What do you think?
Rate this book
Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament: Theology in the Service of Biblical Exegesis
The Old Testament offers a rich palette of ideas, images, and narratives that help us unpack some of the more compact and opaque theological ideas of the New Testament. In conversation with both Christian and Jewish interpreters, prominent scholar Gary Anderson explores the exegetical background of key Christian doctrines. Through a deeper reading of our two-Testament Bible, he illustrates that Christian doctrines have an organic connection to biblical texts and that doctrine can clarify meanings in the text that are foreign to modern, Western readers. Anderson traces the development of doctrine through the history of interpretation, discussing controversial topics such as the fall of man, creation out of nothing, the treasury of merit, and the veneration of Mary along the way. He demonstrates that church doctrines are more clearly grounded in Scripture than modern biblical scholarship has often supposed and that the Bible can define and elaborate the content of these doctrines.
- GenresTheology
240 pages, Hardcover
Published April 18, 2017
6 people are currently reading
50 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
May 16, 2017
Reading the Old Testament with contextual sensitivity and theological depth can be difficult. It’s all too easy for people to assume they already know what the text is saying or to treat the Old Testament as a mere backdrop for the New Testament. University of Notre Dame professor Gary A. Anderson is well aware of these dangers, but he doesn’t let them dissuade him from reading the Old Testament with doctrinal reflection in mind.
On the first page of Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament, he reveals the admittedly ambitious aim of the book: to demonstrate that “theological doctrines need not be a hindrance to exegesis but, when properly deployed, play a key role in uncovering a text’s meaning” (p.xi). In the world of biblical studies, this can be seen as a pretty provocative claim. Some scholars worry this type of approach inevitably overlooks the continued place of these scriptures in the Jewish canon and leads to the error of triumphalistic supersessionism. Anderson himself acknowledges the importance of these concerns, and he reassures readers that his Old Testament studies “take the Jewish character and integrity of the text with utmost seriousness” (p.xii).
Reading the Old Testament Theologically
The book’s chapters are organized into four main sections, with each chapter taking up some aspect of a classical Christian doctrine and looking to see how it can illuminate (and in turn be illuminated by) the writings of the Old Testament. The chapters as a whole demonstrate what Anderson thinks it looks like to successfully delve into the relationship between the Old Testament and Christian doctrine without distorting or stifling the distinctive witness of the biblical text.
Anderson’s discussion of Joseph as the beloved son in Genesis 37-50, which forms part of a larger chapter looking at the topic of election in relation to the patriarchal narratives of Genesis, gives a good example of the type of engagement with the text that Anderson favors. It’s in Joseph’s story, he notes, “that we find the theme of election and its high cost set in most brilliant relief” (p.84). Joseph may be portrayed as the elect, beloved son of his father, but rather than this favored status resulting in an easy life, it actually leads him into deep suffering. After being left for dead by his brothers and experiencing a number of dramatic events in Egypt, Joseph eventually finds himself in charge of food distribution during a time of famine, which leads to the dramatic climax of the story when he meets his brothers again. What does it mean when the beloved son, who was thought to have died, turns out to actually be alive?
The brothers had every reason to be afraid when they found out that Joseph was alive. Anderson writes, “As the psalms of lament attest, Joseph would have good grounds to seek vengeance against those who have treated him so unjustly” (p.87). It’s the fear and concern of the brothers that leads Anderson to shift his gaze to the Gospel passion narratives. After all, “the disciples of Jesus also abandoned their Lord at the hour he needed them most,” so they too had reason to wonder whether their reunion with the risen Jesus would be a moment of mercy or anger (pp. 88-89).
In the Genesis narrative, Joseph overlooks the sins of his brothers and offers them mercy along with the provisions they needed. It is this dimension of the story that Anderson highlights when he reads the Gospel accounts with Joseph in mind: “this is the key to the passion: like the brothers of Joseph, we reject the Elect One of Israel, but the Elect One does not reject us” (p.90). So, does Anderson reduce the meaning of Joseph’s story in Genesis by finding a layer of christological meaning in it? That is something that readers will have to decide.
From my perspective, though, I see Anderson giving a close reading of the Joseph story in Genesis and then listening for echoes and allusions to it in the post-resurrection Easter accounts. He pays attention to how the character of Joseph, the beloved and betrayed son, can shape the way Christians think about Jesus, the beloved and betrayed Son of God. At the very least, this reading illustrates how Christians can listen for christological patterns in the Old Testament without turning a deaf ear to what these texts would have meant to their first audiences.
