Evangelicals and Catholics: The Pope and the Bible

This was a one page paper for the class Jesus and Hermeneutics at Boston College with Dr. Daniel Harrington S.J. The purpose of the paper was to analyze the Pope’s hermeneutical stance and his treatment of the various epithets of Jesus found in the gospels.

This post is also included in the Evangelicals and Catholics series as a way to disabuse many of my Protestant brethren of (or at least spawn more conversation regarding) the notion that Catholics are not interested in Scripture or scripturally based theological inquiry.

Thesis: While using the historical method, the Pope feels free to move beyond it to theological interpretation, showing the epithets of Jesus to reveal his oneness with God, which has eschatological implications.

Pope Benedict’s hermeneutical stance is one largely shaped by E.D. Hirsch. He praises the historical-critical method and says that it is an indispensable tool[1]. This method can also be seen by his exegetical process in the discussion of the different titles of Jesus. However, he also departs from a purely historical stance and seems to incorporate Ricoeur-like ideas as well. For example, he emphasizes the position that what we have in the gospels is the “‘historical’ Jesus in the strict sense of the word” (xxii). Therefore, he is not interested in getting behind the text to find the “real” Jesus; he emphasizes that what we have is the text (the real Jesus). In addition, reminiscent of Ricoeur’s idea of distanciation he posits that “we can never go beyond the domain of hypothesis, because we simply cannot bring the past into the present” (xvii). The Pope wants to depart from strict historical investigation and move to theological interpretation which he rightly and poignantly admits requires faith (xxiii).

The three epithets which Pope Benedict explores all serve the function of displaying the oneness between Jesus and the Father (homoousios) (320). His exegesis of these three epithets outline the orthodox position: conveying Jesus divinity be association and identification with the Father. In light of the other reading in this course, these titles also convey an eschatological meaning. By using the term “Son of Man,” Jesus reveals his true identity and conceals it in mystery at the same time, analogous to many of his teachings (324). For those who had ears to hear, the loud allusion to Daniel 7 would have carried with it clear eschatological meaning concerning “the coming kingdom of salvation” (327). Pope Benedict provides a great example of this by exploring the story of the paralytic (331). This works well with Wright’s notion of the “inauguration” of the Kingdom. The designation “Son of God” also performs the function of linking Jesus to Father (344), and also brought with it political implications, albeit yet remaining an apolitical system (339). The “I am” statements also “show the inseparability of Father and Son” (348) by screaming in allusion back to the burning bush episode (349). These three titles have roots in OT texts yet are fulfilled in Jesus “as if they had been waiting for him” (354).

[1] Joseph Ratzinger, Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration (trans. Adrian J. Walker; New York: Doubleday, 2007), xvi. (In-text citations from this point on). 
[2] N.T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 191. (In-text citations from this point on).

Can a Text Mean What it Never Meant?

This was a one page paper for the class Jesus and Hermeneutics at Boston College with Dr. Daniel Harrington S.J. The purpose of the paper was to engage two hermeneutical  theorists: E.D. Hirsch, and Paul Ricoeur to see which approach was more helpful in interpreting Jesus.

Thesis: Hirsch’s interpretive approach is more useful for interpreting Jesus because his methodological emphasis on honest historical investigation into the author’s permanent textual meaning gives a stronger foundation for the hermeneutical process.

Can a text mean what it never meant? For Ricoeur, the answer is in the affirmative. Ricoeur is certainly helpful in the way he describes the pathway of the life of a text. In the first stage he sees the discourse-event as immediately causing distanciation.[1] The crux of Ricoeur’s argument comes when discourse is written down, “what the text signifies no longer coincides with what the author meant; textual meaning and psychological meaning have different destinies” (R, 139). The goal of interpretation for Ricoeur then, is the decontextualization and recontextualization into a new situation (R, 139). This is what he calls appropriation, “to make one’s own what was initially alien” (R, 185). For Ricoeur absolute knowledge is impossible making appropriation over the distanciation of the text the only viable hermeneutic (R, 193).

