How Hot is it in Louisiana?

Sometimes people ask me how hot it is in Louisiana.  I remember my Grandpa joking with me about the Great Depression.  He said it was so hot that he looked out the window and saw a dog chasing a rabbit – and they were both walking!  I never really figured out if he was pulling my leg like I always thought he was.  However, my answer to “how hot is it in Louisiana?” does not involve questionable anecdotes, because I have a physical picture to go with the mental picture that I want to paint for you.  Imagine somewhere so hot that a squirrel has to sprawl out in the shade on his stomach in order to stay cool.  Now let me show you what I am talking about:

No, the squirrel is not dead.  Our division secretary, Allison Weaver, took this picture of the swing next to the student center at Louisiana College where I work.  The squirrel moved a little bit when approached, but only to shift his body around in a semi-circle!  I probably should have given the squirrel a snow cone to relieve his suffering.

Review of James Barr’s Concept of Biblical Theology

Barr, James.  The Concept of Biblical Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1999. 715 pp.  $48.00.

Introduction

The late James Barr was the Distinguished Professor of Hebrew Bible Emeritus at Vanderbilt Divinity School.  His professorships included time spent at Edinburgh University, Princeton Theological Seminary and Oxford University.  Some think of this book as his magnum opus.  It is one of those books in academia that is cited frequently, but rarely discussed fully.  Therefore, I decided to delve into the book to find out what specific contribution it makes to the wider discipline of biblical theology.

One doesn’t have to delve very deep before discovering that The Concept of Biblical Theology is not Barr’s attempt to construct an overall biblical theology.  Rather the book is a “discussion of the whole idea of biblical theology, its possibilities and prospects” (xiii).  If a central theme emerges in this thirty-five chapter work, it is the “contested character of biblical theology” (xiii, emphasis his).  As this theme is explicitly given by the author, it may be fruitful to summarize each chapter’s distinctive contribution in light of that theme.

Although Barr himself does not articulate a structure for his work, one could pedagogically divide the work into three sections.  The first section, chapters one through four, constitutes the foundation of the book.  That is, the first four chapters can be seen as a foundational unit because they set the stage for all subsequent discussion.  The reader is introduced to biblical theology as a contested discipline, while Barr provides the historical impulses, categories, and concepts that are discussed in further detail later in the work.  The second section, chapters five through 12, are more detailed expositions of the six modes of study, introduced in chapter one, that reshape biblical theology.  The third and final section, chapters thirteen through thirty-four, discuss specific issues not yet covered in the first twelve chapters (e.g., Jewish biblical theology, newer theologies and theologians) or specific issues that were initially covered earlier, but are now further explicated (e.g., canonical theology of Childs and others).

Analysis: Section 1

Chapter one attempts to answer why biblical theology stubbornly resists definition. Specifically, Barr answers that biblical theology is essentially a “contrastive notion” because it has always been defined in relation to pre-existing areas of study (5).  Barr points to six specific areas of study that have redefined and reshaped biblical theology.   Chapter two establishes the historical contours of modern Old Testament Theology.  Barr discusses five historical impulses and their contrasted counterpart.  He argues that these five impulses led to the emergence of modern Old Testament Theology.  Chapter three summarizes and evaluates five basic types of Old Testament theology in light of the historical contours and impulses of chapter two.  Chapter three testifies to the contested nature of biblical theology in that five different types are discussed, not one or two.  Chapter four serves to expand the scope of biblical theology beyond the parameters that are commonly assigned to it.  Specifically, in contrast to defining biblical theology as a particular method or expression, Barr defines biblical theology as a “level of scholarship” (59).

Because these first four chapters are so foundational, I will devote more space to summarizing them than other chapters.  The previous paragraphs gave a birds-eye view of chapters one through four (the proverbial “forest”), so it is now necessary to examine them in more detail (the proverbial “trees”).  In chapter one, Barr’s answer to the difficulty inherent in defining biblical theology is centered upon its very nature as a contested discipline.  In other words, biblical theology is continually reshaped and redefined by each new area of contrast.  The reason for this phenomenon of contrast is owing to historical origins.  Specifically, biblical theology is essentially a “contrastive notion” because it has always been defined by other modes of study that were already in existence (5).  Barr discusses six subjects which mold and reshape biblical theology according to comparison and contrast.  They are as follows: (1) doctrinal theology, (2) non-theological study of the Bible, (3) history of religion, (4) philosophical and natural theology, (5) the interpretation of the Bible’s parts as distinct from its larger complexes taken as wholes, and (6) the uncertainty between the descriptive and the normative concept of biblical theology (5-6).  These six subjects are later treated as independent chapters (subject 1 = chapter 5, subject 2 = chapter 6, subject 3 = chapter eight, subject 4 = chapter 10, subject 5 = chapter 9, and subject 6 = chapter 12).

