Okay, I know those probably aren’t the exact words of Jesus. (He wasn’t speaking English, after all.)

But I wonder if that’s what his listeners heard.

The Torah, as I recall from freshman Bible class, is the law given by God to Moses – much of it in narrative form. Then there’s the Tanakh, which recorded a lot of other oral traditions of law and history. There’s the Mishnah, a sort of commentary on the preceding. Finally, there’s the Talmud, a kind of super-commentary which was intended to illuminate and expand upon all of those teachings.

I don’t know whether all Jews see them as equal – and there are a lot of different views within Judaism – but there does seem to be a consensus that the Torah came from God and that good men wrote the Talmud. (In fact, I think that the Babylonian Talmud generally receives preference as older and more authoritative when a conflict with the Jerusalem Talmud is perceived.)

Probably some Christians somewhere make the same distinction between the Gospels and the rest of the New Testament, but I’m not one of them. I believe in God’s inspiration through His Holy Spirit, and a deep purposeful truth within each volume of the Biblical canon.

What I don’t believe is that the messages within them all carry equal weight in our lives and our walk with God. And I don’t believe that the commentaries written about them carry equal weight – with each other, or with scripture. And I don’t believe that the articles written about the commentaries written about scripture … well, you get the picture.

So when we teach something – and we really pound the pulpit about it – is it generally something that is Torah or Talmud?

When we tell someone the story of Jesus; describe His compassion for others; repeat His teaching about our relationships with God and others; relate His sacrifice as the ultimate innocent for our guilt – do we really have to pound the pulpit? Isn’t The Story powerful enough that it persuades all by itself, though told with the gentlest of tone and the most timid of sociability?

And when we really want to persuade someone of our “rightness” on a particular question of doctrine that does not immediately “sell” itself by its intrinsic qualities, isn’t it then that we find ourselves proof-texting and cross-referencing and committing assault and battery on an innocent lectern?

Isn’t it then that we are tempted to generalize, exceptionalize, rationalize, extemporize and categorize? When the “truth” isn’t so simple, so obvious, so heart-wrenching and will-breaking?

Maybe that’s because what we’re defending is a tradition of men and not necessarily of God.

Jesus wasn’t fond of men’s traditions that took priority over – or contradicted – God’s teaching. He said it nullifies our worship. He said it puts our lips in a different segement of life from our hearts.

He said it was teaching the commentary as if it were the law itself.

That sounds like a really dangerous mistake to me.

I’m still struggling with the questions in the previous post.

What if Paul’s command explicitly says, “…women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the Law says.” (I Corinthians 14:34), but Jesus’ example is not to forbid a woman of poor repute from testifying about Him – or even to exaggerate it – so that “Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I ever did.’ So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers” (John 4:39-41)?

Who trumps whom?

What if Paul’s command above seems to contradict his permission for women to pray and prophesy in what seems to be a public worship setting – as long as her head is covered, possibly with long hair; possibly with a veil (I Corinthians 11:5 – a segment sandwiched between two discussions of what is permissible at the Lord’s table, and presumably having to do with a worship assembly)?

Does Paul, chapter 14 trump Paul, chapter 11?

Thank heaven the eating of meat sacrificed to idols is not an issue these days. I can’t even begin to sort it out. If you eat it in private, it’s alright because you know the pagan gods to whom it was sacrificed are nothing and God made everything good in and of itself (I Corinthians 10:25-26, 30). But if someone has a conscience problem about it, you can’t eat it in front of them. If someone offers you meat at their table or you buy it in the market, you should not ask if it was sacrificed to an idol (I Corinthians 10:27). But if they do tell you it has been sacrificed to an idol, you can’t eat it (I Corinthians 10:28-29). Sort of a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy? Yet, the fact remains that meat sacrificed to idols was actually sacrificed to demons, which are real, so you should have no part of it. (I Corinthians 10:19-20). So you’re pretty much danged if you do and danged if you don’t, so you might as well just do what your conscience suggests and glorify God for having one (I Corinthians 10:31).

But, in so doing, don’t cause somebody else to mess up and violate their conscience because of what you did (I Corinthians 10:32). Just try to make everyone happy (I Corinthians 10:33).

I know I’m paraphrasing wildly but … didn’t I get most of that condensed version right?

(Please don’t ask me to factor in Romans 14, too.)

Can ANYONE sort that out and make sense of it and figure out what the rules are – and live by them in any given real or hypothetical situation?

My inclination is to say “no.”

Maybe because that’s not the point.