Hirsch, on the other hand, asserts that there can be permanent meaning found in authorial intent. For Hirsch textual meaning does not change over time, therefore it cannot be used “creatively” to propagate a “specific viewpoint.”[2] He rightly points out that if textual meaning is changing, it does not free readers from historicism but “destroys the basis for agreement…and objective study” Of course the question with holding to a permanent textual meaning is: how does appropriation work? Hirsch deals with this by recognizing that even with a permanent meaning, the authorial mind could not have been privy to specific implications (H, 220). Hirsch’s discussion on verification provides the framework in which this hermeneutic would work. He recognizes that the interpreter can never be certain of a correct reading, but that he can show relative probability (H, 235-236) based on the criteria of legitimacy, correspondence, generic appropriateness, and coherence (H, 236-237). While this seems negative, it allows humility on the part of the interpreter to allow for correction from the greater community of interpreters.

[1]. Paul Ricoeur, “The Hermeneutical Function of Distanciation” and “Appropriation” in Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences (ed. J. B. Thompson; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 132-133. (In-text citations from this point on).

[2]. E.D. Hirsch, Validity in Interpretation (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967), 209-212. (In-text citations from this point on).

Gadamer & Hermeneutical Theory

This was a one page paper for the class Jesus and Hermeneutics at Boston College with Dr. Daniel Harrington S.J. The purpose of the paper was to engage a selection from Gadamer's foundational book on hermeneutics Truth and Method, and to answer the question: How does Gadamer's theory help to explain why there can be different interpretations of Jesus that are faithful to the historical Jesus?

Thesis: Gadamer’s hermeneutical theory helps to explain various (yet still faithful) interpretations of the historical Jesus based on the concept of acknowledged prejudice and fused horizons.

The acknowledgment of the hermeneutical circle is key before engaging in a hermeneutical exercise. The interpreter needs to recognize that he has certain prejudices and fore-meanings that will influence how a text is to be interpreted. Without even knowing it, the fore-meaning can determine the understanding and go unnoticed[1]. Therefore, according to Gadamer, the interpreter needs to recognize that his horizon (of the present), needs to be fused with the horizon of the classical (the text) (258). The hermeneutical process is best accomplished in this intermediate area of horizons (263). This is the hermeneutical circle then, “not formal in nature it is neither subjective nor objective but describes understanding as the interplay of the movement of tradition of the interpreter” (261). Gadamer does not call for a rejection of one’s prejudice and pre-understandings (239), but he does call for a constant questioning (138) and re-questioning which spawns dialectical or true thinking (330).

The hermeneutical process laid out by Gadamer should never (and can never) take place in a vacuum. The example he uses from the legal system helps to shed light on this. The judge or jurist must always be interpreting the law in light of the context of the case at hand. The legal historian, on the other hand, tries to determine its original meaning and application with no legal case before him (293). Likewise, in regard to Jesus, it is important to note that theological interpretations of Jesus are always contextual (the horizon of the interpreter). Various interpretations of Jesus therefore can vary due to the horizon of the interpreter, yet still remain faithful to the historical Jesus, by creating a dialectal relationship with the horizon of the classic text and its effectual history.

[1] Hans-Georg Gadamer, Thruth and Method (New York: Seabury Press, 1975), 138. (In-text citations from this point on).

Evangelicals and Catholics: Post-Catholic Evangelicals

I received a good deal of response from the first post in this series on my personal history with Evangelicalism and Catholicism. One of those responses came in the form of a personal journey from a reader who will remain anonymous. The experience described below represents a large phenomenon that I have witnessed in my experience serving in many churches and ministries over the years. Many Evangelical Christians between the ages of 30-70 are "post-Catholic."

     I grew up Catholic.  I went to Catholic school from grades 1-9, so I was heavily indoctrinated in it.  I became extremely scrupulous even afraid I would go to hell because I ate meat inadvertently on a Friday--the ever present guilt about this and many other issues.

     In college I started to question some of the changes that were being made in the Church--the mass was no longer in Latin, eating meat on Friday was no longer a sin, etc.  I questioned how these tenets could be changed by mere men.

