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Biblical Foundations Book Awards Finalist No one reads the Bible without some interpretive principles, or hermeneutics, in place. The question every student of Scripture needs to ask, then, is this: Are your interpretive principles and methods legitimate and ethical? In this accessible introduction to biblical hermeneutics, Nicholas G. Piotrowski presents an approach that explores three layers of context: literary, historical, and christological. Because no text exists in the abstract, interpreters must seek to understand a passage's ecology: the flow and argument of the entire biblical book, the world of the original author and audience, and the movement of redemptive history that culminates in the person and work of Jesus Christ. Careful interpretation is both a science and an art, Piotrowski argues, and it has powerful implications for what we believe and how we apply God's Word. Featuring numerous examples, further reading lists, and a glossary, In All the Scriptures equips students, pastors, and thoughtful readers to build a solid foundation for interpreting the Bible.
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To my students and colleagues at
Indianapolis Theological Seminary,
for the glory of God and the good of the church
MUCH OF THE LITERATURE ABOUThermeneutics that has been produced over the last fifty years or so has focused on how the philosophical position of the interpreter determines both the questions being asked about interpretation and the proposed answers. Most hermeneuts would agree that presupposition-less investigation simply does not exist. To suppose that it does is to adopt a self-defeating presupposition.
When our two youngest children saved up to buy the early computers capable of a few games but little more, I was prompted to think about the advantages of word processors. It was a new world with a new language to adapt to. I learned a new anagram GIGO (garbage in, garbage out) as a principle that applied to computer programs. Of course, the reverse also applied: good stuff in, good stuff out.
As I began to read about various ways of interpreting the Bible, I realized that everyone should recognize that they approach the biblical text with certain already formed ideas about its nature and importance. I count myself blessed to have come to faith and been nurtured within the predominantly evangelical and Reformed ethos of the Anglican Diocese of Sydney (Australia). The prevailing theological climate led me to form the conviction that the Bible is the inspired Word of God and is our final authority in all matters of faith and morals. As I matured and especially as I entered a long process of theological studies, I realized more and more that the literature on biblical interpretation, now referred to as hermeneutics, expressed a wide range of presuppositions about the nature of the Bible and its authority. The history of interpretation, going right back to the early second century, demonstrated how the philosophical presuppositions that the reader brought to the task of interpreting the Bible determined the outcome. Whether it was the Greek philosophies of Plato and Aristotle or the humanism of the so-called Enlightenment of the eighteenth century, the philosophical presuppositions of the interpreter determined the outcome: it was indeed a matter of GIGO.
In the light of these few personal notes, it gives me great pleasure to respond to the invitation to provide a foreword to Nicholas Piotrowski’s contribution to the now quite dauntingly extensive literature on general and biblical hermeneutics. So, why another book on hermeneutics, and why should we be pleased? I taught a course on hermeneutics for eighteen years (1995-2012) to fourth-year BD students at Moore College in Sydney. In that time I had to survey the literature as it already existed, and as it emerged in an increasing volume. I found there were two main emphases in the literature: that which expressed the hermeneutics of suspicion or skepticism about biblical authority, and that which emanated from a hermeneutic of faith and confidence in God’s Word.
Many of the earlier works (1940s and 1950s) on hermeneutics by conservative writers concentrated on the practicalities of dealing with the linguistics of the text within the historical contexts of the biblical narrative. In time there was a more conscious blending of evangelical presuppositions with the emergence of biblical theology, Reformed apologetics, and the consequent “big picture” approach to the Bible.
The need for specialization in seminaries has regrettably tended toward a fragmentation of disciplines. In some cases, the Old Testament and New Testament departments rarely talk to each other. It is as if we have two Bibles. How many theological curricula include even a basic course in Biblical Theology as a requirement for all students? I suspect not many. How much does the integrating dynamic of good biblical theology inform the theological hermeneutics of the average seminarian? And, as a consequence of the neglect of such integration, do we not see good expository preaching in the local churches a rarity rather than the general rule?
These convictions and concerns that I have developed over seventy years as a Christian mean that I am more than pleased to commend this present work. This is not just another book on hermeneutics but rather a wake-up call to meet the challenges of the present. It addresses us in a rapidly changing post-Christian world, in a way that covers all the bases for Bible-believing Christians. I commend it for the clarity of its well-ordered content. I commend it for its firm convictions about the inspiration and authority of Scripture. I commend it for the application of evangelical and Reformed presuppositions to the comprehensive range of matters involved in reading ancient texts. I commend it for addressing some of the false trails pursued by both early and more recent interpreters. I commend it for the clear trinitarian and christological dimensions that inform our understanding of the unity and the distinctions between Old and New Testaments, between type and antitype, between prophecy and fulfillment, between the first readers and ourselves, and between the objective gospel of Jesus of Nazareth and the present inner working of the Spirit to connect us with that gospel. If Christ is the only Savior, then he must save our hermeneutics from unbelief and the apostasy of unbiblical philosophical foundations. If he truly is the truth, then he, as he is clothed in his gospel, must teach the truth about the interpretation of his Word. If he truly is the Creator-Word come in the flesh, he must interpret to us the ultimate meaning of everything in this universe, including the Bible.
One of the features that I would expect of a sound evangelical and Reformed text on hermeneutics is the integration of the several theological disciplines that are so often left without clear connection in the theological curricula. The demonstration of the symbiotic relationship of exegesis to biblical, historical, systematic, and pastoral theology, is a feature of this book for which we should be thankful. I would have been greatly enriched to have had such a text when I began theological studies and especially when I was later called on to teach a course in hermeneutics.
