In the wonderful, mystical world of the interwebs and social media you often hear claims to the effect of something like “Do your research” or “I did my research,” the imperatives and indicatives of claiming one has adequately studied whatever it is they are currently saying and, therefore, ought to be afforded a certain level of trust or blind acceptance. There are significant issues with this; namely, the question as to the person’s qualifications and their experience to speak authoritatively on the matter at hand. However, another more pressing issue is that this form of “research” is often nothing more than what I have called memeology, which is the research methodology and information dissemination programme through the means of memes, popular images and graphics that dominate the realm of social media (I do trust everyone knows what a meme is). This isn’t to say that all research and teaching is through the media of memes, but that the meme itself is the nodal point of the general idea present in this realm of quasi-expertise and pseudo-learning. Under this nodal “meme” concept, I would include YouTube videos, random website blogs, and general social media posts.
One mustn’t take too long a gander at many of the voices to see that they proactively eschew academic journals, writings, primary and secondary sources, and trained scholars out of preference for, well, whatever ambiguous and obscure resource that generally affirms their ideas. Concomitant with this is an obvious or dormant conspiratorial mindset towards all those in academia and higher educational institutions, and this is just a recipe for audacious disaster. With biblical studies, this is exacerbated as the Scriptures are indeed available to all, and all are indeed called to study the words contained therein for both research (knowledge and doctrine) and pastoral (application and edificatory) means, as well as evangelistic ones (knowing and defending the truth of the bible). Additionally, the idea of one being led by the Holy Spirit would ensure that they are divinely equipped and able to properly interpret the Scriptures, thus forming their own ideas which, idealistically, conform to the originally intended meaning expressed by the authors. Obviously this isn’t going very well, given we have a good 40,000 or so denominations and every single walking believer differs substantially on a plethora of ideas, topics, doctrines, and ideas. Clearly, the route of self-interpretation is problematic, and there is latent audacity and pride when one claims to have the monopoly on truth. But, how do we pave a way through this chaos and pandemonium of differing ideas? Well, to start, it’s probably showing how doing “research” is properly defined by certain hermeneutical, methodological, and discipline-based approaches to Scripture that delineate between an “internet researcher” and a “trained student,” and serves to bolden the line of distinction between the two.
Learning How to Learn
I’ve said it before and I’ll certainly say it a lot more: when one goes to seminary they aren’t told why they need more than knowledge of the bible to understand what it says, but rather they are shown why they need more. So, what do I mean by this? What I mean is this: the bible is a literary corpus containing numerous different literary works of varying genres, formats, intentions, audiences, and written in different areas. It interacts with a variety of cultures and within numerous socio-political environment and employs a tremendous amount of culturally-dependent devices and elements within its backgrounded and foregrounded contents. It is written in languages which not only must be understood firstly, but must simultaneously be understood with their diachrony (historical and cultural development), cultural lexicons (the culturally influenced concepts and meanings adjoined to words and terms), grammatical rules (which is significantly more important than “word studies”), and their intertextual borrowing and adapting between one another (which requires one to know not only one language [e.g., Hebrew] but both [e.g., Hebrew and Greek] to truly understand how either is used), particularly within the biblical corpus. Since the bible is written within cultural environments—in reactionary, polemical, adaptive, metaphorical borrowing, etc.—and interacts within these areas, it is incumbent upon the student (or researcher) to be thoroughly aware and read in these relevant cultures, as well as demonstrating a proclivity with disciplines and methodologies relevant to these cultures (e.g., the historical, social, cultural, and religious backgrounds of the culture[s]), especially since the so-called New Testament (NT) interacts directly with people of different cultures and borrows ideas, traditions, customs, social and political realities, and religious and philosophical beliefs to reprove, instruct, explain, or rebut biblical truths.
The list here could continue for awhile, but the point is simply this: not only is picking up the bible, plainly reading it, and asserting one understands the proper interpretation demonstrably impossible given these aspects of its formation and development, it devalues the Scripture to being merely something malleable and moldable to one’s 21st century understanding. In short, it is both ignorant and audacious to claim this, and it attempts to erroneously delegitimize the long-standing and exhaustive efforts of those who have trained for decades learning just some of these backgrounds in order to better understand any given part of the bible. Being unfamiliar with any of these things leaves the zealous, but misguided, “researcher” to remove the bible entirely from its original context and funnel (or, rather, filter) the contents strictly and fallaciously through their present, modern context. It is certainly not news that the bible was written to people in antiquity and not, indeed, to the modern reader. Certainly, as John H. Walton has frequently echoed, “the bible is written for us, not to us,” we are already building on sand when we do not take into consideration that it was written to them. Even in our somewhat-recent history (assuming here that most readers live in America), a letter, for instance, written in 1800 would only be fully understood by those within the linguistic (language), historical (the 18th-19th centuries), and cultural (social and cultural norms, ideas, etc.) world in which they lived. Vice versa, the 19th century person would have a tremendously difficult time understanding a modern letter (let alone an email)—what is rather plain to us is rather difficult for them. This is quite concurrent with my points elsewhere in that what was plain knowledge to average fishermen in Jesus’s day requires significant studying, reconstruction, and guesswork for us some two thousand years removed. The fact of the matter is plain: we are not in the original atmosphere as those writing and receiving the bible and, therefore, it is completely necessary that we supplement our disadvantaged positioning towards even the plainest of contents by rigorous and endless studying.