Maybe Paul is pointing out how pointless it is to bullet-point a bunch of rules. Perhaps the gist of it is that people can disagree on matters of conscience and still eat or worship together without condemning and offending each other if they’re willing to respect each other, show a little deference, talk about it – even agree to disagree.

Maybe the point is that we need to struggle with questions of conscience together, and draw closer to God in the process by being transparent, listening, sharing, respecting, seeing the viewpoints of others and being enriched by them.

Or maybe I’m just really awful at turning the Bible into the right rules to live by.

Good thing there’s grace, huh?

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, so bear with me.

There are some passages of scripture that are meant for all people for all time everywhere. Right?

And there are some that are meant for some people at a certain time and place. Right?

We can’t keep a whole lot of the commandments in the old covenant, because 1.) most of us Christians aren’t Jews; 2.) there is no temple in Jerusalem where we could sacrifice even if we were; 3.) the Law was a schoolmaster until ….

Okay, how about the new covenant:

“Slaves, obey your masters.” Meant for some people at a certain time and place. Or not?

“Love each other deeply, for love covers a multitude of sins.” Meant for all people for all time. Or not?

Maybe those seem obvious to you. But there are a lot of things in the new covenant that aren’t that clear to me. To whom were they written and meant to benefit? For all time or for a certain time? For every people, race and nation or for a small definite group of people in a nation which perhaps no longer exists?

How do we decide?

If context gives clear clues, are we allowed to ignore those clues if they conflict with what we’ve been taught – or have otherwise always believed?

If what Paul teaches as command seems to conflict with what Jesus taught by example, who trumps whom?

If some of those teachings are contingent upon a certain event – such as Christ’s return and judgment – and I understand that differently from you (and most everybody else!) should I continue to teach something that I do not in my heart believe is applicable to us and now and everywhere and forever?

Like I said, I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I really don’t have these answers.

And I really, really do want to know them.

“Where the Scriptures speak, we speak; where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.”
– Thomas Campbell, heretic

As slogans go, I like this one. It’s brief, pungent, and pointed. It’s also extra-scriptural. You won’t find it in the Bible. So it is a slogan with the nugget of a great principle within it, and that’s all.

Now, it may or may not be inspired by I Peter 4:11:

“If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God. If anyone serves, he should do it with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.”

That’s scripture, and you won’t find anything to quibble about in it.

It says nothing about scripture or silence. Yet it is frequently called into play when a proponent wishes to defend a doctrine of strictly observing the silence of scripture; i.e. not doing anything that isn’t specifically “authorized” by scripture.

I find that astounding.

And, if the stakes were not so high, I would find it hysterically funny.

For the slogan and the scripture have been used to prosecute all kinds of things which scripture does not mention, but not all of the things which scripture does not mention, and certainly not equally. That’s right. The very folks who claim Campbell’s slogan speak loudest where the Bible is silent.

Would God condemn someone to hell for doing something that His Word doesn’t mention, let alone pronounce wrong?

Does He really intend to legislate through silence?

Did He expect each of His inspired writers to leave that impression?

– Though Peter (and other New Testament writers) do have some things to say about people who distort the scriptures – to their own destruction.

My inclination is to speak the very words of God; not to try to preach my intuition of any “commands” that a just and loving God could possibly generate by His silence – and come off looking ignorant and unstable. (Even if that means being denounced as a heretic like Thomas Campbell – who would share in communion with anyone who wanted to remember Jesus in that way with him.)

I hope I succeed at just speaking God’s words, at least most of the time.

If not – as always – I will turn myself over to His grace.

This alone as a defense for any doctrine created by man, defended by a particular biblical scripture, is simply unacceptable.

Sorry. It’s not enough.

Because a literal-only reading of scripture will lead to unscriptural doctrine.

“If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters – yes, even his own life – he cannot be my disciple.”

Ergo, we must hate our families or we can’t follow Him.

But that’s what it says!

“And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell.”

Therefore if we covet or lust after something because of our eyes, we must blind ourselves.

But that’s what it says!

“Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.”

So we must engage in cannibalism of Christ’s risen body, or we can’t be saved. (That’s gonna make it tough for anyone to be saved, isn’t it?)

But that’s what it says!

“As in all the congregations of the saints, women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the Law says.”

Hence, women cannot speak at all. Not to teach the little ones. Not even sing the songs. In fact, they can’t talk until they get out of the building.

But that’s what it says!

