Author Archives: Derek A. Olsen

More on CWOB

To the amazement of both the far left and the far right in the Episcopal world, there is a growing vocal movement in the Episcopal Church explaining why Communion Without Baptism is a bad idea.

I’ve contended for some time that the push for it is driven by identity politics not sacramental theology; that is, proponents want to see themselves and their institution as inclusive and their opponents as exclusive. As a result, the rhetoric of the movement whenever possible seeks to link CWOB with both the ordination of women and queer folk and suggests that it’s a package deal.

The other day, Fr. Robert Hendrickson wrote a great piece that thoroughly demolishes the shoddy logic behind this linkage. If you haven’t read it, you should. M and I met Fr. Robert through the Society of Catholic Priests and we always enjoy our conversations with him whether deep, profound, or fun.

I’m aware that there are many who view a shift to CWOB at General Convention as a fore-gone conclusion.

I think they’re wrong.

There is a core of catholic minded, credally grounded laity and clergy who feel strongly about this matter and who are making our voices heard. Expect to hear more in the coming months.

On the Authenticity of the Great Commission

Looking over the whole Lead thread on CWOB, this brief aside from Donald Schell jumped out at me:

I will note that ‘The Great Commission’ a poorly attested addition and arguably late addition to Matthew’s Gospel

Ok—let’s talk about this. I’ve seen this kind of thing in several places and it is begging for some informed discussion.

Basically, the bibles that we read from in church are “eclectic texts”. What does this mean? It means that they are translated from a base Greek text that has been compiled from literally thousands of manuscripts by hundreds of scholars who have been at work on this process for about a hundred and fifty years. The goal of this eclectic text is to recover the earliest possible form of the text; to read the books of the New Testament in the state in which they left the authors’ pens—or, at least, the best that we can do towards that.

Our evidence consists of three major bodies of Greek texts and two additional categories. We have three types of Greek biblical texts determined by style of writing and materials which is roughly correlated to age: papyri, uncials, and miniscules.

Papyri tend to be the oldest. That is, we have papyrus fragments of the New Testament that date anywhere from the 7th century (fairly late) to roughly the year 200 (the celebrated papyrus P46). The problem is that the papyri tend to be fragmentary meaning that we only have bits and pieces. P46, for instance, only has parts of the Pauline Letters. Most contain only a few verses. So—they’re old, but very spotty.

Uncials get their name from their letters—all uppercase. Many papyri (particularly the earlier ones) are written in these letters two but the key difference between the two is material: the uncial manuscripts were written on parchment (prepared skin) rather than papyrus (early fiber paper). As a result, the uncials preserved a heck of a lot better than the papyrus. Uncials containing large sections of the Bible were big projects and expensive to produce in Antiquity—we only get them after the legalization of Christianity. Thus, our best, most trustworthy, and most extensive witnesses to the NT text are the big early uncials. There’s a handful of them that are considered the primo references often referred to as the Great Uncials.

Then we have the miniscules. They’re called this because they’re written in lower case characters and they tend to be later than the uncials.

The two other categories are early translations from the Greek into other languages, and citations from the Church Fathers. The latter will become quite important in a moment so file that away…

A whole bunch of Germans (other people too—but mostly Germans) have dedicated their scholarly lives to going through all of the little bits and manuscripts and have sorted them based on the quality of their readings. The best manuscripts are those with the most careful and accurate scribes and that give us a faithful reproduction of the text. Because of their work, we can rank the various manuscripts and sources on how well they represent the earliest recoverable text by specific books. The best are referred to as the “First-Order Witnesses” and these are the places where we go when we want to see what a text said.

Basic procedure for assembling an eclectic text, therefore, is to start with the major first-order witness uncials, create the text where they agree, then supplement from any papyri that are earlier than the actual base uncials in question. Miniscules provide minor evidence.

Going back to original claim on the authenticity of Matthew 28:19 let’s be very clear: There are no first-order witnesses that omit any part of this verse as we are familiar with it. None. One of the major later unicals (D) adds in a “now” that also appears in early pre-Vulgate Latin versions and two uncials (B and D) have a slightly different form of the participle “baptizing”, but  nothing is missing. There are no surviving papyri of Matthew earlier than the Great Uncials that contain this verse. Remember, the papyri are fragmentary—we don’t have an old one that covers this section.

So—where is this claim coming from if there is no hint of it whatsoever in the actual manuscript evidence? A dude named Conybeare noticed that when the early Church Father Eusebius of Caesarea (died 340) cited this verse—and he did it a couple of times—that he consistently cited it in a different form: “Go ye therefore and make disciples of all the nations in my name”. No mention of baptism or of the Triune formula. The argument goes that since Eusebius was writing before the Great Uncials were written, and since Eusebius was relying on the great text-critical work of Origen, he may be referring to an earlier form of the text than the Great Uncials.