ROOSEVELT ONCE SAID, “Be sincere, be brief, and be seated.” But what to do when in one’s sincerity there are so many people to thank? At the risk, therefore, of under-acknowledging the many people to whom I am thankful, I will get to the point. My highest gratitude is to the living Lord, Jesus Christ. Because he is alive, he speaks. And because he speaks, sinners have something to listen closely to and something in which to hope. As the Great High Prophet, he speaks continually through his Spirit-inspired word, and so the very impetus even to care about hermeneutics begins with that truth and the joyful expectation that we will hear the voice of the Good Shepherd calling to us from the Scriptures. I also owe profound gratitude to my wife, Cheryl, and my two boys, Silas and Andreas. The former is a rock of support (and not a little help with grammar!); the latter will be thrilled to see there are indeed pictures in this book.
The mentors from whom I have learned hermeneutics are legion; the reader will see their names throughout this work. Particularly, I want to recognize Dennis Ireland, John Currid, Bill Barcley and Nick Perrin. While I have never met Graeme Goldsworthy, his writings have been very influential for me, and I am deeply thankful for his kind foreword. Specifically for this project, I am very much indebted to the following brothers for reading all or part of this book and providing trenchant feedback: Kris Holroyd, Theron St. John, Noah Debaun, Dane Ortlund, Don Sherman, Evan McNeff, Andy Watkins, Christian Butner, Lucas Johnson and Jonathan Zavodney. Thank you all!
This work began in concept when I was a teacher at the Washington Christian Academy, took definitive shape as I served at Crossroads Bible College, and came to fruition as I today lead Indianapolis Theological Seminary. I am thankful, therefore, to the students, administration and leadership at each of those institutions for their support of me and my publishing pursuits. Many additional people along the way also provided logistical support, prayer and encouragement. Again, each of these brothers and sisters deserves cornucopian recognition, but to stay in good with ol’ FDR, I’ll merely list them here: Bruce Winter, Randy Worland, Dr. Charles Ware, Jeff Holwerda, Josiah Jones, Chris Sarver, Brice Giesbrecht, the library staff at Clear Creek Baptist Bible College, the elders and pastoral staff at Castleview Church, the Northside Baptist Church Wednesday night Bible study group, Rob and Debbie Wingerter as well as Ron and Allison Wingerter at Mahseh Center, Rick and Carla Shadiow, Justin Ware, Susan Albers, Kristine Gilbertson, Lauren Ruark, Josh Wagner and the ITS board.
Of course, I also thank IVP Academic for the privilege to publish with them, and especially Dan Reid and Anna Moseley Gissing for their patience and grace toward me. And finally, I thank you, my reader.
Soli Deo gloria.
THIS IS A BOOK ABOUT CONTEXTS. It is about what we find in the Bible, and where we find ourselves in the world.
Like many, I currently do not work in the field in which I majored in college. I studied biology—ecology to be specific. Ecology is the study of ecosystems, where the focus is not primarily on just the flora or the fauna or the weather or the climate. Rather, the focus is on all these things and more—insofar as they exist together in the same environment and, so, inevitably influence each other.
Take a coastal wetland for example. Specifically, take a particular species of fish living in that wetland. A lot can be learned about the fish when it is extracted from its environment and taken to the lab. That creates a control so that nothing interferes with a careful scientific method. Its age, weight, length, general health, recent meals, and so forth can be studied without distraction. If enough fish are gathered, one can also know something of the entire fish population. But at the same time studying only the fish also inhibits our knowledge of the fish and can even mislead us to think we have thoroughly understood the fish when, in fact, we have not. What about studying the fish’s context as well? Does the fish not live in an environment that affects the fish? And does the fish not equally affect that environment? If we study the fish’s weight and find that many are smaller than expected we still do not know why that is. It is one thing to have data, it is another to interpret the data. It could be that the fish are small because the scientist only caught juveniles. Well, where are the adult fish? It could be that all the fish are small because overpopulation has caused a food shortage. Well, how did that happen? Or there could be other reasons that food is scarce. So, what are those reasons? Is there pollution? A hard winter? An easy winter? A competitor fish? I could go on, but suffice it to say for now that factors outside the fish are playing a key role in affecting the population, and therefore affecting what the scientist sees in an individual fish. Then, to understand those factors one needs to consider weather patterns, recent events in the watershed, changes in temperature both in the long and short term, seawater brought in by tides, currents that flow from thousands of miles always, fresh water from streams and rainfall, severity of recent winters, snowmelt from mountains hundreds of miles away, changes in vegetation, permanent and migrant birds, predators, preys, microbes, runoff from farms, highly populated neighborhoods nearby or popular tourist destinations, pH, algae (I went to college when “red tide” was a particular problem in Maryland). I will stop there. It is dizzying just to think about, let alone try to understand, the seemingly unending matrix of how all these things relate to and affect each other, and then to place the role of the fish into that intricate ecosystem. But difficult or not, to understand the fish one would have to know so much outside of the fish. These are all things the ecologist must consider all at the same time.
While that scientific field is still very fascinating to me, I am not an ecologist. I am a professor of New Testament and hermeneutics. How does one trained in ecology come to teach on interpreting biblical texts? Well, it is not so great a leap actually. Texts exist in contexts too. No text, utterance, or expression ever exists in the abstract, but surrounding every form of communication there are several factors that influence the communiqué. And inversely, the communicator seeks to influence those same factors. The use of language to communicate meaning is shaped by the speaker’s/author’s context as well as a listener’s/reader’s context. The context influences what is said/written and the context directs the listener/reader how to make sense of the speech/writing.
