What's Your Problem?
Three categories of problems when interpreting the Bible and doing theology
Sometimes, when we read the Bible or study theology, we are left confused. I’ve found that being able to categorize the specific type of problem helps bring some clarity on the best way to approach it, and to triage its level of importance.
Exegetical Problems
Think of a part of the Bible that is hard to understand. Let’s take Paul’s comment in 1 Corinthians 11:10, “That is why a wife ought to have a symbol of authority on her head, because of the angels.”
This is a tough passage because it isn’t immediately clear what Paul is telling us. What is the “symbol of authority”? Why do translators add the word “symbol” when in the Greek text there is only the word “authority”? And what do angels have to do with it? This is an example of what we could call an exegetical problem. (The word “exegesis” comes from the Greek word exgeisthai, meaning “to interpret”). Exegetical problems are problems of interpreting the actual words and syntax of Scripture and discerning their meaning, and requires a knowledge of grammar, language, and historical context.
Theological Problems
Now, consider a different problem. Let’s consider Jesus’ words in the gospel of Matthew about the timing of His second coming: “But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only,” (Matt 24:36). A thoughtful Christian may read that sentence and then ask: Wait—if Jesus is God, how can the Father know something that He can’t? This isn’t an exegetical problem; the meaning of the words and syntax is fairly straightforward. This represents a theological problem. Theology could be helpfully defined as a synthesis of the whole of the data provided in Scripture, including not only its explications (what is plainly stated), but also its implications (good and necessary consequences). The text of the Scripture sets trajectories that result in theological conclusions.
Theological problems are when those implications are unclear or appear to contradict other theological or exegetical conclusions. So, to return to Matthew 24:36, the problem for our thoughtful Christian is that the text seems to be contradicting the theological conclusion of Jesus’ divinity. How can the Son be divine if there is an attribute of God (omniscience) that He lacks? To answer this question, the student needs to study more deeply the doctrine of the hypostatic union and what it means for Jesus to take on a human nature.
Philosophical Problems
Finally, consider one last category of problems. Imagine a young woman reading about the doctrine of unconditional election and asking herself: If God predestines everything, how do I have free will? This isn’t an exegetical problem—the question is not concerning what passages like Romans 9 or Ephesians 1 mean. This also isn’t a theological problem—there may be theological arguments some would make against the doctrine of unconditional election—but the young woman’s question isn’t aimed at the doctrine per se or how it coheres with other theological truths. She is wondering how the doctrine can be harmonized with her experience of human agency. Her problem is a philosophical problem. Philosophical problems have to do with questions that extend beyond the exegesis of Scripture and the synthesis of theology. They are typically problems that are asking questions that the Bible is not immediately concerned with answering.
For instance, in regards to the relationship between God’s sovereignty and human agency, the Bible feels no compulsion to explain how these two realities co-exist. The Bible feels free to simply state that they co-exist. When the apostle Paul, for instance, states that he “worked harder than” any other apostle, yet admits that it wasn’t really him working, but “the grace of God at work” in him (1 Cor 15:10)—we may be confused. How can he claim to work harder than anyone else and also confess that it was not him doing it, but God? Paul feels no pressure to explain. Philosophical speculation seeks to answer the how and ranges from metaphysics (what is there?), to epistemology (how do we know?), to ethics (what is right?).
This isn’t to say that philosophical questions are irrelevant or unimportant—they are unavoidable.1 It is to say that philosophical formulations—since they are the farthest removed from the text of Scripture—are inherently the most speculative and therefore tend to be the most beguiling.
Put It All Together
These three categories2 are not hermetically sealed from one another. They interpenetrate and build upon each other. We construct our theology after we perform our careful exegesis, and we formulate our philosophical categories upon our faithful theology—and then, those constructions and formulations help us the next time we do more exegesis! We do not have to pretend we don’t know what the Trinity is every time we read our Bible. When we read that Jesus does not know something the Father does, we bring the rest of the Bible’s clear teaching on Jesus’ divinity, the doctrine of the Trinity, and the philosophical concept of personhood to bear upon interpreting this passage.
