Journal entry: March 27, 1989.
Luke 5:36: Can’t sew patch from new garment on an old one, new will not
match the old -- Can’t pour new wine into old wineskins, will ruin
container and lose wine.
“We must enjoy God’s good gifts while he gives them.” Allan E.
Step out with gratitude and accept the new.
God has given us a new garment -- new wine! Our life in Samarkand! We
step out tomorrow to wear the new garment...to taste and drink and be
satisfied with the new wine he will give.
Let us be careful not to try to patch up the old in any way -- or to
pour the new into the old --
What will this involve?
Each time I reread this page in my mother’s journal I discover new and surprising meanings. It occurred to me that the process I have gone through in meditating on and interpreting my mother’s words nicely parallels how we are to interpret God’s words for us in holy Scripture. Thus, I submit the following as a parable of biblical interpretation.
We could start at many different places in our interpretation of my mother’s journal entry. Let me start at a personal level, which is where we usually start in biblical interpretation. The first time you read this text you can easily grasp some of its meaning, even if you know nothing about its author. Especially if you are moving into a new situation, you may respond with empathy: “Yes! This text reflects what is going on in my life. I want to let go of the old and accept the new. This text challenges me to move freely and enthusiastically into my new life!” That was my first response when I read this page. In this kind of reader-response, the text stands as a mirror reflecting our own situation.
The same thing often happens when we read Scripture. We respond to it because we see ourselves in the text. We hear our own thoughts, emotions, fears, and hopes expressed in ways we recognize. My mother’s text itself responds to the words of Jesus in just this way. His words about a new garment and new wine seem to have sparked a sympathetic response in her heart because, evidently, she was facing a new situation in her life.
When we read the Bible, we read with a desire to hear God speak to our needs now. “This is God’s word,” we say, “and I need to hear him comfort me in my sorrow, guide me out of my confusion, and deliver me from my bad habits.” Then we turn the pages of the Bible to find words that speak to our situation. Such a longing is rooted in our conviction that the Holy Spirit who inspired the Bible in the first place still speaks through the Bible today.
Devout Christians have always practiced this personal use of the Bible. Augustine tells us in his “Confessions” how he desperately sought for freedom from the bondage of his past sinful habits. In a time of spiritual crisis he overheard a child singing, “Take it and read it.” Augustine heard this as a divine command to read the Bible. “I snatched up the book,” he says, “opened it, and read in silence the passage upon which my eyes first fell: ‘not in reveling and drunkenness, not in quarreling and jealousy. Instead put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.’ I had no wish to read further; for there was no need to. For immediately I had reached the end of this sentence it was as though my heart was filled with a light of confidence and all the shadows of my doubt were swept away.”
If you have ever experienced anything resembling Augustine’s encounter with the Spirit through the Word, you probably respond to his account as I do with an “amen and hallelujah!”
This “personalized” use of the Bible needs to be encouraged today. We need to hear God give us a promise to believe and a command to follow for each day. But we must be aware of a danger inherent in this approach to interpretation.
Suppose someone reads my mother’s text and exclaims, “Yes. My new wine is my newfound love affair. What this text means for me is that I should throw off my first wife, like an old garment, and enjoy this other exciting woman as new wine!”
I would strongly object, “But that’s not what my mother meant to say!”
“It doesn’t matter what your mother meant or what Jesus meant by a new garment and new wine,” he says, “I only care what it means for me now!” If personal, present meaning is all that matters, I have no basis to refute his interpretation.
If we only use the Bible as a mirror to see ourselves, we may wind up seeing more of a reflection of our own self-interests than a revelation of God’s interests. Given our capacity for self-deception, our personal appropriation of the Bible can become an abuse of the text to promote our own agenda. We are all painfully aware that leaders of bizarre cults and special-interest groups use Scripture in the service of their oppression.
A famous guru quotes the words of Jesus: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Then he says, “This means, blessed are those who purify their consciousness, for they shall see themselves as God.” This blasphemous equation of holy God and fallen humanity shocks us. We strongly object, “The Bible cannot be twisted to mean that!”
But if the only meaning we care about is what the Bible means to me now, we will have no way to guard against the twisting of Scripture. There will be no right interpretation or wrong interpretation. You will say what the text means for you; I will say what it means for me. And that will be the end of the discussion.
We are facing a crisis in biblical interpretation. Manipulative use of the Bible for self-interest runs like a river through the history of the church. Today such abuse has turned into a flood. This approach to reading the Bible is advocated by a host of recent literary critics. They say that the only thing a text means is what it means for you, not what it meant for the author or for other interpreters. They tell us to give texts any meaning we like, because we can only read texts from our own personal frame of reference. Of course, they don’t want us to read their own texts that way. Apparently, they want us to accept what they meant to say in their texts.