Thus, one Father may have recourse to an earlier form. However, nobody else writes it that way and, by way of counter-example, we have Tertullian (died 220 or so) citing the usual form of the verse in his treatise On Baptism (Ch. 13).

The problem with this argument is that there is no way that it can be disproven. We can establish that Tertullian writing around the year 200 in North Africa knew the standard text but that doesn’t rule out Conybeare’s suggestion.

The big problem, as I see it, is that Conybeare’s suggestion (also forwarded by Kirsopp Lake and other contemporaries) rests entirely on a textual paradigm of citation. That is, the assumption is that Eusebius is looking up every passage and copying it word-for-word from an older and possibly unique text that also happens to be better than all of the surviving ones. Rather than, say, writing it from memory in the form he likes it best…

I’ve noted in my other research that Eusebius’s version of the Beatitudes actually was different from the received version—he flips Matt 5:4 and 5. So does Origen, the Great Uncial D, and some of the Latin, Syriac, and Boharic translations. Note that—here there was a material change and it leaves a number of footprints in the tradition…

Furthermore, the Eusebius theory fits handily into a philosophical construct favored by certain modern folks. That is, some people believe that the Church only gradually came to think of a Trinity and therefore they view any mention of the Trinity with suspicion and call it a late addition to the text whether there’s any textual warrant for it or not.

The claim, again, is this:

I will note that ‘The Great Commission’ a poorly attested addition and arguably late addition to Matthew’s Gospel

The evidence is this:

  • The verse appears as received in all of the first-order witness that contain it.
  • One Church Father, Eusebius writing in the early 300s, writes it differently
  • Other earlier Church Fathers don’t write it differently
  • In other cases where Eusebius was looking at a genuinely different text we see signs of that change in other text traditions

On the strength of the actual evidence, then, we’ve got to conclude that, contra the starting claim, the Great Commission in its familiar form is very well attested textually and there is only one hint read through a particular philosophical construct to the contrary.

QED: Not buyin’ it.

The Difference

So—what’s the difference between the Last Supper and when Jesus fed 5,000 not counting women and children on the mountainside? It’s all the same basic meal practice, right?

Wrong.

The difference? All thirteen attendees of the Last Supper died for their faith—except (tradition tells us) St. John who died in exile. No word on the fates of the 5000+…

 

Stuff Like What I Would Be Writing

As I have all too many other things going on to draft blog content, I’d like to point you to some good stuff from folks who have more blog time than I do but who are writing the kind of stuff I wish I’d written.

One of my favorite topics where is ascetic theology which examines the place of spiritual practices and the cultivation of virtue within the Christian journey that is best described as living into the life of God. In that vein, check out Robb Beck’s take on McCabe’s On Aquinas and the discussion there of the relationship between cultivation of the virtues and divinization.

On the Bible front, if your interesting in a neo-patristic alternative which takes modern investigation of the Scriptures seriously yet still retains a primary focus on the life and practice of faith, you need to keep an eye on the post.catholic project—I think Fr. Thomas is going in some similar directions.

Much Weariness…

Things have been crazy all around. Lent and all of its accompanying programs have hit hard especially as I promised M to do some teaching at her church. Actually, some of you would probably be interested in last Sunday’s course… The overall topic for Lent is life and politics in the time of Jesus with an eye to better understanding the Passion Narratives/Holy Week. I kicked it off with a big-picture overview: 1,000 years of Jewish history in just under 45 minutes. We went from David and the foundation of the United Kingdom down through the destruction of the Second Temple with repeated glances back at how David was a constant touchstone for understanding and constructing Israel’s political and religious  identity. Great fun… I’ve also been working on other writings and projects that are massively overdue.

Hence, no blogging.

Hopefully this’ll change soon. In any case, I couldn’t not say something about the latest post at the Daily Episcopalian. Yes, it’s hard to find a good church, and modern parenting isn’t easy, but “home-churching” seems like a simplistic appeal to cafeteria religion (just take the parts you like, feel free to leave the rest) that falls short of the mark that we promised our children in Baptism.

AKMA on Faith

In lieu of actual content on this blog (which is forthcoming—I’m just really busy now…), you need to read AKMA’s post on faith. I quite agree with what he says here; of course, my intellectual roots in this discussion are functionally the same as his—Lindbeck by way of the Yale School that produced the four mentors who have had the most influence on me through my academic journey.

Go read it.