     In a few years, I was teaching third grade and some young students were talking about their church.  I was curious at how excited they were about it, so I asked them.   One of their mothers invited me to Mount Prospect Bible Church.  It was there that I accepted Christ as my personal savior.  It was difficult to let go of some of the indoctrination of the Catholic Church, so I kept what I found edifying about it.

     I feel my spiritual personality was rooted in Catholicism.  I love the mass and what it represents.  It is a contemplative means to worship, and I do like that sometimes.

     I have Catholic friends who are passionate about their faith, even more disciplined about worshiping than many "Protestants" friends.

     Every year I desire to go to the Stations of the Cross, and somehow I don't go.  These depict the crucifixion and the journey Christ made.  I remember even as a little girl weeping through those as I saw the injustice of Christ being tortured. It was not thoroughly explained at that time that He did it for me personally.  Maybe this spring I will go and take part in that ceremony to be reminded of what sin costs.

     I feel I am both Catholic and Protestant--a Christian.  I take from both religions what I need to continue my pilgrimage.

This testimony certainly brings a lot of issues out for discussion: "Catholic guilt," catechesis, authority of the Church, etc. But my question is:

Why do many feel the need to leave the Catholic communion for 20th/21st century Evangelicalism.
And what are the implications?

Lest we start Catholic-bashing, there is an equally intriguing phenomenon of modern Evangelical Christians leaving the ranks of Evangelicalism to seek out more "high church," contemplative traditions including Catholic, Anglican, and Orthodox traditions.

I hope that anyone reading this post who has experienced one of the spiritual migrations would critically reflect on these issues comment respectfully.

NT Wright ~ Jesus as Prophet

This was a one page paper for the class Jesus and Hermeneutics at Boston College with Dr. Daniel Harrington S.J. The point was to compare the two different presentations of Jesus as a prophet as set fourth by E.P. Sanders in Jesus and Judaism and by N.T. Wright in Jesus and the Victory of God.

Thesis: Because of a more comprehensive methodology, Wright more adequately presents Jesus as an eschatological prophet who inaugurated the Kingdom. The presuppositions of both Sanders and Wright certainly show through in each of their presentations of Jesus as a prophet. Sanders’ “historian’s” view seems reductionistic and lifeless,[1] while Wright’s position of faith presents a more orthodox understanding. However, even with their various presuppositions, Wright presents a more methodologically sound picture. Sanders’ fixation on Jesus’ actions in the temple is a cause for concern. While it is certainly very important in the life of Jesus, and John starts with this action (though Sanders only mentions this in passing), should this be the starting and central point for the interpretation of Jesus as prophet, as he says? (S, 61) Wright, on the other hand, evaluates other aspects of Jesus’ ministry (e.g. parables, mighty works, etc.) The merit in Sanders’ position lies in his rejection of Jesus’ action as “cleansing” (S, 66-69), and that Jesus would not have called for doing away with sacrifice (S, 64) though the wholesale jettisoning of “den of robbers” should be questioned. Sanders, rightly sees the symbolic nature of the action as prefiguring the temple’s destruction (S, 70). His ultimate flaw, however, is in advancing his position purely as a historian (S, 327). It seems he wants to psychoanalyze Jesus’ own expectations regarding the new temple to be delivered by God (S, 75) and the rest of the restoration of Israel (S, 226-227). 

Methodologically, Wright seems to draw on more source material (the triple tradition) for his interpretation.[2] What Sanders has low on his list of certainty (S, 326), Wright highlights, namely, Jesus’ words and deeds as displays of the Kingdom. This is seen in Wright’s presentation of Jesus as an “oracular-leadership” prophet. Firstly, Wright rightly discusses the continuation of prophecy in Jesus day and that he modeled his own prophetic ministry after the OT prophets (W, 166-167). Jesus, by combining these two categories of prophets (W, 169), was doing something new. He blended eschatological teachings (parables) with symbolic actions (new exodus, healings, temple, etc.). The parables, for Jesus, were not only teaching tools, but signs of the Kingdom’s inauguration (W, 180-181). The “mighty works” were used by Jesus and seen by his audience as part of the restoration and the inauguration of the Kingdom (W, 191). Ultimately, by “the stories he told and acted out he envisaged his own work as bringing Israel’s history to its fateful climax. He really did believe he was inaugurating the kingdom” (W, 197).

