools are serious aids in the serious task of becoming saturated in the biblical languages and knowing your Bible better.

Notes:

For a helpful orientation to these complex searches, see the many and varied user-submitted search possibilities here.
See Toward a Canon-Conscious Reading of the Bible: Exploring the History and Hermeneutics of the Canon (Sheffield: Sheffield-Phoenix Press, 2014), 43-44.
For a full list of the available manuscripts, see here.

Review of BibleWorks 9: User Experience on a Mac

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Fri, 19 Jun 2015 21:15:00 +0000

Back in ’05 [1], my laptop had 18 gigs of space, and because it didn't have enough juice to run the program, I had to install BW6 on an external hard drive (and I duct-taped the hard-drive to the back of the screen, like a boss). So, when I switched to a Macbook in ’08, the scales came off of my eyes and I didn’t have to schedule my lunch hour in order to turn on my computer. One of the biggest drawbacks, though, was leaving BW6 behind.

Really the only solution then was to run a “parallel” program on a dedicated disk and then install BibleWorks on a separately installed (and separately purchased!) copy of windows (in my case WindowsXP). This was a workable work-around, but it was an atrocious user experience. I’m sure many people were fine with this, but I couldn’t stand it. It was like taking a brand new Mustang out for a spin but first hitching a Winnebago to the back and then finding an old abandoned gravel path so you can practice parallel parking.

Because I was using a “bootcamp” like parallels program, I had to restart the computer to make the switch each time, and the program itself was glitchy as well. So, I found it dreadfully cumbersome to get into the program, and so I ended up using my old laptop just for BW6 (which also meant my use of the program was not integrated into my workflow well at all).

This is the historical background information that explains my reticence about Bible software that claims it can provide the same user experience across platforms (i.e., PC → Mac or Mac → PC). This is one of the primary reasons I began looking at alternative program options to BibleWorks (primarily Accordance or Logos). Even when the BibleWorks team started talking about Mac options (a few versions ago), I remained skeptical. I didn’t want to have to have so many workarounds if I didn’t have to.

All this to say that I’m pleasantly surprised by the Mac option for BW9. The “mac installer” was easy to install, and it runs directly from my Mac operating system. It’s not perfect: It’s clearly not native Mac software, and this creates some quirky features (e.g., x-ing out of the program actually closes the program, “right click” doesn’t work the same way, etc). However, for as long as I’ve been using it, my computer hasn’t frozen up, the program hasn’t shut down, and it functions in the same way that it does on my PC.

Though it’s not a native application, it does have the same features and feel of the full program. Sometimes the “mac version” of given software feels like a stripped down version of the real deal. However, the program feels and functions virtually identical. As they mention, "The interface is the same as the Windows version of BibleWorks so in a classroom setting with Windows and Mac users students and instructors will all have the same program interface." At this point, their developers say that the Mac option for BW9 has roughly 98% of the features/functionality of the Windows version [2].

For sure, the ability to run the full program on my Mac without the hijinks of cross-platform issues is one of the primary reasons I’m sticking with BibleWorks and now recommend it across the board. I hope they continue to develop and provide support for the Mac version of the program. Being able to utilize BW9 from my Macbook means that I will use the software more frequently and can now recommend the software with fewer reservations.

Notes:

I realize that I'm starting to sound like Uncle Rico.
See their "BibleWorks on a Mac" page, where they lay out the specific details. The option I prefer is the "native" option. As I mentioned, I'm sure the "virtual" or "bootcamp" options are better than they were "back in '05," but I would never wish that user-experience on anyone! The details for ordering the "Mac Installer" are also available (for BW9 users, it's $6 for the unlock code).

Go to the next part of this review: A Few of My Favorite Features

Review of BibleWorks 9: Layout and Workflow

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Wed, 17 Jun 2015 11:15:00 +0000

One of my favorite changes from BW6 is the modified layout of the program. On opening the program, the user sees three separate windows. These sections are named for their function: Search, Browse, and Analysis.

This intuitive design reflects the process involved in the task of exegesis. First, you locate your text, next you examine it, and then you use tools to begin further analysis of specific textual features. These separate “sandboxes” are connected, but they also maintain their edges in order to allow you to hone in on the particular data you need to access.

For example, the Search window displays your search term and a list of the “hits” that your search generates. Clicking one any one of these references automatically adjusts what you see in the Browse window but does not alter your Analysis window.

The Analysis window syncs with whatever you’re pointing to in the Browse window. The text under review is located in the middle of the screen, with the search column to the left, and the given resources to the right. The Browse window also clearly displays the text (either the primary text or a series of comparative translations/versions).

