Green Baggins

Odil Steck’s book entitled Old Testament Exegesis: A Guide to the Methodology (2nd edition), published 1998, by SBL, is a very interesting book, because it lays out the nuts and bolts of liberal critical exegetical methodology in very practical ways. It is very much a “this is how you do it” kind of book, rather than a merely theoretical book. What is especially fascinating to a reader who disagrees with much, if not most, of the methodology espoused, is the reasoning behind the particular methodologies. What I wish to interact with and critique in this post is the following quotation, from page 79:

[I]t is necessary to offer a warning against the opinion that one can, or even should, limit oneself solely to exegesis of the final form of the text reached in BH and thereby avoid the hypothetical inquiry into older stages. In numerous cases, the final form of an Old Testament text indicates complex, even contradictory statements which must be clarified. Therefore, these statements force one to diachronic analysis (literary cricitism, see chapter 4) and synthesis (redaction history). Of course, the meaning intended in the final form must also be determined. However, it is only discernible if one can grasp the productive reaccentuation of the last hand. This task, however, presupposed clarification of the previous stages which have the same status as the final form of the text in the riches of the Old Testament witness. A so-called “holistic exegesis” must ask itself how it will avoid exegetical arbitrariness without diachronic textual perspective.

It is plain that Steck views contradictions as self-evident in the text of Scripture (this is also proven by several other places in his book where he speaks of “undeniable inconsistencies” (p. 48), and by his claim that the liberal critical methodologies were “not decreed by exegetes, but were occasioned by the biblical subject matter itself” (20). To put it somewhat crassly, his position is that the “text made me do it.” What is interesting is the way he has tipped his hand. The lynchpin of his argument is contradictions that are supposedly undeniable. What this implies is that if the contradictions are explainable in some other way, then his whole house of exegetical cards comes tumbling down. It doesn’t seem to occur to him that these supposed contradictions might not be contradictions at all. They simply have to be contradictions in his mind. There is simply no other way to read the text, according to Steck.

Secondly, he claims that the earlier stages have the same status as the final form. It is not clear on what basis he makes this claim. The cynical reader will think to himself, “Well, the exegete gets to determine what the previous layers are, and so he can fashion his own Bible, and thus make the Bible say what he wants it to say.” This is probably not far from the truth, as speculative as it might be about someone else’s motives. A close look at Steck’s criteria reveal that OT texts, in order to be coherent, have to be modernly coherent. A classic example is doublets. More recent literary approaches have different explanations than diachronic ones for material that is repeated. The diachronic critic, however, has to use doublets as examples of literary layering. This anachronistically forces a modern literary sensibility on to an ancient text. Hebrew, in particular, has a penchant for repetition, especially since there are no comparative and superlative forms of adjectives. One can form a comparative by using the preposition min. But it won’t be in the form of the adjective itself. Repetition, therefore, serves useful literary purposes and is enormously common in the Old Testament.

Thirdly, the real kicker is the last sentence. Apparently, it is only the holistic exegete who cannot (or would have great difficulty to) avoid “exegetical arbitrariness.” Is Steck really lacking in self-awareness to the point where he does not recognize that every single liberal-critical “layer” approach to any text in the OT whatsoever is debated, even in liberal-critical circles? If they cannot agree on these things, then how does the diachronic exegete avoid the charge of arbitrariness? What makes one diachronical approach better than another? What are the criteria by which one would navigate those waters? Arbitrariness quickly raises its ugly head in the diachronic school with a vengeance. I think I will stick with synchronic methods that depend on historical research, linguistic sensitivity, biblical-theological appreciation for the Bible’s organic unfolding nature, and the presupposition of inspiration of the final form of the text

It is quite the fashion these days in scholarly circles to find parallels between biblical texts and either Ancient Near Eastern (ANE) texts, for the Old Testament, or Greco-Roman texts, for the New Testament. Very confident pronouncements are then made about organic literary connections, even determining the direction of dependence. Samuel Sandmel, a rabbinic scholar, warned against extravagances in this direction in his address to the Society for Biblical Literature in the early 1960’s. The article was published in JBL 81.1 (1962), 1-13.

It is quite difficult to prove literary dependence. Similarity of verbiage does not prove literary relationship. Even if it did prove it, it does not prove the direction of literary dependence. Not even the relative age of manuscripts can prove literary dependence. What happens in the vast majority of biblical scholarship is that the foreign influence is always deemed to be prior, and the biblical text late and derivative. It is not difficult to detect a direct attack on the inspiration of Scripture: did the biblical ideas come from God, or did they come from humans?

One could argue, I suppose, that God could somehow use already existing human materials in a new way in the process of inspiration. However, that is not how parallelomaniacs argue. They argue that the biblical text is fully derivative. They start from an assumption that the Bible could not possibly be breathed out by God. It is merely a human document.

The problems with this position are two-fold: 1. it undermines the doctrine of inspiration; 2. it ignores the often apologetic tone of Scripture. What I mean by the second point is that if Scripture “sounds like” the ANE or Greco-Roman literature, it is usually done so as to reject those ideas, not appropriate them.

Old Testament scholars will immediately cry foul and point out the similarities of, say, the biblical book of Proverbs and the Egyptian Proverbs of Amenemope. To such scholars, I ask the following question: on what basis could one possibly prove that the scriptural book of Proverbs is dependent on the Egyptian document? The date of manuscripts? This is not conclusive in the least. Date of manuscript does not prove date of origin. Secondly, is it completely outside the realm of possibility that God’s common grace might reveal some wisdom to those outside the covenant? The covenant, incidentally, constitutes the major difference between the biblical book of Proverbs and the Egyptian document. The fear of the Lord in 1:7 and in chapter 9 is a covenantal fear, and this controls the whole book of Proverbs. In other words, the wisdom of Proverbs is not secularly derived, but rather from the fear of the Lord.

I have been toying with this idea for a long time, but now I desire to start work on it. I have gone on Amazon and looked at any and all books that will help me with this, but I want to cast my net wider than currently published material. What I want to do is collect conversion stories that are based on God using a particular text of Scripture to convert that person to the true faith. I will then put these narratives in canonical order so that pastors will have a great resource for illustrations that show the power of the Word of God. If anyone is willing to share such a conversion narrative of their own (that is based on a particular text of Scripture; I am not looking for generalized conversion narratives at this point), and you are willing for your story to be part of a book, please append your story with the added information of whether you want your name listed, or whether you wish for it to be anonymous.