Some of these studies are, of course, more successful than others. Anderson’s essay on the doctrine of impassibility in light of Moses and Jonah, for example, seemed more strained. The book ends with a final section looking at a few more distinctly Catholic subjects like the relationship between faith and works and the controversial doctrine of purgatory. Most Protestant readers will likely remain unconvinced by at least some of his conclusions in these chapters, but I still think it’s valuable for Protestants like myself, who don’t frequently encounter Catholic biblical scholars, to see a fine mind working with the text from the standpoint of that part of the Christian faith.
Anderson and Old Testament Studies
Anderson’s essays in Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament should be seen as part of a larger, ongoing discussion in Old Testament studies about how to best go about reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture. The contrasting approaches of Walter Brueggemann and Brevard Childs, two deeply influential figures on the academic landscape, are especially helpful for putting Anderson’s book in context. Childs was instrumental in altering the trajectory of Old Testament theology in a more energetic and unabashedly theological direction at a time when, as Walter Brueggemann himself declares, the field had “more or less fizzled out and lost its vitality” (Brueggemann, 2005, p.175). Childs’s approach has come to be called “canonical interpretation,” and near the heart of his work is the presuppositon that both the Old and New Testaments are discrete (and mutually interpretive) witnesses to Jesus Christ. Gary Anderson can comfortably be seen as a part of this canonical stream of Old Testament scholarship. At one point, he even goes so far as to call Brevard Childs as “one of the strongest influences in my own work” (p.xv).
According to Anderson, canonical interpretation has three main dimensions. First, it involves looking at the textual history of each biblical book, paying attention to how these developments contributed to the “final shape” of each member of the Christian canon. I think Anderson highlights this dimension because he is pushing back against critics of canonical interpretation who suggest that it puts an overly-narrow focus on the final form of texts. The second aspect looks beyond the limits of a single Old Testament book and explores how the books of the Old Testament should be read in light of one another. And finally, the third dimension centers on addressing the relationship between the Old and New Testaments, asking how to read the Old in light of the New, and vice versa (p.xv).
Broadly speaking, Brueggemann thinks Childs’s reading tends to diminish and flatten the richly varied voice of the Old Testament scriptures, preventing Childs from doing full justice to the “playful, elusive texture of the text” (2005, p.125). He also suggests that the canonical approach doesn’t place enough weight on the perspectives of Jewish scholars, which keeps the rich and varied tradition of Jewish interpretation of the Hebrew Bible from being adequately included in the conversation (Brueggemann, 1997, pp.107-112). For Brueggemann, the Old Testament has a deeply dialogic/dialectical quality. This explains some of his reservations about the canonical approach:
While Childs acknowledges diversity in the witnesses, he insists that the text is stable, that it has a persistent, clear meaning… When one arrives at the stability of the text as quickly as does Childs, much of the power, energy, and, I dare say, truth of the text is lost in a kind of reductionism. (2005, p.169)
This debate over the merits of canonical interpretation stays for the most part under the surface in Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament, but I think it nevertheless leaves a noticeable mark on Anderson’s efforts. In the book, I think it’s fair to say that Anderson exhibits what may be described as a nuanced form of canonical interpretation that tries to take into account the criticisms of scholars like Brueggemann. Anderson is sensitive to the structural and rhetorical particularities of the text. His detailed readings give plenty of attention to exegetical concerns like syntax and literary structure, and at numerous points, he includes the voices of Jewish interpreters, implicitly countering another criticism of canonical interpretation. Anderson suggests that much can be learned from “attending to what the Jewish tradition has seen in the biblical text through the lens of rabbinic tradition,” and he leans on the works of Hebrew Bible scholars like Edward Greenstein and Jon Levenson (p.209). All of these above-mentioned features are especially interesting to me given that Brueggemann’s name doesn’t even appear in the “author index” included near the back of the book.