Academic Reading and Devotional Reading of the Bible

With all the recent discussions whether or not laypeople should read the Scriptures, I’ve decided that it’s worth some reflection on the topic. I am, of course, a trained biblical scholar. I have been studying the Scriptures from an academic point of view from my freshman year in college up through receiving my PhD this past year. That comes out to be over 20 years of focused study on the scientific interpretation of the Bible. Throughout that time, I’ve also been an active Christian and have been reading the scriptures for my own edification. In addition, the bulk of my work for my dissertation has been on the pre-scientific readings and understandings of the holy Scriptures, particularly that of the church fathers and the early medieval monastics. With that kind of history behind me, I think I speak from an informed position both about the academic interpretation of the Scriptures, and the devotional interpretation of the Scriptures.

Indeed, the whole point of my dissertation was to argue that the academic interpretation of Scripture is a very particular way of reading for a very particular purpose that is located within a very particular context. I then set this way of reading in relationship with the early medieval monastic reading practices which were likewise a particular way of reading for a particular purpose located within a particular context. I tried really hard to express that neither one of them was better or worse than the other, but that they were doing different things for different reasons.

What I came to over the course of that 270 some pages, was a certain clarity about the purposes of the Academy over and against the purposes of the seminary and therefore the purposes of the church. As a New Testament scholar coming intentionally and deliberately from an ecclesial perspective I often felt a tension throughout my coursework between my academic studies and my own devotional and preaching work. When I taught preaching students the craft of biblical exegesis for the purpose of Christian proclamation, I felt the tensions between the academic work and the kind of reading and proclaiming necessary in a church environment.

The thing about George Clifford’s piece and the discussions that have ensued at the Café and also here, is that the question truly is not an either/or; it is most definitely a both/and. Yes, the Episcopal Church needs to embrace the academic study of the Scriptures. However, the academic study of the Scriptures does not give to us the bread that feeds, nor the wells of living water that spring up within our hearts. ‘Cause—it’s not supposed to. And that, my friends, is the crux of the matter from my perspective. We can be careless about questions of fitness and purpose.

One of my favorite expressions is, “To the man who has a hammer, the whole world looks like a nail.” That is, to a person who has a good and effective tool, the temptation is to use it anywhere and everywhere possible. Typically when I use it, this phrase means I’m going to try and turn something into a database. However those who learn about the academic study of the Bible often fall into this trap as well. The academic study of scholarship is a tremendous tool for understanding the Scriptures. However, it is one means for gaining knowledge that is applicable in certain circumstances. I don’t care how good the hammer is, I don’t care how shiny the hammer it is, a hammer is no substitute for a toolbox. No one can be a master craftsman without properly understanding the application and limitation of their tools. And that’s the problem: the limitation of the tools. The difference between a journeyman and a master craftsman is that the master craftsman understands why and when to apply each tool. The journeyman simply fixes his attention on the tool he thinks is the best.

Here’s the thing. Most clergy take between 3 to 5 classes on Scripture over the course of their seminary career. You typically have an introductory course on the Old Testament, sometimes to introductory courses to read through the whole thing. Then you have an introductory New Testament course that is often paired with a methods course. A decent preaching course will reinforce what you learned in these introductory classes and in your methods class, but there’s simply too much stuff to cover in preaching for this to qualify as another exegetical class. What ends up happening is that we are not turning out master craftsman of the Scriptures. In most cases, we are not even turning out journeymen. This may seem harsh, but I would say that your average master of divinity educated clergy person is an advanced apprentice in using and applying the techniques of the academic study of Scripture. And honestly, that’s to be expected. Four semesters within the scope of three years is not enough time for anyone to master anything worth knowing. What it does mean, is that all too often clergy come out with a taste of modern biblical scholarship, but are unclear on its limitations and most appropriate applications. They know that it is important, they know that it can be helpful, and it would be one thing if it stopped there—but it doesn’t. Because there’s this thing called a commentary.

People are often surprised when I say this but I’ve come to really dislike commentaries. This dislike has grown over the years and it is rooted in how people use commentaries. Commentaries themselves are not good or bad; they are tools. But, commentaries exist for one purpose: they tell you what someone else thinks the text means. It doesn’t matter if it’s a modern biblical scholar or one of the patristic fathers– the point of a commentary is to tell you what they think the text means. The problem is that far too many people surrender their own reading authority over to a commentary. Rather than read the text for themselves, they go and find out what some authority says instead. And all too often, this is where a blind faith in the academic study of the Scriptures leads: to the assumption that these methods are essential and therefore the commentary is right and any other reading is wrong.

So, to recap briefly, learning the scientific study of Scripture takes time. Most of our clergy have not spent that time (and that’s not necessarily their fault). In lieu of mastering the tools, they go to commentaries where such tools are used.

