Vanhoozer's Decahedral

In the July/August 2010 Modern Reformation, Kevin J. Vanhoozer contributes a short article where he lays down "a ten-point checklist for fledgling theological interpreters of Scripture." It basically articulates a way of reading the Bible as Scripture—as God's self-communication—in a canonical and ecclesial context (pp. 16–19).

This is nothing new, of course. But it's still unwelcome among large swaths of religious academia. I'll just reprint the theses here; Vanhoozer provides commentary under each one in the article. Here's how he describes his decahedral: "The ten theses are arranged in five parts: the first term in each pair is properly theological, focusing on some aspect of God's communicative agency; the second draws out its implications for hermeneutics and biblical interpretation." Without further adieu:

1. The nature and function of the Bible are insufficiently grasped unless and until we see the Bible as an element in the economy of triune discourse.
2. An appreciation of the theological nature of the Bible entails a rejection of a methodological atheism that treats the texts as having a "natural history" only.
3. The message of the Bible is "finally" about the loving power of God for salvation (Rom 1:16), the definitive or final gospel Word of God that comes to brightest light in the Word's final form.
4. Because God acts in space-time (Israel, Jesus Christ, and the church), theological interpretation requires thick descriptions that plumb the height and depth of history, not only its length.
5. Theological interpreters view the historical events recounted in Scripture as ingredients in a unified story ordered by an economy of triune providence.
6. The Old Testament testifies to the same drama of redemption as the New Testament, hence the church rightly reads both testaments together, two parts of a single authoritative script.
7. The Spirit who speaks with magisterial authority in the Scriptures speaks with ministerial authority in church tradition.
8. In an era marked by the conflict of interpretations, there is good reason provisionally to acknowledge the superiority of catholic interpretation.
9. The end of biblical interpretation is not simply communication—the sharing of information—but communion, a sharing in the light, life, and love of God.
10. The church is that community where good habits of theological interpretation are best formed and where the fruit of these habits are best exhibited.

Vanhoozer sums it up:

Scholars know deep down that they can and should do better than stay within the confines of their specializations: "For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the interpretive good I want, but the historical-criticism or proof-texting I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but interpretive habits that have been drilled into me. Wretched reader that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of secondary literature?" Thanks be to God, there is a way forward: the way, truth, and life of collaboration in Christ, where sainthood and scholarship coexist, and where theological exegesis and exegetical theology are mutually supportive and equally important.

Now, I'll admit to being blinded by a slight infatuation with Vanhoozer, especially after reading books like Is There Meaning in This Text? I've not much to say here by way of criticism. I'm hoping some others can pick that up, not least the "apocalyptic" bunch floating around out there, as I'm not quite sure what view, if any, they might have with respect to hermeneutics (if "they" even have a "view"). I'd also like to see some discussion about how Vanhoozer's implicit criticisms here cut to the quick of a lot of modern confessional Reformed exegesis and theology.

Also, this touches upon what I've grown increasingly comfortable saying publicly as of late: Theology done without an eye on (i.e., in service of) the church is useless. But on second thought, it might be best to break off this subsequent and tangential discussion from this post and deal with it later. For now, I'll leave the Decahedral to stand alone for the reader to digest.

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You Will Read This (unless, of course, you don't)

So, can an attempt even be made to apply the hermeneutic laid out in the previous posts (parts 1, 2, and 3) to certain predictions found in the New Testament? This may be where the discussion gets heated for some, given our millennial madness in the church. It's one thing to suggest that one of Amos' prophecies didn't come about the way he described it because of some intervening historical contingency; it's another thing (some may say) to apply that principle to the words Jesus and the apostles spoke concerning the "end times."

Unsurprisingly, Richard Pratt, in When Shall These Things Be? A Reformed Response to Hyper-Preterism, does just that. But not much. He spends about seven pages on "historical contingencies and New Testament Eschatology," while the previous twenty-six pages are basically a distillation of the work I linked to in the first part of this series. No doubt, Pratt had to lay the groundwork for what he eventually wanted to say about New Testament (NT) prophecy, given the context in a book that seeks to challenge hyper-preterist arguments about eschatology.

According to Pratt, the claims so central to hyper-preterist thought—that the second coming of Christ was imminent (within a generation) and that "all biblical predictions must be fulfilled just as they are stated"—can be challenged and thus significantly weaken the hyper-preterist position (p. 121). He leaves the first claim for others and moves on to discuss the second.

