Today, especially in America, Evangelicals suffer from a profound inability to read any literary text well. T. David Gordon has made this point very strongly in his little book "Why Johnny Can't Preach." Much of the problem, indeed, is the product of a modern, post-enlightenment, hermeneutics which privileges the autonomous self (the scientific reader) over the ancient text. As C.S. Lewis has aptly pointed out, “A work of (whatever) art can be either ‘received’ or ‘used’. When we ‘receive’ it we exert our senses and imagination and various other power according to a pattern invented by the artist. When we ‘use’ it we treat it as assistance for our own activities" (An Experiment in Criticism. Cambridge, NY: Cambridge University Press, 1961, 28). For example, Lewis explained:
"We sit down before a picture in order to have something done to us, not that we may do things with it. The first demand any work of art makes upon us is surrender. Look. Listen. Receive. Get yourself out of the way. (There is no good asking first whether the work before you deserves such a surrender, for until you have surrendered you cannot possibly find out.)"(p. 88)
The problem is only exacerbated when it comes to the Holy Scriptures. Indeed, as modern readers, we are much more comfortable being in the ‘driver’s seat’, often approaching Scripture like a science book or searching for universal principles we can directly apply to our lives. Yet these are both ways of ‘using’ the Bible. An example of this can be seen in Bryan Chapell’s "Christ-Centered Preaching" where he instructs preachers to “[a]void the trap of merely describing a text.” In constructing sermons, he advises that main points “should be stated so as to reveal universal truth principles that a preacher can exhort believers to apply to their lives" (p. 153). Underlying this approach, however, seems to be the assumption that the text (the myth, the narrative) doesn’t work on us itself. Rather it must be appropriated, deconstructed, and made more relevant. Rather than receiving a story for its own sake, on its own terms, Chapell encourages preachers to search for universal principles instead.
Does this mean that the Scriptures are never practical? Absolutely not. The Bible certainly has application value; but it is often not the kind we expect. In Acts 8 we have the story of the Ethiopian eunuch. After worshipping in Jerusalem, his is returning to his own land while holding in his hand a foreign text (27-28). But as he reads he is confused. When asked, “Do you understand what you reading?” (30), his reply is telling. “How can I, unless someone guides me?” (31). But after reading Isaiah’s prophesy about the lamb who was to be slain, the Eunuch doesn’t next ask about some universal principle behind the text. He didn’t attempt to demythologize the text. Nether did he ask Philip, “can you make this ancient and foreign text relevant to my life in Ethiopia?” Rather he asks, “About whom... does the prophet say this? (34). Unlike Simon the sorcerer who a few verses earlier wanted to manipulate and “use” Christianity to further his own interest, the Eunuch opened himself to receive the text. The next thing we read, he is baptized into a whole new world (38). Michael Horton writes:
"The biblical story does not simply illumine our existence: it throws our whole existence into turmoil. It does not merely answer our questions: it reveals the banality of our questions and gives us new questions that set us on a path to profound discovery. It is not supplemental, but subversive. Thus, the goal is not to relate the Bible to our experience (which is really to say, judge the Bible by our experience), but vice versa. We must set out to make our lives relevant to the biblical story, not the biblical story to our lives" (Michael Horton, Covenant and Eschatology: The Divine Drama (Louisville, KY: WJK, 2002), 165).
This means, as Horton points out, we must avoid using the Bible as “a ‘handbook’ for various human ends, whether therapeutic, ethical, doctrinal or speculative” (p. 167). As Horton explains, what really has “priority” is “the speaker and the intentions of that speaker that are expressed, confirmed, and fulfilled in history, and not merely propositions about what is and has always been...” (p. 142). This is something lacking in Chapell's hermeneutical theory.
Following the lead of literary scholars like Robert Alter and Eric Auerbach, Paul Ricoeur stressed the incomparable power of biblical narrative to affect the reader or hearer. Summarizing Alter’s conclusions, Ricoeur wrote:
“[I]t is precisely the narrative composition, the organizing of the events in the narrative, that is the vehicle for, or, better, that foments, the theological interpretation. He adds that it is the fullest grasping of this literary art that proceeds to the sharpest perception of the theological intention" (Figuring the Sacred, 182).
So then, narrative has unique ability to heighten our perception and reception of meaning. But that is not all. Narrative can also “create” a world for us to confront--a world we cannot construct by ourselves--a world which comes from outside of us. This is what Ricoeur called an “unfolding of the world of the text.”
"[T]he first task of hermeneutics is not to give rise to a decision on the part of the reader but to allow the world of being that is the “issue” of the biblical text to unfold. Thus, above and beyond emotions, disposition, belief, or nonbelief, is the proposition of a world that in the biblical language is called a new world, a new covenant, the kingdom of God, a new birth. These are the realities unfolded before the text, which are certainly for us, but which begin from the text" (p. 44).
Thus, narrative not only heightens our emotions and engages our minds, but it also presents us with a whole new world. But this new world is not just any world. It must possess a certain depth and explanatory power. It must offer something more historical than mere fiction, but also more real than the newspaper. This is what “myth” offers -- something that explains our world.
Unfortunately the term “myth” connotes various, sometimes unhelpful, pre-conceptions. As Morton T. Kelsey explains:
"Many people, in both religious and secular circles, have accepted a popular usage of the word which suggests that myths are simply stories that are not true. According to this view, the myth is either an outright falsehood or a product of fanciful imagination with no relation at all to real life. It may be produced consciously or it may arise spontaneously from the depth of the unconscious, but either way it has nothing to do with the hard, material realities of the world around us. One can hold to this view of myth, however, only by forgetting the depths and capacities of the human psyche and insisting that man is strictly matter, or physical being, and nothing more" (Myth, History and Faith, 3-4).
Similarly, Historian Mercia Eliade relates how by the second century A.D., classical mythology began to suffer strong criticism at the hands of the “Alexandrian rhetoricians.” Since the stories could not be “taken literally,” eventually, methods of allegorization (or “demythicization”) led people to search for the “hidden meanings” instead (Myths, Rites, Symbols, pp. 13-15). Thus, we must see how philosophy and modern science has skewed any notion that “myth” might have bearing on reality.
The modern approach to hermeneutics (followed here by Chapell and many other Evangelicals), with its emphasis on science and historicity, has nevertheless aversely shaped Christians' appreciation of the rich literary abilities of the text we call our Bible. If we want to read and understand the Scriptures rightly, we must learn again how to receive them as mythopoetic literature.