BIBLICAL Horizons, No. 9
January, 1990
Copyright 1990, Biblical Horizons
A book note by James B. Jordan
Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose was certainly one of the best literary works of the past decade, though the film version hardly measured up to it. Now Eco has given us a new novel, Foucault’s Pendulum. Like Rose, Foucault’s Pendulum reflects on the limitations of human knowledge, and on man’s desire to play God. In Foucault, however, Eco makes his own Christian commitments clear.
If you’ve kept up with the reviews, you know that Foucault’s Pendulum deals with occultism and conspiracy theory. Eco shows the destructive nature of these things, and presents Christianity as the alternative. Eco also shows us that though occultism and conspiracy theories look fascinating to start with, they soon become interminably boring. To make this point, Eco goes out of his way in the middle of the novel to bore the reader. The critics have seen this as a flaw, but I see it as a brilliant literary device. The climax of this "boring" section comes when the "wise woman of Proverbs" applies common sense and brings the central character back to earth.
The three primary male characters are a would-be Jew, a lapsed Catholic, and a lapsed Calvinist (who is the central character). The three primary female characters are the wise woman from Proverbs, the foolish woman of Proverbs, and a modern supposedly liberated woman. As we watch these characters respond to the modern world and to occultism, we find much food for thought. I highly recommend Foucault’s Pendulum.
BIBLICAL Horizons, No. 9
January, 1990
Copyright 1990, Biblical Horizons
Why was Jesus Christ conceived in a virgin? The great Augustine, who never shrank from seeking to answer such questions, provided an explanation in his treatise On the Trinity (13.18.23). Though it was, Augustine believed, possible in marriage to "make a right use of the carnal concupiscence which is in our members; yet it is liable to motions not voluntary." Involuntary concupiscence "intervenes" in every sexual act, and thus every conception is tainted with original sin. In the case of Jesus, however, "holy virginity became pregnant, not by conjugal intercourse, but by faith — lust being utterly absent." Because Mary conceived without any "intervention" of lust, her seed had "nothing at all . . . of sin." Mary’s conception of Jesus proceeded from "not flesh, but spirit, not lust but faith."
My sense is that Augustine’s view is, with minor variations, a most widespread understanding of the meaning of the virgin conception. But this view, in whatever variety, assumes that there is something innately defiling about sexual intercourse and sexual reproduction. All varieties ultimately make this assumption: Jesus had to be conceived asexually because sexual procreation is somehow sinful. But this idea finds no support in Scripture. On the contrary, Scripture includes what can be described as a poetic celebration of sexual love in the Song of Solomon. (I am not denying that the Song also has other dimensions of meaning.)
In order to arrive at a more biblical understanding of the virgin conception, we need to examine the biblical meaning of virginity, and the immediate contexts of those texts that describe the virgin conception of Christ.
When we survey the Old Testament passages that deal with virginity, we find two emphases. First, in many passages, virginity is a characteristic of a people, not of individual persons. The relationship of Israel to God is described as a marriage covenant, or as a betrothal leading to marriage. This is not a secondary or derived meaning of marriage and virginity, but the central meaning. A husband’s love for his wife images Christ’s love for His Church, not vice versa; Christ’s love is the prototype of which human love is a more or less perfect reflection. Christ’s betrothal to His Church is the original marriage covenant.
Second, virginity in the Old Testament has far more to do with faithfulness than with a mere lack of sexual initiation. On an individual level, faithfulness to one’s betrothed would obviously prevent fornication; but the avoidance of sexual sin is the product of a more significant "covenantal" virginity. On a corporate level, "covenantal" virginity manifests itself in faithful worship of and obedience to God, and Israel becomes a "harlot" and "loses her virginity" by going after other gods.
In Jeremiah 18:13, for example, the "virgin of Israel" is rebuked for having done "a most appalling thing." This is explained in v. 15: "For My people have forgotten Me, they burn incense to worthless gods and they have stumbled from their ways, from the ancient paths, to walk in bypaths, not on a highway." Israel’s intended "virginity" is contrasted not with "impurity" but with "forgetfulness" of the Lord and His laws. Similarly, in Ezekiel 23, Israel and Judah are presented as daughters who "played the harlot in Egypt" and permitted "their virgin bosom" to be fondled by the choice men of Egypt and Assyria.
This imagery is picked up in the New Testament when Paul reminds the Corinthians that his duty is to protect the virginity of the Church by preventing the minds of his readers from being "led astray from the simplicity and purity (or sincerity) to Christ" (2 Cor. 11:2-3). Though the notion of virginal purity seems to be present in this passage, it is equally clear that virginity has a richer meaning here than absence of sexual activity. Protecting the virginity of the Church involves ensuring that the bride is single-heartedly devoted to her husband.