Conclusion
Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament is a collection of thoughtful studies from a theologian who is clearly well-versed in both Jewish and Christian scholarship. While his manner of looking at the Old Testament in relation to doctrine surely won’t satisfy all readers, it does make it more difficult for proponents of canonical interpretation to be written off as inattentive and careless readers of the text. While in many ways I resonate deeply with Brueggemann’s concerns, it’s worth mentioning that he warns against exaggerating the differences between himself and Childs, noting that they both are grapplig with the “endlessly tricky relation between ‘The Great Tradition’ and the ‘little texts'” (2005, p.178). Childs’s ear is most sensitive to the claims of the former, while Brueggemann is a champion of the latter. Clearly, both are important parts of the biblical text, and it may be that holding these two commitments in dialectical tension is itself an important interpretive habit. In the end, Anderson’s rather ambitious work gives fresh energy to those who want to attend closely to the frequently ambiguous, multivocal nature of Scripture without stepping away from the rich history of Christian interpretation that stretches back through the centuries to Nicaea and beyond.
Other Works Cited
Brueggemann, Walter. The Book That Breathes New Life: Scriptural Authority and Biblical Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2005.
Brueggemann, Walter. Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1997.
*Disclosure: I received this book free from Baker Academic for review purposes. The opinions I have expressed are my own, and I was not required to write a positive review.
On the first page of Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament, he reveals the admittedly ambitious aim of the book: to demonstrate that “theological doctrines need not be a hindrance to exegesis but, when properly deployed, play a key role in uncovering a text’s meaning” (p.xi). In the world of biblical studies, this can be seen as a pretty provocative claim. Some scholars worry this type of approach inevitably overlooks the continued place of these scriptures in the Jewish canon and leads to the error of triumphalistic supersessionism. Anderson himself acknowledges the importance of these concerns, and he reassures readers that his Old Testament studies “take the Jewish character and integrity of the text with utmost seriousness” (p.xii).
Reading the Old Testament Theologically
The book’s chapters are organized into four main sections, with each chapter taking up some aspect of a classical Christian doctrine and looking to see how it can illuminate (and in turn be illuminated by) the writings of the Old Testament. The chapters as a whole demonstrate what Anderson thinks it looks like to successfully delve into the relationship between the Old Testament and Christian doctrine without distorting or stifling the distinctive witness of the biblical text.
Anderson’s discussion of Joseph as the beloved son in Genesis 37-50, which forms part of a larger chapter looking at the topic of election in relation to the patriarchal narratives of Genesis, gives a good example of the type of engagement with the text that Anderson favors. It’s in Joseph’s story, he notes, “that we find the theme of election and its high cost set in most brilliant relief” (p.84). Joseph may be portrayed as the elect, beloved son of his father, but rather than this favored status resulting in an easy life, it actually leads him into deep suffering. After being left for dead by his brothers and experiencing a number of dramatic events in Egypt, Joseph eventually finds himself in charge of food distribution during a time of famine, which leads to the dramatic climax of the story when he meets his brothers again. What does it mean when the beloved son, who was thought to have died, turns out to actually be alive?
The brothers had every reason to be afraid when they found out that Joseph was alive. Anderson writes, “As the psalms of lament attest, Joseph would have good grounds to seek vengeance against those who have treated him so unjustly” (p.87). It’s the fear and concern of the brothers that leads Anderson to shift his gaze to the Gospel passion narratives. After all, “the disciples of Jesus also abandoned their Lord at the hour he needed them most,” so they too had reason to wonder whether their reunion with the risen Jesus would be a moment of mercy or anger (pp. 88-89).
In the Genesis narrative, Joseph overlooks the sins of his brothers and offers them mercy along with the provisions they needed. It is this dimension of the story that Anderson highlights when he reads the Gospel accounts with Joseph in mind: “this is the key to the passion: like the brothers of Joseph, we reject the Elect One of Israel, but the Elect One does not reject us” (p.90). So, does Anderson reduce the meaning of Joseph’s story in Genesis by finding a layer of christological meaning in it? That is something that readers will have to decide.
From my perspective, though, I see Anderson giving a close reading of the Joseph story in Genesis and then listening for echoes and allusions to it in the post-resurrection Easter accounts. He pays attention to how the character of Joseph, the beloved and betrayed son, can shape the way Christians think about Jesus, the beloved and betrayed Son of God. At the very least, this reading illustrates how Christians can listen for christological patterns in the Old Testament without turning a deaf ear to what these texts would have meant to their first audiences.
Some of these studies are, of course, more successful than others. Anderson’s essay on the doctrine of impassibility in light of Moses and Jonah, for example, seemed more strained. The book ends with a final section looking at a few more distinctly Catholic subjects like the relationship between faith and works and the controversial doctrine of purgatory. Most Protestant readers will likely remain unconvinced by at least some of his conclusions in these chapters, but I still think it’s valuable for Protestants like myself, who don’t frequently encounter Catholic biblical scholars, to see a fine mind working with the text from the standpoint of that part of the Christian faith.
