“The Purpose of Scripture”

Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost

Sunday, October 21, 2007

“All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, so that everyone who belongs to God may be proficient, equipped for every good work.”

Our reading from 2 Timothy contains one of the most controversial verses in all of Scripture.  One of the great challenges facing the church today is the question of how we interpret this ancient book that we claim is inspired by God. 

The claim that “all Scripture is inspired by God” actually raises as many questions as it answers.  How did such inspiration happen?  How do we reconcile the ‘inspired’ claims of Scripture with seemingly contradictory insights that we have gained from other disciplines?  What is the best way to interpret these ‘inspired’ texts?

The ways that such questions are answered have had a profound impact on the history of the church.  We all know that, even today, the interpretations of certain passages are testing the limits of Christian unity both in local and in global contexts. 

As we begin to wrestle with these questions, however, there are a few introductory comments that are necessary. 

Perhaps the most important is to acknowledge that we approach the Bible with a certain bias.  We are Christians, who claim this book as Scripture; we are Presbyterians, and part of a tradition in which Scripture is held in a very honoured place; and, speaking personally, I am absolutely fascinated by this book.  Its drama, its wisdom, its narrative genius, its poetry, and its ideas are a deep source of both spiritual nourishment and engagement for me. 

Moreover, I am convinced that a neglect of this book – even if a person is not a believer – robs that person of an exposure to the greatest literary masterpiece of human history. Those who are too afraid to read this book out of a fear of seeming too religious, rob themselves of one of the most enriching experiences of human life.  

And I am not alone in this conviction.  I was fascinated to read, in Richard Dawkins’ book, The God Delusion that Dawkins—who, himself, is an outspoken opponent of faith – nonetheless dedicates an entire chapter to an encouragement to read the Bible.  Without a grounding in the Bible, argues Dawkins, people become culturally, politically, and artistically illiterate.  Regardless of his other convictions, on this, I could not agree with Dawkins more.  

The other comment that needs to be made is that what the author of 2 Timothy meant by ‘Scripture’ may be somewhat different from what we would mean. 2 Timothy was written before some of the other books of the New Testament, so it is impossible that the author of 2 Timothy would have considered what we know as ‘Scripture’ to be the ‘Scripture’ to which he was referring. 

This need not be a great source of anxiety for us this morning. To dispense with any text that would have been unknown to the author of 2 Timothy would mean that we would expunge the Gospels, the later epistles, and the Book of Revelation from our canon of Scripture.  In so doing, we would be cutting ourselves off from two thousand years of tradition and, in certain ways, we would be creating a new religion – which we need not do.

Rather, this morning, I would invite us to consider three dimensions of this verse from 2 Timothy.  The first is that we must realize that the Bible is, in many ways, a conversation.  The second is that the Bible is meant to be a tool, and not a weapon.  And the third is that there is something that we must do if the intended purpose of Scripture is to be fulfilled. 

The Bible as a Conversation

So, first, the Bible is a conversation.

What do I mean by this?  In ancient times, there were three great arts that stood at the pinnacle of all intellectual engagement – grammar, rhetoric and dialectic.  Grammar was the study of the proper use of language; rhetoric was the study of the art of persuasion; and dialectic was the study of the ways that ideas could be explored through discussion and debate. It is from this study of dialectic that we get the famous process of proposal, counterproposal and resolution; or thesis, antithesis and synthesis. 

It is this third category – of the dialectical dimensions of Scripture – that concerns us this morning. What might it mean to claim that the biblical writers – and, in fact, entire sections of the Bible -- are in conversation with each other?  What might it mean to claim that the Bible is full of proposals and counter-proposals, and that Scripture can only be properly understood when we keep all of these diverse voices together?

There are so many examples of these conversations within Scripture.  Permit me to offer three examples.

A first example is the conversation that takes place between the books of Ezra, Nehemiah and Ruth. 

Towards the end of the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, the people have returned from Babylon, and are forced to ask themselves some difficult questions about why they had found themselves in exile in the first place.  They concluded that a significant part of the blame was because they had tolerated the worship of foreign idols. 