Consider this sentence: “I just couldn’t pass.” It has at least four different meanings depending on who said it, where they said it, to whom they said it, and the reason they said it. Is this a young college student at home talking to his father and explaining why he dropped a class, in the hopes of convincing him nonetheless to keep paying more tuition? Is this a motorist in a car explaining to the passengers why they are still stuck behind a slow-moving truck, and that it is not her fault they are late for the wedding? Is this a basketball player in the locker room explaining to his coach why he turned the ball over, in a subtle attempt to blame his teammates for not getting open? Is this my wife at home explaining to me why she bought an auction item, because I am not convinced we need another set of scrapbook supplies? Each of these different contexts—complete with varying speakers, locations, audiences, and recent events prompting the comment—make “I just couldn’t pass” actually mean entirely different things.
To be sure, this is a simplistic example, and one does not need to read a book on hermeneutics to navigate its potential interpretive diversity. We already have an intuitive sense that language depends on contexts in this way.1 But the simplicity of the example serves the point. If attention to context with such a simple statement opens up several interpretive options, and we already tacitly know the need for attention to context, then how much more attention to context is necessary when we read texts thousands of years old, written in lands thousands of miles away, by people we have never met, in response to historical events we did not experience? I would submit to you that America’s favorite verse, John 3:16, has a meaning shaped by complicated literary, historical, and theological realities beyond the T-shirt or poster where we commonly see it today.
But what are such literary, historical, and theological realities to which the astute Bible reader must attend? The rest of this book is an attempt to teach—as simply as I can—some first principles in such an inquiry that can sharpen your Bible-reading acumen. In other words, this is a book about contexts. And that means it is a book on hermeneutics.
Hermeneutics are the theoretical study of the science and art of how to legitimately and ethically interpret texts. I say it is a science because, as we will see, there is a series of methodological steps to take in arriving at a text’s meaning. But it is also an art insofar as an interpreter needs some imaginative capacities. An interpreter needs intuition. An interpreter needs to see the big picture to make sense of the parts, as well as creativity to assemble the parts into the big picture. Now, to be sure, I do not advocate a fervid imagination, unbound intuition or wild creativity. But the scientific part of hermeneutics and the artistic part must join hands in cooperation while at the same time keeping a watchful eye on each other. The science will make sure the art does not become unguided, and the art will make sure the science does not become mechanical or stale. So where imagination and creativity give way to speculation, a good interpreter can rein it in with scientific responsibility. All that goes to say that there is an element of hermeneutics that simply cannot be taught, but passed on by a kind of elbow knowledge (mentor to disciple) and much experience (we should not be afraid to try, struggle, and receive constructive criticism). So, while this book will focus on the scientific side—the part of the theory that can be delineated in heuristic terms—you should not close the book when you are done and think yourself a master. Much time, experience, trial and error, reading, and rereading with others will make you more the hermeneutical artist throughout your life.
Thus, as a science and an art, hermeneutics concerns how to legitimately interpret texts. I am sure you can think of an example in your life (maybe even recently) when you left a Bible study or sermon scratching your head and asking, “Is that what that passage is really about?” Sometimes it is easy for teachers and preachers to see things in the text that are not really there. Too much art! Well, we want to come away from our reading of Scripture with confidence that we have understood the main idea. If we have a hermeneutical practice that is theoretically well grounded then we will not only have confidence ourselves, but if we ever teach our interpretation to others they will be convinced from the text. They will not say, “She sounded smart!” or “Wow, he’s clever.” Rather they will say, “I am convinced because I can see how the text should be read, and this is a valid conclusion.” That is what we want at the end of the day: to understand and communicate the truth of God’s Word.
This leads me to the last point of our definition. Hermeneutics is about how to ethically interpret texts. As creatures who are insatiably social, we like to share our ideas with others. Whether we preach, teach, or just chat, we like to share what we see in the Scriptures. Therefore, if our hermeneutic leads us to erroneous conclusions, we will most likely pass that error on to others. And if we convince others of our error, then we are leading them astray as well (see Jas 3:1-2)! We will be functionally lying about God. Thus, “Bad interpretation is bad.”2 Additionally, we need to remember that we are dealing with other people’s words. When we interpret Micah, for example, we need to bear in mind that we are handling Micah’s intellectual property. How do you feel when someone repeats what you said and puts a bogus spin on it? I am sure you are, like everyone else, quick to say, “That’s not what I meant!” You do not like being misrepresented; you do not like interpreters treating you unethically. Words, sentences, and paragraphs are wonderful inventions given by God to those created in his image, and they are able to convey precise ideas. It is those precise ideas that the interpreter owes to the author to get right.3
Thus, hermeneutics is the theoretical study of the science and art of how to legitimately and ethically interpret texts. What that theory should look like, then, is the primary burden of this book.
I have taught a lot of classes at the high school, college, and seminary levels, as well as in churches. Hands down, hermeneutics is the most important one. And while students are not as enthusiastic about taking Hermeneutics at first—as they are with topics like New Testament or apologetics—by the end of the class they often tell me it was their favorite course and/or the most impactful course they have taken. This is because throughout the course it occurs to them, little by little, what effect careful attention to hermeneutics can play on their reading, interpretation, devotions, personal life, and ministry. I hope the same will happen to you as you move through the following pages. All the same, allow me to present a few reasons why studying hermeneutics is so important.