LOOKING BEYOND OURSELVES
It may be that we start our interpretation by asking what the text means for us now, but we should not stop there. In fact, a better beginning point -- but at the very least, a necessary step two -- is to move into the world of the author. Your understanding of my mother’s text would be greatly enhanced by some knowledge of my mother. What was happening in her life when she wrote this text? What was the old and new?
Once we start to address these sorts of questions, the text becomes a window into her world. No longer are we simply seeing ourselves reflected in the text. Now we are trying to see through the text to the situation of its author. What we learn about the author may come from the text itself. Investigation into sources outside the text may also enable us to enter the world of the author.
From my mother’s text we learn that she is moving to a new life in “Samarkand.” Whether that is the ancient city in the Near East or another place borrowing that name, we cannot tell from the text. We also discern from the text that there is both eagerness to accept the new and apprehension about what the new may bring. Perhaps there is also some expression of reluctance to let go of the past. Her quote from “Allan E.” (whoever he is) seems to indicate that she wants to express her thankfulness for the past before she lets go of it and moves into the future.
This kind of investigation must go on in our attempt to interpret the biblical text. We need to tease out of the text as much as we can about the historical context of the author. We may also be able to check our understanding of the author’s situation by getting corroborative and corrective information from sources outside the text.
Allow me to be that source. On March 27, 1989, my mother was preparing for a major move. She and my father were packing the last boxes in their home where they had lived for 12 years. On the next day, the movers came as scheduled. My parents had planned for some time to move into an apartment in a retirement center called the Samarkand. The primary reason for making this move was to provide good care for their special Down syndrome son, my brother Kenny. He had lived with them all his life. But they realized that the combination of their advancing age and his increasing needs required a change. Samarkand offered just the right facilities. A few weeks before their move, Allan Emery, a close friend since college days, had sent them a gallon of maple syrup from Vermont. In a note, he lamented that the days of the production of this syrup may soon be over. So, he advised, “We must enjoy God’s gifts while he gives them.”
These facts from my mother’s life help to fill out the picture. If space permitted, I would give you much more information, such as the way her journal reflects a consistent pattern of reflection on biblical passages. But you will have to wait for another article or book to get that information. You could also ask my brothers and sisters. All seven of us children could give you a wealth of information if you were the least bit curious.
Curiosity is a big part of biblical interpretation. The reason that interpreters of the Bible keep deciphering the Dead Sea Scrolls and digging in the dirt of Israel is because they are intensely curious about the historical context of the Bible. We need to research the social, political, and religious aspects of the biblical world if we want to expand our grasp of the meaning of the biblical text. To understand the meaning of biblical words, we investigate how they were used in biblical times.
My mother’s text directs us to the words of Jesus. What was going on in his world when he spoke these words about a new garment and new wine? Why did he say this? Who first heard these words? What would they have understood them to mean? Such questions help to lead us into the world of Jesus, the original author of these words. (For good reasons, which we cannot take space to discuss here, we are accepting the historical reliability of Luke’s account of the words of Jesus.)
As we look into the historical context for the words of Jesus, we find that Jesus was engaged in a controversy over fasting. His disciples were not fasting like John’s disciples and the Pharisees fasted. Jesus explained that the reason for the change was the presence of the bridegroom: “You cannot make wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them, can you?” (Luke 5:33-34).
The picture is of a wedding feast. In our day, a wedding ceremony is sometimes followed by a meal. But in the times of Jesus, the feast was the ceremony. Invited guests assembled at the bridegroom’s home and waited for the bridegroom. The bridegroom went to the bride’s home, claimed her, and brought her in procession back to his home. When he arrived, the feast began. It would have been discourteous for the assembled guests to fast in the presence of the bridegroom.
Jesus used this picture to show how inappropriate it would have been for his disciples to fast in his presence. He is like the bridegroom at the wedding, and his ministry is like a joyful wedding feast. This claim places Jesus in the place of God since, in the Old Testament, God is pictured as the bridegroom of his people (Hos. 2:19), and the joyful feast was used as a picture of the presence of God with his people (Isa. 25:6). When Jesus arrived, God came to be with his people!
In the context of describing this picture of the joyful wedding feast, Jesus pointed to the foolishness of cutting up a new garment to patch an old one and of pouring new wine into old wineskins. We may miss the point here, because in our day most of us throw away or give away old clothes, and people buy bottled wine. But in the times of Jesus, old clothes were patched, and wine was stored in animal skins. It was common knowledge then that you did not ruin a new garment by using it for patching an old one. It would be a waste of the new garment, and the patches would not hold when shrinkage occurred. It was also the conventional wisdom of that day that it would be disastrous to store your new wine in old skins that had lost their flexibility. The fermenting wine would expand and eventually burst the old skins.