And who, they asked themselves, had been responsible for the presence of these foreign idols?  Their answer was that it was the foreign women, who had married Israelite men, and had brought other gods to Israel. 

The proposed solution in Ezra and Nehemiah was quite harsh.  Expel the foreign wives and their children.  A terrible purge -- for the sake of religious purity -- took place.  The proposal was, in its own way, quite legitimate -- if you do not take a stand against injustice and idolatry, you break covenant with God and lose your freedom. 

To accept that proposal alone, would lead to a religion in which outsiders would be shunned, marriage between believers and non-believers would always be opposed, and the purity of religion would be maintained by excluding any outside influences. 

But a counter-proposal is found in the Book of Ruth.  The Book of Ruth tells the story of one such foreign woman, a Moabite widow, who came to Israel with her widowed mother-in-law, Naomi.  According to the proposal offered by the Ezra and Nehemiah passages, of course, women like Ruth were responsible for the import of foreign idols into the religious life of Israel.  The ‘punch line’ of the Book of Ruth comes in the final verses when we are told that Ruth was the great-grandmother of King David – with its bold implication that if you expel the foreign women for the sake of religious purity, you run the risk of expelling the great-grandmother of the greatest king that Israel had ever had.

The dialectical tension, in Scripture, becomes clear.  The proposal?  You must sometimes take drastic steps to avoid the worship of foreign idols.  And the counter-proposal? If you draw the boundaries of religious purity too closely, you risk excluding people who will have an incomparable effect on the life of your community.  The interesting point, for our consideration this morning, of course, is that both proposal and counter-proposal are found within the text of Scripture itself.

Jonah offers another example.  We all know the story of Jonah’s reluctant journey to Nineveh to announce its destruction, only to discover that the Ninevites responded to God’s word far more quickly than Jonah and the chosen people had done. The proposal?  The favoured status that Jonah’s people enjoyed with God meant that God was committed to act on their behalf against the evil Ninevites.  And the counter-proposal?  God may be as concerned for the supposedly evil people of Nineveh as God was for the chosen people.  The Book of Jonah ends with a question which is not answered in the text. What resolution will Jonah – and each one of us, as readers – make about that tension between the exclusivity and the inclusivity of the grace of God?

A third example of this conversation within Scripture occurs between the books of Proverbs and Job.  Proverbs offers a clear set of cause-and-effect proposals about the wise way to live.  Do good, and you will prosper; be faithful, and you will live in peace; trust in the Lord, and your paths will be made straight.  There is a lot of wisdom in these texts. 

But then we read the story of Job. Job was a good, faithful, obedient man -- who suffered anyways. The thesis of Proverbs meets its antithesis in Job, and it is in keeping these two voices in conversation that Scripture invites us to live towards a synthesis.  The great majesty of Scripture is that the Bible invites us to read both Job and Proverbs -- together -- as the inspired Word of God. 

So what does all of this have to do with our modern questions about the inspiration and interpretation of Scripture? 

2 Timothy states that “all Scripture” is inspired by God.  If ‘all Scripture’ is inspired and if the Bible – or, at the very least, certain significant portions of it -- are in conversation, then we need to read the entire book carefully, and realize that certain sections and verses of the book cannot be taken out of context.  For this reason, I am always on my guard when, in the midst of some controversy, a person begins a sentence, with a definitive tone in their voice, with the words “The Bible says…”   If it is true that “all Scripture” is inspired, then we better ensure that we read “all Scripture” – both those parts that we agree with, and those that we find it difficult to understand -- before we attempt to claim that we know what the Bible says.  To cite only certain parts, and exclude the other sides of the biblical conversation, is to do a terrible injustice to “all Scripture”.

This does not mean – as it is sometimes claimed – that the Bible can be used to support any idea.  It is, rather, to acknowledge that the Bible is a conversation, and can only be properly understood when its various proposals and counter-proposals are allowed to speak to each other.  We need to remember that ambiguity does not undermine authority; that questions are necessary on the quest for truth; and that the mysteries of grace and judgement cannot be simplistically summarized with sound bites from Scripture.