The following figure is simply a brief illustration of the approach necessary to understand any given part of Scripture, and we may consider this what one must learn in order to properly learn Scripture, and I do mean at any single part of it (at least for a full, furnished understanding):
Lost in Translation: The Incumbency of Learning the Language(s)
The bible is written primarily in two ancient languages, both of which (in the sense of dialects, at least) are essentially dead: Hebrew and Greek. Problematizing the matter further is that these two languages are somewhat isolated, as biblical Hebrew is not the same as Modern, Mishnaic, or Medieval Hebrew, and the Koine Greek in which the NT was written is not the same as Ancient, Classical, Hellenistic, or Modern Greek. For the latter, the distinctively biblical Greek is largely a nuanced and adapted form of Jewish Greek that is indeed dependent upon its larger mother-tongue of Hellenistic Greek, and certainly does borrow many literary elements of Ancient and Classical Greek (for instance, Homeric Greek) as well as Stoic and Platonic literary elements of its day, but it is also formed and developed through a distinct cultural-lexical influence of Hebrew, namely in the translation efforts and theories of the Greek Old Testament (the Septuagint; abbreviated as LXX). In other words, NT Greek is going to be—to some degree; we need not press this too far—its own phenomenon, requiring one to investigate how far this idea should be impressed upon the text and when, and/or if, it is an applicable hermeneutical device and exegetical consideration. If this case can indeed be proven, understanding NT Greek demands that one not only have a basal understanding of biblical and Second Temple Period (STP) Hebrew, but also that one understands Hellenistic, STP Jewish, and first century Greek. The problem is demonstrably multifaceted for the eager student. Language is, at its very core, a malleable device and is subject to authorial, cultural, and intertextual influence which can indeed diverge from common and standard practices but simultaneously (and ultimately) does not differ fundamentally from its morphological, grammatical, semantic, and syntactical rules which govern the language itself.
“In some sense, translations are ultimately interpretations.” I have said this to many people and, consistently, most don’t much like it. That is, however, excluding those who actually understand the truthfulness of the claim. As is often said, translation and interpretation are interdependent upon one another, and one is never “translating” without “interpreting” first and finally. Translation is never merely the rendering of words in one language into words in another language, but multiple things must be taken into consideration. First, when one is translating they are doing so at the clausal or sentence level, and even at the passage level. That is, one is translating a section of expressed thought rather than rendering at the word or even phrase level. Second, necessary considerations like grammar (essentially, how a language “works”), syntax (how words “work” in proximity and [con-]junction to one another, and basically how a “sentence” is properly “formed”), and pragmatics (in essence, what the author “means”) must be involved in the translation efforts, and this requires that one not only operates at the “mechanical” level, of understanding the general linguistic rules of a language, but also at the “pragmatic” level, where one allows countless literary elements to influence how one is to translate a word, verb, participle, conjunction, preposition, etc. The list is hardly exhaustible here as these considerations are so many that it only adds to the indispensability of understanding all aspects of linguistics. Thirdly, the aforementioned impressions onto and upon the text from the literary and cultural world in which any given script is written governs how certain meaning(s) is expressed. One is never able to “plainly translate,” but translation is an endeavor that prerequisites that one understand the entire world of author and audience.
We may take away three things from the above: (1) one must know the languages, (2) one must understand other pressing linguistic aspects, (3) one must be a historian and have a strong grasp on the socio-religio-cultural canvas upon which parts of the bible are sketched. Without all three of these, one is ultimately unable to fully understand what is originally written in the bible and, therefore, not positioned to properly interpret them.
There is a certain unbeknownst-to-most arrogance and ignorance in comparing multiple translations (versions of Scripture) for the sake of making a case towards a certain point, argument, or idea(ology). If one is not qualified and trained in the original languages, at the end of the day this process is nothing more than “This is my preferred translation, and I am choosing it solely because it agrees most with my presupposition(s).” This cannot be overstressed: If one is not trained in the languages and able to translate them, by comparing translations they are merely choosing the version(s) they agree with, with no real reason to validate their preference(s) or choice(s). Moreover, one is inescapably stuck in the position of dependency upon the translation they choose, and more so, the translations in existence. One is never able to truly enter the scholarly dialogue of proper translations and interpretations since they are not capable of actually interacting with the various rules, modes, and norms of translation and translation theory. Subsequently, they are ultimately unable to fully interact with the scholarly dialogue of proper interpretation. Since the original languages are equally and entirely subject to decisive moves on the translator’s part and decisive interpretive methods on the translator’s part, involving many “moving parts” in the process, the person who is untrained in biblical languages is shut out of the conversation altogether, and must acknowledge that they “have no seat at the table.” Is this to say that one is unable to understand the bible? By no means—certainly so, there is very little trouble with most translations, and versions accompanied by notes from the translators (for example, the New English Translation [NET], which has a Notes Edition) allow one to (as much as possible) understand “what is going on.” But suffice it to say that at the end of the day, one can indeed read and interact with Scripture, but they are unable to propose new and novel ideas based upon offering new translation methods and ideas.