Since hyper-preterists argue that the NT posits an imminent return of Christ, they revise their understanding of the nature of this return (cataclysmic, physical, and renewal of the cosmos) in order to maintain the integrity of the NT writings (i.e., if Christ didn't return within a generation of his ascension, then the NT is fallible, etc.). Here's where Pratt's hermeneutic (outlined in the previous three posts of this series) comes in: "Even if the New Testament does predict an imminent return of Christ, intervening historical contingencies make it unnecessary that an imminent return take place" (p. 149). Indeed, a first-century expectant Israelite would know that such an imminent return was not "set in stone." Why? 

1. The prophet Jeremiah spoke of an imminent eschaton upon the assumption of repentance (and this was only partially realized); 
2. Daniel came to realize that the fullness of the eschaton was delayed due to lack of repentance; 
3. and Haggai and Zechariah called for repentance during the delay period, to hasten the coming of the fullness of the eschaton

So goes the perspective of the NT authors, according to Pratt:

1. The blessings of the eschaton were underway, and the imminent return of Christ was offered as a benefit of repentance;
2. the lack of repentance among the Christic community delayed the return indefinitely;
3. "Nevertheless, the hope and prayer of every true believer is that through their repentance and faithful living the return of Christ may be hastened" (p. 149).

Three examples of this come from Saint Peter's mouth: (1) Acts 2:15–17; (2) Acts 3:19–21; and (3) 2 Peter 3:4–7, 9.

The first example has the apostle declaring the arrival of the eschaton (as spelled out by the prophet Joel). In the second example, we see Peter including an imminent return of Christ on the condition of repentance ("Repent…turn…so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come…and that [the Lord] may send the Christ…."). There's no doubt the parousia—the return of the king, the second advent of Christ—was in view here: "He must remain in heaven until the time comes for God to restore everything…" (Acts 3:21). The fullness of the return is on offer here, even if its blessings have already begun.

The third example is a little trickier. According to Peter, the final return will be cataclysmic, whatever it actually looks like in space and time. How, then, did he understand the fact that it had not yet occurred by the time he was nearing his own demise? Was Christ shown to be a liar, a false prophet? Enter 2 Peter 3:9: "The Lord isn’t really being slow about his promise, as some people think. No, he is being patient for your sake. He does not want anyone to be destroyed, but wants everyone to repent." Ah, the Lord God was showing great patience to the church in not sending the Messiah back to judge. He did not want "anyone to be destroyed," but wanted "everyone to repent." Just like Daniel came to see, "the lack of repentance was the reason for the delay of eschatological blessings" (p. 152).

Kind of a convenient hermeneutic, isn't it? The interlocutor might say that we're just moving the goalposts (because of intervening historical contingencies) whenever we're faced with a prediction in Scripture that doesn't come to pass in the way that it is stated. But this isn't intended to be much of an apologetic anyway. That's not what Saint Peter brought it up for. He said what he said for the same reason the latter prophets said what they said—to motivate the people, in the face of the delay of the eschaton, toward faithful Christian living, in order to hasten the coming of the Christ. Yes, hasten. "Since everything around us is going to be destroyed like this, what holy and godly lives you should live, looking forward to the day of God and hurrying it along. On that day, he will set the heavens on fire, and the elements will melt away in the flames (2 Peter 3:11–12, emphasis mine).

Thus Pratt concludes: 

Peter contended that the knowledge that Christ will return one day in cosmic judgment and blessing should lead to a godly way of life for believers. …Peter also made an astounding offer. When God's people repent and live in holiness, they "speed" (speudontas) the coming of the day of God. (p. 153)

And just to make sure everybody knows about his Reformed creds, Pratt goes on to add the caveat: "Peter had understood that the time of Christ's return had been immutably fixed by God's eternal decree, but in terms of God's providential involvement in history, he also knew that it could be delayed or hastened" (ibid.).

I'm not exactly sure how an event can be both immutably fixed and contingent, but whatever.

The thing is, I think this exegesis comports with the biblical data; it provides an "a-ha" moment. However, it remains to be seen how it comports with typical Reformed orthodoxy and its understanding of God's decrees. It doesn't seem to me that the doctrine of secondary causes (cf. WCF 3.1) can be stretched to cover it.

Beyond this, the hermeneutic opens up a few other interesting questions regarding other New Testament predictions: Could it have been otherwise that Jerusalem or the temple was destroyed (Olivet Discourse)? What about Peter's denial? Judgment upon Capernaum, Korizan, and Bethsaida? Jesus' betrayal by Judas Iscariot? And what about his death on the cross? These are just a few of Jesus' predictions found in the Gospels. Many more can be found throughout the apostolic writings. What do we gain by embracing this hermeneutic? What do we lose?

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Strawmen: A Fundamentalist’s Trojan Horse

My head is about to burst into flames.

