In the previous post, I was bemoaning a book that became a pleasant surprise.  I would like to share a quote that I have been chewing on for a few days.  The following paragraph is taken from pages 145-146 of Darwin on Trial and it is actually a quotation from Karl Popper discussing “science-ideologies” in early twentieth century Vienna.

“the effect of an intellectual conversion or revelation, opening your eyes to a new truth hidden from those not yet initiated.  Once your eyes were thus opened you saw confirming instances everywhere: the world was full of verifications of the theory.  Whatever happened always confirmed it.  Thus its truth appeared manifest; and unbelievers were clearly people who did not want to see the manifest truth; who refused to see it, either because it was against their class interest, or because of the repressions which were still ‘under-analyzed’ and crying aloud for treatment… A Marxist could not open a news-paper without finding on every page confirming evidence for his interpretation of history; not only in the news, but also in its presentation- which revealed the class bias of the paper – and especially emphasized that their theories were constantly verified by their clinical observations.”

My mind has been fixated on theology and the creation of principles of that said study.  In reading the above paragraph, it has echoed a stream of thoughts that I have been slightly pre-occupied with lately (See my previous posts that touch upon this subject, here and here).

Blank Slate?

Can anyone come to the biblical text tabula rasa?  I don’t think so.  Every single person has a plethora of experiences that has shaped their worldview (which includes, but is not limited to theological systems of belief).  This worldview then becomes a lens in which every other experience is viewed.  I, like everyone else, am a composite of experiences that has powerfully shaped how I view my reality.  It is neither good nor bad, it just is.  One is absolutely fooling themselves, if they believe that they don’t think that they interpret scripture or any piece of literature with a preconceived notion of what it says, how we should look at it, or how we should apply it.

If you are an Evangelical, you are accepting a theological commitment that Scripture is the Word of God, or That Jesus is the Son of God, our Christ.  That theological commitment shades how you look at the biblical narrative.  When an Evangelical reads the Gospels to see Jesus as the Christ, they in fact see Jesus as the Christ.  Like Popper’s quote noted, “Once your eyes were thus opened you saw confirming instances everywhere: the world was full of verifications of the theory”.  It is not that presuppositions (in and of themselves) are good or bad, but they are intrinsic to the task of interpretation, and are only ignored at ones peril.  Now there may be better presuppositions than others, but we must be cognizant with what preconceived ideas we bring to the table.   Also a commitment to having no presuppositions is in fact a presupposition.  Presuppositions by the nature of interpretation are an ever present reality.

The Good

The thing about theological systems is that they tend to be rigid, dogmatic, and glacier-like in the speed of their change. That isn’t such a terrible thing, because it allows people to use an established grid to understand and begin to interpret reality.  This is especially important as it relates to biblical interpretation.  Where does someone begin wading through the biblical text?  It is unhelpful to throw a person into Scripture without some orienting data or grid to begin to filter a text through. The rigidness of a theological system becomes a framework that is a wonderful starting point to begin exploring a biblical text.  The Christian faith is one that is grounded within a historic people group (who at times are theologically diverse, at least moderately speaking) and has wrestled with who God is, what they believe, how they should look, and how to experience that faith.  Most theological systems inherently have a historic component that allows for people in the present to connect to those who have articulated their system in the past.  This aspect can also be helpful in the interpretive process because it is grounded in a historic community of the Church.  Christians should be tied to the historical Church in a meaningful way, because their faith is our faith.  The speed of change of a particular system isn’t necessarily a bad thing either, because it can resist interpretive fads keeping it tied to that historic faith.

Suppose one comes to a text that has several viable and somewhat equally substantiated interpretive options.  What makes one choice better than another choice?  I think one chooses the interpretive option that fits one’s theological system best (supposing that every available option is equally viable).  By adopting such an approach it gives the reader a way to deal with the material in a positive way, instead of ignoring a passage as if it does not matter or is insignificant.

The Bad

The thing about theological systems is that they tend to be rigid, dogmatic, and glacier-like in the speed of their change.  This can also be a bad thing, because conversation partners tend to consist of only those who subscribe to your particular theological system, thus further entrenching the agenda of said system as absolute fact.  Without the friction or tension of various systems that are held in opposition to each other, how can one ever hear challenging views that may be better substantiated than the one that is personally held?  The tendency is to set up straw men that represent other systems, so that they these straw men can be knocked to the ground.

The Ugly

The thing about theological systems is that they tend to be rigid, dogmatic, and glacier-like in the speed of their change.  This is evident by referencing the debate de jour: The Westminster Confession of Faith, WTS, and Peter Enns debacle.  Unless you live under a rock, or not reading other bibliobloggers, you know what I am talking about.  This is sad example how systems of belief can move from bad to ugly in their practice.  In bad, we see how the conversation is only limited to those who are of like-mind.  But in cases like this, those outside of the dialog are often viewed as ignorant or unenlightened and their views are marginalized and regarded as unrealistic or even worse unorthodox.  This can be an example of how lack of authentic dialog can turn caustic and ultimately damaging.

Concluding Remarks

I think theological systems have positive and negative problems associated with them.  However, I believe we can somewhat mitigate the negative effects associated with theological systems within the hermeneutic task by remaining in dialog with those who are a part from and apart of one’s particular system.  Also humility goes along way when one is assessing dissenting points of view.  This dialog can only be helpful when it is conducted in an irenic tone.  One must also understand that one’s system may not always be the best for explaining every text.  Tied to the concept of humility should be flexibility (which according to the above remarks does not seem possible, however, on a personal level, I believe flexibility in a one’s personal theology is attainable).  As one is interacting with those with views opposite from their own own, personal flexibility is important if a meaningful dialog between systems is to take place.  I take flexibility to mean the possibility of personally amending one’s theological system from being in a dialog with others outside of their own theological system.  Ultimately the goal is not to be right, but to know truth.