I will start with the negative side. If we do not study hermeneutics, we will create “God” in our own image. Everyone has a conception of what they think God is like. From our culture, upbringing, and experience, everyone has fashioned some notion of God in their mind (even atheists). It is inevitable. The question of God is too culturally pervasive for us not to have some inclination of what he or she or it is like (or what kind of god does not exist) before we ever read a single verse of the Bible, Torah, Qur’an, Veda, or anything else. If we do not pay attention to how we are reading and interpreting, then we will simply read these preconceived notions into the text. That is, what we already think about God will influence how we read, sometimes so much so that we only see what we already think about God! J. I. Packer, in his famous Knowing God, says the second commandment—the prohibition against idolatry—forbids not only graven images, but also false mental images. He says idolatry happens not only when we have false gods before our eyes, but also when we have false ideas of the true God in our minds. In those cases we are not thinking of God as he truly is. And what do we call a conception of God that is untrue? We call it idolatry.4 If we do not pay attention to how we are getting our knowledge about God—our hermeneutical approach to the Scriptures—we will then default to our preconceived notions of God, read them into the text, and then come away thinking we have understood God but really only reinforced our initial idolatry. More on this and how to counter it in chapters one and two.
Second, if we do not study hermeneutics, we will miss important things in the text. This is related to the first problem. If we think we are seeing things in a passage that are not truly there, then we will also miss what is there. When we misinterpret, we not only come away with wrong ideas, but we also squander an opportunity to gain a right understanding. We miss the voice of God in the Bible for the static of our confused hermeneutic. Moreover, there is an “historical gap” between us and the original authors, readers, and their contexts. Above, I mention that contexts shaped their writing (thousands of years ago) and our reading (thousands of years later). Well, how much should our context affect the reading of their texts? I would argue as little as possible. But in order to minimize the influence of our contemporary situation on reading ancient books, we need to know a bit of their historical context. We need to cross this historical gap and imaginatively situate ourselves in their world. If we cannot do that, then we will again miss important things in the text.
Third, if we do not study hermeneutics we will never have a consistent theology. Compare Romans 4 and James 2. It appears that Paul and James are saying exactly opposite things! Or compare Psalm 137 and Matthew 5:38-48. Again, are the psalmist and Jesus contradicting each other? Well, the issues are hermeneutical in all of these cases. Yet, if we do not know how a legitimate and ethical hermeneutic can steer us between these texts, then we will not know how to handle either within a consistent theological system. Instead, we will simply populate our minds with our favorite “life verses” that are easy for us to handle and basically ignore what the rest of the Bible contributes to developing our worldviews. Our theology will remain an inch deep and never fill out with the full counsel of God.
Fourth and finally, if we do not study hermeneutics, our use of texts could be unethical. To be sure, some texts of Scripture are so clear that very little reading sophistication is necessary. And in some cases we could stumble upon the right meaning even if our hermeneutic is underdeveloped. But instinct and chance will only get us so far. The majority of our interpretations will miss the mark. Then, insofar as we want also to apply the Scriptures, if we do not arrive at a legitimate meaning of the text, we will apply wrong principles to life. In turn, we will teach others to apply wrong principles as well, and ministries of confusion are unwittingly propagated. I am sure you have heard of those who have bombed abortion clinics. I would argue that in each case lies an unethical hermeneutic. It is one thing to be pro-life; it is another to kill under that banner. Why do people take such terribly sinful (not to mention clearly contradictory) actions? While the motivations of people can rarely be reduced to one cause, I would argue that those persons were probably taught by someone else. They often have “chapter and verse” to justify their actions. Thus, someone in their past had an irresponsible and unethical hermeneutic and directed them along sinful paths.
If we do study hermeneutics, on the other hand, then we can run these four dangers in reverse. If we do study hermeneutics we will develop legitimate reading practices that result in knowing God better through the Scriptures as we repent of our mistaken assumptions about God, toppling the idols of our hearts. If we do study hermeneutics we will become more adept at making key observations in our study and overcome the gap between the biblical world and our own. If we do study hermeneutics we will increasingly move toward a consistent theology. And if we do study hermeneutics we will lead ourselves and others into ethical application. All of this, I would argue, glorifies our Creator and Savior, edifies the church, and results in a cogent worldview to fuel our lives and evangelism.
Everyone does have a hermeneutic. No one reads without some principles in place. The question is simply this: Is your hermeneutic legitimate and ethical? Taking the time to consider some hermeneutical theory will go a long way in helping you mend the defective parts of your reading practices and hone your interpretive skills with the confidence that you know what you are doing and why.
On the first day of class I love asking my students what they think Ephesians 2:14 means: “For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility.” As they make interpretive comments I list them on the board. Invariably the most common interpretations amount to this: Jesus made peace between us and the Father because he has removed our sin. In this interpretation “he himself” refers to Christ, and the “both” are God and sinners. Thus the “peace” is the creation of a relationship between God and us. The peace is needed because sin had created “the dividing wall of hostility” between God and us. This is a wonderful thought. The problem is that it is wrong on almost every level! Ephesians 2:14 does not mean that at all. The idea is true in and of itself: our sin has created hostility between God and us, and Jesus has made peace. Praise the Lord! But that comes from Romans 5:1, not Ephesians 2:14! We seem to have here a case of the right doctrine from the wrong text. My students have taken their already well-conceived theology and pasted it over Ephesians 2:14. Now you may ask, “What’s the problem, then, if they still arrive at correct doctrine?” The problem is not what it affirms—Jesus made peace between God and sinners—but what it overlooks. If we simply import our prior theology into Ephesians 2 then we do not glean what Ephesians 2 is really about. And in that case, why read the Bible at all?
So, what is Ephesians 2:14 about? In this book I advocate a hermeneutical approach that explores three layers of context: literary context, historical context, and christological context. Allow me to illustrate.
The literary context. The Bible is not a collection of pithy one-liners. Rather it is a collection of whole books. To understand any part of a book, the scope of the entire discourse must be considered. Authors wrote down entire arguments, and there is a flow of thought running from the first verse to the last verse of any book. It is the interpreter’s job to discern that flow of thought in the text, paying careful attention to what any given verse or passage contributes to the larger whole. Too often, our Bible reading amounts to dislodging our favorite verses or stories from that flow of thought. The downside to this is never to grasp the larger point of the whole book, which is the author’s point in writing. I will detail more of what I mean by flow of thought and how to discern it in chapters three and seven.