One final Old Testament pattern can be brought into play here. Throughout the Old Testament, many deliverers of God’s people were conceived in a miraculous manner. Isaac was born when both his parents were "dead" (cf. Heb. 11:12). Moses was saved from death by his parents’ deception. Samson’s mother was barren. So was Hannah. Each of these births was, in effect, a birth-from-death, a resurrection. It was appropriate that Jesus, as the Deliverer of His people, should also be conceived in a miraculous way. But the conception of Christ far exceeds the types. Jesus was not simply conceived by parents beyond child-bearing years, but by a virgin. Moreover, Jesus was conceived not by the union of sperm and egg, but by the Holy Spirit. Even from His birth, He was, in a preliminary way, the spiritual man: not of the earth, earthy, but the heavenly man.
A look at the New Testament texts in which the virgin conception of Jesus is described leads us back into the Old Testament theme of virginity. In Matthew, the story of Jesus’ birth follows directly after a genealogy, and the genealogy should be understood as setting the context for the interpretation of the birth narrative. In particular, Matthew’s genealogy is striking in its references to women. It was unusual for a first-century Jewish genealogy even to include women; but Matthew doesn’t simply include women, he includes some of the most scandalous characters in Old Testament history: Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba. Even Ruth, whose name has more positive associations, took some rather bold action to gain Boaz as her husband. If Matthew wanted to include women in his genealogy, fine; but why these women? Why not Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel?
Of course, we could ask the same questions about the men. It is well known that Matthew’s genealogy skips several of Judah’s kings. But if he wished to skip kings, why not skip Manasseh, for whose sins Israel was sent into exile (2 Kings 23:26-27)? One of the reasons for including these scandalous characters is to show that Jesus entered human history as it really is. Jesus did not enter a sanitized world; He entered a world populated by Manassehs and Amons, Tamars and Bathshebas. Jesus was willing to get his hands dirty, willing to suffer the scandal of a tainted genealogy, to save His people. He entered a world polluted with sin, was born into a lineage replete with scandal, and claimed all of it as His own. He is not ashamed to call them His fathers and mothers.
The bearing of the genealogy on the virgin conception of Christ becomes clearer when we realize that the fifth woman mentioned in the genealogy is Mary — four tainted women, and Mary. Keeping in mind that virginity and harlotry in the Old Testament have to do with the corporate faithfulness or unfaithfulness of Israel, we would be justified in concluding that the five women of Matthew’s genealogy represent Israel under different aspects. The four women represent Israel the harlot; Mary the virgin remnant. The four women represent an Israel that has rejected her Lord, and been delivered over to her own lusts; Mary represents those within Israel who are of Israel.
Several elements in Luke’s gospel point in the same direction. The story of the birth of Christ is interwoven with the story of the birth of John. The angel tells Zacharias that John will be the one to turn "many of the sons of Israel to the Lord their God," the one who will "make ready a people prepared for the Lord" (1:16-17). In short, John would be the one to call and begin to gather the faithful remnant foretold by the prophets (cf. Is. 11:11-16). Moreover, in Luke’s description of the annunciation, it is emphasized that Mary was living in Nazareth, in Galilee of the Gentiles (cf. Is. 9:1). She lives, in short, outside the mainstream of Jewish life. But the angel tells her that she has found favor with the Lord. The Lord comes to deliver His people not through the "official channels" in Jerusalem, but through a humble virgin of Nazareth, who responds with ready obedience to what the Lord commands.
Thus, given the Old Testament imagery of virginity and the contexts of the narratives of Jesus’ conception, it is possible to understand the virgin conception as a sign of God’s coming to His people through a faithful remnant. This interpretation has the added virtue of strengthening the connection between the virgin conception of Christ and Isaiah 7:14, which Matthew cites in 1:23. In the Isaiah passage, the sign of the virgin was given to Ahaz, who was facing an invasion from Rezin of Aram and Pekah of Israel. Through Isaiah, the Lord assured Ahaz that he had nothing to fear, and instructed Ahaz to request a sign. Ahaz refused, but the Lord gave a sign anyway: the sign of the virgin.
What does this have to do with the conception of Jesus? Did Matthew simply pull a single text from its context to lend Old Testament support to His gospel? If we understand the virgin conception of Christ in redemptive-historical terms, we can see that Matthew’s reference to Isaiah’s prophecy is perfectly legitimate. The sign to Ahaz was an assurance that Jerusalem would be delivered, an assurance that a remnant of the people would survive. On the other hand, because Ahaz disobeyed God’s command to request a sign, the sign of the virgin was also a sign that the Lord would destroy Ahaz’s house (Is. 7:17).