“An elder must be blameless, the husband of but one wife, a man whose children believe and are not open to the charge of being wild and disobedient.”

So if an elder’s children get a little rowdy, even once … or he sins even in the slightest way … or his wife dies, he must immediately resign – or face eternal damnation, taking his church with him. (Unless, of course, they gently depose him even in the middle of his grief as a new widower.)

But that’s what it says!

Give me a break.

If your scholarship in scriptural exegesis sees only the literal and temporal, and cannot also discern the contextual, the conditional, the metaphorical, the spiritual, the eternal – if you cannot derive the principle without demanding the perfect -then you do not grasp the heart of Christ. You do not understand grace, or what the fellowship of the Spirit means, or the inestimable value of Jesus’ blood. You have missed the point God sent Him to make if you only make His Word into a checklist of laws, rules, and regulations that must be extracted through the careful application of definitions from the original Greek.

And your interpretation is null and void.

Ah, it’s the first day of summer, when a young man’s thoughts turn to anything but hermeneutics. I’m old though, and haven’t quite run out of things to say about the subject.

I blogged earlier in the spring that my hermeneutic is unorthodoxy, and I still haven’t repented of it. In fact, since then, I’ve even elaborated on an heretical hermeneutic.

Now for all you folks out there who are just joining us, a hermeneutic is a way of understanding a text – and I’m focused on the Biblical text. Strictly speaking, a hermeneutic is a way of understanding a text on the basis of the text itself, and that’s what I’d like to stick to.

A good part of the divisions in Christianity – going back all the way to the first century (when only a few Biblical texts had been written, namely, the Old Testament) – are hermeneutical. Folks chose up sides even then about how to understand scripture: strictly or loosely, to put it simply, and that’s where the problem arises.

The version of it that has had a great divisive effect on Restoration churches is the question of the silence of scripture. One view says that if the Bible doesn’t specifically forbid something, it must be permissible. The other view says that if the Bible doesn’t specifically authorize something, it is forbidden by God.

Two extremes. And therein lies the problem with both.

“The Law commands that we stone such.” That was the scripture put before Jesus when presented with the adulterous woman. He could have taken one side: “Where is the other? Doesn’t the Law require both to be stoned? You can’t stone her unless the man is stoned, too.” Or He could have taken the other side: “Here, give me a stone; I’d like to be the first one. The Law doesn’t say we have to catch both of them and stone them; just that if both are caught, they are both to be stoned.”

But Jesus embraces an heretical hermeneutic that is neither right down the middle nor avoiding either extreme. He chooses to interpret the Law in a way that was 90-degrees perpendicular to both; adding a whole new dimension to it: the fallibility of all people, the need for grace, the power of forgiveness:

“Let the sinless one cast the first stone.”

So why do we Christian folks keep getting caught making an artificial choice between two man-made alternatives: silence always forbids, or silence always permits?

I think the point of our Christian lives is neither the leading of a perfect, sinless life by not breaking any of the rules, nor the leading of an unremarkable life that powerlessly leans on God’s grace all the time. A Christ-like life isn’t supposed to be composed of easy, rational, logical answers that fit every situation and that someone else can codify in a book for you; yet it’s also not a hopelessly unknowing, mystical spiritual relationship where there are no answers at all.

A Christian life is meant to be a life of struggle, of constantly encountering new questions and trying to compose the elegant, 90-degree answer. It is always seeking out what it means to live as Christ in this world, and it is learning by doing as well as hearing, reading, reciting, watching and imitating.

Inevitably, we will fail. We will not be perfect. That’s not the point at which we give up hope, or flagellate ourselves, or shrug off what only Jesus’ own blood can obliterate.

That’s the point at which we repent again. We confess our own weakness and His power. We pray the guidance of His Spirit in our lives. We give thanks for inestimable value of the chance to begin again. And always, always, we remember what the Price was.

And when people see that in us, they see through our transparency one Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior and Lord – not us; but Him.

It isn’t easy to sort out the unorthodox hermeneutic. Sometimes silence forbids. Sometimes it permits. But mostly, it speaks loudly of God’s awesome justice and mercy in our lives.

Because it’s the sound you make at the foot of the cross.

I call it that because it’s an accurate description … and because “A Generous Orthodoxy” was already taken.

I’m not going to attempt to defend it; only to propose it. Or, rather, to quote it:

I tell you the truth, whatever you bind on earth will be (or “will have been”) bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be (or “will have been”) loosed in heaven.

