review: Misquoting Jesus

Misquoting Jesus: The story behind who changed the bible and why
Bart D. Ehrman

In our age of first ubiquitous printed material and latterly instant text-based communications, we tend to assume that a text is fixed and immutable, that we can know what somebody said, and we can enquire as to whether they stand by it.  Writing is a big part of my professional life, and any writer knows the frustration and surprise which comes from having someone else edit one's words - even if the editing leads to an over-all improvement. Yet I also know that for all the ease of transmission, many of the papers I work with appear in a number of versions, conference and journal variants, as well as invited book chapters and technical reports and all the rest.  One just tends to assume that similar papers say similar things - even if one goes to great lengths to eliminate flaws in later versions of one's own work.

We easily forget that it was not always thus: that there was a time when all manuscripts were copies; when variants arose and got copied, and the variant readings became dominant.  The variations in copies of my own work are as nothing compared to the variations in the many manuscripts we have of the new testament.

This book is a systematic account of the reason we have so many manuscripts, and how they differ, and what the church has done about it.  Here, Ehrman tells the story of how variations came about (very largely through copying by amateur scribes in the earliest years of Christainity), why they came about (through mistakes, and through well-meaning attempts to improve the text), and where they are to be found in the New Testament (in changes great and small).

The account is very accessible - bordering on the patronizing at times perhaps: I get the impression that this is a popularized version of some of his more scholarly writing.  Surely most of us have noticed the footnotes that tell us to beware the last few verses of Mark's gospel, or the account of the woman taken in adultery.  Perhaps, too, we have noticed the occasional footnotes in, say, the NIV, which give variant readings for all manner of passages.  Ehrman seems to assume we have ignored all of those - but then goes on to paint a fulsome picture of the reasons for and significance of a number of those alternatives, so I can forgive him for treating me like an incurious naive reader.  Although he dwells on a handful of examples (no doubt the more juicy ones), he observes that the collection of manuscripts known to us displays literally thousands of variant readings.  The methods for trying to guess what the original may have been are indeed like a detective story.

The book is topped and tailed with accounts of Ehrman's own faith - or, rather, how he began biblical studies with a strong evangelical notion of inerrancy as a 'born again Christian' but arrived at a point of "seeing the bible as a very human book, with very human points of view". As I understand it, he would no longer describe himself as a Christian at all.  The introduction surveys the steps in this process; the conclusion looks at the philosophy and hermeneutics which flow from the scholarship surveyed in the book.  What sense is there in believing in inerrancy of the original text if that text is now lost to us?  Worse, why would the Almighty go the trouble of providing inerrant scriptures and then not preserve them for our reading?

The standard evangelical response to the textual variations is to say that none of them touch upon important matters of doctrine.  Ehrman challenges this, observing that some significant, well-known stories are in doubt. And if you set great store by that "All scripture is God-breathed and is useful ..." line, well, how can you decide which are the unimportant bits?

I guess - though I haven't really delved into it - that as a former Evangelical who became an ex-Christian largely through studying the bible, Ehrman is something of a bogey-man in your average bible college.  If we are to take scholarship seriously and receive the bible without a naive simplicity (which it doesn't deserve), then voices like his must be listened to with care: I find much of what he says very persuasive.  I shall read more of what he has to say.

not-so new international version

This is a little depressing, though a few little searches on biblegateway.com suggests that at least some of the TNIV's readings have been retained.

here I stand? part 3: gospel and salvation

I'm blogging about things I might believe differently now than I once did.  The introduction is the place to start.  This is an essay on how I'm trying to understand what being saved is all about.


One day, when I was a graduate student, one of my friends put me on the spot and forced me to explain the gospel, as if to a dying man. I think he wanted to check that I was 'sound'.  At the time, I demurred, arguing that I wasn't fond of the hypothetical and that any real discussion would have a context.  But eventually I think I passed the test: I successfully explained the evangelical gospel.


For it is, surely, a sectarian idea of the gospel which gets propounded in the churches of my acquaintance.  Perhaps you could point to a broad sweep of reformation thinking and say that there is a protestant gospel, but even within  that picture you would find nuanced accounts.  Whether its the TULIPs of Calvinisim or the tongues of Pentecostalism, or, in classic opposition to the first, the wider doors of Arminianism.  I've heard it said that the chief ongoing dispute between Protestants and Catholics stems from differing definitions of the term 'justification' - the former seeing it as a one-off; the latter having it encompass what the former would call 'sanctification'.  I don't know if that's a fair characterization, but it sounds plausible.  And then, at opposite extremes you have gospels of universalism on the one hand and a very particular elect (144,000) for the JWs - many would deny that either of these is a Christian doctrine, I guess.