Chapter two is a necessary bridge to chapter three.  Chapter three will describe and evaluate five main types of Old Testament Theology and their best representatives.  Before Barr embarks upon this task, however, he rightly devotes chapter two to the origins of the modern Old Testament theological enterprise.  Thus, he prepares us for chapter three by placing the discussion in its historical context.  In particular, Barr describes four impulses which joined to stimulate the production of modern Old Testament theology.  It might be fitting to allow the author to summarize these four impulses and their opposing predecessors in his own words from page twenty-one.  The four elements are:

A synthetic approach rather than an analytic; distinctiveness as against environing religions and cultures; depth of meaning as against superficial explanation; and some kind of integral connection with the New Testament – a connection not merely in occasional word resemblances or accidental typologies or in the reading back of Christian ideas into pre-Christian texts, but ‘integral’ in the sense of having a base in some major principle or contextual basis – these were the needs which scholars reached out to fulfill.

Barr also helpfully describes a fifth impulse that was part of the emerging theological climate in general: the impulse of dialectical theology (21).  This movement, primarily under the direction of Barth and Brunner, created a shift of understanding in the terminology denoting “religion” and “theology” (21-22).  Whereas the older theologies used “religion” as a notional term describing something “direct, personal, and living,” they understood “theology” as something that was “academic, scholastic, and derivative” (22).  Roughly at the end of the First World War a decisive reversal of understanding transformed these words.  “Religion” came to be associated with the human and thus what is negative, and “theology” came to be associated with the divine and thus what is positive (22).

These five impulses were in effect the labor pains that produced Eichrodt’s monumental and epoch-defining work on Old Testament Theology precisely because Eichrodt’s solution was put forward as an answer to those very impulses.  Specifically, Eichrodt’s work emerged as a rejection of Otto Eissfeldt’s “two-approach” view of Old Testament theology.  Eissfeldt proposed that the Old Testament could be approached in either a “scientific, historical-critcal” way or a “theological” way as long as the different modes of operation for the two were duly recognized (24).  Eichrodt’s “cross-section” approach to Old Testament Theology was the clearest, though not the earliest, rejection of Eissfeldt’s proposal.  Thus, Eichrodt’s work admirably and ably combined scientific, historical-critical approaches with an explicitly theological approach that was seen as both “normative and synthetic” (24-25).

Though it was necessary to sketch the historical contours of the emergence of modern Old Testament Theology and to culminate that sketch by viewing Eichrodt’s work as the highest “peak”, Eichrodt was only one type of Old Testamant Theology to be produced in the “seminal period” of 1930 to 1960.  Thus, chapter three takes the next step and summarizes four other types of Old Testament Theologies, along with Eichrodt’s type.  Page twenty-seven conveniently summarizes these five types of Old Testament Theology defined by their foundational principles and by their best representative theologian.

In this summary, type one principally approaches OT theology as a “collection of ideas and doctrines” which resembles or utilizes the categories of traditional systematic theology and is most notably seen in the work of Kohler.  Type two offers a “synthetic, comprehensive view of the Old Testament world of faith” and is best exemplified in the work of Eichrodt.  Type three, exemplified by T. C. Vriezen, is distinctive in that it is an “explicit Christian approach” which utilizes a “Christian view of revelation.”  Type four, as constructed by Gerhard Von Rad, traces out the “development of various traditions, with their own inner reinterpretations and actualizations.”  Lastly, type five is distinctive as a “Canonical” approach whose pioneer and exemplar is Brevard Childs.  After carving the Old Testament Theology of the 1930′s to the 1960′s into five distinct divisions, the rest of chapter three proceeds to make “preliminary” observations concerning the points of difference between the five types.

Chapter four wisely adds a “wider” perspective to the discipline than the perspective that confines only the “largish” volumes under the auspices of Old Testament Theology (52).  For the field of biblical theology is not exclusively served or even ideally served by the larger, more comprehensive volumes concerning the Theology of the Old Testament.  Special studies, such as Cullmann’s Christ and Time, are not to be downplayed as inherently inferior to the larger works already discussed (52).  Furthermore, work undertaken in the areas of general hermeneutics, Near Eastern religions, word studies, separate “theologies” of individual books (to name just a few examples) properly belong under the rubric or umbrella of ‘biblical theology’ (52).