The windows themselves are also adjustable. So, if I would like to quickly see the sentence context of my search results, I can make the Search window wider. Then, if I’m accessing a resource, I can do the reverse and increase the space of the Analysis window. This is particularly helpful when accessing a lengthy lexicon entry (e.g., in BDAG or HALOT) or viewing a manuscript image.

These small structural features make BW9 easy for me to use, and they also create a helpful workflow when I’m studying a passage at length.

In terms of user experience, this modified layout is one of the most significant enhancements to the program from earlier versions (at least BW6 and earlier).

Go to the next part of this review: User Experience on a Mac

Review of BibleWorks 9: Introduction

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Tue, 16 Jun 2015 21:15:00 +0000

I bought a copy of BibleWorks 6 when I began seminary in 2005.

Since then, I’ve used BW6 as my go-to program for exegesis and language study. A decade later, BibleWorks is still my preferred Bible software. Despite the value of alternative systems (e.g. Accordance or Logos) and the explosion of online resources, there are several reasons why I still use BibleWorks.

Perhaps the most idiosyncratic reason for this preference is that BibleWorks is just what I know. I cut my teeth in language studies with BibleWorks, so this is the platform I’m the most familiar with. And, it’s served me well! Virtually every Greek or Hebrew character that I’ve ever used in research or in print was initially accessed from this program.

I remember the first few times I used the program as I careened toward my first exegetical paper on Col 3 (which was rough!). I pulled up Col 3:1, double-clicked on Χριστός, and then did a phrase search on τῷ Χριστῷ. In a matter of seconds, I had accessed several hundred cross-references, and just kept hovering my mouse over random words as the analysis window kept scrolling through a deluge of lexical and morphological data. Magic! Sorcery! I felt like I had entered the exegetical matrix, and my heart was strangely warmed.

And so, as a creature of habit, I keep going back to the software that has worked for me for a long time. For a while, now, though, I’ve been window-gazing at all the new programs that are now available. As you know, ten years in “tech years” feels like time, times, and half a time. Additionally, in the intervening dispensation, I’ve also been transferred from the domain of darkness into the kingdom of light (i.e., I now use Macs).

Aside from no longer having to spend an entire redemptive-historical epoch waiting for my laptop to “wake up” from its “soul sleep” (granted this might have had something to do with the fact that I was using a late 90s Dell!), this hardware shift has also changed the way I interact with software.

Along these lines, I’m going to review BibleWorks 9 (BW9) in light of these areas:

Is it worth upgrading to the newer version? I'll be comparing BW9 to BW6 (some of the "new" features I'll discuss were added with BW7 + 8).
Why stick with BibleWorks in light of readily available online resources?
Can BW9 handle a Mac environment?
What are the features that keep drawing me back to BW9?

Go to the next part of this review: Layout and Workflow

This Grammar Book "is the best book!"

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Tue, 09 Jun 2015 15:36:00 +0000

As an English major and an amateur reviewer of books, I'm always on the look out for well written book reviews. Logically, then, I appreciated this review of English Grammar for Dummies on Amazon.com. It's not everyday you run across prose like this:

5.0 out of 5 stars
1,260 of 1,292 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars is the best book!, May 14, 2005
By
Nikolai Krestinsky (America!)
This review is from: English Grammar For Dummies (Paperback)
When i first come to America, my english did cause me problems. In Soviet Russia i was strong teacher, my english i know is the best in all of Petropavlovsk. My brother, Mikhail, he say to me, "Nikolai you go to America, they make you rich like czar . . . kill many bear". My brother, he is very wise, is greatest toymaker in all of Russia. So next day i wake up, sell my house, say goodbye to wife and children, and go to America to become millionaire. Then in America, I go to job interview and they say to me "Nikolai, you are not for the job here, you are not the skills we need, your english is poor like child". I take that man and smash his table, i say "someday i will be greatest man in all of country, your children will wish me their father!". That day my anger is best of me. It is then i know i must learn better english, so i buy book "English Grammer it is for Dummies" by Mr.Woods. Now i am perfect english grammer! I write letter to Mikhail, he write back "Nikolai, your english is like a god, you will be millionaire soon! all of Petropavlovsk is proud for you! good luck brother! please send letter when you are president or maybe even czar! Hahaha! also, your wife is killed by bear". So i say thanks to Mr.Woods for his book! When i am czar your family will be spared! Hahahaha! (is joke).

Well done, Nikolai, well done.

Creation ≠ Throwaway Theology

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Mon, 25 May 2015 20:32:00 +0000

God as creator is not throwaway theology. It isn’t just teaching for the kids. Yes, it’s critical Sunday school instruction, but the church gives it to young people early so that they will hold on to it throughout their lives.