Anderson and Old Testament Studies
Anderson’s essays in Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament should be seen as part of a larger, ongoing discussion in Old Testament studies about how to best go about reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture. The contrasting approaches of Walter Brueggemann and Brevard Childs, two deeply influential figures on the academic landscape, are especially helpful for putting Anderson’s book in context. Childs was instrumental in altering the trajectory of Old Testament theology in a more energetic and unabashedly theological direction at a time when, as Walter Brueggemann himself declares, the field had “more or less fizzled out and lost its vitality” (Brueggemann, 2005, p.175). Childs’s approach has come to be called “canonical interpretation,” and near the heart of his work is the presuppositon that both the Old and New Testaments are discrete (and mutually interpretive) witnesses to Jesus Christ. Gary Anderson can comfortably be seen as a part of this canonical stream of Old Testament scholarship. At one point, he even goes so far as to call Brevard Childs as “one of the strongest influences in my own work” (p.xv).
According to Anderson, canonical interpretation has three main dimensions. First, it involves looking at the textual history of each biblical book, paying attention to how these developments contributed to the “final shape” of each member of the Christian canon. I think Anderson highlights this dimension because he is pushing back against critics of canonical interpretation who suggest that it puts an overly-narrow focus on the final form of texts. The second aspect looks beyond the limits of a single Old Testament book and explores how the books of the Old Testament should be read in light of one another. And finally, the third dimension centers on addressing the relationship between the Old and New Testaments, asking how to read the Old in light of the New, and vice versa (p.xv).
Broadly speaking, Brueggemann thinks Childs’s reading tends to diminish and flatten the richly varied voice of the Old Testament scriptures, preventing Childs from doing full justice to the “playful, elusive texture of the text” (2005, p.125). He also suggests that the canonical approach doesn’t place enough weight on the perspectives of Jewish scholars, which keeps the rich and varied tradition of Jewish interpretation of the Hebrew Bible from being adequately included in the conversation (Brueggemann, 1997, pp.107-112). For Brueggemann, the Old Testament has a deeply dialogic/dialectical quality. This explains some of his reservations about the canonical approach:
While Childs acknowledges diversity in the witnesses, he insists that the text is stable, that it has a persistent, clear meaning… When one arrives at the stability of the text as quickly as does Childs, much of the power, energy, and, I dare say, truth of the text is lost in a kind of reductionism. (2005, p.169)
This debate over the merits of canonical interpretation stays for the most part under the surface in Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament, but I think it nevertheless leaves a noticeable mark on Anderson’s efforts. In the book, I think it’s fair to say that Anderson exhibits what may be described as a nuanced form of canonical interpretation that tries to take into account the criticisms of scholars like Brueggemann. Anderson is sensitive to the structural and rhetorical particularities of the text. His detailed readings give plenty of attention to exegetical concerns like syntax and literary structure, and at numerous points, he includes the voices of Jewish interpreters, implicitly countering another criticism of canonical interpretation. Anderson suggests that much can be learned from “attending to what the Jewish tradition has seen in the biblical text through the lens of rabbinic tradition,” and he leans on the works of Hebrew Bible scholars like Edward Greenstein and Jon Levenson (p.209). All of these above-mentioned features are especially interesting to me given that Brueggemann’s name doesn’t even appear in the “author index” included near the back of the book.
Conclusion
Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament is a collection of thoughtful studies from a theologian who is clearly well-versed in both Jewish and Christian scholarship. While his manner of looking at the Old Testament in relation to doctrine surely won’t satisfy all readers, it does make it more difficult for proponents of canonical interpretation to be written off as inattentive and careless readers of the text. While in many ways I resonate deeply with Brueggemann’s concerns, it’s worth mentioning that he warns against exaggerating the differences between himself and Childs, noting that they both are grapplig with the “endlessly tricky relation between ‘The Great Tradition’ and the ‘little texts'” (2005, p.178). Childs’s ear is most sensitive to the claims of the former, while Brueggemann is a champion of the latter. Clearly, both are important parts of the biblical text, and it may be that holding these two commitments in dialectical tension is itself an important interpretive habit. In the end, Anderson’s rather ambitious work gives fresh energy to those who want to attend closely to the frequently ambiguous, multivocal nature of Scripture without stepping away from the rich history of Christian interpretation that stretches back through the centuries to Nicaea and beyond.