For now, what happens to our interpretation when we zoom out a bit and read Ephesians 2:14 within its immediate literary context? Ephesians 2:11-22 reads:
Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands—remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.
Do you notice in verses 11-12 the gulf that historically separated Israel and Gentiles? Then verse 13 delivers this beautiful line: “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.” Thus, the “both” of verse 14 is Israel and Gentiles, and the “peace” is between these two groups. “He himself” is certainly Christ, but attention to verse 13 tells us how he created that peace: by his blood. So we do not just have some vague notions of Christ that can be gleaned from anywhere, but a particular emphasis on what he has done as indicated uniquely in Ephesians 2:14.
And still the passage goes on. Verse 15 emphasizes the unity of all believers, Israelite and Gentile. Then verse 16 indeed reminds us of our reconciliation with God (as in 2:1-10), but the main point now is that “both” have that peace with God and so also with each other. The reason for this is given in verse 18: there is only one Spirit whereby we “both” have access to God. Finally, verses 19-22 drive this home with phrases like “fellow citizens,” “members of the household of God,” and “the whole structure is joined together” as a crescendo to this glorious reconciliation to the one God, through the one Spirit, by the one Christ, forming one people. All this is crucial in the larger point of Ephesians 1–3 where Paul is reflecting on the glory of God’s purposes in creating a single worshiping people out of all fallen humanity. This will pay out in Ephesians 4–6 as Paul applies such ideals to practical life issues.
The historical context. But what is that “dividing wall of hostility” in verse 14? Is it sin? Well, in addition to the literary context, the interpreter must also know something about the conceptual environment in which Paul and the Ephesians lived. If I said to you, “You need to step up to the plate,” would you know what I mean? If you are an American, I am sure you would. I mean you need to take some responsibility and do your best. Maybe I will also say, “You need to hit it out of the park.” Again, if you are an American you will understand that means you need to succeed in whatever this responsibility is. But if you are from most other parts of the world you are scratching your head right now. This is because I have used baseball metaphors. While baseball and its slang pervade American vernacular (“drop the ball,” “toss you a softball,” “three strikes and y’er out,” “under the tag”), it has not infiltrated other English-speaking parts of the world. We must know baseball first (or be around others enough who do), then we can know the meaning of these terms. It is an issue of historical and cultural awareness.
Equally, Paul wrote to audiences he believed would understand him. So he used language as common to them as baseball is to (some of) us. He used the language of the temple. But we live in an entirely different day and age. Of course a lot of nuance can get lost in between. I take up these sorts of considerations in chapters four and seven.
For now, what happens to our understanding of Ephesians 2:14 when we attend to some historical context? A less known book (to us) called 1 Maccabees says, at 9:54 (RSV), “In the one hundred and fifty-third year, in the second month, Al’cimus gave orders to tear down the wall of the inner court of the sanctuary. He tore down the work of the prophets!” What is 1 Maccabees? It recounts some of the events about 160 years before the birth of Christ. Who is Al’cimus? Well, what matters here is that he is not particularly liked by this author. Look what he tried to do: “He tore down the work of the prophets!” The prophets are good, so tearing down their work is bad. What did he do to tear down their work? He “gave orders to tear down the wall of the inner court of the sanctuary.” Why is that so bad? That is the wall in the temple precinct beyond which Gentiles could not pass. It created a permanent barrier between Gentiles and Jews, and also between Gentiles and God. The temple was understood as the place where God dwells, where God hears prayers, where God forgives sins, and where God receives worship. According to the author of 1 Maccabees, the Old Testament prophets say to keep that wall and that separation in place. But did they really?
It seems Paul disagrees! Whatever Al’cimus’s motives were, or this author’s opinion of it, matters not. Our attention to 1 Maccabees is just a foray into some of the vernacular of Paul’s time. The issue in Ephesians 2:14 is that Paul says Christ “has broken down . . . the dividing wall!” Christ has opened up the access for Gentiles to come to God and so “you who once were far off [Gentiles] have been brought near [into the presence of God] by the blood of Christ” (v. 13)! Thus, the “law of commandments expressed in ordinances” (v. 15) which had kept Gentiles distant from Israel and from Israel’s God (the “wall of separation”) is now gone. Access to God requires them not. For “in Christ” (v. 13), “by the blood of Christ” (v. 13), “in his flesh” (v. 14), “in himself” (v. 15) all the requirements are met for “both,” Israelite and Gentile, to “have access in one Spirit to the Father” (v. 18). Comparing Paul to 1 Maccabees, therefore, brings out some of the punch of Ephesians 2:14.
Still, are there not a lot of walls in the world? Why should we think Ephesians 2:14 speaks of a temple wall as in 1 Maccabees 9? Lo and behold, the literary context is still helpful. Verses 19-22 culminate exactly there, calling this new united-in-Christ-household-of-God “a holy temple in the Lord.” Thus, the literary and historical contexts actually team up and help each other.
The christological context. Yet there is more. To call the united-in-Christ-household-of-God “a holy temple in the Lord” is a beautiful image. But what does it mean? What good does it do for Christians to think of their unity in Christ in terms of a temple? Again—as with the verse in question (Eph 2:14), and the author and first audience (Paul and the Ephesian Christians)—the book of Ephesians does not exist in the abstract. The entire book of Ephesians also has a particular context: the full canon of Scripture. The lifeblood of everything written before Ephesians, and recognized by Paul as Scripture, is flowing into Ephesians. Paul does not grab temple language out of thin air, but the temple (as well as the tabernacle before it) towers like a mountain over the entire Old Testament. What it means there is now pouring into Ephesians here. How such canonical themes weave in and out from book to book—and so develop, flow and climax in Christ—is the focus of chapters five, six, and seven of this book.