Now, if you needed work done on the (electrical) wiring of your home, you would want an established, recognized, and proven expert to work on your house—especially given the tremendous risk of an electrical fire being the result of faulty work—and not someone who is unqualified to do so, yes? The same can be said for mechanic work: you don’t want my uncle Jimmy (I don’t have an uncle named Jimmy) who does some oil changes on his ’97 Silverado rebuilding your car’s transmission, either; you want a recognized, experienced, and reputable mechanic doing this type of work. It is no different with teaching the bible. You want someone who is trained in the disciplines necessary for properly interpreting the ancient contents—not someone who is obviously unfit to do so. Unfortunately in recent times false-confidence has been afforded to many with concordances like Strong’s, online websites like BibleHub, and software programs like Logos. These provide people with what are called “glosses” of words, and (for concordances) where the word is used elsewhere in the biblical corpus. The latter has given way to absolute fallacies like “law of first mention” which, popular in King James Version (KJV) circles, proffers that whatever a specific word is translated as first is how one should either (a) theorize or claim what the word should be translated or understood as in every subsequent instance, and/or (b) understand as the basal and fundamental meaning of the word. Not only is this absolutely crazy, for too many reasons to count, but it is simply not how “words” “work.” These types of ideas betray a total lack of understanding how language works as well as a general unfamiliarity with the biblical corpus and its composition. Certainly, these ideas come not from those trained in the languages but from laypersons operating on theoretical and unestablished ideas and philosophies. In other words, they’re wrong with no basis in fact.
When one looks up a word in Strong’s (which is quite outdated), BibleHub, or Logos, they will often find an assortment of multiple definitions for a given lexeme (basically a word; really the lexical form of a word). For instance, let’s quickly look up Strong’s Concordance, via the popular bible software eSword, on a word as simple as παραδίδωμι (paradidōmi) in the second verse of the Gospel of Luke:
G3860
παραδίδωμι
par-ad-id’-o-mee
From G3844 and G1325; to surrender, that is, yield up, intrust, transmit: – betray, bring forth, cast, commit, deliver (up), give (over, up), hazard, put in prison, recommend.
Total KJV occurrences: 121
Here we have the Strong’s code in “G3860”, which reflects G=Greek and the enumeration or classification number for this specific word. Next, we have παραδίδωμι, the Greek script or original word; paradidōmi, the Romanized transliteration of the original Greek word; par-ad-id’-o-mee, the (problematic, and non-IPA) Erasmian phonetic, proposed pronunciation of the word; and then the actual lexical entry followed by “Total KJV occurrences,” which notes that this exact word is to be found, apparently, 121 times in the Textus Receptus (TR) manuscript the KJV depends on.
The first problem is the etymological description here. Strong’s notes that παραδίδωμι comes from G3844 and G1325, so obscurely informs the reader that the word somehow comes from or is derived from these two words. The words these codes denote are the preposition παρά (“from” or “near” or “beside”, etc., depending on case) and the verb δίδομι (“to give”), respectively. While etymology is important to understanding a word, it is oftentimes fallacious (the etymology fallacy) to import significant and conclusive meaning on a noun or verb based on its etymology, or its historical use (context always primarily governs meaning), and this is quite a misguided exegetical approach to doing word studies—even in root-stemmed languages like Hebrew. The reference of etymology is fine in and of itself, but unless one knows “what to do” with this information, it can be misguiding and result in people making argumentative cases based off the simplicity of a word’s origin, which oftentimes (and often deliberately so) differs substantially from words it stems from. Additionally, παραδίδωμι is a combination of a preposition and a verb which does usually express a natural combination of the two adjoined words, but should not automatically be seen as a 1:1 type of Meaning A + Meaning B = AB Meaning construction. Frequently the nuance or (figurative) spatial concept behind the affixed (or, prefixed) preposition simply impresses upon some (or more, or all) aspects of the verb.
Second, we see here twelve definitions with one clarification and three alternative options. The first meaning provided is “to surrender” followed by the clarification “that is, yield up” and the next two are “intrust” and “transmit.” Immediately, we are presented with three very different meanings. To “surrender (yield up)” is much different than “intrust”, and to “transmit” is different than the other two, as this can be “transmit[ting]” an object from one person to another or “transmit[ting]” a letter, speech, etc. While each lexicon and/or concordance will differ, the first three ought to (usually) be understood as the “primary” meanings (i.e., the most frequent renderings) whereas those to follow as “secondary,” or more properly, “expansive” and “less frequent” renderings. Strong’s provides (1) “betray”, (2) “bring forth”, (3) “cast”, (4) “commit”, (5) “deliver”, with the alternative option or addition “(deliver) up”, (6) “give”, with two options or additions—which do differ—of “over” and “up”, (7) “hazard”, (8) “put in prison”, and (9) “recommend”. There are three problems here. Firstly, these all differ rather significantly. Second, this is what is called the semantic range of a word, which is a range (or sometimes, a spectrum) of different specific meanings that are latent and intrinsic to the lexeme itself. Our word can mean “bring forth”, but it can also mean “commit”; it can mean “to yield up”, but it can also mean “recommend”. Third, and this is important, is that this constructed range is largely a product of the source data or source domain which the concordance is working with. For instance, with Strong’s and other resources, the very semantic range expressed in the lexical entry reflects the use in the KJV or other similar versions and not the actual, wide-ranging and true use of the lexeme itself. In other words, the very semantic range of the lexeme provided is limited to the specific literary corpus the resource (concordance, in this case) is operating with. In yet another way, one can’t even figure out what a word meant universally when using things like a Strong’s Concordance.
