Category: Traditionalistic exegesis

The Spirit and the Magisterium

On November 9, 2023

In Church, History, Traditionalistic exegesis

These are my half-formed thoughts as I seek to understand the Spirit’s authority in the church.

When Paul’s ministry and authority is questioned, he does not rely on the voice of the church or the Magisterium. Instead he appeals to the Spirit, ” The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself judged by no one. “For who has understood the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?” But we have the mind of Christ.”

Paul does appeal to tradition and to the voice of the church and to his apostolic authority, but passage above demonstrates that one of his main appeals is to a shared Spirit that testifies to his message. This is a spirit he shares with Apollos so that both are counted as servants of Christ and are not to be pitted against one another.

Similarly in 1st Thessalonians, Paul attributes the willingness of the Thessalonians to hear him to a shared Spirit. “Because our gospel came to you not only in word, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction.” Later he adds, “And we also thank God constantly for this, that when you received the word of god, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men but as it really is, the word of God, which is at work in you believers.”

As protestants we do hold to a Magisterium, a tradition that speaks authoritatively into our lives. Many protestants deny this and act as if tradition has no authority, but this comes from fools who have no thought. If we believe in One God and one Spirit, who speaks the truth, then when this Spirit speaks through men who also have the Spirit, we also ought to listen, especially, when many who also share the Spirit respect and love these men and repeat their words through the Spirit themselves. Perhaps it is has more fuzzy lines than the Eastern Orthodox or the Roman Catholic Magisterium, though it has a clear center, that being the Apostles’ Creed or the Nicene Creed. I am not convinced that it has more fuzzy lines, however, because of the number of interpretations and just the amount of doctrine that counts as tradition in those two churches.

Yet alongside this we hold to the work of the Spirit. Christ has promised to be with us by his Spirit. Christ has promised that Christ will guide us in all truth. A Magisterium without the Spirit and Word as a norming norm will eventually quench the Spirit’s work of unity. Any church that simply appeals to the authority of the church without also appealing to a shared Spirit that illuminates that word in each one of us and is the ultimate judge of each heart is obscuring that important work and is itself undermining the Magisterium of the church. They too become fools without thought.

Further, if we fail to receive those who share in the Spirit, becoming judges that go beyond what is clear in the word of God, we also undermine the work of the Spirit.

“And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual.”

Some Highlights of Peter Leithart’s Defense of Typological Preterism.

By James

On April 7, 2018

In eschatology, Hermeneutics, Traditionalistic exegesis

Peter Leithart’s new commentary on revelation recently came in the mail. On reading the introduction I came upon these gems, which respectfully but clearly take apart idealist and a-millenial readings of revelation. You can find the commentary here.

One of the biggest questions in reading revelation is how specific John intends his imagery to be. The idealist reading of Revelation argues that John’s writings are not specific to a time or a place but rather are abstract. Leithart argues:

“Idealism” is a coherent, plausible, and venerable method for interpreting the symbols and types of Revelation. It is not however, consistent with the way biblical poetry works. Isaiah describes Jerusalem, not some generic city of man, as Sodom, and so does Ezekiel. Daniel sees beasts coming from the sea, and the beasts are identifiable kingdoms (with some qualifications, Babylon, Persia, Greece, Rome). Daniel sees a goat racing over the land without touching the ground. It crashes into a ram with two horns and shatters the ram’s horns (Dan. 8:5-8). That is not a generic portrait of “conquest.” It is Alexander’s conquest of the Persians. We can tease our generalized abstracted types from the historical referents: The goat is Alexander, but other fast-moving empires have appeared in history (e.g., Hitler the speeding goat who shatters the horns of Poland and France), and we can and must extend the biblical imagery to assess and evaluate them. There will be other cities like the Babylon of Revelation, and they will display some of the same features that John sees in the city and, importantly, meet the same fate. But John is not referring to those other cities, nor to some transcendent concept or class of “harlot-city” of which there are many specific instances. He refers to a real harlot city, one that existed in his own time, and that harlot city becomes a type of future cities.

He is appealing very simply to the way the rest of the Bible is read. People will often approach the book of Revelation with a whole different set of hermeneutical rules than the rest of the Bible.

A similar problem is encountered with the time markers of Revelation and in the rest of scripture. After summarizing the scriptural evidence for expectations of an immanent apocalypse, Leithart argues:

Faced with this mass of evidence, we have several options in reading Revelation. We might fudge the time frame: God’s arrival is always near. Common as it is, that option is exegetically irresponsible. We cannot eliminate the claims about timing, or the agitation it creates, without excising much of the NT. We might project the time frame into the future: The kingdomis near, but the prophetic clock does not start ticking until much later, perhaps in the thirteenth, or the nineteenth, or the twenty-first century. Once the clock gets all wound up, then it is imminence all the time. Until, then we are in a holding pattern. That too is exegetically irresponsible, the result of digging that chasm between Jude and Revelation I mentioned above. If the Apocalyps is part of the NT, we expect it to have some connection with the concerns of those living in NT times. We might, alternatively, take the time references seriously, and conclude that Jesus, Paul, James, Peter, and all the rest were wrong. Christianity bursts into the Greco-Roman world full of apocalyptic vim, but it soon sovers up, and (like every fervent religious movement?) becomes routinized, regularized, bourgeois, Catholic. That option has the virtue of taking the NT at face value. It has the vice of implying that all the NT writers – Jesus included -are liars.

There is another apotion: The apostles mean what they say when they say the end is near; John means that the events of the Apocalypse are going to happen soon. And they did happen. That has the virtue of taking the time references seriously, but seems ot have the vice of forcing us to fudge everything else. I think not, and this is where our discussion of the OT background of Revelation comes helpfully inot play. When the Lamb opens the sixth seal, the sun goes black, the moon turns red, and stars are shaken from the firmament (Revelation 6:12-17). The universe collapisng? Not if we read Revelation within the imaginitive framework of the OT. Heavenly lights rule the sky and earthly times (Gen. 1:14-16) and symbolize rulers (cf. Isaiah 13-14). The sixth seal describes the “eclips” of political powers, the “fall” of kings and princes from their “high places.” The poison springs and rivers from from the temple, the well-watered place that is supposed to supply living water for Israel. To say that the springs of the alnd are poisoned is to say tha the temple produces somehting deadly rather than something healthful and life-giving. And to say that is just to say what Jesus has already said: “This house shall be a house of prayer; but you have made it a den of thieves.”

At no point does this line of interpretation move from “literal” to “mere figure.” A universe really does collaps when the sixth seal is opened — not the celestial universe, but a political one. The temple really does poison people. The imagery is, always, literal-figurative, nourishment to the metonymic imagination and typological encouragement to faithful discipleship.

Once again, Leithart encourages us to read Revelation just as we would the rest of scripture. That we take the imagery and the time markers seriously. I like that.

Conversation with the Fathers 2: Denying the Role of Reason.

By James

On May 18, 2017

In Hermeneutics, History, Traditionalistic exegesis, Uncategorized

I believe that conversation with the fathers of the faith is under attack.

I want to note three different ways the conversation has come under attack. I believe that each way ultimately undermines the role of reason in responding to the authority of scripture. They undermine the role of reason because they lose the possibility of having a conversation about the meaning of scripture with fellow saints.

The first attack comes from rationalists. They are more popularly known as liberal Christians. The rationalists attack this understanding by exalting human reason. Human reason is the ultimate authority, not scripture. They deny the singular authority of scripture. In this way scripture just becomes one of the many voices that leads us to truth. Rather than a discussion about a firm revelation, we have a discussion that guesses at what might have been revealed. Because there is no firm authority your guess is as good as mine.

Conversation concerning scripture comes under attack because there is no shared “center” for conversation. There is no foundation for conversation Because conversation is under attack, reason also comes under attack. To understand this, we need to understand the purpose of reason. Reason is a tool to persuade one another. If you do not have a foundation upon which to rest your reason you will have no ability to persuade another person of your view. In this way, reason is lost in interpreting the scriptures.

Consider a discussion on Genesis 1. Rationalists often reject what Genesis 1 contains because it does not fit their experience. Or maybe because a God like God could not have created the world in that way. Suddenly they begin to find whatever they want in Genesis 1.

Another attack comes from Christian radical individualism. In this view, the individual reader becomes the most important interpreter of scripture. Conversation with fellow saints both of the past and of the present is lost because “me and my Bible” are the most important pair out there. The problems with this understanding are well documented today, in part because this understanding is very common in North America.

Loss of conversation leads to the loss of reason once again. Any reasonable argument can be rejected on the basis of my reading of scripture. Even though Christian radical individualism accepts the authority of scripture, it borrows from rationalism. Like rationalism, this individualism understands that its interpretive authority is primary.