The heresy is in my interpretation. It comes from my hermeneutic that maintains there may be more than one correct/right/valid way to interpret a given passage of scripture; that scripture may have many complex layers, given the complexity of the One who reveals it and the creatures He created.

In this quote from Jesus (Matthew 18:18), the burden for making some decisions within the fellowship of believers seems to rest upon believers. It does not say, “Whatever God binds and looses in heaven, you had better be absolutely certain that you perfectly understand and inerrantly bind and obey on earth.”

It just does not say that.

The context is Jesus’ teaching on teaching children well; on handling conflict; on forgiving others – all in answer to the question “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

(Insulting question on its face, isn’t it? Especially to ask of the One who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.)

But the answer seems to be that those who are bold enough to live Christ-like lives are given the authority within that kingdom to exercise judgment … judgment about what is right and what is wrong – not about who is right and who is wrong. Because this enigmatic quote is sandwiched between the admonition to go to a brother who has sinned/or has something against you – and in two or three agreeing to ask God to do something for them.

Am I imagining it, or is this all connected? Not just a dissociated grouping of various sayings by the Master, but an ongoing thought:

Somebody has a problem with someone else. They get together. One is stubborn. The other brings friends who validate his point of view. If the stubborn one remains stubborn in the matter before the whole big group, the others are to turn away from him. What they have decided – binding or loosing – will be (or already will have been) decided the same way in heaven. Because God will listen to those two or three and decide that way.

Given the fact that the original language can be interpreted in two different tenses, I even see the tinge of meaning that the God who was, who is and who is to come rules on the matter from the perspective of eternity.

Does that mean that eternal law is cast in that decision?

What happens when two different sets of two or three agree on points of view that as far from each other as the east is from the west?

Does God bind their belief on the ones they have gone to and spoken to about this matter? Does He require them to follow their siblings’ belief even though they do not hold it?

Or does God bind belief on the one who holds it?

That, to me, is the gist of Romans 14 – that our instruction isn’t to go imposing our beliefs on other brothers and sisters, but to try to avoid offending their consciences while remaining true to our own. That God holds us responsible for remaining faithful to the beliefs we hold, not that they hold. That there are some things that are just simply a matter of conscience.

Eating meat sacrificed to idols is apparently one of those things. Participating in ritual sex with a temple prostitute is not.

Maybe that’s why the Spirit’s support for the resolution of the Council at Jerusalem seems so tepid in Acts 15. The letter goes out from the council phrased “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and us ….”

Only seemed?

Was that because the Spirit was in favor of half of the measure – forbidding fornication – but was not interested in passing church law on matters that were primarily Jewish kosher food and sacrifice customs? Matters that were moot, since Christ put animal sacrifice to death and since sacrifice to pagan gods was empty ritual because those gods were imaginary?

If that’s so … how many times have we as Christians made our walk with Christ much more difficult by binding items of belief on ourselves that Jesus never intended us to bear? Are our consciences so burdened with nonessential beliefs that we’ve bound our own hands and hearts to do good in His name?

I’m thinking about stuff that has passed for doctrine within my lifetime, folks … and some of it that still passes for doctrine, even though they’re things that scripture doesn’t even mention.

I’m thinking about forbidding charity to missionary societies, orphan homes, Bible camps and anything else that smacks of “cooperation.”

I’m thinking about requiring accountability partners, multilayered church authority hierarchies, signatures on documents of commitment, attitudes of being 100 per cent “sold-out” 24/7.

I’m thinking about forbidding applause, hands raised in worship, new songs, old songs, solo voices, musical instruments, silent contemplation.

I’m thinking about a few dozen other things that have absolutely nothing to do with preventing or guaranteeing our closeness to God through His Son.

But most of all, I’m thinking about a mindset that requires explicit, detailed authority and permission (referenced from isolated book, chapter and verse) for everything that God supposedly wants us to do as being a very damned convenient excuse for not doing anything at all.

Pardon my French, but that’s the word that comes to mind … because if God does bind these very restrictive beliefs – good, bad or indifferent – on a Christian, then the least violation of that voluminous rulebook is an act of self-condemnation. (Isn’t that the very kind of thing Jesus was talking about when he said the Pharisees were eager to bind on others a lot of rules they had no intention of keeping themselves, nor in helping others keep?)

And if they are so bound on earth – and manage to remain true to those beliefs – does that mean that they would remain bound to them in heaven?

Wouldn’t that take some of the life out of the party both here and hereafter?