The key reason why these special studies belong to biblical theology is that they share common characteristics with the work done in the “full-size Theologies” (53).  In other words, biblical theology is not best served by the overriding impulse to fit everything into a comprehensive work consisting of one or two volumes.  In fact, Barr argues that this impulse may be the underlying factor causing “many of the problems” within the discipline of biblical theology (53).

Therefore, chapter four is essentially written to counteract the mistaken notion that “the field of Old Testament theology is identical with the enterprise of writing (or reading) largish volumes with the title of Theology of the Old Testament (or a similar title)” (58).  The correction in its simplest form is that the discipline “might be sustained and carried forward on the basis of essays on particular aspects, studies of terms and concepts, and also of major studies which have an overlap with Old Testament theology but are not concentrated upon it” (58).  In fact, in Barr’s estimation, the discipline is much the worse if things are not viewed from this perspective (58).

Finally, chapter four closes with three pages (59-61) that get to the heart of Barr’s “concept of biblical theology”.  If it is true that biblical theology is a quality or an aspect that can be present in larger works and smaller works alike, then biblical (or Old Testament) theology is “in essence not a book but a level of scholarship” (59, emphasis his).  The possibility that this level of scholarship can be represented by and encapsulated into one definitive work on biblical theology is practically interesting but not essential to the overall concept of biblical theology itself (59).  What is important to note is that works which seek to be comprehensive as biblical or Old Testament theologies are necessarily selective (59).  In other words, because a definitive expression of what biblical theology is would require that the writer not only understand all of the evidence, but also have the ability to communicate that understanding, a definitive expression concerning biblical theology is impossible (or at least “more than can be demanded”) (59).

Therefore, methodology is both unimportant and important.  It is unimportant, on the one hand, in terms of writing a volume on biblical theology, because a definitive expression of biblical theology is impossible (59).  That is, precisely because there is no such thing as “the” definitive expression of biblical theology, it follows that there is no such thing as “the” definitive or right method for achieving that expression (59).  In turn, the different approaches and expressions that were outlined in chapter three are not to be faulted but expected.  Methodology has “real importance”, on the other hand, because there are “questions of principle” which should be utilized in correctly identifying the theology “implied by a text” or in correctly “relating it to the theology of some other text” (59).

Barr concludes with the pronouncement that if what he has stated thus far is right, then biblical theology “is a level of study that is present in varying degrees in all sorts of teaching, courses, texts, dictionaries, encyclopedias, articles and books” (61).  Substantial scholarship of any kind can serve as the material for biblical theology and thus can be potentially significant for biblical theology, even though individual scholars can choose to “keep out of the area of biblical theology” (61).  Furthermore, as stated above, the variety of forms and shapes that biblical theology can take, effectively rules out one appropriate method for biblical theology.  This pronouncement is evident because even if a correct or “regulative” method could be worked out for writing one kind of work, it would not of necessity be “regulative” for another kind of work (61).  These pronouncements lead to a final general conclusion: “one cannot predict what sort of method will be needed until the outlines of the particular question have been examined for each case” (61).

Analysis: Section 2

The next section of the review will examine the second section of the book beginning with chapter 5.  The second section (for the purposes of this review) covers chapters five through twelve.  Throughout the course of this section, the theme of biblical theology as a contrastive notion comes to the forefront repeatedly and forcefully.  Thus, for example, chapter five begins by tracing the concept of biblical theology as it came to be differentiated from dogmatic or doctrinal theology.  Three principal “biblical theologians” (Gabler, Eichrodt, and Childs) are surveyed as the concept of biblical theology is seen to change with them (62-66).  Particular focus in placed upon the constant tension between biblical theology as either descriptive or normative.

Though Barr addresses the “logical” notion that biblical theology should be more normative than doctrinal theology, as seen in the views of Jacob and Wright (67-68), the rest of the chapter is primarily devoted to the effects of dialectical theology upon biblical theology.  Specifically, Barr notes dialectical theology provided not only the assumptions contributing to the rise of biblical theology, but also the “paradoxes and contradictions from which biblical theology continues to suffer” (68).  The influence of the dialectical theologies of Bultmann and Barth are thus considered (68-74).  Specific attention is given to how the theology of Barth blurred the boundaries of doctrinal and dogmatic theology with the kerygmatic nature of his theological exegesis (71-73).