Applying this to the birth of Christ, we find that the sign of the virgin plays the same role: assurance to the faithful (virgin remnant) that the Lord would deliver, and a threat to the unfaithful (prostituted leadership) of the coming of "days as have never come since the day that Ephraim separated from Judah" (Is. 7:17). No wonder, then, that Mary, contemplating her pregnancy in the light of the Old Testament prophecy, would sing that the Lord "has scattered those who were proud in the thoughts of their heart. He has brought down rulers from their throne, and has exalted those who were humble" (Lk. 1:51b-52). No wonder Simeon prophesied that Jesus was "appointed for the fall and rise of many in Israel" (Lk. 2:34). Both understood the sign of the virgin — in a way, we might add, that Augustine did not.
BIBLICAL Horizons, No. 9
January, 1990
Copyright 1990, Biblical Horizons
From time to time people ask me about "interpretive maximalism." They want to know what it is, and sometimes want to know if it represents some departure from the Reformed grammatico-historical, Biblico-theological approach to the Bible.
I have something of a problem with these questions, because "interpretive maximalism" is not a new approach to anything, and in fact is not a term I’ve ever used in print, though I have used something quite similar. The question is legitimate, however, since from time to time reviewers make mention of "interpretive maximalism" as something distinctive to some writers and not to others.
Now, where does all this "interpretive maximalism" talk come from? First of all, it comes directly from the introduction by David Chilton to his fine commentary on Revelation, The Days of Vengeance (Ft. Worth, TX: Dominion Press, 1987), pp. 36ff. Chilton makes the point that everything in the Bible, every detail, is important. He also makes the point that everything in the Old Testament points to Christ. In the course of his discussion, he thanks me for making these two points clear in my introduction to my book, Judges: God’s War Against Humanism (Tyler, TX: Geneva Ministries, 1985), and he says that I call this "interpretive maximalism."
Let’s consider Chilton’s points. Are there commentators who hold that there are details in the Bible that are not important? Are they saying that when we read, study, meditate, and expound a passage of Scripture we are to dismiss or ignore the details and just go for the overall thrust? Yes, there are commentators who advocate this. There has been a tendency on the part of some Reformed and evangelical exegetes to say that we should regard details in some passages as merely colorful information. Amazingly, even the great B. B. Warfield says just this in his essay on Biblical chronology, arguing that the chronological data of Genesis 5 and 11 are not important. (See my comments on this in my paper, The Biblical Chronology Question: An Analysis, available from Biblical Horizons for $3.00, postpaid.)
This is an easy trap to fall into, particularly if the details don’t seem to call out for analysis. For instance, 2 Samuel 11:4 says that when David slept with Bathsheba, then "when she had purified herself from her uncleanness, she returned to her house." Many exegetes would simply say that this refers to the Israelite custom in the law of Leviticus 15, and then move on to the next verse. I suggest, however, that we should consider why the Holy Spirit gives us this information. Did David fail to cleanse himself? My guess is that David did not purify himself, knowing what this rite meant. In fact, since the Ark was in the field and holy war was being conducted, David was supposed to avoid all women (1 Sam. 21:4; 2 Sam. 11:11), so that his uncleanness was not ordinary innocent uncleanness, but willful defiance of God’s ceremonial law (in addition to being adultery!). Moreover, an examination of Psalm 51 will show that David mentions every kind of uncleanness discussed in Leviticus 11-15. Thus, uncleanness is in fact a major theme in the story. Only if we take the details seriously, however, will we see this.
The second aspect of "interpretive maximalism" that Chilton mentions is that everything in the Old Testament points to Christ. Are there some expositors who deny this? Certainly there are. Many older King James Bibles have a star next to those isolated verses that prophesy Christ. The assumption is that the rest of the verses don’t prophesy Christ.
Now it was this approach that I was arguing against in my comments in the introduction to Judges. There are those in the evangelical and Reformed world who believe that only selected verses and passages of the Old Testament prophesy Christ, and that we know what those verses are because they are quoted or referred to in the New Testament. In other words, the only prophecies and types are those the New Testament specifically mentions.
The other position, equally Reformed and evangelical, is that everything in the Old Testament points to Christ. This position holds that the specific types and prophecies mentioned in the New Testament provide us with examples and patterns to follow, but that we can find others in the Old Testament as well. Moreover, this position maintains that some aspects of the Old Testament are more pointed and specific types and prophecies, while other aspects of the Old Testament are more vague and general types and prophecies. This is what most of my teachers in seminary believed.