The point, to me, is that a lot of our self-devised rules are pretty arbitrary. They serve to separate, not to unite. They do so by creating castes of “I’m better than you” folks who can live by those rules and look down on those who don’t; who can preach them into hell for their infidelity. They create super-apostles versus lesser believers who can never feel confident of their faith. They foster an “I’m right and you’re wrong” attitude that is totally inconsistent with the truth – that we are all wrong, and only Jesus is right.

You see, I’m not sure that Matthew 18 is entirely about the proper procedures for handling conflict between brothers.

I’m thinking it might also be good tongue-in-cheek advice for how not to impose your fifty-volume perfect-bound personal rule book encyclopedia on someone else: Just leave them alone. Let them struggle through their own challenges, not yours. Because if you love them, you can’t possibly excommunicate them forever, based on your imperfect knowledge and your imperfect judgment.

C’mon. Can you really picture Jesus saying, “… treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector” without a hint of a smile playing at the side of His mouth? The One who came from heaven to redeem pagans and to call tax collectors to follow Him?

Is it possible that the struggle to determine and dedicate one’s self to what is right is far more important than being eternally right about the details of rules and regulations? Wasn’t it Jesus’ consistent teaching that the Pharisees and Saducees had found God’s own rules insufficient and lacking, producing volumes and layers of their own interpretation and legislation to complete the deficit?

Didn’t He say that we will be judged as we judge others?

Wasn’t it for freedom itself that He set us free … not to live lawlessly, but in love with Him and each other?

Isn’t all of that the heresy that He instigated with regard to man’s view of God’s Word, which is Himself?

Ain’t it called grace?

I’ve come to realize that it’s my belief system; my hermeneutic; my doctrine.

I won’t be forced into a false choice between orthodoxy and heterodoxy. Not while there’s an entirely different way of looking at both.

Hopefully, just the way Jesus did.

When needled about his disciples not washing their hands. When reprimanded about healing someone – “doing work” – on the Sabbath. When prodded to choose between giving to God and giving to Caesar. When goaded into judging between a man and his brother – or into judging the fate of a woman caught in adultery.

When He essentially said those many times, “Yes, I know how it reads. But do you know what it means?”

Unorthodoxy.

It may not be the only way to believe, but it’s the way I seem to have been pursuing for a long time – and now that I’ve thought about it, I love the precedent and the One who set it.

Who would read Paul saying that “I beat my body” and conclude that beating one’s own body must be the one and only way acceptable before God to keep from “disqualifying for the prize”?

Who would read Jesus saying “If your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out” and conclude that blinding one’s self in one eye would be the one and only way acceptable before God to “enter the kingdom of God”?

Who would read Paul saying that “… women will be saved through childbearing – if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety” and conclude that this is the one and only way that any woman can be saved?

Who would read Jesus saying that “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” and conclude that asceticism and carrying (or just wearing) a wooden cross is the one and only acceptable way to follow Him?

Who would read Peter saying that “… this water symbolizes baptism that now saves you also ….” (1 Peter 3:21) and ignore the word “also” and – apart from any other scripture about belief, confession, repentance, grace, His sacrifice – conclude that baptism alone is the one and only acceptable way to be saved?

We can take things too literally. We can take them out of context. We can skip what we don’t like, don’t comprehend, and/or don’t want to deal with.

We can even take the absence of any mention of furniture in New Testament churches and conclude that the one and only acceptable piece of furniture in the Lord’s house is a table – and that must be all right because the gospels mention it at the Last Supper.

However, we do so at our own peril. And that peril is not from physically beating ourselves, physically half-blinding ourselves, or physically failing to reproduce …

… but spiritually.

Does anyone have a really good goof-proof method for determining the difference between what is sound doctrine and what is just a good idea?

And what may not be a very good idea?

I’m really asking. I really want to know.

Just saying “If it’s in the Bible, it’s sound doctrine” won’t cut it. We all know that. Satan wasn’t shy about using scripture to tempt Jesus.

How can we know what is the desire of God’s heart for us, apart from all of the ditherings about language and meaning and definition and law and command and example and necessary inference?

How much can we rely upon His grace to cover our lack of understanding?

Is it possible to know God’s will in every conceivable circumstance?

Or is it arrogance to think that we can? That we do?

Is it possible God intentionally built a level of mystery, seeming contradiction, translucence – rather than opaqueness or transparence – into His word so that we would constantly struggle, study, pray, attempt, fail, repent, learn, experience the light that we seek in perfect clarity?

To keep us humble?

To keep us seeking?

To draw us closer?