Third, and most important: How does one “pick” one of these multivalent and multiply meanings? How does one “choose” a specific rendering from the options given? This is where the art of translation comes in, and where the very presence of a semantic range presents the untrained student with a huge problem: you are ultimately going to simply “pick” and “choose”, much like translation versions, which “meaning” you like the most, or whichever agrees the most with your presupposition. While Luke 1:2 is a much simpler example (I just picked some random verse), in the overwhelming amount of cases the specific meaning of the verb is extrapolated by way of grammar, syntax, and context. For instance, our word παραδίδωμι is inflected as παρέδοσαν (paredosan), which to the untrained eye doesn’t even look like the same word. This speaks to the false confidence that concordances and software provide, as it is unsuspectingly important that one can read the whole text (importantly, to “hear” the text as it was originally meant to be heard). The inflected verb reflects that it is the third person (person) plural, active (voice) aorist (tense), indicative (mood). If you don’t know what these things mean, and how important they are in translation, then you should not be looking up the word in a Strong’s Concordance. These things govern how the verb is to be properly understood with respect to its antecedent(s), subject(s), object(s), etc. This all significantly alters and slants what is otherwise a simple verb in how it should be understood and translated. Here our verb with the first person plural pronoun ἡμῖν (“we”), in the dative case, should be translated “[we have] received,” referring to the various narratives and accounts of events within and among other believers: the comparative adverb καθὼς (“just as”, “like”) preceding our verb relates the first person plural “we” as the recipients (with the active, aorist verb and the dative pronoun, with the dative denoting the indirect object) of narrated events in similitude to what others have done. The pragmatic emphasis here is that just as how many have recorded events which have transpired (Luke 1:1), and the eyewitnesses and ministers of the Word from the “beginnings of the faith” have “delivered to us” (v. 2) these things, so is Luke, “having followed all things closely for some time past… to write [himself] an orderly account” (v. 3). This example is an extremely simple one, and there are thousands of other scenarios (especially with participles) where the need for understanding the Greek grammar is completely necessary.
Although programs and concordances have provided a type of false confidence for many of those studying the Scriptures, and it is a noble endeavor always to, when it comes to being critically involved in translation (re-)considerations and exegetical interpretive approaches, if one has no training in the biblical languages they simply cannot be a part of any comprehensive interpretive discussion, at least as it pertains to challenging long-held and established views that, to overturn, require reevaluations of the original text. The false sense of confidence programs and concordances have given is, in fact, detrimental to one understanding the original text (ironically enough) as it minimizes what is required for one to do any “real exegesis” and it delegitimizes the efforts undertaken by so many to become trained, tested, and tenacious in the biblical languages. It is incumbent upon any true student or researcher to learn the languages, and until one does they are shut out from a massive area of biblical research, always at the mercy of the translation they are reading. This is also true for primary sources—not just the Scripture itself—as if one is unable to read through other Semitic and ANE sources, and especially STP Jewish and ancient Greek literature—many of which have far less translation verses than what the bible has—they are ultimately dependent upon scholars who can and have done this research.
Scribes Trained for the Kingdom: Understanding and Respecting Expertise
Online, in particular, there is a certain level of disrespect and conspiratorial attitudes to those in academia. And this is understandable in many ways: the Ivory Tower of the academy has often lofted themselves into the clouds, tossing down crumbs upon the crowds in hopes of the return of fresh loaves (provisions, i.e. “here are these crumbs; pay me”), and its residents are oftentimes quite prideful, arrogant, and dismissive of any and all views that don’t belong to their guilds, groups, and chapters. But this isn’t an “us versus them” issue. Biblical scholars, for instance, are largely a laughingstock to other disciplines such as those in the sciences, and this goes for the humanities as a whole. That the humanities are disparaged and consistently defunded (or just neglected), especially in recent years, speaks to this issue. So, some humility is absolutely warranted, and there is no place for such attitudes. Truly, the more one learns the more they realize how little they know in the grand scheme, so humility should be the natural result of learning. But, these are oftentimes generalizations. Once you go to scholarly conventions, meetings, and settings, you will find that most scholars are, in fact, overwhelmingly kind, humble, teachable, and eager to share, teach, and learn from those around them—trained or untrained. One wonders if most of these sour experiences are, in reality, less-desirable responses from scholars confronted with less-desirable attitudes from laypersons. It is a bit annoying when someone entirely ignorant of a certain area or discipline blatantly condescends someone who has spent the past half-century learning (and teaching on) the discipline (daily, too, most of the time). Looking back to our electrician and mechanic examples, it’s kind of like the client or apprentice attempting to correct the expert on something. And this happens a lot more than one expects.