I don’t publicly disagree with friends lightly, but here goes: the resignation of Bruce Waltke from Reformed Theological Seminary is a blemish on an otherwise decent history, at least in my experience there (as a full-time student from 2000 to 2002 at the Orlando campus). Equally distasteful are the majority of reactionary blog posts—for and against (view this for a good illustration that depicts why). One more thing, in the interest of transparency, I'm fairly ignorant about modern scientific theories, and still I remain unconvinced of the entire neo-Darwinian synthesis, yet I am even less convinced of young-earth creationism—for both biblical and scientific reasons.


Interestingly, Modern Reformation's upcoming May/June edition has an Ad Extra article titled "PCA Geologists on the Antiquity of the Earth" (pp. 6–9). "In this article," the eight Reformed geologists write, "we wish to provide our brothers and sisters in the body of Christ with a few general observations, some clarificaton of a common misconception about our science, and two specific examples that speak convincingly that God's earthly creation has been around for a very long time" (about 4.6 billion years, p. 6). Anyway, back to the point.

In Old Testament Theology, Waltke wrote that “the best harmonious synthesis of the special revelation of the Bible, of the general revelation of human nature that distinguishes between right and wrong and consciously or unconsciously craves God, and of science is the theory of theistic evolution” (p. 202). It was published in 2007, and he had been working on this book for over a decade. I sat under him in 2002, and the statement from OT Theology came as no surprise; he vocalized openness to theistic evolution at various points (as did at least one other of my old professors). Why, then, the sudden dismissal? Simply because the video gained so much attention? Maybe. Any further speculation wouldn’t be wise on my part.

Instead, let’s look at a few points raised in the various posts floating around out there, points that are causing my eyes to bleed:

• Bruce Waltke has insisted that evangelicals must accept evolution or be considered a "cult." 

This strawman, through which the reactionary fundamentalist sneaks in, is at best a result of inability to listen carefully, or at worst just plain deceitful. Unfortunately, BioLogos titled the original video snippet that has since been pulled, “Why the Church Must Accept Evolution.” Waltke nowhere stated such a thing. In fact, he wrote in response to the ruckus that he “would have entitled it ‘why the church should accept creation by the process of evolution,’ not ‘why the church must accept evolution.’” He goes on: “Also I would have emphasized in writing that the introductory ‘If’ is a big ‘if' . . . .”

This should stop every keyboard from typing the lie once and for all. But just in case Waltke’s point was missed: If (a big IF) our observation of the empirical data leads, as conclusively as it can in this fallen world, to the affirmation of something akin to the neo-Darwinian synthesis, then to deny that conclusion would be tantamount to sticking one’s head in the sand, much like we see in the practices of cults (in its gnostic mistrust of the phenomenological). In other words, given that all truth is God’s truth, and given that a truth can be known in this world through the observation of empirical data (so-called “general revelation"), then to deny that truth once it has been verified (which admittedly isn’t an infallible verification), is an implicit denial of nature as a valid revelatory sphere (i.e., it is capable, at least in theory, of revealing real history). In short, it runs the risk of calling God a liar.

• Ironically, Bruce Waltke, an eminent Old Testament scholar, doesn’t base his arguments on the Old Testament at all. 

Contrary to this oft-repeated criticism, Waltke’s entire statement on the BioLogos video and in his chapters on Genesis 1–3 in An Old Testament Theology are informed by the Scriptures; indeed, one can take his comments to be the tip of a biblical iceberg. He couldn’t have said what he said about science and archaeology if he hadn’t first come to a few exegetical conclusions. One can no doubt refuse to give him the benefit of the doubt, of assuming the worst with respect to his motivations, that his “first priority is to look intellectually cool and hip before the skeptical world” (as one blogger put it with respect to BioLogos, and, by extension, Waltke), but of course the burden of proof rests with the accuser in this matter. You’ll find none, however, for it’s a Trojan horse designed to get the fundamentalist behind the gate.

For those disinclined to give fellow Christians the benefit of the doubt, let’s take a gander at what that might look like: Giving Waltke the benefit of the doubt means assuming that he has already done the hard interpretive work, Hebraist that he is, and has found that a proper exegesis of the creation narrative does not conflict with or contradict certain aspects of what physicists, geologists, paleontologists, biologists, etc., are saying today (nor is his exegesis concordist in nature; rather, it’s complementary, which recognizes consequently that “the Bible does not make scientific claims and therefore we should not be biblically dogmatic when it comes to this topic” as another blogger admitted).