Other Works Cited
Brueggemann, Walter. The Book That Breathes New Life: Scriptural Authority and Biblical Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2005.
Brueggemann, Walter. Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1997.
*Disclosure: I received this book free from Baker Academic for review purposes. The opinions I have expressed are my own, and I was not required to write a positive review.
February 5, 2018
Gary A. Anderson is Hesburgh Professor of Catholic Theology at the University of Notre Dame in Notre Dame, Indiana. He received an M.Div. from Duke University and a Ph.D. from Harvard University. Anderson is a past president of the Catholic Biblical Association and is the author of numerous books, including Charity: The Place of the Poor in Biblical Tradition (Yale University Press, 2013), Sin: A History (Yale University Press, 2009) and Genesis of Perfection: Adam and Eve in Jewish and Christian Imagination (Westminster John Knox, 2001). Most recently, Baker Academic has published a fascinating collection of articles from some of Anderson's previously published (with the exception of chapter 3) work on Christian theology and its intersection with the Old Testament.
Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament: Theology in the Service of Biblical Exegesis is made up of ten articles thematically organized into four sections: (1) Who Is a God Like You?, (2) In the Beginning, (3) The Word Became Flesh, and (4) Conformed to the Image of His Son. Each of the sections contains 2-3 essays, which seek to examine a doctrine and demonstrates how it is able to illuminate the intent of a biblical author. This approach may feel exegetically backward for most readers. But, as Anderson acknowledges and argues in the book, "theological doctrines need not be a hindrance to exegesis but, when properly deployed, play a key role in uncovering a text's meaning" (p. xi).
The initial two chapters are concerned with the doctrine of God and uniquely approach the topic theological, as one would expect. Chapter one looks at Leviticus 10 through lenses of apophatic theology. Chapter two discusses the impassibility of God. Anderson takes a unique approach to the subject that might cause angst to many readers. Chapters three to five address creation, sin, and election. Chapters six and seven focus on the tabernacle from a Christological perspective and a Mariological perspective. Chapter eight returns to the theme of Christology but uses the deuterocanonical book of Tobit as a foundation for its examination of "suffering servant" figure. Chapters nine and ten draw attention to matters of Catholic theology (and one could argue that chapter seven on Mariology does the same), including the treasury of merits and purgatory. Most Protestant readers will lose interest here, although they are encouraged to remain alert. These last two chapters are chiefly important if readers are interested in observing Anderson's methodology at work-allowing doctrine to illuminate the usefulness of biblical exegesis.
Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament: Theology in the Service of Biblical Exegesis offers a service to the Christian community in the inherent value that is observed in the Old Testament. I am grateful that Anderson takes the Old Testament seriously. Moreover, it is clear that Anderson is uniquely familiar with broader Jewish and Christian scholarship, especially those approaching the Old Testament from a canonical interpretative position. That said, where I think many readers will find Anderson's approach difficult is in the seemingly backward nature of taking developed doctrine to the text to illuminate its intent. In many ways, it feels like Anderson is searching for something that he already found. I think Anderson's perspective is helpful and needs to be taken seriously, but I'm not convinced that his approach is more important or methodologically sound than other interpretive approaches. Honestly, I left unsatisfied more times than not, though this may be more of a reflection of myself than Anderson.
Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament: Theology in the Service of Biblical Exegesis by Gary A. Anderson is well-written and intellectually engaging. Anderson is a brilliant thinker and his work suggests decades of thoughtful reflection. Anderson will make you think long and hard about theological topics that you thought you knew front and back. For sure, many readers will leave Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament unsatisfied with its sometimes-reaching conclusions. However, forfeiting engagement with a thinker like Anderson is not worth passing this volume up if you are interested in biblical interpretation or the Old Testament and its place in the Church today.
Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament: Theology in the Service of Biblical Exegesis is made up of ten articles thematically organized into four sections: (1) Who Is a God Like You?, (2) In the Beginning, (3) The Word Became Flesh, and (4) Conformed to the Image of His Son. Each of the sections contains 2-3 essays, which seek to examine a doctrine and demonstrates how it is able to illuminate the intent of a biblical author. This approach may feel exegetically backward for most readers. But, as Anderson acknowledges and argues in the book, "theological doctrines need not be a hindrance to exegesis but, when properly deployed, play a key role in uncovering a text's meaning" (p. xi).