But the general attitude here does not have to be verbally or physically expressed for it to be obviously extant in the minds of people. To put this another way, if someone has this general sentiment towards academia their verbalized disrespect only actualizes what is already in their mind. Thinking this way towards scholars is the same as vocally dismissing and condescending them—the thought is what gives way to the negative encounters. And while there are many “bad eggs” in academia, much like individual Christians and the church or faith, they don’t spoil the bunch: these are problematic people, but the entire system of academia isn’t the problem. What academia is primarily, in many ways, is a network of likeminded scholars who serve to collaborate towards the furthering of higher education and simultaneously uphold the integrity of pedagogy and truthfulness of their discipline. In this stream one finds peer review, which is the (usually double-blind) review system where one’s peers in a specific discipline or research area review their work and ensure it is up-to-par. While this is more of a formal system found in academic journals, titles, and works, it is actually the backbone of any publicized dissemination of information. Whether one is writing for a journal, a book, speaking at a conference, or simply speaking at a casual meeting, peers hold each other accountable. They challenge one another, push each other to further heights, and oftentimes bicker and snicker at themselves and others too—but that’s okay. The issue with most memeologists is that, contra those involved in academia, they have nobody to hold them accountable. One of the most important aspects of seminary, for example, is that you have multiple people much smarter (and at least more informed) than you ensuring you are not going off the rails as well as pruning your work, driving you to be a better student. You can’t block them, delete their comment, or ignore them. You can’t hide behind a screen or keyboard, or any of the things social media enables (and encourages). You have to face your discrepancies and/or your failures head on, and learn. Without teachers, there is no learning; without those holding you accountable, there is no accountability. Where one thinks they alone and solely are sufficient to be teachers, there has never been true learning in the first place.
Though I have two other points to make in this essay-of-sorts, I’d like to take a moment to briefly outline what it is like to “become a scholar.” In most cases one is not becoming a “scholar” in seminary but, rather, a “researcher.” Programmes in the UK often use such language, and undergraduate and graduate degrees are “learned” or “learning” or “taught” degrees and postgraduate (i.e. PhD) degrees are “research” degrees. A PhD, which is the qualifying education for a “scholar”, is intended to make somebody into a “researcher”. And, specifically, a qualified and tested one.
Before one gets accepted into a PhD programme, they must complete the required credits in a graduate degree, mostly either a Master of Arts (MA) or Master in Divinity (MDiv). The difference here is little: an MA is sometimes more straightforward whereas an MDiv has a lot of “extra” courses often focused on pastoral applications. Likewise, an MA is usually for academic purposes and an MDiv the typical degree for pastoral prerequisites within most denominations. Within this degree, with a PhD pathway, one will have 2-3 years of either one or both of the biblical languages, as well as other relevant classes. This prepares you to enter a PhD program—note that the prerequisite for a PhD program is, first, 2-3 years of study in the language(s). If one does not have these, they will have to get them. Additionally, one will have to take reader’s courses for German and French, and sometimes Latin and other languages (depending on the programme). Why? Because a lot of biblical research is written in German, French, and Latin. What is this saying? Off the bat (as these courses most often do not count as credits-earned courses) one has to somewhat learn whole languages for the very sake of reading scholarly works. So, you are approved into a PhD program, and the next thing you do is take a bunch of advanced courses relevant to your PhD pathway. The bulk remainder of the PhD programme is working closely with a (chosen) advisor—a recognized expert and professor in the relevant field—to research and write a PhD dissertation which argues a thesis developed by the PhD candidate. Ideally, and for the most part motivating its inception and approval, the dissertation aims to challenge old views, present new data and evidence, or fill a gap (a “lacuna”) in biblical research. In essence, a PhD dissertation is twofold: critically analyzing and challenging existing ideas and research and presenting / qualifying / situating / proving the PhD candidate as a capable and prepared expert in their field. Truly, the idea of one traversing through a PhD programme is partly intended to make the candidate the expert in their particular field. So the entire endeavor is not being conditioned through the history of research, and then essentially recapitulating that data and ideas, but actually quite the opposite.
There are several points here, of which we will mention only some. First, while the letters behind somebody’s name does not immediately qualify them as being therefore able to speak on any biblical topic (the nature of a PhD is limited; one example is that someone needs to essentially decide on a Hebrew Bible versus Greek New Testament [and not just languages here] focus), and just because somebody has a PhD in Philosophy does not mean they are able to dive into Hebrew verbs and ancient wordplay (though they are quite likely far better positioned than the average student to). However, and Second, the person has been acclimated to a plethora of data, methodologies, and hermeneutical approaches as part of their education experience. One with a PhD in, say, Hebrew poetry still probably has significant experience in Greek literary backgrounds and Greek as a whole, by way of being somewhat inculcated with the Greek Old Testament (LXX). They are also most likely familiar with cognate languages such as Akkadian and Ugaritic and relevant cultural backgrounds. Though a PhD programme is limited in scope, it is wide in breadth, in seeking to prepare the researcher to engage with data relevant to their thesis. Thirdly, the PhD student has been familiarized with the history of interpretation and has therefore engaged with what others have said, as part of the PhD thesis is doing exactly this: wrestling with the ideas and thoughts of those in the past (equal-or-more qualified than themselves in most cases). Fourthly, and most important considering the above points as well, the PhD student (and graduate) has spent a considerable amount of time—usually 3-6 years on average—in this particular topic, and time is the process of liminality for all learning and wisdom. For one to readily dismiss somebody’s proven and tenacious experience in a topic is not only a demonstration of ignorance towards what a PhD is, it is just blatantly disrespectful. At the very least, someone with those “three little letters” has spent a massive amount of time in the topic they have researched, and unassailably puts them a step above the rest. In fact, it is intended to put them several steps above everyone else.