Often what follows this truth regarding the Bible and scientific claims are the questions: But does not Scripture make historical claims? And is not the creation narrative intended to be a record of history? Indeed. It's a good question. But just asking it doesn't damn Waltke. The better question is what does the creation account presume to be a historical record of—material creation or functional creation? The literal creation of the cosmos, or the arranging of an already created cosmos to serve the purposes of the creator God and his human creatures (as John Walton suggests)? Or, maybe as John Sailhamer argues, the creation account records the preparation of the Promised Land, the origin of God’s people, Israel?

Regardless, this one point must be pounded in, apparently: granting the basics of the neo-Darwinian synthesis does not necessarily preclude the historicity of Adam and Eve. N.T. Wright, in his commentary on Romans 5, helpfully summarizes this point: 

Paul clearly believed that there had been a single first pair, whose male, Adam, had been give a commandment and had broke it. Paul was, we may be sure, aware of what we would call mythical or metaphorical dimensions to the story, but he would not have regarded these as throwing doubt on the existence, and primal sin, of the first historical pair. …Each time another very early skull is dug up the newspapers exclaim over the discovery of the first human beings; we have consigned Adam and Eve entirely to the world of mythology, but we are still looking for their replacements. (NIB p. 526)

Waltke, as he has said implicitly, if not explicitly (see OT Theology, pp. 184, 203, 223, 259, 277-79, and his commentary on Genesis, pp. 66–67, 70, 85), along with the whole of Christian history is on the other side of the fence than those who would deny this biblical-historical point: there was a single, representative first pair.

• Waltke doesn’t present his argument for evolution as a result of biblical reflection.

This strawman is intended, of course, to cast suspicion on his conservative Christian credentials. But it betrays a rather shallow thought pattern: can any modern scientific theory be based on one’s reflection of the Scriptures? To answer in the affirmative is to cast doubt on the very hermeneutic one presupposes can do this.

The fact is, Genesis 1 exhibits an ancient cosmology. It does not attempt to describe cosmology in modern terms or address modern questions. How, then, could Waltke present his argument for evolution based on a reflection of Scripture? He knows better than that—better than the sloppy thinking that produces many of the reactionary blog posts being written over the past two weeks. To be sure, Waltke could say this or that portion of Scripture doesn’t contradict this or that point of evolution, but he can’t say this or that portion of Scripture supports an evolutionary view of the cosmos (a la Glenn Morton, or, in the opposite direction, Henry Morris).

Waltke knows that such an approach to the biblical text ends up changing the very meaning of the text itself, since it attempts to make the text say something it never intended for it to say. In short, he knows how to read the Bible according to its various genres, something anti-intellectualists have notoriously derided.

What follows the last criticism is often a question as to whether Waltke really affirms the divine authority of Scripture (because he’s supposedly denying the historical claims of it). But this point rests entirely on a presupposed way of reading the text (in the young-earth creationist direction), and Waltke doesn’t share that hermeneutic. In other words, it won’t do to accuse someone of undermining the authority of Scripture if they don’t at all affirm your particular reading of it; that’s a classic fundamentalist and biblicist tactic, and ought to be avoided by thinking people everywhere.

Another classic tactic is the imputation of ill motives to the opposition:

• Waltke apparently presupposes the predominance of science over Scripture. 

This point has already been dealt with, in that Waltke’s approach to the issue of science and Scripture is that they are complementary, not concordist (the view that suggests Scripture does make scientific claims. But the question always is, which science, and when? That of the nineteenth century? Or maybe the twentieth?). So, in fact, Waltke does not assume the hegemony of science over Scripture. That is, ironically, exactly what creation-science types are guilty of, in their pursuit to provide an alternative science and thus import into the ancient text modern scientific notions.

Do reactionaries think they can avoid heavenly scorn merely by avoiding the hard questions generated by our increase in knowledge about the cosmos (a kind of modern gnosticism), while still holding to even more obnoxious “doctrines” like divisiveness for the sake of the church's “purity”?  Waltke was right, the hermeneutics behind anti-intellectual fundamentalism are a Trojan horse that, once inside our gates, must cause the entire fortress of Christian belief to fall under the cultic sword.

And no equivocating on the word cult here. There’s good cult, and there’s bad (just like there are good and bad kinds of fundamentalism). The good kind of cult, to quote John Howard Yoder, knows that "the believer's cross is, like that of Jesus, the price of social nonconformity." It inclines us "to take the world's wisdom with a pinch of salt and not be too worried if they find [us] 'unloving' or [dismissive of the] church when she refuses to conform to their view of reality simply because they tell [us] it is true" (well said, Carl). However, the kind that exists under anti-intellectual and demagogic fundamentalists can only lead to “spiritual death.” I'm not suggesting that every opponent of Waltke's embodies this (even if I've alluded to your blog post here). But I am suggesting that the confessional Reformed camp is on the verge of being hijacked, and one major way this is happening is through the Trojan horse of fundamentalism.

