Monday, July 10, 2006
While perusing a bookstore last week, I came across a copy of A.N. Wilson's book Jesus; A Life. The book, which purports to be a biography of Jesus, looks at Jesus from the standpoint of his Jewishness, through the eyes of the apostle Paul, through the story of the passion, and other sources. Wilson's approach to biblical exegesis takes me back to my coursework in New Testament while I was in college.
In those years, I approached the scriptures from the standpoint of irreligion. I took delight in pointing out biblical passages that seemed to contradict other passages, or that were politically incorrect. I imagined that I was more intelligent than believers, more cultured. Yet inwardly, I lacked the confidence that my outward pronouncements suggested. No, there was no road to Damascus experience, but rather, a gradual movement of the heart. Or could it be that my heart was stationary and Christ entered it through its gaping holes.
Wilson, from time to time, approaches the scriptures in some of the terse, critical ways that remind me of my misspent youth. He points out the impossibility of Paul's own road to Damascus experience, explaining that Damascus was outside the reach of the persecutions that Paul may have been involved in. He ridicules the virgin birth narrative, and points out how the synoptic gospel evangelists each embellish their accounts to appeal to their respective audiences. He is particularly critical of Paul, delving into the internal conflicts and changing theological views of the prolific evangelist.
Yet Wilson is surprisingly kind to John, the Quaker Gospel. Wilson suggests that despite accepted scholarly dating, John may be one of the earliest Gospels, or at least may rely on earlier sources than do Mark, Matthew and Luke. Wilson's chapter on The Cooked Fish; Or How To Read a Gospel, I think makes the book worthwhile just by itself.
The Quaker approach to scripture -- reading in the light which brought the scriptures forth in the spirit of continuing revelation -- may remove some scriptural challenges experienced by those who rely on the scriptures entirely for their understanding of God. But I wonder how Christocentric Friends approach the concept of biblical criticism. As I delve into Wilson's text, I find myself drawn further into the scriptures, and perhaps coming away with a better understanding of their initial meaning. But what sayest thou? Are we better to take the scriptures as they are handed to us, without delving beneath their apparent meaning, concentrating not on the historical Jesus but the Jesus who walks the corridors of our heart? Or should we seek out more information, and try to gain a more complete understanding of the Jesus who walked the earth?
I am not settled on the matter. Were Wilson's book coming between me and Christ, I would put it down. Could material of this type be more valuable to some Friends than others, or to Friends at a certain point on their spiritual journey?
In those years, I approached the scriptures from the standpoint of irreligion. I took delight in pointing out biblical passages that seemed to contradict other passages, or that were politically incorrect. I imagined that I was more intelligent than believers, more cultured. Yet inwardly, I lacked the confidence that my outward pronouncements suggested. No, there was no road to Damascus experience, but rather, a gradual movement of the heart. Or could it be that my heart was stationary and Christ entered it through its gaping holes.
Wilson, from time to time, approaches the scriptures in some of the terse, critical ways that remind me of my misspent youth. He points out the impossibility of Paul's own road to Damascus experience, explaining that Damascus was outside the reach of the persecutions that Paul may have been involved in. He ridicules the virgin birth narrative, and points out how the synoptic gospel evangelists each embellish their accounts to appeal to their respective audiences. He is particularly critical of Paul, delving into the internal conflicts and changing theological views of the prolific evangelist.
Yet Wilson is surprisingly kind to John, the Quaker Gospel. Wilson suggests that despite accepted scholarly dating, John may be one of the earliest Gospels, or at least may rely on earlier sources than do Mark, Matthew and Luke. Wilson's chapter on The Cooked Fish; Or How To Read a Gospel, I think makes the book worthwhile just by itself.
The Quaker approach to scripture -- reading in the light which brought the scriptures forth in the spirit of continuing revelation -- may remove some scriptural challenges experienced by those who rely on the scriptures entirely for their understanding of God. But I wonder how Christocentric Friends approach the concept of biblical criticism. As I delve into Wilson's text, I find myself drawn further into the scriptures, and perhaps coming away with a better understanding of their initial meaning. But what sayest thou? Are we better to take the scriptures as they are handed to us, without delving beneath their apparent meaning, concentrating not on the historical Jesus but the Jesus who walks the corridors of our heart? Or should we seek out more information, and try to gain a more complete understanding of the Jesus who walked the earth?
I am not settled on the matter. Were Wilson's book coming between me and Christ, I would put it down. Could material of this type be more valuable to some Friends than others, or to Friends at a certain point on their spiritual journey?
