Essays in Understanding the Bible (7): And the Moral of This Story...
In this series of essays, Helen Parry explores some basic principles for understanding the Bible. The essays are posted monthly on the LICC website, normally on the third Monday of the month. Since interpretation is not a dry academic exercise but is essential to a proper use of Scripture, each essay is followed by questions for reflection (and discussion with others, where applicable), and suggestions for action.
What are to make of the innumerable narrative passages in the Bible? They conform to neither of the types of narrative with which we are most familiar – fiction and history.
There is fiction, of course. The parables are made-up stories. But they are not told for entertainment. They are perhaps somewhere between a fable (like the Hare and the Tortoise, of which the moral is ‘Slow and steady wins the race’) and an allegory, like The Pilgrim’s Progress.
But is there history? That depends on our definition of the term. Nearly half of the Old Testament is narrative. It covers increasingly precise periods of history, and meshes with events verified by other sources. In many places in 1 and 2 Kings, the writer or writers conclude a king’s life with the words, ‘The other events of X’s life are written in the book of the annals of the kings of Israel/Judah’.
The writers were aware of contemporary historiography, but they did not write ‘history’ in the common sense of the word. Rather, their theme was God’s dealings with his people, and their response to their special calling.
Nor is the purpose of biblical narrative to teach doctrine or to model behaviour. Sometimes there are clear lessons to learn, but our judgment must always be based on our understanding of the teaching of Scripture as a whole. We do not need the prophet Nathan’s parable about the little ewe lamb (2 Samuel 12:1-4) or Psalm 51 to conclude that David’s adultery with Bathsheba and subsequent murder of Uriah was a gross sin. Ambiguous characters like Rahab and Samson are commended in Hebrews 11 for their faith, not their morality. But both were highly significant in the working out of God’s purposes.
So should we ever treat Old Testament characters as examples to follow? Or do they carry no more weight for Christians than any other characters in literature or history?
I am reminded of a young Scripture Union worker in Africa who, being very short of visual aids, used to borrow films of Shakespeare’s plays from the British Council library. Stopping at the point where Lady Macbeth finally persuades her husband to murder the king, he said, ‘So you see what happens when a man listens to his wife’. Faulty interpretation, we might say – Shakespeare doesn’t lay the main blame on the wife, but explores the growth of evil in Macbeth himself. There are plenty of lessons that we can legitimately learn from this example.
Is there, then, any difference between Macbeth’s situation and that of Ahab (1 Kings 16-21)? Both men were led into deeper evil by their wives. Is it legitimate to draw such lessons from these stories?
We learn that the wife was wicked and the husband weak, and both share the guilt. But there is far more to the biblical story than that. Jezebel, we read, was the daughter of a Canaanite king, worshipper of Baal. Ahab, king of Israel, was responsible to God for the spiritual welfare of a whole nation. Even before he was corrupted by Jezebel he was already set on evil, and in marrying her he was directly flouting God’s law. As if the law was not enough, Elijah comes on the scene to denounce Ahab’s actions. God’s perspective pervades the whole account.
It’s strange that, in the sorry roll-call of Israelite kings who ‘did evil in the eyes of the Lord’, Ahab’s reign is singled out for extensive treatment, marked by prophetic interventions and a flurry of miracles. Perhaps this was because things had got so bad that there was a real danger that the distinctiveness of Israel as God’s chosen people might be totally submerged. God’s direct intervention, in prophecy and miracle, pulls the nation back from the brink. We can’t be sure. But we can be sure that we should not extrapolate from this one story supernatural provision, fire from heaven or the death of God’s enemies. Sometimes God did act in this way; often he didn’t. What we can conclude, however, is that sin matters to God, that he cares deeply about his people and that he acts in fulfilment of his own long-term purposes.
The story of Jephthah in Judges 11-12 is far more ambiguous. Presented as a heroic deliverer, carrying out God’s purpose, he is not to be seen as a model, an example to follow. His vainglorious vow that he would sacrifice the first living thing to come out of his house when he returned triumphant rebounded on him and his family. The Bible doesn’t imply that he was right to keep his vow and sacrifice his daughter. Indeed, it simply describes the event.
This is one of the main points about biblical narrative. It is descriptive, not prescriptive, not normative. Few of us, when appointing a new church elder, would follow the apostles’ practice of drawing lots (Acts 1:23-26) for a twelfth apostle to replace Judas; though many a sermon has been based on the assumption that Luke’s description of the early church in the next chapter (2:42-46) is a model for the church in every age. How can we tell?
We can’t be purely arbitrary, rejecting the first and imitating the second. We should start, rather, by recognising that since both these passages are descriptive, they are not intended to be normative. Then we can judge them by other criteria. Nowhere does the New Testament recommend the drawing of lots in choosing people for important positions. We don’t know why the apostles did it then, but they used a different method when appointing seven helpers for the distribution of food to the widows (Acts 6:2-6). In both cases prayer was the key but the processes were different. Our reading of the New Testament does show us, on the other hand, that the activities described in Acts 2 were taught as key elements of the life of the early church. It is not, however, an exhaustive list (no mention is made of worship, for example). Would that all our churches were thus filled with the Spirit – but this description is not necessarily a blueprint for all time.
Our understanding of the Old Testament narratives is enriched when we see how its events are also highly significant as ‘types’. In Isaiah 43, Isaiah uses the Exodus (43:16-17), as a type, as he prophesies the return from Exile: ‘I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland’ (43:19), and ‘When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you’ (43:2). Similarly, the writers of the epistles use the events of the old dispensation as means of understanding the new: hence, the gospel is presented as a new creation, a new exodus, a new return from exile.
And it’s not only the events but also the people that are understood as types. Paul, in Romans 5:12-19 and 1 Corinthians 15:20-22, presents Adam as the type, of whom Jesus is the ‘antitype’ (though here the parallel is one of contrast rather than similarity): ‘As in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.’ Jesus is also the antitype of Moses (as prophet), Aaron (as priest) and David (as king).
As we come to the gospels, an awareness of the authors’ purpose explains many of the discrepancies that critics sometimes point out. John makes that purpose explicit: ‘Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not included in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name’ (20:30-31). This throws light on the authors’ approach, their selection of what to include, and disparities in the chronology of events. In some cases, however, it may be simply that they didn’t all know the same things, or that they perceived or interpreted them differently. This only undermines our confidence in the inspiration of these texts if we are looking for strict historical accuracy.
God is the hero of the Old Testament narratives, Jesus the hero of the New. Our God, working in history and presented to us through vivid and personal narrative, comes across to us in the pages of Scripture as one who is deeply involved in the world, deeply concerned for his people. The unfolding story of the Bible provides the context and significance of the incarnation and saving work of Christ, and enables us to understand our place in God’s purposes.
For personal reflection:
Read Romans 5:12-18. Reflect on the similarities and differences between Adam and Jesus. Respond in prayer.
For group discussion:
Read Luke 24:13-35 and discuss it, considering:
• how the biblical narrative is essential to our understanding of the gospel
• what this story reveals to us about Jesus
For action:
On a day when a significant event has happened, buy two or more contrasting newspapers, such as The Sun and The Guardian, and see how they report the event. Try to identify the viewpoint, bias and purpose of the journalist. If possible, discuss your findings with someone else. (This is not to suggest that biblical narrative is biased, but to show how perspective and purpose influence how a story is written.)
Helen Parry
Comments
There are currently no comments for this article.