—Joe Thorn, Experiencing the Trinity, 26.

The Best Way Of Meeting Great Theologians

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Thu, 07 May 2015 11:15:00 +0000

There is no better way of meeting great theologians of the past than to gather around Scripture with them.

—Fred Sanders, "Favorite Pastorals Commentaries"

Importance of Mentors

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Wed, 06 May 2015 14:46:00 +0000

I am not suggesting that having a mentor is the secret sauce to enduring in the ministry, but it is certainly one of the ingredients.

—Dean Inserra, "On Never Fumbling"

A Little Saturday Morning Codicology

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Sat, 03 Jan 2015 16:15:00 +0000

This morning Hope was trying to fold a big stack of paper, but couldn't quite create the crease.

Because of my reputation around the house for being "the strongest man in the whole world ever," she asked me to execute the fold (naturally, a feat I finished with fortitude).

After the fold, however, her dilemma: The papers were not holding together, but the folio count was too high, and our tape would just not suffice.

"What would you do Dad?"

Enter the codicological imperative. I knew the doctoral research I did for those obscure footnotes would one day come in handy.

And so, "Of the making of books" we began.

An aesthetically pleasing hue for our first page? We had that covered.

A couple hole-punches, a spare string, and a little pagination:

And, it was finished.

The making of books was at its end.

The way I read the situation, Hope and I really turned a page in our relationship this morning. Call it, bonding by binding.

And, while the chronicle of our codex-creating caper is complete, the story of "girly girl" and "handsome man" (the stated direction of her immanent compositional activity) is still on the horizon.

Here an Apostle Speaks . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Sat, 03 Jan 2015 01:15:00 +0000

John Webster, commenting on the proper response to the claims of a text like Heb 1:1-4, a text that claims God speaks definitively in the revelation of "one who is Son," a direct address that challenges those who encounter it:

Theological interpretation is an undertaking in the sphere of reality marked out by the speaking presence of Word and Spirit, a sphere in which God has ordained that there should be apostles who through Holy Scripture confirm to the church what they have heard (cf. Heb 2.3). The letter to the Hebrews exists in this sphere, the sphere of the apostles who partake in the history of revelation as its witnesses and ministers, and the sphere of the interpreters who participate in the history of revelation as its addressees and hearers.

The biblical writings present themselves as forms of divine discourse. This also implies that the hearers of this discourse are encountering a word from God. If this is the case, then readers of a writing like Hebrews are compelled to respond in one way or another.

Overtaken as we are by such apostolic witness, we surely find that one way of proceeding has been irrevocably barred from us. We are no longer entitled to take up a position vis-a-vis what is said, to handle it as a possible but not inescapably necessary object of our acknowledgment. Still less are we free to peer behind it and give ourselves a satisfactory account of its background and genesis, or to transcend it by conceptual translation.

Here an apostle speaks, and what is said transcends and encloses us.

It also transcends and encloses our exegetical and dogmatic labours, which will remain disordered until directed by the confession that in these last days God has spoken to us by one who is Son.

This situation thus impacts the type of reader required to respond rightly to this revelatory word.

The historical, literary, and speculative virtues of exegetes and dogmaticians are therefore subordinate to spiritual graces: faithfulness to the apostolic gospel, attentiveness, perseverance, charity in debate and humility under correction, openness to the gifts of God, a desire to serve the church.

—John Webster, "One Who is Son: Theological Reflections on the Exordium to the Epistle to the Hebrews," in The Epistle to the Hebrews and Christian Theology, 70, 93-94.

I think we might summarize Webster's last point in this way:

As Christian Scripture, the letter to the Hebrews is an address from God designed to impact the believing community. All readers and interpreters (much more teachers!) must therefore engage it within the community of the churches and for the purpose of hearing a word from the Lord if they ever want to understand its meaning and fully experience its theological force.

Knowing His Name . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Sun, 21 Dec 2014 05:15:00 +0000

Commenting on all the "naming" that goes on in the Christmas story (Jesus, the genealogies, etc):

Because God knows our names, we know his.

—Fred Sanders, "Knowing the Names"

The Highest Beauty

noreply@blogger.com (Ched) — Mon, 17 Nov 2014 04:15:00 +0000

Jonathan Edwards on God's holiness:

Holiness is a most beautiful, lovely thing.

Men are apt to drink in strange notions of holiness from their childhood, as if it were a melancholy, morose, sour, and unpleasant thing; but there is nothing in it but what is sweet and ravishingly lovely.

‘Tis the highest beauty and amiableness, vastly above all other beauties; ‘tis a divine beauty.

—Jonathan Edwards, "The Way of Holiness," in Works of Jonathan Edwards, 10:478-79.