Jesus gave these pictures about new things and old things to explain why he and his disciples did not fit into the religious practices of their day. Jesus did not come to patch up the old or be stored in the old. Jesus was not simply leading another renewal movement within Judaism as the Pharisees were trying to do. Jesus created new life in his disciples. No wonder Paul could exclaim, “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: the old has passed away; everything has become new.” This new creation is not the result of self-help, self-improvement, or any other program of patching up the old life. Jesus is the source, power, and sustenance of new life.
These last two paragraphs have been an attempt to illustrate what happens when we are investigating what the author meant when he said those words in his context. Such investigation is not always easy. Two thousand years and cultural differences separate our world from the world of the author. But we need not despair. An enormous amount of work has been done to excavate the world of Jesus. Resources too numerous to list here abound for any curious reader. If we really want to know the meaning of the text, we must engage in this exploration of a world different from our own.
But there is a danger in this approach. It is tempting to get lost in the exploration of that ancient world. There are so many fascinating areas of study. Thousands of scholars and their students are engaged in a lifetime quest for knowledge of the first-century context. We are debtors to their valiant efforts. But is the meaning of the text available only to those who can enter their complex world of scholarship? And even if it were possible to be an expert on the historical context of a text, would that guarantee a sure grasp of the meaning of the text? I have been engaged in enough scholarly discussion of the meaning of biblical texts to make me skeptical of the “assured results of scholarship.”
“THEN” MEETS “NOW”
There are actually two sides to the crisis of biblical interpretation in our day. On the one side, we have the claim that a text has no meaning apart from what it means for me now. Such a claim leads to radical relativism: the text means something different for each reader. But on the other side, we have the claim that the meaning of the text is somehow inherent within the text; it has nothing to do with the position or perspectives of the reader. Such a claim can lead to arrogance (“I can excavate the meaning of this text without any faith in God”) or despair (“There is no way that I can understand the text since I cannot understand its historical context”). In response to these two opposite claims, I suggest that the meaning of the text is found when our world converges with the world of the author in the reading of the text. What the text means to me now must be rooted in what the text meant then. What the text meant then must be related to what it means to me now.
Sometimes knowledge of the historical situation surrounding the text can dramatically change our understanding of the meaning of the text. Even events that happened after the writing of the text can cast new light on the text.
My mother suffered a fatal heart attack on the evening of March 27, 1989. The movers came the next day as scheduled. My father moved into Samarkand as planned. But my mother moved to heaven. She was given a new garment, but not as she anticipated. At least her text indicates that she expected to move to Samarkand, not to heaven. But I believe that she did “step out with gratitude and accept the new” when she stepped into the presence of the Lord that day. Does her text have a deeper meaning than even she intended? I think so. I read the text in the light of her death.
When the New Testament authors read the Old Testament, they read it in light of the death of Jesus. Texts like Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53 gained new meaning in light of this event long after they were written. Even if we believe, as I do, that divine inspiration gave these authors prophetic insight into future events, we still recognize that greater meaning is found in the text by those who actually witnessed the event than by those who foretold it.
Since I certainly do not claim that divine inspiration gave my mother prophetic insight, I put her text in a different category from that of the biblical text. Yet, just as the event of her death after she wrote the text fills her text with new meaning, so the events of the death and resurrection of Jesus fill Old Testament texts with new meaning for Christian interpreters. We can even read the words of Jesus with new understanding if we interpret them in the light of his death and resurrection. His words about a new garment and new wine certainly have an added depth of meaning when we consider that in his death the old sinful humanity died, and in his resurrection the new humanity was raised. Paul expresses this truth: “I am crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me” (Gal. 2:20). As we read the words of Jesus about a new garment and new wine, we should also interpret them as an invitation to put on Christ as our new garment (Gal. 3:27) and to be filled with the intoxicating wine of his Spirit (Eph. 5:18).
I read my mother’s text as her son. There is an interpretation of love. It is not a dry, academic exercise for me. Yes, of course, my mind is engaged as I think through the implications of her words. But I am also emotionally involved. Her words have had a transforming impact on my life. They nourish me. They give me hope and courage.
Interpretation of the Bible also demands involvement of the whole person. While we can benefit from the work of scholars to define the meaning of the words, only an interpretation of love will lead to a transforming experience of their meaning. If we accept the claim of the biblical text to be the word of God who loves us, then the words of that text have power to create, convict, forgive, heal, and empower.
UNDER THE CROSS
In this use of the process of interpreting my mother’s text as an analogy for biblical interpretation, I have been responding to three key issues in recent discussion.