Consider a discussion on the book of Revelation 11. The fact that there are two witnesses is unquestioned. The radical individualist will tenaciously hold to his interpretation of these two witnesses, even if he cannot support his understanding through well-reasoned arguments.

Finally, we come to traditionalism. At first, it doesn’t make sense that traditionalism would reject conversation with the fathers. Traditionalistic churches have a huge respect for the fathers. They certainly don’t reject the opinions of the fathers. Rather, they reject the conversation with the fathers. A well-reasoned argument can not overturn a well-established opinion. They never find Calvin wrong. John of Damascus is sublime on every point. Thomas Aquinas is absolutely rigorous in every doctrine he developed. They reject the tool of reason in discerning whether the fathers were right, partly right, or plain wrong on a certain issue.

Traditionalism is a plague to all Christians, but there are churches that mandate traditionalism in their confessional material. The result is silence before tradition, not conversation. One must repeat after the fathers or be silent.

A classic example here would be the doctrines that have accumulated around the Virgin Mary. Even though these have very little or even no support from scripture, they are treated as authoritative doctrine because certain fathers discerned teaching about Mary in certain scripture passages.

What I would prefer is a conversation. We are fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, sisters and brothers, discussing and seeking to discern the meaning of the Holy Book that God has given to us. This doesn’t mean we have to apply our reason to every issue, rather we use the reason that God has given to us unto those issues that the Spirit have led us to.

n.b. These categories are meant for a helpful overview. I believe that most denominations will have all the categories listed above, even though they may officially lean toward one of these understandings. This is true of individuals as well.

Inventing Mary

By James

On April 22, 2017

In Hermeneutics, Traditionalistic exegesis, typology

In 1950, the Catholic church declared the “Assumption of Mary” to be official doctrine. This is the doctrine that Mary, at the end of her life was taken into heaven. The Catholic Church believed it was confirming the faith of the Fathers.

The doctrine was, in part, based off a certain interpretation of Revelation 12. (I should add that this is certainly not the only passage behind this doctrine and there is also a complicated typology of Mary that has developed over the last 200o years) At the end of Revelation 11, John tells us that the ark of the covenant appeared in heaven. In chapter 12, a sign appears. We see a woman who bears a child and a dragon who chases her. It is not surprising that many identify this woman with Mary, the mother of Jesus. Many will also identify Mary with the ark, which is found in heaven at the end of chapter 11.

We need to discern between three different issues here: whether Mary can be referred to as an ark, whether the ark in revelation 12 is meant to refer to Mary, and finally whether the argument that the ark does picture Mary is proof of the doctrine of assumption.

Is the ark of the covenant a picture of Mary?

A number of church fathers said just that in various sermons. They saw that just as the ark carried the law, some manna and the staff of Aaron. They saw that Christ was the fulfillment of all these things and therefore they saw Mary as an ark, which carried Christ into the world.

I argue that we can picture Mary in terms of the ark. I’m not sure if this is necessarily the point of any particular scripture passage, but it is a wonderful word picture pointing to the significance of Mary. Mary is, after all, Theotokos or the God-bearer. She is a picture of the church, which also carries Christ, by virtue of the Spirit. When I say these things I do not intend to make her any less a sinner. David, an adulterer and a murderer, was permitted to be a picture of Christ. Abraham, an idolater, was given the gift of being the pre-eminent man of faith. So also Mary a woman, by nature under damnation, was, by grace, given the honor of carrying the Christ in her womb. We know from Leviticus 16 that the ark itself needed to be atoned for. So did Mary.

Is the ark Mary in Revelation 11: 19?

I’ve already tipped my hat toward my answer to this question. I would argue that the ark is not in reference to Mary. Let me begin by demonstrating the problem with seeing the ark as a reference to Mary internally. I will continue by demonstrating who I think the ark does refer to. Finally, I want to show that even though I disagree with this particular interpretation, it does get some things right.

The ark of the covenant appears in heaven at the moment the 24 elders are calling upon God to reveal his wrath against the nations and his vindication of those who fear him. When the ark appears, there is thunder and lightning suggesting that the appearance of the ark of the covenant has something to do with the coming of the wrath of God.

Then we have a scene change. We see a woman, who is struggling with the birth of a child. She bears the child and the child is caught up into heaven in v. 5. The dragon tries to destroy the women, even after the child is taken up, but God protects the women. He gives her wings to fly away from it in 12:13. Even the earth protects the woman.