Now it’s time to pick up where we started. It’s all about the question of purpose. Why do we read the Bible? We read it for a whole host of reasons: we read it for reflection, for inspiration, for information, for nourishment, for solace, for answers, for questions, for security, for strength. This is why Christians read the Bible. The academic study of the Bible is most directly applicable when we read for information. The academic of Scripture study focuses on a circumscribed set of questions: what were the circumstances around the writing of these books and their collection into one document? What do these texts teach us about what the people who wrote them thought? What do these texts reveal about the history and organization of the communities that created them? The bottom line is that the academic study of Scripture is securely located within the History of Ideas. It wants to know what things were thought by which people at which time and what would have been intended by what they wrote. The way that we typically wrap this up is to talk about the “literal” or “literary” meaning of the text and to make statements about “authorial intent.” Don’t get me wrong—authorial intent is important. But authorial intent is only part of a text’s possible or total meaning. The end of the academic study of a particular text is an interpretive guess about what it meant. Commentaries are therefore collections of such guesses that relate around a broader and bigger guess about the intent of the work as a whole.

My research is part of an evolving direction of Biblical Studies that has come about in the last thirty years or so that looks less at what the author meant and more at what the interpretive life of the text has been since it left the author/authors. That is, the question that I like to ask is not, “what did the author intend” but “what have communities found in this text?” As a result, I look at how preachers, monks, ascetics, and liturgies have interpreted, re-used, or re-purposed biblical texts to further their own reading strategies and goals. What I found in my intensive study of early medieval monastic reading practices is that they had a very clear purpose in mind: how do we enact the text in order to become saints? This is a very different purpose for reading and studying the Scriptures than what the academic community does. And, I would argue that it is far closer to the modern church is trying to accomplish. We frame it differently, but the end goal of our reading process is neither a guess nor, more broadly, an idea.

I’m in the same camp with the early medieval monks; the interpretive process has not been completed until someone’s habits have changed.

It’s not enough for us to read the Scriptures. Our work has not been completed until we have been transformed by them. And when I say “we” I mean “we,” not “you and me”—the whole community, the whole body of Christ, needs to be about the work of growing into the mind of Christ.

This is what the church needs to be about. This is the kind of reading that we have to be doing the good results of well done academic scholarship are useful to us—but they cannot do our work for us. They are fundamentally not asking the same questions that we’re interested in; they are not finding the answers that will ultimately transform us.

What I see emerging within the church is the recognition of the need for a “neo-patristic” method.

What exactly do I mean by neo-patristic?

  • By the “patristic” part that it shares fundamental and necessary qualities with patristic reading:
    • The Scriptures are the Church’s book to be read paradigmatically within the Church’s liturgy that bring us into a deeper relationship with the God embodied, celebrated, and proclaimed within the Church.
    • The purpose is located biblically within 2 Timothy 3:16-17 and Ephesians 4—Scripture is intended for the entire body of Christ to do the works of righteousness. In a word: edification.
    • The controlling hermeneutic is the twofold love of God and neighbor. As Augustine, as Gregory the Great laid out time and time again this is the fundamental hermeneutic revealed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
    • Meaning is found in the sensus plenior. That is, there is no one meaning for anyone text; there are many—sometimes competing, sometimes complementary—meanings that can be found within a single text. No one meaning (like authorial intent) can be the “right” or “most meaningful” meaning. The best meaning of the text is the meaning or the constellation of meanings that is most edifying to the church in its whole and in its particularities.
    • The literal meaning or the authorial intent is not necessarily the dominant reading. While it usually is one of the dominant meanings, there are times and places where it must give way in the face of more primary meanings. (I’ll say more about this later.)
  • By the “neo-“ part I recognize that it diverges from classical patristic reading:
    • For the patristic authors, the primary author was always the Holy Spirit. When they would speak of authorial intent they referred to what they believed the Spirit intended to say. While we recognize the Holy Spirit to be integral to both the writing and the reading of the text, we recognize the humanity of the authors and their inevitable propensity for both sin and limitation in a way that the patristic readers did not.
    • It does not seek to simply parrot patristic commentary. Rather, it recognizes the patristic tradition to be a living one where the Fathers interpreted in similar ways yet argued with one another and disagreed. Rather than simply being a replication of patristic teaching it is an on-going living use of the methods that they demonstrated in their own writing.

There’s a lot more about this that I’d like to say, particularly in terms of what this looks like both in relation to modern scientific Scripture study and in terms of direct application. However, since I’ve gone on at some length, I’ll post this part now as I work on the next part.

On the Bible

As my Doktor-vater used to say, it was always nice picking up works by certain people because you could begin reading with the assurance that what they would argue would be wrong. George Clifford has a piece up at the Cafe today and—in a similar fashion—when I see his name on a piece I can be pretty sure that I’m going to disagree with it.

Today’s is no exception.

It’s a retread of the old clericalist captivity of the Scriptures: you can’t read it unless you promise to read it the way I do. One wonders how George believes that the Scriptures and the Christian faith were able to survive until the rise of German Rationalist scholarship in the mid-ninteenth century.

I need to write something more on this but currently lack the time…