How Do We Read the Scriptures When the Word of God is Alive?
The historical critical method illustrates this quite beautifully. The biblical tradition is about the unfolding revelation of the Word as it was understood and made authoritative and canonical within a given community and across communities. Within the very process of its canonization and preservation, of the passing on of the inspired Word and the recognition of its status as Scripture, there is a development of thought and diversi¬ty of methods of inquiry and explanation. Stories are told and retold with nuance to speak anew to distinct audiences living under changed conditions. Likewise, commandments are further defined and laws developed to address new circumstances in the communities.
Consistent with the penchant of postmodernity to relativize, and I say this with the utmost respect for the postmodern readers’ appreciation of historical condi¬tioning and finite incarnations of truth, the final redac¬tors in the works of Scripture did not find it necessary to erase traces of diversity, nor did the early church opt to harmonize the Gospels. Neither Israel nor the early church felt it necessary to eradicate its traditions. Consequently, we have a rich variety of material that reveals quite beautifully Scripture’s layers of tradition.
Because that tradition plays such a significant role in the Scriptures themselves, I am led to wonder what we are to make of a closed canon. Certainly in one sense the canon is closed and the revelation of God in Christ is understood by the church to be God’s final, definitive word. Yet, like the tradition in the Scriptures themselves, is there not a certain life to the Scriptures that makes them impermeable to such a marked definition? Do we have to have a definitive canonical rule that tells us how to interpret and translate for today? Can we admit that the meaning of Scripture is still unfolding and the birthing reality of Scripture is still being realized in us and, as such, is not really closed? Do we need to acknowledge that it could never be closed until it rests in fulfillment in each and every one of us, or at the very least, until the end of time?
This approach reflects the notion that just as tradi¬tion has played a role in the making of the Scriptures, so should tradition preserve the Scriptures. This perspective also presumes that a narrowly interpreted sola scriptura approach is essentially problematic precisely because it ignores the role of tradition either in the making, pre¬serving, interpreting, or realizing of Scripture in the world and in us.
But I would be remiss if I did not say that it would be equally problematic to ignore the history that is found in the Scriptures. While no one denies that the task of dis¬covering today what something meant in years past is a formidable one, to not even attempt that contextual understanding is just as problematic as a narrowly inter¬preted sola scriptura viewpoint. Do we not have a responsibility for the sake of ourselves, as well as for those who will follow after us, to listen to our brothers and sisters of yesteryear and to open our hearts and minds to the wisdom of those who have walked the path of faith ahead of us?
The very fact that we may understand the Scriptures today differently than those who have gone before us need not be discouraging. The Christian faith has sur¬vived for two thousand years as each generation turns to Scripture while in the midst of its own contemporary questions and challenges. While we might feel the attrac¬tion of canonical rules that promise to spare us from the ambiguities and challenges of struggling with Scripture on our own, I fear that this could choke the life right out of the Scriptures, though I say this as hyperbole.
No, I think the very fact that we may understand the Scriptures today differently than those who have gone before us actually reflects well the very significance of the Word which, like a beautiful array of flowers, each blos¬soming in its own time and place, finds significance wherever it is planted and in whomever it is planted.
This says to me that our readings and proclamations of the Word ought to be such that they encourage respectful discourse. They ought to reflect a certain hum¬ble recognition that the world of interpretation does not revolve around any one of us, that a community of believers has much to teach us, and that no one voice owns the market on wisdom.
Such an experience should draw us closer to the God of both history and mystery, which, I presume, is the ulti¬mate aim of Scripture. It should also draw us closer to each other, for, as St. Augustine noted in his writing about the Word, there must be a point of convergence, a place where we can meet and converse about the mean¬ing of the Word. For Augustine, this place was essentially “love.” In the first book of On Christian Doctrine he wrote, “Whoever … thinks that he understands the divine scriptures or any part of them so that it does not build the love of God and of neighbor does not under¬stand it at all.”
Not that all interpretations had the same merit for Augustine. His point was that love must be the funda¬mental, guiding principle of biblical interpretation and proclamation. I think he is right. The Word of God, who is love himself, did become flesh and the way to our redemption. Thus it ought to be our way with one anoth¬er and at the very least a definitive canonical rule by which we let the Word flower in as many colors, fragrances, shapes, and places as it may, all for the glory of God.