The initial two chapters are concerned with the doctrine of God and uniquely approach the topic theological, as one would expect. Chapter one looks at Leviticus 10 through lenses of apophatic theology. Chapter two discusses the impassibility of God. Anderson takes a unique approach to the subject that might cause angst to many readers. Chapters three to five address creation, sin, and election. Chapters six and seven focus on the tabernacle from a Christological perspective and a Mariological perspective. Chapter eight returns to the theme of Christology but uses the deuterocanonical book of Tobit as a foundation for its examination of "suffering servant" figure. Chapters nine and ten draw attention to matters of Catholic theology (and one could argue that chapter seven on Mariology does the same), including the treasury of merits and purgatory. Most Protestant readers will lose interest here, although they are encouraged to remain alert. These last two chapters are chiefly important if readers are interested in observing Anderson's methodology at work-allowing doctrine to illuminate the usefulness of biblical exegesis.
Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament: Theology in the Service of Biblical Exegesis offers a service to the Christian community in the inherent value that is observed in the Old Testament. I am grateful that Anderson takes the Old Testament seriously. Moreover, it is clear that Anderson is uniquely familiar with broader Jewish and Christian scholarship, especially those approaching the Old Testament from a canonical interpretative position. That said, where I think many readers will find Anderson's approach difficult is in the seemingly backward nature of taking developed doctrine to the text to illuminate its intent. In many ways, it feels like Anderson is searching for something that he already found. I think Anderson's perspective is helpful and needs to be taken seriously, but I'm not convinced that his approach is more important or methodologically sound than other interpretive approaches. Honestly, I left unsatisfied more times than not, though this may be more of a reflection of myself than Anderson.
Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament: Theology in the Service of Biblical Exegesis by Gary A. Anderson is well-written and intellectually engaging. Anderson is a brilliant thinker and his work suggests decades of thoughtful reflection. Anderson will make you think long and hard about theological topics that you thought you knew front and back. For sure, many readers will leave Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament unsatisfied with its sometimes-reaching conclusions. However, forfeiting engagement with a thinker like Anderson is not worth passing this volume up if you are interested in biblical interpretation or the Old Testament and its place in the Church today.
June 26, 2018
In Christian Doctrine and the Old Testament: Theology in the Service of Biblical Exegesis, Gary A. Anderson, Hesburgh Professor of Catholic Theology at the University of Notre Dame, approaches the texts of the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) in a manner different than the typical biblical scholar. Where many biblical exegetes are careful to create a dichotomy between the Old and New Covenants to protect the “integrity” of the texts as messages to historical Israel, Anderson has joined with Brevard Childs and his emphasis on canonical interpretation to attempt the discovery of “wholeness” in interpretation of the Bible. To the corrective Childs introduced to biblical criticism, Anderson now adds an awareness of historical interpretation, both rabbinical and patristic while keeping the meaning to ancient Israel in mind. As a result, Anderson lays a groundwork for a proper understanding of Christian typology which takes seriously the role of and understanding of Israel—ancient and modern.
Outside of the late Gerhard von Rad, few Old Testament theologians have dared to invoke the idea of typology, the idea of the events in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) pointing toward the New Testament expression of grace in symbolic form. Much like the church fathers so often cited in the work, Anderson seems not only unafraid to evoke typology, but to ensure that it has a message for Israel, as well. And, in a point well-taken, Anderson even suggests that such interpretation may well be a gateway for engaging in meaningful sharing with the Jewish community. Further, Protestant interpreters such as myself may learn to understand Catholic theology a little better.
To be sure, Anderson’s Catholic underpinning entices him to argue the concept of purgatory from a less forensic perspective of guilty/not guilty or saved/unsaved and more from the perspective of continuing sanctification. Looking back at how God dealt with sin in the Old Testament, Anderson was exceedingly uncomfortable with the idea that, “Though it is perhaps theoretically true that God could complete our sanctification at the point of death with a snap of his fingers, … this would entail a complete trumping of our free will.” (p. 187) So, he looks at King Saul versus King David. With Saul, the confession is there in 1 Samuel 15:24, but he qualifies it with “I feared the people and obeyed their voice.” (p. 189) In that sense, it’s sort of like today’s celebrity/political apology where one says, “I’m sorry if anyone was offended by my comments [or actions].” In the latter case, it’s not an apology because it tries to shift the blame to those offended or hurt. In the former case, it tries to shrug the blame off onto others.