First, there is a polarization between those who insist that meaning is found in the author’s intentions for writing the text and those who say that readers construct their own meaning out of the text. My analogy attempts to bring those two perspectives together. Meaning is found as the world-views of the author and the reader converge in the text. The text is always in some ways transformed by the reader’s own personal point of view. But the text can also transform the reader if there is a willingness to listen to the author’s point of view. The text is not only a mirror; it can also be a window. If we believe that the Spirit of God is the ultimate author of the biblical text, then we believe that God’s point of view is expressed in the biblical text. The Spirit can use the biblical text to enable the reader “to look not at the things which are seen, but on the things which are not seen, for the things which are seen are temporal, and the things which are not seen are eternal” (2 Cor. 4:18). Such a transformation of perspective is an ongoing process, an upward spiral that continually enlarges our horizons.
A second false disjunction in contemporary discussion of biblical interpretation is the contrast between propositional and personal. Some say that the revelation of meaning takes place only in propositional form. Others assert that the disclosure of meaning is found only in personal encounter. When I read the propositions in my mother’s text, I have the experience of hearing her heart. Even though she is absent from this world, I have come to know her in deeper ways by reading her words. Personal encounter happens through words. As John Donne says, “more than kisses, letters mingle souls.” Words from the heart, like letters we write, are the necessary means to personal encounter. Yes, there is a revelation of meaning in the words given by the Holy Spirit through the human authors of the Bible. Their words are the words of God. But their meaning is not grasped until, reading them, we have them engrafted into our lives by the heart-opening action of the Spirit. Then there is the disclosure of meaning found only in a personal encounter with God.
Third, a long debate continues over whether there is a single meaning or multiple meanings in the text. Can the text mean more than the single meaning intended by the author of the text? The most treasured meaning of all that I have found in my mother’s text is not derived from my understanding of what she intended when she wrote the text but from the event of her death after she wrote the text. Now her text has a whole new meaning not intended by her. And yet, this new meaning is rooted in her intended meaning. She really was writing about getting a new garment. I know that she got a better one than she anticipated. In a similar way, the events of Christ’s birth, life, death, and resurrection illuminated the New Testament authors’ reading of the Old Testament texts. For example, Hosea was describing the historical event of the exodus when he spoke the word of God, “Out of Egypt did I call my son” (Hos. 11:1). Matthew saw greater meaning in this text when he quoted it as a description of an event in the life of Christ (Matt. 2:15).
Part of the motivation for restricting the meaning of the text to the single meaning intended by the author is the concern to protect the text from being abused and twisted by readers who want to promote their own agendas. But I don’t see how we can protect the text from such abuse by limiting ourselves to the single meaning intended by the author when the biblical authors themselves did not limit the meaning of the biblical texts they used to authorial intention. The event of the Cross enabled them to see new meaning in old texts.
The best way to protect the text from self-centered manipulation is to interpret it under the shadow of the cross of Christ. Here again I am learning from my mother’s text. Her own interpretation of Luke 5:36 was an application of the Cross to her life; it was a “cruciform interpretation.” Her understanding of the meaning of that text guided her to die to the old life. “Let us be careful not to try to patch up the old in any way,” she wrote. She interpreted the text in a way that conformed her to Christ, “who though he was rich, became poor, that we through his poverty might become rich.” Her interpretation of Christ’s words enabled her to give up her beautiful home and rose gardens so that she could give better care to her special son, Kenny. She knew that in that giving, she would receive; in that dying, she would be living the eternal life. If our interpretations of the text are marked by the Cross, then self-serving interpretations will be put to death. Interpretation in the light of the Cross exposes self-interest and the use of texts to advance personal power. Cruciform interpretation is suspicious of self-deception. The interpreter who uses Jesus’ words to justify throwing off his marriage vows like an old garment so that he can enjoy the intoxicating wine of an illicit affair is terribly wrong. Jesus clearly meant that the new garment and new wine represent his presence. How can someone enjoy the presence of Jesus by using his words to justify selfish pursuits? Guided by cruciform interpretation, we ask how we can interpret the text so that we can be identified with Christ, “who humbled himself by becoming obedient unto death, even death on the cross.”
“What will this involve?” my mother asked. I have thought for a long time about that question mark at the end of her last journal entry. Exclamation marks were more her style. She had exuberant confidence in God. But she did not know what surprises God had in store for her. As she sought to understand the meaning of the words of Jesus for her life, she applied them to the new home she had prepared. But she sensed that those words had deeper meaning for her than she could fathom at that time. Her biblical interpretation had to be revised when she entered the new home God had prepared for her. “Now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part, then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Cor. 13:12).
Our biblical interpretation should be marked by exclamation marks and question marks. When the Spirit guides us to know the meaning of God’s Word, we exclaim with unshakable confidence, “This I believe!” At the same time, we need humbly to admit that even after our best attempts at biblical interpretation we still “know only in part.” And so we wonder, “What will this involve?”
________
G. Walter Hansen is associate professor of New Testament and director of the Global Research Institute at Fuller Theological Seminary, and the author of Galatians, part of the IVP New Testament Commentary Series.
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