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Yet 40 Days and You Will Read This, part 3

See the first and second parts of this series on reading canonical prophetic literature.

In sum, we left off with the argument that prognostications found in Scripture have tacit conditions attached to them. This applies to every form of prediction found in the canon: 1) those explicitly qualified by conditions; 2) those explicitly qualified by assurances; and 3) those with no explicit qualifications (see part 2 for more on these classes of prophecies).

But what about Deuteronomy 18:22? We're still left with: "…when a prophet speaks in the name of Yahweh, if the word does not come to pass or come true, that is a word that Yahweh has not spoken; the prophet has spoken it presumptuously. You need not be afraid of him."

Could it be that black-and-white? Is this a straightforward test? Failed predictions mark false prophets? What about those intervening historical contingencies?

As economical as this interpretation may be, it does not account for the information gleaned in part 2 of this series. Is it therefore unique to Deuteronomic theology and contradicted by later biblical traditions? To be sure, many modern exegetes take the test as a general rule to which there are few exceptions. Alternatively, though, I would suggest that the primary audience (of Moses' day) realized that unqualified predictions had implied conditions. If this dynamic was indeed well-known, then it need not be repeated explicitly when the criterion of Deuteronomy 18:22 was offered ("if the word does not come to pass"). Thus, this test instructed the Israelites to expect a prediction from a true prophet to come about, unless significant intervening contingencies interrupted. Maybe that is why so many passages highlight historical contingencies that have interrupted many fulfillments? Why were the various biblical authors so specific in detailing the human responses that curbed the outcome of the predictions? Could it be that by pointing to significant historical contingencies, the Israelites would have no trouble accepting interruped predictions as originating with Yahweh?

It should be seen as indisputable that historical contingencies affected the outcomes of unqualified predictions, but did tacit conditions apply only to this last category or did conditions attach to all prophecies? The answer, which I've already mentioned in the first part, is found in Jeremiah 18:1–10. Here we see that the Jerusalmites opposed the prophet (see vv. 11–12) because they believed divine protection for the holy city was entirely unconditional (e.g., Jer. 7:4). But what Jeremiah 18:1–10 amounts to is a rebuttal of this false security. It stated that all unqualified predictions, even those concerning Jerusalem, operated with implied conditions.

How do I dare suggest that this text is paradigmatic? "At some time" (v. 7); and "at some other time" (v. 9), suggest to me that Yahweh's words apply to every situation. Secondly, the all-inclusive phrase "any nation or kingdom" (v. 7) also points us in this direction. Thirdly, the oracles described in this pericope are categorically judgment and salvation oracles. At the very least, an attempt to classify all of the prophetic oracles in Scripture reveals that they all gravitate in one or both of these directions. The text, then, portrays a God who exercised great latitude because his responses were situation specific, appropriate for the particularities of each event. But there is also a basic pattern at work: the realization of all unqualified predictions were subject to modification as Yahweh reacted to his people's responses. In sum, historical contingencies had a bearing on all three major types of predictions discussed in this series. In every case, significant responses preceding fulfillments had the potential of effecting to some degree how Yahweh would direct the future.

I could go on, of course, but I think if the patient reader has read this far, he or she gets the point. A subsequent post could deal with this principle of reading biblical prophecy as it relates to various New Testament predictions—like those found in the Olivet Discourse, the Apocalypse, etc. I do believe they fall into the categories I have listed above. Such a discussion could focus on, for example, how the Messiah has not re-appeared (in body) yet, and how that relates to the immiment predictions found in the NT.

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Destiny of the Evangelical Species

Bruce Waltke has been taken to task for his recent comments (the video has since been taken down) about how the (evangelical) church will be destined for "cult" status if, in the course of time, all the data points decisively to something akin to the neo-Darwinian synthesis and the church still denies that reality. In short, its destiny is spiritual death, he argues, if it chooses to simply stick its head in the sand.

• Update: See Waltke's even more recent clarification on the BioLogos video.
• Update #2: Waltke resigns from RTS. But he's old; surely the timing is coincidental?
• Update #3: Question answered.
• Update #4: The last? Waltke offers some final thoughts on the brouhaha.

First, this is like pub-talk for me; I don't think this discussion is the article upon which the church stands and falls. Yet, arguably, some tough (if not creative) theological work needs to be done in the face of the increasingly substantive evolutionary explanation of the data. Second, while my scientific opinions are tentative (not being a scientist, I have no inclination to defend evolution or any other old-earth schema), my concern is that creation "science" is detrimental to the church's health (for the heavens declare the glory of God — "but do they declare the dishonesty of God?").