Presumably, all of this matters very much.  Is the objective of evangelism that those outside the church should come to understand that they are sinners, alienated from God, that Jesus died for their sins, and that they need to pray the sinner's prayer?  Or is that born of a mis-reading of Paul's response to the Philippian gaoler's question "What must I do to be saved?"  For that man and a great number of others in the New Testament, baptism followed immediately - are we propounding a New Testament faith if we do otherwise?  Is mental assent to a series of propositional truths the essence of salvation, anyway?


Though we get some of this sense from Paul's sermons, you can't really - with integrity - describe the whole evangelical gospel from a single passage of scripture.  Your handy tract on "Two ways to live" or "Journey into life" or "The bridge" or whatever, draws on proof texts from all over the new testament.  If there was a single way to describe the gospel, wouldn't you expect to find it all together somewhere? Preferably in the teaching of Jesus?  


I skated over the line above "Jesus died for their sins" above, but similarly, in the doctrine of the atonement we have a great many pictures on offer in the bible.  And too easily, I think, we impose our particular favourites onto proof texts that could mean all sorts of other things.  So penal substitutionary atonement has its firm proponents and trenchant critics, both arguing from scripture and both arguing that the other's perspective is nonsensical and unbiblical.  [hm.  my spell-checker didn't like 'unbiblical' and suggested 'Republican' instead. LOL].  These are not unimportant peripheral topics, they go to the heart of what Christian faith is all about.  So it bothers me that I sincerely doubt that most sitting in our churches - our evangelical churches - could explain more than one, or at most two, pictures of what the atonement is all about, and the extent to which the pictures support and reinforce one another.  


Perhaps I'm pessimistic in the preceding paragraph, but my preacher's experience, and my experience of bible study groups doesn't fill me with confidence.  My fear is that we spend too long defining the gospel in terms of propositions that must be believed, and too little defining it in terms of living lives characterized by love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  Is that a retreat from a gospel of salvation by grace, through faith, not by works?  Not at all, but I'll settle for mustard-seed-sized faith.  


Walking with  God doesn't, surely, depend on being able to explain Christus Victor any more than it means being able to draw the pictures of two ways to live.  It does mean following in the way of the risen Christ.  Isn't that what the gospel is all about?

here I stand? part 2: scripture

I'm blogging about things I might believe differently now than I once did.  The introduction is the place to start.  This is an essay on where the bible fits in to that way of thinking.


First off, I think we can safely ignore the position which speaks of plenary literal verbal inspiration, and connects this with a strong notion of inerrancy.  I've never believed that, and find it very unsatisfactory.  Not least because all but the oddest of its adherents ascribe those characteristics only to "scripture as originally given" - something which is lost to us through the hands of scribes and copyists - so that the whole issue becomes rather a hypothetical one.  And that's not even touching on the question of how the canon came about.  However, it is worth lingering near that inerrancy idea for two reasons: firstly, because other watered-down notions of infallibility sometimes sail very close to the strong position (and do themselves an injury in the process), and second because those who want to knock down scripture as useless will often set up an inerrant straw man to knock down.  So we must beware that we stand where we mean to stand.


Of course, that choice is a crucial one: the way that we receive the scripture affects so much.  I came across a conservative Evangelical (sorry, I forget who it was) who remarked that by looking at what someone believes about women's ministry we learn all we need to about their attitude to scripture.  I think he may well be right.  I've written before about how that issue essentially re-moulded my thinking on how to read and interpret the bible.  I respect those who think that you can take a somewhat conservative position and yet reach an inclusive opinion, but I admit that deep-down that seems like what Orwell called double-think.  To summarise my earlier post: however you look at the details, Paul doesn't seem to anticipate men and women playing interchangeable roles in the church, as many of us assume today - but that doesn't mean that we, in our context, have to agree with him.


So I want to receive scripture with care and with great respect - but without the sometimes naive reading which says "the bible says it so I must do it". Far too much interpretation goes into the reading for that to be allowable.  Far too often we do lip-service to interpretation in context, but then proceed to make the most egregious leaps in proof-texting.  Too often, there is a cursory acknowledgement that there are different kinds of literature in the bible - and then suddenly an attempt to "prove" something by reference to a piece of poetry.  I find it rather refreshing that emerging church writers don't tend to litter their work with footnotes and bible references - not because they want to propound something heterodox (necessarily!) simply because they assume a grown-up reader who can weigh the whole of a passage, or book, or biblical theme.  


McLaren has a nice take on this in his A New Kind of Christianity. There he contrasts receiving the "bible as constitution", with the "bible as library". I think that's rather a good summary of the shift.  It's no less reverent, no less inclined to ask the Holy Spirit to speak to us through the text, but much less likely to have us say "God says it, I believe it, that settles it."  


I've referred, too, to the quote from Tomlinson: "Only the doggedly rationalist mind imagines that truth is equated solely with fact."   A large number of Christians receive certain parts of the bible as myth: the first eleven chapters of Genesis particularly so, or the book of Jonah; maybe the book of Job.  Saying that they're not set out as historical fact does not diminish them or their message; it doesn't imply that any writer set out to deceive or mislead us.  It just reminds us that there are lots of different kinds of literature contained within the pages of scripture.  To how many other parts of the text might we apply the same analysis?  Well, there, Evangelicals quickly part company with others - even if evidence for the Exodus is scant, archaeological ties to King David hard to find, and so on.   Faced with overwhelming evidence, many have rejected a 'literal' reading of Genesis (not that such a reading was completely pervasive in antiquity, it seems), but have been unwilling to go further and compare what they read in the bible with the best available evidence outside.It the historicity of these things necessary? Is it likely?What should be our working assumption?  Or, is the point of the virgin birth supposed to be a historical fact, or principally a useful picture?  As I said when I reviewed Tomlinson's book, he quietly dissuaded me from the former.


It is naive, though, to imagine that we can easily undertake this shift, or do so without significant consequences.  The author of the first chapters of Genesis - even if separated by a millennium or more from the events described - gave us all those genealogies to tie them onto the more historical-sounding material.  Even if we assume a certain latitude in the meaning of 'beget', that link is still made.  Jesus could speak of the apocalypse coming "as it was in Noah's day" - should we read that as meaning he believed in Noah (and does that mean we should?) or can we read it rather like "as Banquo said to Macbeth".   When Paul said that in Adam all die, was he speaking literally or figuratively?  I don't think it is satisfactory to fudge these things - though we need humility to admit when we don't have the answer.  My answer, consistent with the stuff higher up, is to say that Paul may have believed in Adam as a historical fact, but that doesn't mean that we must.


So, I think there are two shifts in my thinking.  First is to say that although the bible is true (countless generations have proven this in their experience), there are many, many things in it which are not to be received as facts: including many things which I would previously have seen that way.   The second is more subtle, but eventually much more profound: it's that library vs constitution thing.  I don't think this diminishes the authority of scripture, but others may differ: I'll certainly agree that it changes profoundly our practice in interpreting it.  I say 'our', but of course I'm thinking mostly of Evangelicals, or more broadly Protestants.  Those standing in other Christian traditions have long received the scripture in different ways anyway.  Casting our eyes wider, to the methods and exegesis of other scholars seems like rather a good idea.

here I stand ?

Well, James suggested that after a while of saying I didn't feel like an Evangelical any more, it was time to try to nail what the issue (or issues) is (or are).  I tend to be rather conciliatory when speaking face-to-face, and rather naturally slot into Evangelical language which is so deeply ingrained on my psyche.  So maybe a blog post will help.

The first problem of definition arises because a lot of the changes I've seen in how I believe are not so much rejections of old things as embracing of the new.  And where I do think I've stopped holding to the former things, it's often not so much an out-and-out repudiation, as a shift of emphasis.  Although I've realised in a few stark ways that people I once regarded as fellow-travellers I now regard with great suspicion, far more often I just want to replace a hand which holds tightly to some doctrine to one which has a looser grip.  Often I want to say "isn't there another way to look at this", or I'm just happy to replace certainty with doubt.

Doing such things doesn't immediately lead you to give up entirely on former understandings.  It's more about a way of believing than a set of beliefs.  And yet, for all that Evangelicals (and a wider Protestant church) have tended to define themselves by propositional statements and nice black-and-white answers, it is the way of believing which is just as important.  So I can tick all the boxes, and still not believe like an Evangelical, because I no longer have the same approach to what believing is all about.  Periodically I go and re-read the doctrinal basis of the Evangelical Alliance, to see if it's time to resign my membership.  I'm finding some of the clauses a bit shaky, but I don't actually disbelieve any yet - or didn't, last time I seriously considered it.  I just wouldn't sum up the faith that way.

I've never been entirely enamoured with such doctrinal statements: I remember my great amusement as an undergraduate at the DB being read aloud prior to the installation of a new OICCU president: the words seemed to be treated with more reverence than scripture.  And I was very enamoured of Rob Bell's illustration that doing theology ought not to be like defending a wall (made from bricks of systematic theology) but rather like jumping on a trampoline, and inviting others to jump too (the springs being capable of being taken out - in small number - and flexed, stretched, and investigated, without making the whole thing collapse).