Yet, there is a clear priority that should be given to the exegesis of the text. Exegesis is what norms and shapes all others, even as we admit that it is aided by theological and philosophical assumptions. Exegesis can, however, alter those assumptions. The order of importance in arriving at truth should look like:
Exegesis —> Theology —> Philosophy
I realize all of this is fairly abstract, so consider an illustration:
Imagine an explorer working his way through unexplored territory in a jungle. His map has very little details of the jungle before him, so he plods through it taking diligent notes about hillsides, lakes, and coastlines. He already has a map, so he has a general sense of where he is, but the map isn’t fully filled out yet. When he returns from his expedition, he sits down and pours over his notes, and seeks to more accurately fill out the map, charting the elevation and features of the jungle.
Exegesis is the act of the explorer, working on the ground. He is doing the up-close work of studying the text directly. Theology is the act of map-making. Taking the data of exegesis and seeing how it fits in harmoniously with the whole. Philosophy would be the task of speculating what lies beyond the map, beyond the scope of the expedition, what may be surmised based on what has been seen and experienced: how far does the coastline go? What can be deduced about the countryside based on what has been seen? How many other waterfalls or mountains are there?
What’s Your Problem?
Whatever you may be currently struggling to understand in your Bible reading or doctrinal studies, it is helpful to diagnose where your problem actually is. If you are wrestling with a philosophical problem, but think it is an exegetical one, you will assume that the answer will be found in studying Greek words more seriously. Or, if you are having an exegetical problem, but assume it is theological, you’ll avoid the main issue and assume the solution is found in studying systematic theologies or church history.
In my experience, most people get hung up on philosophical problems, but frequently do not have this category available to them, so they assume that a doctrine or interpretation of Scripture must itself be wrong. For instance, they may say something like: If God hardens people’s hearts, then they cannot be morally responsible for their rebellion. Therefore, the Exodus account cannot actually mean that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, the doctrine of divine reprobation cannot be true.
This sounds like an exegetical problem (what do the words of Exodus mean?) or a theological problem (divine reprobation), when in reality it is neither. The assumption behind the sentence “If God hardens people’s hearts, then they cannot be held responsible” rests on a speculative, philosophical premise: God’s judgment can only be legitimate when those judged are not influenced by external powers. To label this “philosophical” does not mean that it is unimportant—that is a very worth while premise to examine. But it is precisely that—it must be examined and tested under the controlling norm of Scripture first, and then the body of Christian doctrine second, to see if it can be sustained.
This isn’t to say, however, that philosophical speculation is inherently wrong. When someone asks how God can be three in one, the answer comes the realm of philosophy: the distinction made between “being” and “person” are philosophical concepts, and they are necessary and good. All good theology will result in philosophical inquiry. In fact, the distinction between theology and philosophy may appear artificial when both appear to be the task of tracing trajectories out from the text of Scripture. I believe the distinction is helpful, however, because it gives a category to the questions that we all may have, but are not directly addressed in Scripture.
An additional category that could be added to this would be Biblical theological problems, or (more succinctly) canonical problems. When you are reading the book of Hebrews, what do you do when the author appears to be saying that the Mosaic covenant was flawed (hence, our need for a new covenant) (Heb 8:6-13). Or, how do you deal with Mark’s casual comment that Jesus nullifies large tracks of the dietary restrictions laid down in the Torah (Mark 7:19)? Or, how do you know what parts of Leviticus and Deuteronomy still apply to Christians today and which do not?
These are not exegetical problems, these are canonical problems. That is, these are Biblical-theology problems: what pertains to the relationship between the Old and New Covenant, and how to interpret the Bible as it develops across the scope of the entire canon of Scripture. To answer these problems, one needs to study how the two testaments relate to each other, what is fulfilled and abrogated in the New, and what is sustained and brought over from the Old.