Reading the Bible at face value and reading it with common sense can produce two different readings of Scripture. Still more troublesome is that one is not always better than the other.
I recently heard an interpretation of 1 Corinthians 6 and its prohibition against Christians taking other Christians to court which concluded, “And clearly this is not binding on all circumstances—Christians aren’t supposed to be doormats.” Perhaps. But maybe not. What else is Jesus’s command to “turn the other cheek” but a command to be a doormat.
Common sense is generally pretty helpful in figuring out what the Bible means—it’s a couple thousand years old, so difficulties in reading are to be expected. But if there’s a part of Scripture where we should expect our common sense to mislead us, it’s in the ethical teachings of the Good Book. Whenever Jesus or Paul or the prophets (definitely the prophets) prescribe a behavior, and we think, “Oh, well it probably means something else,” chances are that we’re probably wrong.
That’s the point of ethical teaching or moral instruction—to point a finger at the reader and say, “You—you’re doing it wrong. God has something higher, and harder, in mind.”
In the Talmudic story, “The Oven of Akhnai,” a new type of oven is brought before the Sanhedrin, and the rabbis debate whether or not this oven is susceptible to ritual impurity. After hours of debating, the teachers of the law are at an impasse until finally Rabbi Eliezer declares, “If the law is in accordance with my opinion, this tree will prove it!” At this point, the tree beside him leaps from the ground and runs far away. Naturally, the other rabbis explain that a tree offers no proof in a debate over law. So Rabbi Eliezer replies, “If the law is in accordance with my opinion, the stream will prove it.” Immediately the stream begins to flow backward, but again the other rabbis point out that one does not cite a stream as proof in matters of law. Rabbi Eliezer then states, “If the law is in accordance with my opinion, the walls of the study hall will prove it.” The walls of the study hall begin to fall but are then scolded by the rabbis for interfering in a debate among scholars.
In frustration, Rabbi Eliezer finally cries out, “If the law is in accordance with my opinion, Heaven will prove it!” From Heaven a voice is heard, saying, “Why are you differing with Rabbi Eliezer, as the law is in accordance with his opinion.” Quoting Deuteronomy, another rabbi responds, “The law is not in heaven.” In response to this, God smiles and says, “My children have triumphed over Me; My children have triumphed over Me.”
This is a strange story if ever there was one but starts to get at a theme that Jews are already too familiar with: the Bible is a book we can argue with. When the leaders of Israel argue with God, when the biblical authors debate with each other, they are not the exception—they set the rule. The Bible is robust enough to handle our questions and attacks, but the real genius in its pages will never be apparent until we do just that.
I’ve written before on Jesus and the writers of the New Testament’s use of the Old. It seems haphazard at times, and occasionally downright wrong. One way we deal with this is by understanding that they are utilizing their era’s interpretive method—they are reading the OT just like the rabbis and teachers of the law did in their time, even if it’s not the way we would do it.
A slightly more nuanced approach to this trend might suggest that though the NT’s usage of the OT seems wrongheaded, it is in fact more complex and insightful than what we generally bring to the text. It’s similar to the benefit of the doubt we might give two physicists discussing the paradoxical behavior of quantum mechanics: what they’re saying doesn’t sound right, but it’s not because they know less than us, it’s because they know more.
When Jesus or Paul or John speak, they do so not only by Inspiration from God, but out of a lifetime of learning and indoctrination in Scripture. When Jesus cites the “God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” in his arguments with the scribes, he does not demonstrate poor hermeneutics (even though I might not do the same), but rather he declares by true doctrine.
I bring this up not only for apologetic reasons so that we are confident in the methods employed by the NT writers, but so that we understand how to use the Bible ourselves. We use it not simply by appeal to logically sound arguments rooted in its various passages, but we use it out of a lifetime of study and discipleship—we use it only when we ourselves have been shaped by it.