We can return to two points to emphasize them. The first is this: scholarly works are most likely written by those adequately trained in an assortment of biblical hermeneutical tools and methodologies that furnish them as a true researcher. To return to our emphasis on languages, the prerequisite of one being acclimated with the biblical languages uniquely positions people to engage critically and analytically with the text at a level which is impossible for those without some manner of “formal” training in them. In a way, training in the languages indexes the ability to fully and properly “interpret” the text. Those who have acquired and been awarded a PhD (which are not all created equal, and it should be said that a PhD does not automatically mean one has any specific level of training in any specific area of instruction, even languages) and subsequently write on a topic are doing so from an informed position. The second is this: by dismissing the history of interpretation, which includes on a micro level an/the individual scholar and on the macro level the whole of historical research, one is asserting that their own opinion, and only their opinion, is to be trusted. It is extremely important to consider the history of interpretation. PhD dissertations and monologues, which are often revised dissertations, begin with a survey and overview of the history of interpretation not to conform to it but to establish and to evidence that one has interacted with previous research and is not asserting, but engaging. “All views have been considered” and now the person will demonstrate why these views are correct or incorrect, and why their “new” view—their proposals and thesis—is correct. If those who are qualified do so, it is unthinkably that those unqualified would not. It is not a matter of “insulating oneself from the dogmas of man” by eschewing research, but it is an issue of humility. Partly, the whole of academia is being qualified to interact with the larger and universal conversation of scholarship. One must not just be able to sit at the table, but understand how the whole conversation has gone since everyone else sat down.
Finally, on research works broadly speaking, commentaries in particular are resources that have spent the time exegeting and interpreting the text from all things that should be taken into consideration and are therefore indispensable and relatively-exhaustive sources for all of the things we have, and will below, discussed. Language, grammar, culture, history, society, genre, background(s), etc. are almost always thoroughly discussed and put to bear on the text in scholarly books (this is done in the most exegetical fashion in commentaries, and are therefore at the center of the discussion and point) and are extremely valuable for this and other reasons. Simply interacting with these sources can not only provide any student with points and observations they may have not made, but also with relevant background data which could actually further establish their own adjacent thesis, if they are correct or not. These sources draw from the deep well of information surrounding any given part of the bible and are therefore important on this basis alone, let alone any additional exegetical work performed by the specific writer. To reject and ignore these works, regardless of if they are correct or not, is a tremendous blunder for one’s own research, let alone working through what “everyone else” has thought about a matter. It is difficult to say, even simply enough, “everyone thinks this and I am saying its wrong” when you cannot qualify why “everyone” is, or who and why they “thinks” “this”. What the issue truly is, however, is the “and”: if everyone is wrong with what they think, you must show why they are wrong—not superficially dismissing their claims, but demonstrating exegetically why, exactly, they are, indeed, wrong.
In short, scholars present to the believing and/or historical community research that are vetted investigations into the relevant data and the text itself of Scripture. As such, for one to ignore these publications and resources crucially limits one’s ability to properly represent and recognize previous understandings of topics or ideas as well as failing to take (humbly) into consideration what others have thought about something(s). Additionally, it is not just the conversation of scholarly conventions and methods but the very mode through which the data has been compiled and presented for the world. I often joke that when someone says something to the effect of “We don’t need scholars” or “You don’t need to be a scholar” that I’d hand them photocopies of every extant Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, and Syriac manuscript of Scripture and say “Here, read your Bible.” Scholars have discovered the manuscripts, examined them, developed critical editions, and subsequently given the Church the translations they confidently assert their own ideas and beliefs from. To be sure, you need some type of scholar to even read your bible. Moreover, scholars have developed, categorized, and systemized various methodologies that are concurrent with the general humanities and other sciences, formally developing practices like textual criticism, discourse analysis, ritual theory, intertextual dependency, ancient and modern interpretive principles, historical interactions, and the list goes on. If one is interested in any given topic of Scripture, it is not just the raw data to which they owe gratitude to a scholar for, but the methodologies one approaches the data with as well. At some point one relies on a scholar. If one must engage with the scholarly realm to source the foundation of their ideas it is probably wise to allow them to engage with the scholarly realm to form their ideas.
Genre(s) and the Canvas of Scripture
Though language is fundamental to all scriptural interpretation, the bible is not merely the sum of all its parts: Scripture is not just a combination of words and grammatical rules. Instead, the bible is literature—or, better, a combination of different types of literature—and it is the genre or form of any given section or book that is the canvas upon which Scripture is construed, formed, and illuminated by. Many misunderstandings from the First Testament, particularly with cosmology, are the result of people failing to understand the literary devices of polemical myth-busting (the bible responding to ancient Near Eastern ideas) and poetic imagery. In fact, Hebrew poetry is oftentimes a very dense and beautiful form of written communication that is seldom understood by those reading Scripture’s pages where it occurs. Further, the bible employs a complex webbing of themes, motifs, symbols, and ideas throughout its various parts which make it a cohesive whole. This, in some ways, is what people consider a whole “biblical theology,” integrating all of its parts into identifying narrative themes and metanarratives. Narrative alone is a genre of the bible and it pops up in various ways which is seldom understood, especially when religion, ritual, ethics, and truth are all couched in narrative accounts—a pattern the Hebrew Bible habitually employs.