Anderson points out that Nathan spoke much more harshly to David after his adultery and murderous cover-up and, like Saul, David admits to what he has done. But Anderson points out that though Nathan receives that confession, David faced many problems such as the rebellion in his own household that Nathan prophesies. David is forgiven, but he still has to deal with consequences. As a result of examining the differences between the rejection/judgment given to Saul and the forgiveness with consequences given to David, Anderson suggests that logic and fairness dictate that there must be some way for the hardships which some believers haven’t faced in becoming sanctified in this life to be faced prior to full communion with God in heaven. He goes on to explain (as he did in the essay reprinted immediately before his discussion of purgatory) that almsgiving and good works do not take away from the saving grace of God. As he notes, “Though the notion of giving alms to fund a treasury in heaven is built on a metaphor of accounting, it cannot be reduced to purely monetary terms. When it works, it is because of God’s gracious decision to honor the merits of the saints; when it does not, it remains a testimony to God’s unfathomable freedom.” (pp. 198-199) The truth is that I was unconvinced, though moved by his arguments, both in the essay and the one paired with it in this collection.
More useful to me was his comparison of the temple and incarnation (that argument I can follow in both the Old and New Testaments). He observed the wording in Psalm 48:13-15 that many of us may gloss over as hyperbole, that phrase where Zion’s towers and ramparts are to be described to the next generation as “…this is God, our God forever and ever.” Anderson doesn’t completely agree that this is hyperbole (though he admits that it must partially be so since Zion is NOT literally God). “Rather, these texts exhibit ancient Israel’s deeply held view that God really dwelled in the temple and that all the pieces of that building shared, in some fashion, in his tangible and visible presence.” (p. 108) Now, that idea may not seem so profound as you read it, but think about the prologue to the Gospel of John where we are told that the Word became flesh and “tabernacled” among us. Think about all the emphasis Jesus put on the idea of tearing the temple down and rebuilding it in three days. Clearly, there is a sense in which the very concepts of God’s presence in tabernacle and temple point to the incarnation.
In all fairness, Anderson’s comparison of the temple and his understanding of the veneration of Mary was extremely helpful to me, coming from a Protestant background which considers the veneration of Mary to be something akin to idolatry (Mariolatry is one terms Protestants have used to express their disapproval.). He writes, “…the object of this incarnation [God’s dwelling in temple or among God’s people] – be it tabernacle, temple, or womb – becomes worthy of veneration in its own right This is not a vestige of paganism or a form of idolatry; it is the reverent admission that any part of creation brought that close to the presence of God is overwhelmed by his power and sanctity.” [emphasis is mine] (p. 132).
I particularly enjoyed his essay on “Original Sin.” In my personal ministry, I liken original sin to entropy. Anderson emphasizes the immediacy of human failure by going through several Old Testament passages (Adam and Eve, the golden calf, Nadab and Abihu’s strange fire, and more) to underscore the pattern that Israel’s (hence humankind’s) immediate reaction to blessing is rebellion (p. 68). On the way to this well-argued point, he observes the parallels between creation and the construction of the tabernacle, demonstrating that the construction of the tabernacle is also a seven-fold activity (p. 63).
Even though I have reservations about the last two essays, I can confidently state that the other essays are well worth the price of the book.
Outside of the late Gerhard von Rad, few Old Testament theologians have dared to invoke the idea of typology, the idea of the events in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) pointing toward the New Testament expression of grace in symbolic form. Much like the church fathers so often cited in the work, Anderson seems not only unafraid to evoke typology, but to ensure that it has a message for Israel, as well. And, in a point well-taken, Anderson even suggests that such interpretation may well be a gateway for engaging in meaningful sharing with the Jewish community. Further, Protestant interpreters such as myself may learn to understand Catholic theology a little better.
To be sure, Anderson’s Catholic underpinning entices him to argue the concept of purgatory from a less forensic perspective of guilty/not guilty or saved/unsaved and more from the perspective of continuing sanctification. Looking back at how God dealt with sin in the Old Testament, Anderson was exceedingly uncomfortable with the idea that, “Though it is perhaps theoretically true that God could complete our sanctification at the point of death with a snap of his fingers, … this would entail a complete trumping of our free will.” (p. 187) So, he looks at King Saul versus King David. With Saul, the confession is there in 1 Samuel 15:24, but he qualifies it with “I feared the people and obeyed their voice.” (p. 189) In that sense, it’s sort of like today’s celebrity/political apology where one says, “I’m sorry if anyone was offended by my comments [or actions].” In the latter case, it’s not an apology because it tries to shift the blame to those offended or hurt. In the former case, it tries to shrug the blame off onto others.