There are a couple reasons why we shouldn’t see the ark as the woman in this passage. First of all, there is a clear break between the scene of chapter 11 and chapter 12. The two passages follow one another but they don’t necessarily have the same subject. This means that just because the woman is close in proximity, doesn’t mean that she should be identified with the ark. The 2nd thing to note is that the women never ascends into heaven. Rather it is the male child who ascends into heaven. The last thing we should wonder about is what the assumption of Mary has to do with the coming of the judgment of God? It seems strange that the entrance of Mary into heaven would be a catalyst for God’s judgment.

(I also wonder if Mary was still the ark after she had left the womb of Christ).

It is much better to see the coming of the ark of the covenant as a picture of Christ’s ascension. The male child (Christ) is the one that ascends into heaven in Chapter 12:5 and not the women. But if this were the only reason for understanding the ark as Christ, it would be very weak reasoning. This is because of (as I have already noted) the obvious change of pace between chapter 11 and chapter 12. They are telling different stories. These are stories that do follow one another, but they are visions that have a distinct message.

However, we can strengthen our reasoning through our understanding of how Jesus Christ functions as the ark of God throughout the New Testament.

When we think about the context of the appearance of the ark, we notice both a promise of wrath and of deliverance for the saints. Our minds are drawn to Romans 1:17, “For the righteousness of God is revealed.” The very next verse tells us that God reveals his wrath as well. We learn later in Romans that all this is revealed in Jesus Christ. Theologically, then, we should expect Jesus Christ to enter the room at a call for judgment and vindication. He is the one who absorbs the wrath of God for the sake of his saints and who brings judgment and the wicked.

Of course, we need to defend this with more than theology. We need to see that the ark functions in a similar way to Jesus Christ. On the day of the atonement, the priest sprinkled the covering of the ark with blood. God looked upon that cleansing blood and so was able to live dwell with his people. It is likely that John draws on that imagery in 1 John 2, when he calls Jesus a propitiation. This is the same word that the Septuagint (the Greek OT) uses for the mercy seat upon the ark. Just as Israel found mercy in the temple, so we find mercy in the Christ.

The book of Hebrews doesn’t use ark imagery, but it does use temple imagery for Christ. Hebrews tell us in Chapter 10:20, that Christ’s flesh is the veil. The veil had a similar function to the mercy seat. It was a covering for the people of God.

We could add to this the parallels between David bringing the ark into Jerusalem and the pregnant Mary visiting her cousin. They can be found at the end of this article. These are used in the article I referenced to defend Mary being the ark. However, they can be used just as easily for defending Christ as the ark.

All in all, I’m not sure how the appearance of the ark after an appeal to the justice of God, can be primarily about Mary. In the overall context of Revelation, the appearance of the ark is about the coming judgment on the harlot, the beast, and the dragon.

It should be noted, however, that there is a sense in which we can speak of the ark as Mary. We need to remember that symbols in scripture are often multivalent. It is not just the mercy seat that appears, but the ark of the covenant. Various authors have argued that the ark is a mini-picture of the cosmos, with the mercy seat as the throne room of God and the cosmos as the box that is underneath it. Since it is the ark of the covenant it can be understood as the new creation of God or the church of God. Colossians 3 tells us that our lives are hidden in the risen Messiah. The fact that the ark of the covenant is in heaven is a confirmation to us that we too are raised with him.

In this sense then, Mary as a type of the church of Christ, is also, with all the other saints assumed into heaven with Christ.

What about the doctrine?

Let us grant for a moment that the ark might refer to Mary in Revelation 11. Would this provide proof for the doctrine of the assumption of Mary? I don’t think so. Symbols don’t work that way, particularly in the book of revelation. The ark may symbolize Mary, but does that mean her flesh came to heaven? Perhaps we have a merely symbolic use of Mary. The women, who we assume is Mary, never enters heaven in the following chapter. What happened? This would suggest a symbolic use.

These stretchings of exegesis suggest that tradition has invented Mary, rather than honoring her as she is revealed in scripture. As the Belgic confession says, they (The Roman church, but we could add the Greek church as well) dishonor the saints by giving them these strange honors. Traditions that support such exegesis are worse than the autonomous protestant interpreter (at least you can argue with him). They are worse because they demand that all Christians submit themselves to this irrational exegesis.