Beyond just the detailed elements of the bible with respect to its individual words and passages, it is often involved in literary structuring, chiasm, parallelism, and many countless other literary devices that are identified by those familiar with the literature of antiquity and with the original languages where these patterns are more evident (space does not permit a full survey of these). When one fails to recognize these elements not only are they inevitably subject to misunderstanding and therefore misinterpreting any given area of Scripture, but they are also simply going to miss these little nuggets and gems of Scripture, failing to see its beauty. Developing for oneself a sound arsenal of hermeneutical tools is not just about avoiding false teaching and misunderstanding passages and ideas, but more so for the sake of identifying the true and endless beauty of the Word.
But understanding the genre and literary devices of Scripture is a fundamental part of one’s interpretive process, particularly when the bible is borrowing conventions of its day. One of the most important examples of this is Greco-Roman rhetoric, which is used by the apostle Paul but also evidenced by some in Jesus’s own words, or at least in how the authors of the gospels portrayed him and articulated his various words. This literary form, which was indeed meant to be orally read in front of the audience rather than read per se, dictates and determines a significant amount of the meaning dormant or foregrounded in the content, as it largely shapes the way in which a work is structured, and the route to properly recognizing the core contestation or polemic at hand. Literary devices in Scripture make it necessary, therefore, for one not only to understand the bible’s own employment of these elements but to understand the contextual and literary-cultural domain from which it draws, oftentimes seeking to add its own touch or dynamic. A fitting example here would be the ancient Near Eastern treaties from which the biblical covenants draw from. When one fails to familiarize themselves with ANE treaties, grants, and suzerain-vassal models they equally and erroneously turn to either extreme of seeing a 1:1 model in the bible or failing to recognize evident shared cultural consciousness in the bible and their neighbors. Indeed, this is an example which shows that not only is culture necessary to understand, but that literary devices and inventions are as well, and that a thorough understanding—not merely a rudimentary and shallow grasp of the concepts—is necessary to properly balance the data in light of the bible’s use.
In sum, the bible is not just made of parchments with words. It is an intricate, cogent, and rich literary corpus spanning dozens of genres, hundreds of themes, and thousands of symbols that demand the reader be intimately involved with its overlapping and self-referencing nature. Doing so inevitably requires one familiarize themselves with the literary conventions not only of its day but of its neighbors, discerning when and where the bible does indeed pick up on these customs and how it uniquely uses it for its own means and aims. When one fails to recognize these data, they inevitably read the form of the bible in whatever way they determine it is—and, as such, they will ultimately fail to properly and fully understand it in its originally intended form.
Understanding the World the Bible is Written In (and To)
Much like how literary genre and devices are the canvas(ses) upon which the bible is sketched, the cultural-contextual nature of Scripture is the threading woven and sown through its layers. Since Scripture actively and directly interacts with certain social, cultural, and religious environments, to not understand these multivalent “worlds” in which the bible is written in (and to) is to not understand the actual “point” or “directive” of whatever it is that we are reading. Many readers of Scripture contend that “reading a verse in context” is reading the paragraph, chapter, or book (chapter and verse divisions, while having some origin in pre-canonical times, was largely a later addition to the bible) whereas, in reality, this is simply the immediate textual context: to truly read “in context” is to read the bible with every element and aspect of the world(s) in which it was written to. This is the “who, what, when, where, why, and how” of biblical research, and colors in the otherwise bold and faint lines of the black-and-white text (or, dark grey and brown, given that most of the manuscripts are written on papyri). Who is the audience and author? What is the occasion and setting? When is this? Where is this? Why is this letter, epistle, gospel, or book being written? How is it being written and received? These are all fundamental questions that only when initially asked begin to prove their immense importance—they often leave us with the “Oh wow, I had never thought of that!” response.
To be a biblical scholar and a student of Scripture is to be, in part, a historian. The bible is a historical book (despite what people say to the contrary—it must be a history book, in part, based on what it does and says) maximally and is a corpus written in the midst of various parts of history minimally. As such, one must be a historian not only for apologetic purposes (i.e. defending the truthfulness and trustworthiness of the bible) but for their own research and understanding. For instance, if we are to employ historical research to defend the census in the gospels and historical figures mentioned, providing an apology for the truth of the bible, is it not expected of us to do the same for any aspect of the truth of the bible? A fitting example here is a recent discussion that I had with somebody on baptism, and if it saves someone in and of itself (not apart from believing faith, but with believing faith). Is an answer to this provided based upon the text alone? Sure, it may very well be able to in some minds. However, this theological conundrum is elucidated by way of the multiply contexts in which the rite is situated. First, what is the symbolism invoked by the rite of baptism? Second, what is the cultural background of baptism, i.e. the purificatory practices of both the Temple and STP ideas? Third, what is the specific socio-religious implications of John the Immerser’s baptism and subsequent baptisms-into-Christ within this world? Fourth, what are the important meanings to be found in ritual studies and ritual theory which dominated the ancient world? Fifth, what are some culturally parallel rituals and rites which baptism may connote to ancient Greeks and Romans (and is this at all relevant?)? The list can, again, go on. These points are probably more applicable when they are superimposed onto the love feasts and table-fellowship gatherings of the early Church. What did the Lord’s Supper connote, if anything?