The Bible as Tool

A second dimension is that the Bible is a tool, not a weapon.  The second part of this famous verse from 2 Timothy states, Scripture “is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness”.  To put this another way, the Bible is meant as a useful tool to help us to grow in right relationships with God and with others.  It is not meant to be used as a weapon against others.

When I was in Nicaragua, a number of years ago, I purchased a machete.  I had it hanging on the wall of the study in my former congregation, and now have it on a wall in a study at our home.  With its long blade, I am often asked – particularly by kids – if it is a sword.  I respond that no, it is not a sword, but rather a farm implement.  With the machete, peasant farmers cut down the branches that they need to clear in order to plant their crops.  It is a necessary tool.  A number of years ago, however, I also saw a woman whose face had been terribly brutalized by a machete attack during a war in Mozambique. Her scarred and disfigured face offered horrific evidence that machetes can be used in violent ways when that simple farm tool is used as a weapon.

This confusion between a tool and a weapon is not limited to machetes.  Too often, it seems, the Bible is used as a weapon rather than as a tool.  Rather than allowing the text to teach us, to correct us, and to train us how to live in good relationships, the texts are used to cut others down, to do harm to others, and to their ideas.  I need not cite examples, for you, of ways that texts have been used to marginalize, to exclude and to judge others. 

But it is a serious issue that we must overcome.  There are few issues, in fact, that are as pressing, in the modern world, as is the need to make the study of Scripture a far greater priority in the Church, and in our lives.  Why?  Because we are living in an age when the rising tides of violent extremism are affecting every one of the world’s religions – including our own.  In such times, it is ever more necessary to be able to discern between correct and incorrect uses of Scripture – and we can only do so by learning what the Bible does and does not say.  We live in an age where generous voices are too often silenced because of their neglect of the study of Scripture.  But who better to refute those who would use Scripture as a weapon than those who can demonstrate – in compassionate and informed ways – that Scripture is a tool for peace, for justice and for holy transformation rather than a weapon for demonization and division? 

So, first, today’s text invites us to realize that ‘all Scripture’ is a conversation; second, that it is meant to be a tool and not a weapon.

The Purpose of Scripture

A third and final dimension of this verse involves the purpose of Scripture. That purpose is stated in the end of verse 17 -- -- “so that everyone who belongs to God may be proficient, equipped for every good work.”  The purpose of Scripture, quite simply, is to equip us for goodness.

Which raises an interesting dimension to this verse.  In my life, I have heard infinitely more debates about the beginning of this verse – about the nature of the inspiration of Scripture than I have about the end of the verse -- how Scripture equips us for goodness.  I have heard many elaborate arguments defending the inerrancy or infallibility of the original texts; but far fewer discussions about the ways that Scripture’s stated purpose is fulfilled.  Which is rather odd, since I, for one, am convinced that its true inspiration is found in its transforming effects rather than in its method of composition.

Earlier this week, I had lunch with my father.  I was telling him about my thoughts for this Sunday’s sermon, and we had a long conversation about the ways that the Bible functions.  Finally, he asked, “so what do you want people to conclude about the inspiration of Scripture?”   I thought for a few moments, and answered, “I really don’t care.” 

What I meant was that it does not particularly concern me how different people understand the process of how biblical inspiration works.  What does fascinate me is how the texts fulfill their stated purpose in our lives.  That is, how the texts equip us – and transform us – so that goodness will increase in this world.

 
Which, in its own way, offers us a good principle for evaluating our interpretations of Scripture. That is, if our reading leads us to fear and judgementalism rather than grace and goodness; or if our interpretation does not inspire the fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control within us, then it might accurately be concluded that we are not interpreting the passage correctly.  To put it another way, if our reading of a passage is irreconcilable with the gracious love of Jesus Christ, then we are not reading things correctly. 

But for all of that to happen, we must read this book.  There is nothing magical about the Bible.  It must be pulled off of the shelf, dusted off, and read.  We must read it in all of its wonderful tensions and dialectical dilemmas.  We must read it as a tool for our own correction and growth, and not as a weapon against others.  We must read it so that it might equip us for goodness. 

But most importantly, we must read it, because these written words have the power to lead us into the presence of Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh.   

And in the presence of that Living Word, we meet God.

Amen.