Now, what I wrote in Judges (p. xii) is this: "We have to explain this [i.e., the business about types and prophecies] in order to distance ourselves from the `interpretive minimalism’ that has come to characterize evangelical commentaries on Scripture in recent years. We do not need some specific New Testament verse to `prove’ that a given Old Testament story has symbolic dimensions. Rather, such symbolic dimensions are presupposed in the very fact that man is the image of God. Thus, we ought not to be afraid to hazard a guess at the wider prophetic meanings of Scripture narratives, as we consider how they image the ways of God. Such a `maximalist’ approach as this puts us more in line with the kind of interpretation used by the Church Fathers."
Now, that’s all I wrote and that’s all I meant. Interpreting the Old Testament "maximally," as I used the term, simply means trying to deal with the typological dimension, being open to finding Christ in the passage. There are Reformed and evangelical exegetes who disagree with this. At the same time, I have plenty of company in my view as well.
In fact, I think that those who take this kind of typology seriously are the only people doing justice to the Biblico-theological dimension of interpretation, and my criticism of the Bahnsen-Rushdoony type of "theonomy" is precisely that I don’t think they do justice to this dimension. In common with most of my teachers, I believe that the grammatico-historical "methods" of interpretation need to be complemented by Biblico-theological considerations, and that is what I have sought to do in my own work. (On "theonomy" see James B. Jordan, "Reconsidering the Mosaic Law: Some Reflections — 1988," available from Biblical Horizons .)
Of course, if anyone wants to challenge any of my specific interpretive suggestions, that’s fine with me. The introductions to all my books state clearly that I’m not trying to say the last word, only a helpful word. I welcome interaction that is based on the text of Scripture.
Let me conclude by saying that I don’t use the term "interpretive maximalism," and I don’t call myself an "interpretive maximalist." I used the words "minimal" and "maximal" in attempting to give laymen a grasp of common, garden-variety Biblical theology. (It seemed easier than phrases like "homological typology.") I’m sorry if has caused confusion to some people, and I hope that this essay has clarified matters.
A Bit of Bibliography
I can recommend my own study of typology, Through New Eyes: Developing a Biblical View of the World (Brentwood, TN: Wolgemuth & Hyatt, 1989), for more information on my own views. Biblical studies that I have found helpful (not the last word!) in opening up the Biblical symbolic worldview include Meredith G. Kline, Images of the Spirit (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1980); Austin Farrer, A Rebirth of Images (Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1949); and two commentaries by Gordon Wenham, Leviticus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979) and Numbers (Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity, 1981). The book of Revelation is the symbolic climax of Scripture, and nothing matches David Chilton’s commentary, The Days of Vengeance (Fort Worth: Dominion Press, 1987). Also very helpful is G. Lloyd Carr’s commentary on The Song of Solomon (Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 1984).
A valuable study of the redemptive historical approach as it was hammered out in the Reformed Churches of The Netherlands is Sola Scriptura: Problems and Principles of Preaching Historical Texts by Sidney Greidanus (Toronto: Wedge Pub. Co.; 1970). Greidanus puts his principles into practice in his book The Modern Preacher and the Ancient Text: Interpreting and Preaching Biblical Literature (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988). Unfortunately, this book does not have sections on preaching the law and preaching symbolic prophecy, and Greidanus’s failure to deal with these two matters, and to integrate them into the rest of his methodology, is a weakness in the book.
A popular redemptive historical Bible survey is the four volume set by S. G. de Graaf, Promise and Deliverance (Phillipsburg, NJ: Presbyterian & Reformed Pub. Co.). Much more in-depth, and available only in mimeograph (but well worth having) are the series of Old Testament History books by Homer Hoeksema. Each of these volumes gives very good redemptive historical insights into the text. They are available from the Theological School of the Protestant Reformed Churches, 4949 Ivanrest, Grandville, Michigan 49418. I had read all these books years before I ever wrote Judges, and that is partly why I have been amazed when some people regard what I wrote in Judges as new or different. It was old hat to me.
Finally, three recent books relevant to Biblical exegesis need to be noted. They are Symphonic Theology: The Validity of Multiple Perspectives in Theology by Vern S. Poythress; Science and Hermeneutics, also by Poythress; and Has the Church Misread the Bible? The History of Interpretation in the Light of Current Issues, by Moises Silva. Both men teach at Westminster Theological Seminary. These men are setting out the kind of hermeneutical models that I regard as ideal, and I highly recommend their works.