I'm not likely to get thrown out of the church for stretching a few springs, but you might have guessed that I think there's more going on than that.  So, over the next few posts - which could take some time - I want to explore some totemic issues where my thinking has developed.  I think the list might be something like this (but this isn't necessarily a table of contents for the next few blog posts):

• the bible
• the gospel and salvation 
• prayer (perhaps a reprise of this post)
• belief (perhaps a reprise of several recent posts)
• existence
• spiritual formation
• the gathered life of the church
• sexuality

I feel as if this could be an awfully big adventure.  Perhaps there's a lot riding - for me, and my role in Northway Church - on what I say next.  But perhaps the time has come to start saying it and see what happens.

Reformed Boot Camp

This raises so many questions for me.

I know I regularly vow never to comment on the Driscoll stuff, and then I fail.

The info on the Facebook page also sets me off.  The first sentence gives me chills.

God is moving and creating a resurgence of young reformed church planting movements. Time magazine recently called this movement the third most world-changing idea in America. This conference will bring in a handful of the movement's leaders to connect what is happening today to what has happened in the past and to give a solid biblical theology of the Spirit and his work.

The third most world-changing idea in America?  For just $150.  Plus a $9.24 booking fee.  Wow.

review: Christ Church, Oxford Cathedral

The church: Christ Church, Oxford Cathedral
Denomination:  Church of England (Anglican)
The building: The building is impressive and eclectic. It is part of Christ Church, and wholly surrounded by the college.  
The church: This is the cathedral church of the diocese of Oxford, and also the college chapel.  Somehow it manages this split personality: but I'm not sure it makes for a close-knit congregation.  By its nature, it has several distinct sub-communities.
The neighborhood: City-centre Oxford; the heart of the University.
The cast: About five clergy (I didn't see any names); a verger in a cassock covered by a curious (i.e. not Oxford) black gown; a choir of around 10 men and 10 boys.
The date & time: Sunday 17th October, 6.00pm Christ Church time (which is 6.05pm British Summer Time).


I haven't been to Christ Church for years - I'm guessing, about 15.  On a whim, I thought I'd drop in to Evensong, and see what's what.  I remembered a fairly low-church austere set-up, with no announcements or concession to those unfamiliar with the service.  I found an even lower set-up (all the genuflection has disappeared! and the odd bows in the Gloria patri, and no one making the sign of the cross at 'the resurrection of the body' in the creed), and a few interruptions to the liturgy of the 'now turn to page 45, paragraph 2' kind - which disappointed me a little.

What was the name of the service?
Choral Evensong
How full was the building?
Probably about 25% - but it has many parts, so it's hard to say.
Did anyone welcome you personally?
Someone handed me a service booklet; I'm not sure that they actually spoke.
Was your pew comfortable?
Not bad.  
How would you describe the pre-service atmosphere?
Quiet and reserved.

What were the exact opening words of the service?

Welcome to Christ Church.

What books did the congregation use during the service?

A booklet set out the liturgy for the service; the hymn book (a new one on me; I forget the name) was needed for the two hymns; the prayer book was used for the psalm; and another booklet listed the psalms, hymns, and music chosen for the day.

What musical instruments were played?
Organ.  And the choir - is the choir an instrument?  They played a big role in the service.

Did anything distract you?
Not much.  The chap sitting in front of me elected not to kneel for the prayers.  He didn't even adopt a 'non-conformist crouch', preferring to sit bolt upright, so I found myself breathing down his neck, quite literally.

Was the worship stiff-upper-lip, happy clappy, or what?

Low and Liturgical. Cathedral worship in the finest Anglican tradition.  The choir is probably still being broken in, as it were, it being the start of a new academic year. There was nothing wrong with the music, but nothing really stood out, save a curious emphasis/intonation in the psalm.

Exactly how long was the sermon?

Sermon? This was evening prayer.  No sermon.
On a scale of 1-10, how good was the preacher?
Who needs a preacher?

Which part of the service was like being in heaven?

A sense of peace, of measured, dignified worship.

And which part was like being in... er... the other place?

Kneeling with my nose in someone else's back.

What happened when you hung around after the service looking lost?

Oh, I don't think you do that at the cathedral.

How would you feel about making this church your regular (where 10 = ecstatic, 0 = terminal)?

Oh, I don't think you do that at the cathedral.  Well, I suppose some people do. But that would be a 0 for me.

Did the service make you feel glad to be a Christian?

Yes.

What one thing will you remember about all this in seven days' time?

The great familiarity of the liturgy (I gave up on the booklet half-way through the first page), and the surprise at not having any genuflecting to do.

Post-script: the organ voluntary was some kind of variations of the theme of the Westminster Chimes.  Truly Bizarre.  A glance at wikipedia suggests to me it was probably by Vierne.  It was certainly in his style.