Let us now think of how this impacts our reading Ephesians 2. There are a lot of places we could look in the Old Testament for some insight into the temple’s role in the canon, but I think the best place to look is at its inauguration in 1 Kings 8. There we are told that the ark of the covenant is present (8:1-9) and the glory cloud of the Lord fills the house (8:10-13). The significance of this is then recited in Solomon’s prayer and blessing (8:14-61). We see there that the temple marks the fulfillment of God’s promises (8:15-21, 24, 56), a manifestation of God’s presence on earth (8:12-13, 27-30, 57), the place where God hears prayer (8:30, 32, 34, 36, 39, 43, 45, 49), the place where God judges and forgives sin (8:30-40, 46-50), the place where his people find strength and compassion (8:44-45, 50-52), the means by which the entire earth will know that he alone is the true and living God (8:23, 41-43, 60), and a motivation for holiness (8:40, 53, 61). My goodness! If the temple meant all that, just imagine how horrible it was when Nebuchadnezzar “burned the house of the LORD” in 2 Kings 25:9. What a loss!
Back to Ephesians 2:11-22. What is Paul doing calling Christians “a holy temple in the Lord”? Those are not small words! He is saying that the universal church of Christ is the locus today where God is doing all those things mentioned above. The creation of the church marks the fulfillment of God’s promises. The church is where God manifests his presence on earth. The church is the place of prayer, and God hears those prayers. The church is the place where the judgment laid on Christ is applied for the forgiveness of sins. The church is the community that dispenses the encouragement and compassion of the Lord. The church is called to manifest the holiness of God. And the church—if it lives this way—will shine as a beacon of God’s glory and grace into the darkness.
Now I would venture that most of us certainly do not view the church that way! Much less does the unity of the church weigh so heavily on our hearts. When we attend, however, to the literary, historical, and christological contexts of Ephesians 2:14 we see this magnificent vision! We could walk away thinking Ephesians 2:14 is just a Romans 5:1 reprisal, but in so doing we would have missed all this. So the Scriptures have taught, motivated, convicted, and challenged us in a way that is missed when we read too quickly or treat the Bible as a collection of pithy one-liners snatched out of their contexts and dropped into unrelated application. Paul did not write Ephesians 2:14 to stand alone. He wrote all of Ephesians. And he wrote it in a particular historical setting, with a specific Christ-exalting agenda. We do well to read it as such.
Admittedly, I set my students up. I give them just one verse and ask them about that one verse. The project is ready-made for failure. But I do this project with them because such single-verse, what-does-your-first-instinct-tell-you kind of reading is common in our time. Moreover, when we are prone to reading our otherwise good theological maxims into texts, we get a flat theology and truncated worldview that cannot deal with the complications of our world today. Careful hermeneutics, therefore, gives us a round and expansive theology, one that can fully form a worldview sufficient to navigate ever changing cultural tides—not just a collection of common theological quips and favorite verses spread too thin over all of life.
As mentioned above, hermeneutics is the theoretical study of the science and art of how to legitimately and ethically interpret texts. Exegesis is, then, the hands-on appropriation of such theory. This book is intentionally light on exegesis. The primary focus is on the theoretical underwriting of the exegetical process—hermeneutics. “Whereas exegesis and interpretation denote the actual process of interpreting texts, hermeneutics also includes the second-order discipline of asking critically what exactly we are doing when we read, understand, or apply texts” (emphasis original).5 Obviously there is a tight relationship between these disciplines. They are like dance partners, requiring an intuitive give and take. But in this book, I should be clear: we are focusing primarily on just one of the dancers—the lead dancer, hermeneutics. While hermeneutics alone will be merely esoteric musing without truly digging into texts, nonetheless exegesis is unguided and (as I will argue in the first chapter) the slave of contemporary philosophical trends when the hermeneutical rationale is evacuated. Thus, comments on exegesis, as well as exegetical examples, will dot the pages along the way, but they serve only an illustrative purpose. The student should not close this book after reading it and believe they have explored all there is in the interpretive process. All this goes to say, this is a starter book. This book provides the hermeneutical pathways that the student will want to explore in a life-long journey of honing one’s exegetical skills.
This book also does not say much about homiletics, the rhetorical art of public teaching. It merely starts the learning process of how to understand biblical texts, not necessarily how to communicate them. This is important to remember lest readers think there is a straight line between what is read and what is said. Homiletics is an equally challenging field and teachers will want to think deeply (and seek guidance from others and gain a lot of experience) about the distance from the study to the pulpit.6
Finally, I will not have too much to say on application. To be sure, application to our hearts and lives is necessary, the final goal of all of this. But it is just that, the final goal. Good application comes when historical and systematic theology are stacked on the sure building blocks of exegesis and biblical studies.7 And all that, of course, is laid on a solid foundation of hermeneutics. So, first things first. In this book I want to give as much focus to just hermeneutics as possible, as a first step on the intellectual journey toward sound application. Chapter eight, therefore, will have a brief word on some application pathways, but of course only after we have rounded the hermeneutical bases.
In sum, this book has a modest goal: the theoretical-philosophical foundation to reading the Bible. But to be sure, it is an important goal to pursue. Hermeneutics must ground exegesis. And exegesis must direct homiletics. And, finally, homiletics have for nearly 2,000 years guided the church (and will continue to do so) into its ethical behavior in the world, including its worship and witness. Thus if our hermeneutics are bad, then the entire Christian ministry is off-kilter from its foundation. It is a singular target, but one we cannot afford to miss.
