Earlier, I have shared a brief list of what I consider touchstones for congregational Bible study in the pluralistic context in which we find ourselves. One version of this list can be found in one of the “discussions” started on the Taking a Second Look at Mark village site. The first presupposition reads as following:
Celebrating the Textual Diversity: Resist pre-mature temptation to harmonize or smooth over textual discrepancies or disagreements.
In another of the Mark discussions, I wrote the following illustration of this point. See whole post
In the process of taking this “new look” at Mark’s text; one of the most surprising dimensions of the study is not what is found in the narrative, but rather what seems to be missing. This fact is not hard to understand. By now, most students of the so-called New Testament writings believe that this earliest of the several stories of Jesus’ ministry forms the core of the other two synoptic gospels, Matthew and Luke. Each in their own way, they take much of Mark’s tale and fold it into their own versions, often liberally editing the received texts. Given the more prominent ecclesiastical use of both Matthew and Luke, we should not be surprised that their versions of the stories and sayings of Jesus are more familiar to us.
Several examples illustrate this interesting dynamic. Of course, scholars surmise that both Matthew and Luke had their own sources, so we all are not surprised that in Mark’s gospel we will find no nativity stories either with Magi or Shepherds. However, in Mark, there is also no conversation between John the Baptist and Jesus where John expresses his misgivings at the prospect of baptizing the Son of God. Mark expresses no hint of embarrassment here. When Jesus is driven into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit (manifest as a descending dove), we are told that Jesus is tempted, but there are no details outlining conversations between the Christ and Satan. Those are found first in Matthew and then a similar, but somewhat different conversation is found in Luke.
A quick look at the passion narratives reveals the same assessment. If Mark’s text was the only document that had survived until our time, we would know (or think we know) that in the Garden of Gethsemane, one of Jesus’ followers sliced off the ear of the high priest’s servant, but we would not know that it was Peter who held the sword. Jesus would not have taken pity on the man and miraculously restored the ear. Judas would have been bribed with money, but Mark does not mention the amount. We would have only known about 30 pieces of silver had we read Matthew. If we are expecting to hear Jesus’ last seven words (actually phrases) from the cross, we will only find one, perhaps two depending on how one translates the loud cry at his death. In particular, Jesus’ wish that John and Mary (Jesus’ mother) be mutually supportive of each other would have never been uttered. For in Mark’s version, Mary is not present at the scene of the crucifixion. In fact, Mark’s Mary would be embarrassed at Jesus’ ministry and would have thought him possessed.
I found one of the recent posts on the book of Acts quite interesting. It was focusing on what the commentator called the first business meeting of the church found in Acts 1 (12-26). One reflection mentioned that Judas had committed suicide. But the actual text at hand said something quite different. In verses 18-20 of Acts it reads:
(Judas bought a field with the money he received for his treachery, and falling there, he burst open, spilling out his intestines. The news of his death spread rapidly among all the people of Jerusalem, and they gave the place the Aramaic name, Akaldama, which means “Field of Blood.”) Peter continued, “This was predicted in the book of Psalms, where it says, ‘Let his home become desolate, with no one living in it.’ And again, ‘Let his position be given to someone else.’
Now clearly, it is church tradition that suggests that Judas did commit suicide, but the account of that event is found in Matthew, not Luke/Acts. Please read verses 3-8 in the 27th chapter:
When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed; and he went and hanged himself. But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since they are blood money.” After conferring together, they used them to buy the potter’s field as a place to bury foreigners. For this reason that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day.
We do seem to be talking about the same field, but in one account Judas takes the 30 pieces of silver and makes an investment for his future. In the other, having thrown the money back to the chief priests, they in turn use the “unclean” money to buy the land that becomes a Potter’s Field, a cemetery for foreigners. The explanation of the derivation of the popular name for the field is quite different; one has to do with spilled blood, the other with blood money. In Acts, Judas shows no regret, but in Matthew, he repents and hangs himself in shame. In Acts, Judas trips and falls and dies a very gruesome death.
During this past advent season, I posted a set of commentaries about what I had called the “Three Nativities.” The first two, represented reflections on the two very different nativity accounts; one found in Matthew with “wise men” and political intrigue from Herod the Great, one found in Luke, with shepherds and a borrowed stable. What I had called the Third nativity had to do with the ways we cut and paste elements from both stories, indeed creating a different, i.e., a third account, which is usually what is presented in our Christmas festivities.
The Bible, in both the Christian Old Testament and the Christian New Testament regularly present alternative versions of the stories that they tell.
In another recent post on 7 Villages, one of my colleagues reflected on the fascinating story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples when they were gathered for supper. Several comments were made by individuals who witnessed to the power of this ritual in their lives, and I don’t intend in any way to demean those experiences. But in the lead up to the post, the writer, who I deeply respect, noted the following:
At our Maundy Thursday service last night, our pastor tied together two different accounts of the gathering we commemorated: the institution of the Lord’s Supper and the washing of the disciples’ feet. The synoptic gospels all contain the account of the breaking of the bread and the pouring out of the wine. “Do this in remembrance of me.”