Anderson points out that Nathan spoke much more harshly to David after his adultery and murderous cover-up and, like Saul, David admits to what he has done. But Anderson points out that though Nathan receives that confession, David faced many problems such as the rebellion in his own household that Nathan prophesies. David is forgiven, but he still has to deal with consequences. As a result of examining the differences between the rejection/judgment given to Saul and the forgiveness with consequences given to David, Anderson suggests that logic and fairness dictate that there must be some way for the hardships which some believers haven’t faced in becoming sanctified in this life to be faced prior to full communion with God in heaven. He goes on to explain (as he did in the essay reprinted immediately before his discussion of purgatory) that almsgiving and good works do not take away from the saving grace of God. As he notes, “Though the notion of giving alms to fund a treasury in heaven is built on a metaphor of accounting, it cannot be reduced to purely monetary terms. When it works, it is because of God’s gracious decision to honor the merits of the saints; when it does not, it remains a testimony to God’s unfathomable freedom.” (pp. 198-199) The truth is that I was unconvinced, though moved by his arguments, both in the essay and the one paired with it in this collection.
More useful to me was his comparison of the temple and incarnation (that argument I can follow in both the Old and New Testaments). He observed the wording in Psalm 48:13-15 that many of us may gloss over as hyperbole, that phrase where Zion’s towers and ramparts are to be described to the next generation as “…this is God, our God forever and ever.” Anderson doesn’t completely agree that this is hyperbole (though he admits that it must partially be so since Zion is NOT literally God). “Rather, these texts exhibit ancient Israel’s deeply held view that God really dwelled in the temple and that all the pieces of that building shared, in some fashion, in his tangible and visible presence.” (p. 108) Now, that idea may not seem so profound as you read it, but think about the prologue to the Gospel of John where we are told that the Word became flesh and “tabernacled” among us. Think about all the emphasis Jesus put on the idea of tearing the temple down and rebuilding it in three days. Clearly, there is a sense in which the very concepts of God’s presence in tabernacle and temple point to the incarnation.
In all fairness, Anderson’s comparison of the temple and his understanding of the veneration of Mary was extremely helpful to me, coming from a Protestant background which considers the veneration of Mary to be something akin to idolatry (Mariolatry is one terms Protestants have used to express their disapproval.). He writes, “…the object of this incarnation [God’s dwelling in temple or among God’s people] – be it tabernacle, temple, or womb – becomes worthy of veneration in its own right This is not a vestige of paganism or a form of idolatry; it is the reverent admission that any part of creation brought that close to the presence of God is overwhelmed by his power and sanctity.” [emphasis is mine] (p. 132).
I particularly enjoyed his essay on “Original Sin.” In my personal ministry, I liken original sin to entropy. Anderson emphasizes the immediacy of human failure by going through several Old Testament passages (Adam and Eve, the golden calf, Nadab and Abihu’s strange fire, and more) to underscore the pattern that Israel’s (hence humankind’s) immediate reaction to blessing is rebellion (p. 68). On the way to this well-argued point, he observes the parallels between creation and the construction of the tabernacle, demonstrating that the construction of the tabernacle is also a seven-fold activity (p. 63).
Even though I have reservations about the last two essays, I can confidently state that the other essays are well worth the price of the book.
April 26, 2023
This is probably the book I enjoyed most so far this year. Anderson is a penetrating thinker and clear writer who combines close reading of the Hebrew Bible with a sensitive dogmatic intelligence, a keen eye for biblical-theological themes and trajectories, and a thorough knowledge of historical theology. He's especially provocative for Protestants because of his attempts to ground controversial Roman doctrines (Mariology, a treasury of merits, and purgatory) in the witness of Scripture.
February 10, 2018
A very insightful book with (for me) new information about reading and understanding the Scriptures. Good help in coming to understand why the Theotokos came to be compared to the Temple and why that comparison with Christ became less popular after Chalcedon. Well written for the non-scholar like me.
September 9, 2016
An interesting, well-written, and compelling collection of essays by Anderson. Worth a read!
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews