Three-legged stools and new explorations of the scriptures

Internet searches, as we all know, can sometimes yield quite unexpected results. I have just seen a site (which I shall not distinguish by linking here) which accused the late Raymond E. Brown (a great favourite of mine) of heresy, because he denies the literal truth of the visit of the Magi. It was a Roman Catholic site, and I would imagine that its authors have never read any of Brown's works... considering that he has multiple footnotes to Vatican documents as a rule, and speaks of the judgement of the magisterium as essential in considering results of biblical criticism.

Well I, of course, am a heretic (or at least would seem so to such webmasters as those.) I am not likely to reference 'fidelity to the magisterium' any time soon, for all that I see validity in teaching authority. I'm much more inclined towards a patristic approach, where orthodoxy (when it is finally established) is based on Christology and the Trinity than on other elements of belief. Yet, in the extensive (gruelling, fascinating) studies of the scriptures in which I am now engaged (sometimes under protest... but it's part of the degree programme) , I can see clearly how ecclesiology and the scriptures must go hand in hand for any coherent whole. I am not about to define precisely how Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit, continues revelation through his church - but one can see this happening from the earliest days of Christianity.

I'm smiling, nostalgic for the moment. I never could have been classed as fundamentalist, yet, now and then, I do miss the images many of us had of scriptural accounts before biblical criticism was as developed as it is now. For example, I well remember when it was common for Christians, even those speaking from the pulpit, to picture that the gospels were eyewitness accounts, with notes taken as Jesus was speaking. (There was no real allowance for the need of post-resurrection understanding.) I would imagine we thought that Jesus greeted the apostles, right after the resurrection, with "Happy Easter, I am the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity," and then spent the following forty days giving them an intensive course in systematic theology.

It can initially be distressing to realise that, as scholarship has shown, accounts often incorporate the understanding which the early Church had attained - "Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations" being understood, not a record of Jesus' own words. Nonetheless, it is all the more awe-inspiring to realise that, within a brief period, the Church had recognised dimensions of Jesus' identity and mission which would have boggled the mind of any first century Jew (let alone Gentile), and equally had seen the vocation of the church itself to proclaim the kingdom.

I well remember when it was generally thought that Luke (dear and glorious physician... no wonder he was the only evangelist to list the details of the bloody sweat in Gethesemane) had extensive details for his infancy narrative because he and Mary had known each other. Matthew was assumed to have obtained his version from Joseph... apparently Mary would not have considered visits from the Magi and taking off for Egypt as important details. The essence of these accounts, which I have studied with avid interest, is even more wonderful than most of us had supposed - yet I belief it is easy, at first, to shed at least one sentimental tear for the days when the literal versions seemed very exciting.

I, of course, am not a scripture scholar. (My field is the arts and humanities, and, in my theological pursuits, leans towards ascetic.) Naturally, my highly literary mind formed many a meditation on parts of the scriptures in the past. One example springs to mind. I recall meditating on Peter's Pentecost sermon from Acts. I was thinking of how, less than two months earlier, Peter had denied even knowing Jesus and fled in fear. Now, with Caiaphas, Pilate, and Herod Antipas still in power, Peter (undoubtedly sharing all he'd learnt in the crash theology course), is inspired, fearless, charismatic in his proclamation.

The scholars would point out that Luke was incorporating the understanding of the early Church in the form of the sermon. Yes, Peter would prove himself to be rather avid a preacher later, but, just for a moment, I was sorry to lose the image of the quick transformation.

I do not want to ramble unduly... with my love for the mediaeval, I could soon find myself going through the legends, vivid explanations and embellishments, and so forth characteristic of that period. Yet a point is clear. The fathers of the Reformation were quite right in seeing what passed for tradition getting much out of control. Genuine tradition, which by its nature was exegetical, needs to be remembered in our studies of the scriptures and approaches to doctrine. Ecclesiology already was critical at the very time the New Testament was being composed.

I am tempted to begin expounding here about how the understanding came to the Church often through its worship - we understand many truths in doxology before reason can express them. But I shall save that for another day.