This book is intended for anyone who wants to read their Bible better and come away with more legitimate and ethical interpretations. It is particularly urgent that ministers of the word—pastors, missionaries, counselors, etc.—think about their hermeneutic as a regular habit of life. My hope, therefore, is that those early in their theological training will pick up this book. I hope it is useful to those in undergraduate Bible and religion programs, as well as for those preparing for seminary. It is written, therefore, at that level. I do also hope that pastors would read this work and even walk their church leaders through it. May it help them either remember some forgotten principles or challenge them to think in some new ways. Finally, any motivated layperson should benefit as well.8
I often tell my students that the goal of a theological education is never to make one haughty. The last thing I want is my students to sit in the pew on Sunday mornings, arms crossed and brow furrowed as they think to themselves, Sheesh, this guy needs to take a hermeneutics course! While knowledge can puff up, it need not and should not. It should result in humility, knowing that there is nothing we have that is not given to us. Praise the Lord. Instead, studying hermeneutics should help us to go deeper in our study and come away with a bigger vision of God and smaller view of ourselves.
Also, a theological education gives you the chance to think about how you will carry out your ministry. When we do not take time to reflect on what is best and what is wise, then we simply copy the methods of others, learned through osmosis. Hermeneutics is, then, the first step for ministers-in-training to ask, “What am I doing, and why?” How Word-centered will your ministry be? How carefully will you attend to the Word? My prayer is that this book will help you think about such matters early and often, and in the right way.
Finally, as you study the Scriptures the Holy Spirit will convict you, exhort you, teach you, and comfort you as he conforms you more and more into the image of Christ. As he inspired the biblical authors to write, he will also illumine your mind to understand, especially when you read prayerfully and carefully—which is exactly the aim of hermeneutics.
Doriani, Daniel M. Getting the Message: A Plan for Interpreting and Applying the Bible. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 1996. I could point to several quality books on the how-to of exegesis. This book is exceptionally helpful for English Bible readers. Doriani’s method is clear and achievable, and he provides a lot of insightful examples.
Helm, David. Expositional Preaching: How We Speak God’s Word Today. 9Marks Building Healthy Churches Series. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2014. This work provides a very helpful summary of the path from Bible interpretation, through theology, to practical ministry. The chapter on exegesis is particularly useful.
Brown, Jeannine K. Scripture as Communication: Introducing Biblical Hermeneutics. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007. This is a very helpful book that brings a lot of sophisticated philosophical considerations to a more accessible level.
DeRouchie, Jason S. How to Understand and Apply the Old Testament: Twelve Steps from Exegesis to Theology. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2017.
McCartney, Dan, and Charles Clayton. Let the Reader Understand: A Guide to Interpreting and Applying the Bible. 2nd ed. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2002. This work is very strong on the redemptive-historical considerations in the hermeneutical task (what I call in the rest of this book “the christological context”).
Naselli, Andrew David. How to Understand and Apply the New Testament: Twelve Steps from Exegesis to Theology. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2017. I recommend this book and DeRouchie’s because they appreciate the building process from one theological discipline to another as mentioned above, all the while driving the interpreter back to exegesis. I put these books under “For Advanced Study” because DeRouchie and Naselli work much out of the original biblical languages; otherwise the books are very accessible.
READING THE BIBLE IS LIKE looking into water. If you have ever stood on the bank of a pond and looked down, you surely noticed two things. For one, you could dimly see into the water and vaguely make out the plants and fish. But also, you saw yourself and the luminous sky above. That combination of the contents of the pond together with the reflection of you and your world delivers this poignant message: you are a part of this ecosystem now. Your presence impacts it. And that affects what you see. It is hard to see past your reflection. But it is possible.
In this chapter I will lay out a concise history of biblical hermeneutics with particular attention to the way interpreters have tried to move from the meaning in the text to its relevance and application in their times. William Yarchin comments that “much of the history of biblical interpretation concerns the question of referentiality in the Bible: to what extent are the texts of Scripture to be read for what they plainly state, and to what extent as figures of something other than their plain reference?” (emphasis original).1
It is at that point that various hermeneutical approaches have been employed to navigate how such figures work, and whether that “something other than their plain reference” is still in line with the plain reference or something truly other. In the end, we will see that there are surer paths to legitimate and ethical interpretation, and the others are distractions. Some provide a clear scope for peering into the pond; others predominantly see the sky above.
If you are not a history buff, please do not be tempted to skip this chapter. I will conclude this historical survey with a very relevant application: an understanding of something called the “hermeneutical spiral.” So hang in there. History will tell us a lot about today. As Gerald Bray puts it, “The Bible has shaped the life of the church in a way that nothing else has done, and Christians today are the product of the history of its interpretation.”2
It might seem logical to start with Jesus or even before Jesus. But I want to save Jesus and his world for the next chapter. Let us begin with the first generation of readers that had a full Bible, after the New Testament had been completed and compiled.3
Jesus’ apostles, who penned the New Testament, seem to have had quite a consistent hermeneutic.4 And the church recognized that the apostles’ authority now resided in their writings (e.g., 2 Pet 1:12-21).5 But by the time they passed from history the church had spread over wonderfully vast distances. By the end of the first century there were Christian communities across North Africa, Asia Minor, and Greece, stretching as far west as Rome and even eastward beyond Roman territory. As would be expected, over such a large area there were different convictions about how to approach interpretation. Sometimes these different convictions were motivated by the varying theological concerns and pressures felt from the surrounding cultures.