A textual example may be in Paul’s use of the Greek word and concept pneuma (“spirit”). Does Paul always mean the Spirit, as in the Holy Spirit? The concept of pneuma has huge implications and philosophical ideas in the Greco-Roman philosophical and physiological world. Can Paul be drawing from ideas able to better or effectively express soteriological ideas and notions in his letters? When Paul uses various metaphors, analogies, allegories, and symbolic gestures in his epistles, are they at all illuminated by the cultural world in which he was writing? Is there intrinsic worth and necessity in understanding the culture of the audience, and not just the author? Both are, one can imagine, incredibly important. Can we fully understand the nuances in his epistles, written to Greco-Roman audiences, without understanding their culture? Can we understand the author, Paul? What does and did he mean by being “in Judaism?” What was “Judaism” in his day? When he says he is a Pharisee, what does that mean? What was a Pharisee? When he says he was “zealous,” what does this mean? When Jude and 2 Peter quote Enoch, why do they do that? When Jesus and the apostles and biblical writers use figures of speech and idioms, how do we understand something? Especially when what is, at first blush, taken literally when, truly, it should be taken figuratively or as an idiom? These types of answers are only uncovered when the settled dust of modernity is brushed away to uncover the historical, cultural relics that alone hold the truth of our Scripture. Indeed, we must undergo historical analysis to come to modern understanding.
So it is clearly not knowing just the superficial aspects of historical-cultural contextualization—knowing that, for example, Paul is writing to people in the Greek city of Corinth and at a specific point in time concerning certain pagan ideas and social concerns—but immersing ourselves in the cultural waters so we can understand what Paul was dealing with, responding to, and using for the ends of providing instruction. We could write several books on the examples which could be presented here, but it suffices to say that without fully understanding the domain from which Scripture dips into in order to explain itself in certain circumstances, we are hopeless in our efforts to truly understand the world Scripture responds to. Because it does not respond to us, but to them, and it essentially demands and certainly expects us to be immersed in and familiar with these issues and ideas. This is true not only for understanding the STP Jewish world in which the NT was birthed from and within, but also the larger Mediterranean world which it was sent into. The yield is abundant in such a pursuit and one is consistently confronted with readings incompatible with their historical contexts in which they react to and interact with. The larger context, which primarily involves the cultural context, is how one truly reads the Scripture in its original setting. It is impossible to read a first-century book with a 21st century mind, and it is a massive blunder to think that we can.
Memology, the Empty Well
The present essay does not, by any means, seek to fully explain or lay out what it takes for one to be a satisfactory student of the Word. Such a work demands much more detail and attention to data and examples, but what we have attempted to do is simply rudimentarily sketch issues with superficial and substandard research approaches that those who seem to have the loudest voices on the internet employ, encourage, and envisage as noble or correct. This idea of learning not from primary or secondary sources, but second-hand ideas on blogs, YouTube, and social media pages is what I have called “memeology,” and it is truly an empty and dry well devoid of any lasting, confirmable, and robust truth. It is ultimately opinions and assertions. The above has briefly detailed the thoroughness one must be involved in when they seek to “do research”, and it inevitably requires that one firstly be qualified and prepared to do said research. We cannot merely trust ourselves to be able to uncover every truth from the pages of Scripture when men and women for ages have demonstrated clearly that the truth is tucked away, buried in history, and requires for the one seeking it out to be diligent in their pursuits. It is not [truth, that is] too far from any person, but it is not neatly packaged and laid at our feet. It is not hidden, but the winds of time have simply covered the monuments in the sands of history, and we must put to work our shovels of brains that God gave us, with the tools firmly developed through centuries of people asking questions of the bible rather than simply making assertions.
So, in summary, you are not really doing research by scanning Google for answers and serving up a haphazard collection of truth-claims without affirming them through proof. Indeed if one is to make a claim, the burden of proof is necessarily on them, and this is partly why an academic work is recognized most clearly and evidently by its footnotes and citations, demonstrating that the author has thoroughly worked through both the primary and secondary sources. It is high time we restore the value of sound teaching and organic research, elevating those who seek to hold their own opinions accountable by way of testing them against these various methodologies and hermeneutical tools briefly and incompletely surveyed above. One can argue that without all of the above-listed items, one simply cannot “do research.” At the least, one is severely limited and even restricted in their attempts to do so, and it is simply a matter of fact. This goes for everyone, including those theologians and thinkers we hold so dearly to our hearts—theology seems to be rather open-ended and an open game, but theology is ultimately the result of textual testimony and is, therefore, fully subject to proper literary analysis and criticism. God chose to reveal and preserve the truth of Him through written text, and we are ultimately and inevitably forced to uncover truth through the same means of any piece of literature.