The author then helpfully attempts to state his understanding of the differences between biblical and doctrinal theology.  Biblical theology has the Bible for its horizon, the biblical text for its source, the implied theology which lies behind or inside the Bible for its subject, and the meanings as known and implied within the time period of the Bible for its scope (74).  Biblical theology is thoroughly historical, though it is much more than historical research (74).  However, doctrinal theology differs in that it has God for its horizon and not the Bible primarily (74).  Though the Bible may have maximum authority in doctrinal theology, the Bible is not the “sole controlling factor” (74).  Later traditions (e.g. creeds), philosophy, natural theology, and the modern situation all form the source material for doctrinal theology (74).  Barr even states that “the source of doctrinal theology is not the Bible” (74).

Chapter eight focuses on the difference between the “history of religion” approach and biblical theology.  According to Barr, the difference is not that one is historical while the other is not.  Nor is the difference that one is objective and the other is not (129).  Rather, the “real” difference is one of “scope” and “field” (133).  In other words, biblical theology deals with the theology implied by certain texts, while the history of religion deals with a much larger field (133).  Thus, for the history of religion approach, the Hebrew text is only part of the evidence that must be equally weighed with other sources that speak to all aspects of that religion.

Furthermore, biblical theology is different in that it is theologically selective.  It does not seek to write a theology of Ahab and Jezebel and the like.  Rather, certain texts that reveal the dominant (and usually ‘good’) viewpoint are the interest of biblical theology (133).  Thus, while both disciplines are historical and overlapping, there are differences of scope and interest (139).

Barr’s main argument back in chapter six was that biblical theology has too often been deceptively contrasted with “non-theological” elements (83).  The reason why this is deceptive is because there is no such thing as “pure” theology.  Rather, the overarching rubric of theology includes many different disciplines within it, of which theology, strictly considered, is only one among many (83).  Chapter nine now emphasizes biblical theology as a contrastive notion in regard to the size of the area under discussion.  In general, there tends to be the mistaken notion that biblical theology is essentially a synthetic task that is fulfilled when the smaller disparate units of biblical material have been merged into one overarching and holistic unit.  Barr attempts to correct the notion that the move from smaller units to larger units is a move from the non-theological to the theological (141).  He argues that the “top of the pyramid” status that gives biblical theology the sense of culmination is mistaken (144).  Though the articulation of a “picture of the entirety” is valuable, so is a focus on the theological nature of an individual book or text (143-44).

Chapters ten through twelve focus on philosophy, natural theology, the connections between the Testaments, and the problems of commitment versus objectivity and descriptive versus normative in biblical theology.  Barr’s most basic critique in chapter ten is that biblical theologians have largely neglected philosophy (155), natural theology (170), and psychology (171).  In fact, these disciplines have not only been neglected; they have been seen as enemies or rivals.

In chapter eleven, Barr articulates the “intrinsic separateness” of Old Testament and New Testament theology as disciplines that are very different and not “even closely analogical” (186-87).

In chapter twelve, Barr both defends and critiques Stendahl’s distinction between “what it meant” and “what it means” (196).  Barr essentially agrees that biblical theology should aim at a “description” of the implied theology of the Bible (204).  However, the process involves imaginative construction and therefore the term “description” is not the best word to describe the aim of biblical theology (204).

Perhaps the most significant discussion in this section concerns what Barr views as the essential task of the biblical theologian.  He states that biblical scholars are useful in as much as they put their church duties and theological convictions into brackets and ask “whether or not the Bible itself supports them” (208).  If the text supports those allegiances and convictions, they may be retained.  If the text does not support them, then a “process of theological change may have to begin” (208).

Analysis: Section 3

This portion of the review will summarize the third section of Barr’s book beginning with chapter 13.  The third section (according to this review) constitutes chapters thirteen through thirty-four.  The review will touch upon those points which have direct bearing on Barr’s own methodology.  Chapter fifteen is significant for Barr’s attempt to define what it is that biblical theologians are looking for and how they can go about finding it.  He says,

The biblical theologian seeks to study the intellectual and cultural world-image that lies behind the individual texts and their individual meanings.  He or she considers the presuppositions from which the writers (and later readers) may have started, the connections with other concepts which have been used elsewhere, or with concepts that might have been used but are avoided, the general world-picture that may have been assumed, the network of connections and indications that may have been involved (248).