[1]  E. P. Sanders, Jesus and Judaism (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985), 320. (In-text citations from this point on).
[2]  N.T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 165. (In-text citations from this point on).

Jesus as a Wisdom Teacher

This was a one page paper for the class Jesus and Hermeneutics at Boston College with Dr. Daniel Harrington S.J. The point was to compare the two different presentations of Jesus as a Wisdom teacher as set fourth by Burton L. Mack, The Lost Gospel: The Book of Q & Christian Origins and Ben Witherington, Jesus the Sage: The Pilgrimage of Wisdom.

Thesis: Because Witherington is more comprehensive in his methodology, he explicates a more adequate interpretation of Jesus as a wisdom teacher and eschatological prophet.


The immediate and striking difference between Mack and Witherington, aside from their conclusion, is their methodology. Mack’s championed value is found in searching for the earliest stratum of Q to get to the earliest picture of Jesus, while Witherington values the picture of Jesus found in the plurality of sources. Mack’s critique of the modern conception of what a cynic was is commendable [1] and his comparisons between Jesus and the cynic philosophers are intriguing (M, 115-119). This conclusion about Jesus is ultimately flawed. Reaching into the stratum of Q, while speculative, is a worthwhile exercise to aid interpretation. However, this task cannot paint a complete picture of Jesus. Just because material is early does not allow us to see a “complete essence of Jesus.” Likewise, other material in Q and the rest of the gospel tradition is not necessarily inaccurate. The rejection of the Kingdom as apocalyptic to cohere with Greco-Roman understandings of kingdom (M, 126) removes Jesus and the Kingdom sayings from their Jewish context. Indeed, equating him with a cynic philosopher does that wholesale. Ironically, Mack asserts that properly understanding the cynic philosophers is to see them as counterparts to the Hebrew prophets (M, 114). It seems that is a better starting ground for Jesus anyway.


Witherington’s portrait of Jesus as an eschatological prophet is more methodologically sound. Unlike Mack, Witherington is careful to keep Jesus in his Jewish context comparing Jesus’ sayings and parables to other Jewish wisdom traditions, “[the sayings] can be explained on the hypothesis that Jesus presented himself as a Jewish prophetic sage [drawing] on the…traditions, especially prophetic, [and apocalyptic]” [2]. Witherington also sees the need to implement the whole gospel tradition, not just Q, and to try to uncover the author’s meaning (W, 150) The authors’ and Jesus’ use of wisdom teaching then, provides the audience daily life comparisons to the “in-breaking dominion” (W, 164). Jesus’ takes various positions (positive or negative to the various subjects of the wisdom teaching (regarding traditional values) insofar as they meet his eschatological needs (W, 164). Ultimately, Witherington’s interpretation of Jesus is more adequate to explain the wide variety of data (W, 208).

[1] Burton L. Mack, The Lost Gospel: The Book of Q & Christian Origins (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993), 114. (In-text citations from this point on).

[2] Ben Witherington, III, Jesus the Sage: The Pilgrimage of Wisdom (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994), 158. (In-text citations from this point on).

Evangelicals and Catholics: Introduction to a New Series

I have always been interested in the relationship between Catholics and Evangelicals; and on the larger scale between the Catholic Church, and the various forms of Protestantism. From a very early age I was very ecumenically minded (developmentally appropriate for what ecumenism means to an 8 year old, of course). I remember one day while playing at friend’s house, one of the kids in our group asked my friend, “What religion are you?” “Protestant.” He responded. I found myself very confused. I had never heard the word “Protestant” before. I knew he occasionally attended our church, and my mother and his were longtime friends. And I knew what religion I was: I was a Christian! I was surprised that he did not answer with “Christian.” I think we spent the next few minutes arguing over whether he as a Protestant or a Christian. This story of course shows both of our youthful theological naiveté, and I think my mom cleared up the confusion when I got home, but from then on I remember being fascinated by all the different brands and flavors of Christianity, and how it is still all Christianity.