In J.V. Fesko's Last Things First (download the introduction here), he writes, "Many within the Reformed community accept the conclusions of creation science without investigating its presuppositions [founded by a 7th-day Adventist and perpetuated by dispensationalists]" (p. 18). Fesko goes on to discuss "the hallmark hermeneutical principle of dispensationalism" — "strict literalism" (p. 19). What is perplexing to Fesko is "that many within the Reformed community will reject dispensational eschatology but embrace its interpretation of creation. …If one applies a consistently Reformed hermeneutic to the interpretation of Scripture, he must reject [dispensationalist and creation scientist] conclusions. Reformed theology neither embraces the Bible as a textbook of science nor employs an overly literalistic hermeneutic" (pp. 19, 21).

To my mind, this is the fundamental starting point when discussing these issues. In other words, before one asks me, "But what about Gen 1:11, 24 — doesn't the text indicate that each kind of plant or animal will produce its own kind?" I think it's wise to first deal with the foundational hermeneutical principles that Fesko writes about in his introduction. To put it differently, Scripture doesn't speak about material creation because it cannot, but because it does not.

What's more, in my opinion, there's deep misunderstanding about what Gen 1 actually says and the relationship between science and faith.

Dealing with the last point first, science, by its very nature (as is currently understood), must bracket the metaphysical (with apologies to all my presuppositional friends). It cannot explore divine causation, for it concerns itself only with empirical data. Thus it deals with the demonstrable and falsifiable, and not with divine activity (science, therefore, cannot prove or disprove the existence of God).

This is not to suggest that Christians do not stand firmly upon the revelation of divine activity and purpose woven into the very fabric of creation, because every truth unveiled (by scientists, in this instance) is another step in understanding how God has worked or continues to work through the material world and its naturalistic processes.

Regarding what Gen 1 purports to teach, I think a lot of the heat would give way to light, at least in the Reformed world, if folks would be willing to give a shot to what Walton suggests in The Lost World with a bit of Sailhamer thrown in.

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You Will Read This (barring any intervening historical contingencies)

To gain a clearer perspective on the idea that the fulfillment of at least some unqualified predictions were subject to the contingency of human response (i.e., conditions did not have to be stated explicitly to be operative), let's look more closely at a few canonical predictions or prophecies. According to Pratt (see the first post about that), they generally fall into three categories:

1. Predictions qualified by conditions: while the qualification was communicated in many different ways, I will simply list the passages with the surface grammar of conditional sentences (note that in the Hebrew language, conditional sentences are not marked as they are in English).

• Isa 1:19–20; Jer 22:4–5. It is important to see at this point that prophets did not necessarily refer to what the future would be, but what it might be. In other words, they were attempting to illicit certain responses in the community by making their predictions explicitly conditional. The future they spoke of was potential not necessary.

• Isa 7:9; Jer 7:5–7. These texts show us that prophets did not always spell out all the possible conditions related to their predictions. In these predictions, only one side is stated. We should not be surprised if in other biblical predictions not all the conditions are explicitly stated. It is therefore an appropriate contention that considering unexpressed conditions is vital to a proper interpretation of prophecy.

2. Predictions qualified by assurances: that is, guarantees of different sorts accompanied prophetic oracles. For example, in the book of Jeremiah, the prophet opposed those who hoped for Jerusalem's deliverance from Babylon by stating that Yahweh forbade intercession for the city (Jer 7:15–16). There are others that portray the same qualifications (Jer 11:11–14; 14:10–12, 15:1).

• Another example of a qualification by assurance comes by Amos' popular formula: "For three sins of [name the country], even four, I will not turn back" (Amos 1:3, 6, 9, 13; 2:1, 4, 6). The idea of "turning back" would have been well-known as Yahweh's change of divine disposition toward a course of action (Deut 30:3; 2 Chron 12:12; 30:8; Job 42:10, etc.). Amos' audience would have been pleased to know that Yahweh's threat was not empty. On the other hand, the prophet also makes it plain that Yahweh would not reverse himself regarding their judgment either (Amos 2:4, 6). See also Isa. 45:23; Jer 23:20, 30:24; 4:28. Divine oaths also signified qualification by assurance (Amos 4:2; 6:8; 8:7; Isa 14:24; Jer. 49:13). The point is that these predictions are qualified by an assurance. Why?