John omits that account of the evening’s activities, [my emphasis] and instead tells a story found only in his gospel, where Jesus stepped down from the head table and washed his disciples’ feet. “I have given you an example that you should do as I have done to you.”
The problem with this statement is that in our Bible, these two rituals actually happen on two different nights at two different gatherings, in apparently, two different venues. There are certainly two different traditions at play. The writer of John’s gospel does earlier allude to a sacrament of bread and wine, but theologically, he is doing something very different than the synoptic writers. This last meal indeed happens in John’s account on the Wednesday of that week (day 4) and not on Passover (day 5). In the Johannine account, Jesus has already been crucified the afternoon prior to Thursday night, the beginning of the day (in the Jewish calendar) where families celebrate Passover. In fact, we have two very different accounts of Passion Week as a whole. What events the synoptics arrange into a one week period, John suggests happens over three years and three different visits to the temple city.
Again, the Bible is full of such diverse stories. In the very first book, Genesis, in the story of the garden, God creates Adam (a man) and then because he is unhappy and lonely, God creates all sorts of animals to be his companions. That doesn’t work, so God (who has fashioned Adam and all the other creatures from clay) then takes one of Adam’s ribs and fashions Eve to be his helpmate. But in the opening story, all humankind is created at the same time, both male and female together and both man and woman are in God’s image. I can readily understand why most of my women friends find the first account more liberating.
Now how many animals were on the Ark? I will leave the discussion of whether there were also dinosaur eggs aboard until later. One account says they came in pairs, the other account said that there were 7 of each species. What are we to make of all of this?
There are three places in the Christian Old Testament where the Ten Commandments are listed – Exodus 34 (1-28), Exodus 20 (1-17) and Deuteronomy 5 (12-21). In the earliest account, the tenth commandment has to do with not boiling a kid in the mother’s milk. In the Book of Acts, there are three accounts, all a little bit different, about Paul’s encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus. One version indicates that Paul’s companions heard the voice talking to them, in another only Paul heard the voice. In one version, a bright light shone, in another, the light was more like a blinding flash.
What are we to make of all these different accounts? Are these irrelevant details? Not if the details must be read as literal.
I suppose that we could pick and choose from various accounts. We would in effect create a “canon within the canon.” Certainly, there are issues today like the full participation of women (or other communities) in the life of the church where such choices may be necessary.
We could resist acknowledging the diversity as diversity and try to explain it away. In the history of the scientific paradigm shift from Ptolemaic models of the universe to Copernicus’ heliocentric design, when anomalies in the previous systems emerged, certain rationalizations were created to explain away the problems and apparent contradictions to the earth centered models. These were called epicycles, and over time there became epicycles in epicycles until eventually the new perspective became the consensus in astronomy.
With the emergence of critical methods for the study of the Bible, a certain consciousness of given pluralism became apparent in the texts. Not surprisingly, in anti-modern circles epicycles began to appear. For example, the differences between Matthew’s account and the Luke account of the nativity were explained away by suggesting that Joseph and Mary indeed lived in Nazareth (not Bethlehem as Matthew suggests) but their trip home had been delayed.
Many of the theological epicycles concerning Biblical interpretation have emerged because of the confusion between fact and truth. Truth has been restricted to only those things that have historically happened. It was argued that the Bible was inerrant and infallible, convictions that could not be finally be sustained when one actually read the scriptures. It was argued that if one did not take the literal meaning of the texts as the only meaning of the texts, then one was questioning the sovereignty of God and God’s word. Ironically, the fundamentalist movement has fallen into the sort of idolatry that the Bible repeatedly rails against.
It is clear that we live in a pluralistic world. Being honest about the Bible requires that we rethink our understandings of the nature of that diversity as it shows up in our texts. Such rethinking will then in turn help us rethink our understanding of the diversity that we encounter in the world.
Past strategies of religious proselytizing are revealing themselves as expressions of our Christian imperialism. The genuine faiths of others around the world are too easily misconstrued and demeaned. We are learning to listen first and then, in that context, bear witness to our faith as we hear others bear witness to their faith as well. We are learning to go past simple dialogue to the mutual transformation of our various traditions.
When we do that, we discover our similarities and also learn from our real differences.
Hermeneutically, I am simply suggesting that we stop fighting about whether one account contradicts another, because they often do, and simply celebrate the original pluralism found in the Bible. We should not be surprised, the word Bible is much better translated as a library than as a single book. When we stop trying to harmonize or smooth over textual discrepancies or disagreements, then our Bible study can perhaps tutor us to listen more carefully when confronted with both diversity in our Christian community and pluralism in our global world.
Grace and peace,
John
Picture Used with Permission: I-Stock Photo