One of my sets of grandparents was Catholic. I remember attending mass with them and my mom sometimes when they came to visit us, or when we went to visit them. We still went even though my mom was no longer a practicing Catholic. I remember one particular instance as the congregation was preparing to celebrate the Eucharist my mother gave me a quick 1 minute catechesis crash course. I had never taken communion in Catholic Church before; I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know that according to official position of the (Catholic) Church I wasn’t supposed to take communion. So like any good boy, I did what my mom told me to do. She told me to cup my hands and when the priest put the wafer in my hand and said, “the Body of Christ” to say “Amen.” And that is how I took my first communion (in the Catholic Church anyway). The incident set me on a long road comparing and contrasting the two branches of Christianity.

In high school, I became friends with a girl who was a devout Catholic. Throughout those years I continued to consider the differences, similarities, strengths and weaknesses of both Catholicism and Protestantism. Together we started and led an ecumenical morning prayer and bible study group at our high school. In college, I began the long road of my formal theological training, studying church history gave me a historical framework for dealing with these issues. Catholic-Protestant discussions were a common theme at Gordon, inside and outside of the classroom. During this time also, one of my college friends was thinking about “converting” from Protestantism to Catholicism. While in seminary, I had an opportunity to work for a ministry that did many programs in a Catholic parish, including leading their confirmation programs. Imagine an evangelical teaching Youth Alpha to 50 Catholic teens as part of their confirmation requirement! Now, I am pursuing a Master of Theology with a concentration in biblical studies at Boston College, a Catholic institution. To the amazement of many Protestants, Catholics actually do read their bibles!

The relationship between Catholics and Protestants and their respective faith communities has always been am interest of mine. Therefore, I am starting a new series on this blog to think about and dialogue through some of these issues. I look forward to the results!

Is the Quest for the Historical Jesus Historically Possible? Is it Theologically Necessary?

This was a one page paper for the class Jesus and Hermeneutics at Boston College with Dr. Daniel Harrington S.J. Along with answering the above question, interaction was required with selections from Schubert M. Ogden's The Point of Christology, and John P. Meier, A Marginal Jew.

Thesis: Insofar as we have appropriately defined it, the quest for the historical Jesus is both historically possible and theologically necessary.

“If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins” (1 Cor. 15:17). This statement by Paul shows the theological necessity of grounding Christology in history. The need for a historical resurrection goes beyond the existential gleanings from vague “Christian-kerygma.”[1] As Ebeling put it, “if faith in him were shown to be a misunderstanding…the ground would be taken out from under Christian faith" (In Ogden, 50). Defining “historically possible” is important. Meier rightly highlights the distinction between the “real” Jesus, which, as with any historical figure, cannot be fully realized, and the “reasonably complete” Jesus, which is historically achievable.[2] The issue of sources, methodology, and historiography are thus to the fore. Contrary to Ogden’s position (Ogden, 54), the sources, primarily the four canonical gospels, do present an accurate depiction of Jesus, albeit laconic and with various theological emphases. Of course the intent of all of the gospel narratives was theological rather than purely historical, however, theologizing within a gospel account does not categorically discredit its historicity. In regard to the methodology of criteria: because of the extreme diversity of opinion among scholars regarding the use, primacy, and limits of the various criteria, it is safe to conclude that they cannot guarantee a pericope as either authentic or inauthentic; they can serve merely as helpful pointers that increase likelihood of authenticity. When they are used too stringently, however, they are limiting and exclusive. The use of criteria must be “more of an art than a science” (Meier, 184).

The philosophy of our collective historiography needs to be examined. Ogden rightly distinguishes between minimalist/maximalist (Ogden, 115), and a healthy middle ground seems to do a scholar well. However, Bultmann’s wholesale minimalist skepticism is most unhelpful, “we can know almost nothing concerning…Jesus” (In Meier, 28). At some point, there needs to be some level of trust in our documents that while theological are also historical. If this trust does not exist, we should not even bother with history, but the greater loss would be a futile faith.

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[1] Schubert M. Ogden, The Point of Christology (San Francisco; Harper & Row, 1982), 51. (In-text citations from this point on).

[2] John P. Meier, A Marginal Jew (New York; Doubleday, 1991), 24. (In-text citations from this point on).