• The whole point here is twofold regarding biblical prophecy: 1) on the one hand, some predictions make plain that their predicted events were inevitable. Yahweh would not listen to prayers, violate his oaths, etc. But it is important to keep in mind that these type of predictions are few in number and almost always not very specific about their descriptions of the future. While they assure that some events will happen, they do not guarantee how, to what extent, when, and so on. In other words, they are subject to intervening historical contingencies. 2) On the other hand, this class of prophecies indicates that not all predictions shared this heightened certainty. Possibly, Yahweh forbade prayers in response to certain oracles precisely because it has the potential of effecting outcomes (see Jer 26:19; Jonah 3:10; Amos 7:1–9).

3. Predictions without qualifications: such are these that do not contain explicit conditions or assurances. It is important to affirm at this point that historical contingencies have bearing on this class of predictions. The story of Jonah is proof enough. He proclaims an unqualified prediction (Jonah 3:4), but Yahweh spared the city (3:10). The examples are substantive (2 Chron 12:5, then see 12:7–8; 2 Kgs 22:16, then 22:18–20; Micah 3:12 (Jer. 26:18), then 2 Kgs 19:20–35). In each of these examples, the predicted future did not take place. What caused these turn of events? Each text explicitly cites human responses as the grounds for the deviations. The people of Ninevah (Jonah 3:6), the leaders of Judah (2 Chron 12:6), Josiah (2 Kgs 22:18–19) and Hezekiah (Jer 26:19) repented or prayed upon hearing the prophetic word.

What this indicates is that the fulfillment of at least some unqualified predictions were subject to the contingency of human response. Conditions did not have to be stated explicitly to be operative.

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You Will Read This (part 1)

Millennial madness isn't anything new. Folks have been arguing since the apostolic era about what the prophetic literature of the Scriptures means and how it's to be applied—if at all—to various events of the past through to the present and into the future. Seldom, however, is the first hermeneutical step ever discussed (on the street, at least). How is this stuff supposed to be read?

I sat under Professor Richard Pratt as a seminarian, and he had some suggestions worth entertaining. I had a few "aha" moments in his Prophets class, but the principles of reading he lays out are not without their potentially unintended negative consequences. You can read his address, where a lot of the following material was taken, over here.

First, Pratt argued, we need to stop flattening biblical prophecy into the entirely modern notion of "a prophet made a prediction, so it must therefore come true." Scripture does not portray prophecy in this way (implicit conditions are attached everywhere). That is, the prophets of old were fully aware that any intervening historical contingency could radically change the direction of their prediction. Failing to understand this is a failure to understand the very nature and motivation of the prophets themselves. This leads to not only multiple and contradictory interpretations (e.g., dispensationalists versus the rest of the church's dogmaticians throughout history), it also feeds the skeptics' fire, giving them ample cause to fault the biblical texts, however wrongly they may be in so doing.

Consider the following passage, which is obviously conditional, and (Pratt thought) paradigmatic: "'If you have a willing attitude and obey, then you will again eat the good crops of the land. But if you refuse and rebel, you will be devoured by the sword.' Know for certain that Yahweh has spoken" (Isa 1:19–20).

The challenge Pratt wanted to lay before us was simply this: to see that the Old and New Testament predictions are latent with conditions—expressly implied or no. Once we come to terms with how to read the prophets, Christians may no longer misuse them to bolster their arguments for the legitimacy of the New Testament writings—thus inadvertently perpetuating disbelief (e.g., McDowell), and skeptics might no longer waste their breath picking at the text with faulty assumptions. It's give and take, to be sure. But until fervor for Hal Lindsey sags, along with his Left Behind, I suppose that we'll have to practice patience.

Prophecy was often God's way to incite his people to repent (to change the direction they're heading and to follow his way). In the case of a bad omen (i.e., destruction's coming your way), repentance was the condition that had to be met in order for that prediction to be staid. The opposite is equally true: in the case of a good omen, unrepenant wickedness would result in a forfeit of the predicted blessing.

Sound familiar? Let's look at Jeremiah 18:1–10:

"Yahweh said to Jeremiah: 'Go down at once to the potter’s house. I will speak to you further there.' So I went down to the potter’s house and found him working at his wheel. Now and then there would be something wrong with the pot he was molding from the clay with his hands. Then he would rework the clay into another pot as he saw fit. Then Yahweh said to me, 'I, Yahweh, say, "O nation of Israel, can I not deal with you as this potter deals with the clay? In my hands, you, O nation of Israel, are just like the clay in this potter’s hand." There are times, Jeremiah, when I threaten to uproot, tear down, and destroy a nation or a kingdom. But if that nation that I threatened stops doing wrong, I will forgo the destruction I intended to do to it. And there are times when I promise to build up and establish a nation or a kingdom. But if that nation does what displeases me and does not obey me, then I will forgo the good I promised to do to it.'"

According to this text, Yahweh, Israel's covenant Lord, has intentions for the prophecies his prophets utter. The point of them doesn't allow for this static notion that pictures prophets walking around uttering absolute statements about the future. Prophets were emissaries from the heavenly court; their job was to prosecute the covenant. The people knew well enough that if the demanded stipulations were (or were not) met, then the word of the prophet would come to pass accordingly. But what about Deuteronomy 18:17–22? That text refers to the prophets' hearers and their need to discern the intentions of the prophet so they can determine the validity or the falsity of the prophet themselves (more on this to come in part 3).

Update:

• Part 2: You Will Read This (barring any intervening historical contingencies)
• Part 3: Yet 40 Days and You Will Read This
• Conclusion: You Will Read This (unless, of course, you don't)

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Husk and Kernel: The Assembly at Westminster

I've been perusing Bob Letham's new book on the Westminster Assembly, reading portions here and there as items catch my eye. There's all kinds of helpful discussions in it, but I wanted to highlight a few criticisms he makes, mostly because I think they symbolize how helpful this book can be in demythologizing the Westminster Confession. Sometimes one gets the impression that certain confessionalists think the writing simply fell from the sky. This almost always leads to unfortunate hermeneutics.

Yet it is proper, Letham writes, "to attempt to interpret a text in its original context. A striking example of carelessness, of failure to do basic homework, that renders a contextual reading improbable is this extract from the introduction to a recent popular treatment…" (p. 48; Letham then goes on to quote a paragraph from John Gerstner's Guide followed up with a succinct correction). These kinds of correctives are scattered throughout the work. Consider the following about WCF 6 (on humanity and sin) as exegeted by A.A. Hodge in his well-known Handbook: "…neither the Confession nor the Catechisms speak of our first parents being placed on probation…nonetheless, [Hodge] goes to great lengths to expound the idea in his comments on this very point" (198–99). Letham does think, however, that the doctrine can be defended from the Assembly's documents; he's just pointing out sloppy exegesis—"Hodge ignores the text of the Confession at this point and instead expounds his own theology ["Princeton doctrine of the imputation of Adam's sin on the ground of a federal relationship"] as if these words in this section did not exist" (p. 199).

Maybe most importantly, Letham notes on more than one occasion that "Reformed theology was a relatively broad stream, and differences among those swimming in it were recognized and accepted" (p. 84). Indeed, even on the subject of hypothetical universal atonement (!), its "supporters continued to play their part in the Assembly…and were not blackballed for their views. The Assembly was not a partisan body within the boundaries of its generic Calvinism, but allowed differing views to coexist" (182). It seems to me, in light of this, that the authors of the somewhat recent spate of blog posts about what it means to be "truly Reformed" should take note. That is, they should be mindful that subscription to the Confession as is currently understood in contemporary Presbyterianism is just that—contemporary. The Confession was not fashioned for a particular denomination within a societal context of church-state separation; rather, it was intended to unite the realm (England, Scotland and Ireland) and her church. As such, it's a lowest-common-denominator Reformed document with the specific purpose of uniting a bunch of different people, and thus various views on a host of subjects (e.g., covenant of works and hypothetical universal atonement) were tolerated. Now, it may be a non-sequitur to suggest that Reformed folk today ought to follow suit, but at least the burden of proof lies with the strict subscriptionist.

Still, poor assumptions persist. On the one hand, we've got those who continue to suffer under the impression that it's Calvin versus the Calvinists when it comes to the Confession. Letham picks on Torrance a little bit to this end (who regarded the development of covenant theology in the seventeenth century "as a distortion of the earlier, pristine theology of Calvin, Knox, and the Scots Confession"): "Furthermore, [Torrance] imposes on the the Assembly the idea of a controlling central dogma—the dual framework of a covenant of works and a covenant of grace—whereas the idea of central dogmas only emerged in the nineteenth century, among German scholars, and was far from the minds of the Westminster divines" (p. 85).

"On the other hand," Letham writes, "many right-wing Presbyterians today interpret the Westminster Confession in detachment from the history of the Reformed church and its classic confessions. The militant adherents of the hypothesis that the days of creation were of twenty-fours duration are a prime example [Letham footnotes his "In the Space of Six Days," WTJ 61 (1999): 149–74]. Neglect of this context is a barrier to understanding" (p. 85).

At any rate, with the forthcoming publication of the mulitvolume critical edition of the Assembly's minutes (of which Letham had in advance, in the form of Van Dixhoorn's seven-volume Cambridge thesis on this subject), I suppose other works about this will start popping up across the landscape (as perspectives on the Assembly will no doubt be reassessed). If The Westminster Assembly: Reading Its Theology in Historical Context is any indication, this bodes well for those churches who consider themselves heirs of the Assembly and its Confession today.

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