Apologists like Justin Martyr (ca. 100–165) were too engaged in speaking up in the face of persecution to give much attention to hermeneutics.6 We see, therefore, in the earliest Fathers a mixed methodology.7 Much was simply literal, but it also had a “Christocentric bias” to it because that is what they saw in the New Testament.8 The result was two approaches to move beyond literal interpretation to transcendent meanings: allegory and typology. In simplest terms, allegory attempts to dig under the straightforward and historical sense of texts to find hidden, mystical meanings. Typology, on the other hand, starts from the historical sense and perceives the way persons, events, and institutions in the Old Testament prefigure the person and work of Christ.
It is not uncommon to see the Fathers blend allegory and typology in an unsystematic way, though Irenaeus of Lyon (ca. 135–200) and Tertullian (ca. 160–220) did recognize the difference and speak against allegory.9 Irenaeus wrote, “By transferring passages, and dressing them up anew, and making one thing out of another, they succeed in deluding many.”10 Instead, “If anyone, therefore, reads the Scriptures with attention, he will find in them an account of Christ, and a foreshadowing of the new calling. . . . He was pointed out by means of types and parables.”11 The coming of the Son provides, therefore, “the explanation of all things” where anything that was hidden is now “brought to light by the cross of Christ.”12 And Melito of Sardis (d. ca. 180) calls Isaac “a type of Him who should suffer”13 and in the exodus and Passover “a preliminary sketch is made of what is to be.”14 But the underdevelopment of hermeneutics in this first generation is evident in the way one interpreter can lean toward one approach and then switch to the other.15
For example, in a book called The Epistle of Barnabas (likely written as early as AD 100–130) the author asks in 6:10, “What, therefore, does ‘into the good land, a land flowing with milk and honey’ mean?”16 He answers his own question: entering into the good land is a reference to the Christian understanding of regeneration or being born again (6:11-16), and the milk and honey—the food of infants—has to do with our need to be “nourished by faith” (6:17). This would be an example of allegory; there is nothing specifically in the text to point this way. But the author goes on with what appears to be a rather sophisticated—and quite intriguing—theological understanding of the relationship between Adam’s role in the creation, Israel’s call, redemption in Christ, and the final blessed state of humanity. This feels like typology, Adam and Israel prefiguring later realities in Christ.
It was not long before these two approaches were distinguished, however, and the two main schools of thought that finally emerged were associated with Alexandria and Antioch.
Figure 1.1. Alexandria and Antioch were about five hundred miles apart by boat.
Alexandria, located at the mouth of the Nile, had been a center of learning and philosophy for centuries before the New Testament was written. Thus, by the time the church grew in Alexandria, it was already primed to have an influence beyond its borders. Additionally, Alexandria’s tradition of Greek philosophy was very influential on church leaders. Interpreters of the Alexandrian school felt both an appreciation for the Greek philosophy that gave the city its renown, and also the need to make an apologetic to the world that Christianity was not a philosophically regressive system. They wanted to show the world that Christianity not only spoke intelligently into the philosophical climate, but even eclipsed the best of Greek philosophy.17
The Alexandrians reached for a hermeneutic to accomplish this task, therefore, and allegory was ready made for it. Thus, accounts like the calling of Abraham, the events of the exodus, or the temple cult were less important to the Alexandrians than an immediately applicable philosophical interpretation that could speak directly into the Greco-Roman world around them. Their appreciation for Greek philosophy had turned into the application of Greek philosophy.
Clement of Alexandria (ca. 150–215) and Origen (ca. 185–253) are the conduits of this interpretive tradition into the wider Christian movement. Clement wrote, “I seek after God, not the works of God. Whom shall I take as a helper in my inquiry? . . . How, then, is God to be searched out, O Plato?”18 While Origen was deeply concerned with historical matters, the literal historical meaning was only a starting point to move into the important matters of interpretation: getting to the allegorical meaning (developed in his On First Principles). For example, Origen believed in the historicity of the flood, but moved quickly to allegorical speculations on the meaning of the dimensions of the ark.19 At other times, however, Origen simply rejected the historical claims of the text in favor of an entirely allegorical interpretation.20 It suited his goal of combating heretics and reaching the Hellenized world, but it also fit his philosophical Platonism: if the objects and events of this world all have a deeper spiritual meaning, then so too the Bible. It is “everywhere sprinkled with riddles and dark sayings.”21
To be sure, however, Origen believed that the passages that could be taken historically and literally made up the greater proportion than those that had to be taken allegorically. All the same, it was his Greek philosophical construct that swayed his hermeneutical tendencies.22
We see in this how easy it is that the pressing philosophical concerns of the day can float the interpretive boat. Either intentionally (because the exegete has the desire to speak into such a philosophical environment) or accidentally (because the exegete may not know to what extent they are influenced by their philosophical environment) interpretations are easily shaped by the cultural context of the reader. This is to be expected in a lot of ways, and I will return to this culture-reader-text dynamic below. For now, I point this out to show how the goal and result of exegesis can become lines for retrieving preset philosophical ideals.23 I call this eisegesis of the reigning Zeitgeist into the ancient biblical text.
Eisegesis is the opposite of exegesis. Exegesis, as discussed in the introduction, is the process of drawing the meaning out of the biblical text. Eisegesis is when we read foreign ideas into the biblical text. A Zeitgeist is the collection of ideas and feelings that predominate a culture in any given era. It literally translates as “the spirit of the age.” Many interpretations down the ages are the result of the reigning Zeitgeist—that collection of pervasive and dominant philosophical ideals of any culture—being read into biblical texts. In such cases we miss what is really in the text, and in turn simply pull out of the text what we ourselves read into it—the Zeitgeist—often enough not even knowing we are doing that.