The preceding quote is important in that it demonstrates that Barr perceives of biblical theology as something more akin to exegesis than theology in the strict sense.  It is differentiated from exegesis in that it searches for common factors which are shared by a number of texts, so that it has more of an appearance of theology than most exegesis (249).  Furthermore, it is significant that most of the Bible (especially the Old Testament) is not theology.  There is also a progression towards theology present in the Bible, especially when contact is made with the Greek language.  The parts of the Old Testament that do possess a “character” closer to theology are probably later in origin like Deuteronomy and Deutero-Isaiah (249).  A further delineation and definition of biblical theology is given by way of conclusion on page 251:

‘Biblical theology’ is an aspect of exegesis, directed towards individual texts, parts of texts and interrelations between texts, with reference to theological relations and references that they imply and/or express and with openness to questions of truth-values as represented within the Bible, within the environing world cultures, and within the religious/theological traditions that existed before it and were developed afterwards, within Judaism, Christianity and other relevant systems.  It should therefore be aware of, and welcome, its difference from what is really theology.

This note of affirmation for openness to the value of the truth contained in other places besides the Biblical canon anticipates Barr’s reflection in later chapters.  For example, when dealing with Judaism after Biblical Times in chapter seventeen, Barr announces that “God’s revelation” is not limited to the canon of Scripture (283).  Thus Barr says that even if there were elements of later tradition that had departed from the essential message of the Old Testament (which he doesn’t think is true) those elements might still have “positive” value in their contribution to the “work of salvation” (281).  Therefore, he criticizes Gese’s proposal that the Old and New Testament form one form of tradition, while Judaism breaks with this tradition and starts a new one (376).

However, this principal of openness is not limited to Judaism.  In chapter twenty-seven, Barr says “There is no closed organism of biblical theology: it is not self-contained, it is open, perhaps in various directions.  This makes a great difference to the whole way in which the subject is approached” (495).  Thus, the witness of natural theology is to be welcomed (495).  Likewise, in chapter twenty-one, Barr states that the term “theology” in terms of “Egyptian phenomena of the second millenium BC” can be utilized as “axioms that guided stories about Abraham or about Moses” (361).  Thus, the Apocrypha and the Dead Sea Scrolls are also to be part of the “canon” for biblical theology (580).  Furthermore, this principal of openness naturally expresses itself in chapter eighteen, where Barr describes the concept of biblical theology as a concept that need not be defined as a Christian discipline, but one that can be supported by, and regarded as beneficial for, both Christianity and Judaism (310).

Finally, chapter thirty-five serves as a conclusion.  Barr highlights the “return of the history of religion to centrality” through the work of Albertz (605), the likely splintering of the canonical movement (605), the need for “Jewish participation,” the importance of not overly concentrating on the models of Eichrodt and Von Rad (606), and the need to beware of the “naïve conception of ‘actualization’ and the ability of biblical studies to answer the hot button topics of the day (607).

Assessment

This last section of the review will serve as an assessment of Barr’s book and his contribution to the concept of biblical theology.  Our evaluation of Barr will briefly assess his strengths, weaknesses, and the validity of his approach for evangelicals.

First, the present work is admirable in terms of its scope and depth of learning.  Dr. Barr is eminently qualified to address the issue of biblical theology.  Furthermore, his ability to clarify and summarize the views of others is very helpful for both the novice student and the accomplished scholar.  Barr’s writing style is penetrating and informative.  In addition, he is not a timid scholar who is afraid to state his conclusions clearly.  He is not afraid to accept new insights or to reject classic and traditional expressions.

Second, in terms of weaknesses, the nature of Barr’s work is helpful in its proper sphere, but it could have been much more helpful if other elements were present in the work.  Barr’s work is helpful as a primarily contrastive or negative expression of biblical theology.  However, it is relatively easy to write a work that criticizes the attempted integrative works of others.  It is much harder to write one’s own integrative work.  In other words, it is easier to tear down a faulty structure than it is to carefully construct a solid one.  It must be noted that this observation is not intended as a rebuke to Dr. Barr.  It serves only to put Barr’s work in its proper sphere.  For it is very necessary and extremely commendable for a work to summarize and evaluate the views of others.  If we are to respond to something, we must first understand what that something is, lest our response to the work is distorted even before it begins.

However, he does not describe how he would go about writing a synthetic work of biblical theology, he only describes what is wrong with the synthesis of others.  Of course, to Barr’s credit, under his own definition of biblical theology as a “level of scholarship” much of his own work fits his own definition in this book.  But other questions are directly addressed.  For example, though he acknowledges that finding the implied theology in a text may involve a “right” methodology, he does not attempt to articulate what those principles might be (at least not in detail).

Furthermore, in a few places, Dr. Barr argues on the basis of a priori considerations.  For example, on page 281, he holds that elements of later Jewish tradition did not depart from the “essentials of the Old Testament.”  However, he gives no evidence for his position, nor does he attempt to articulate what in fact are “the essentials of the Old Testament.”  He argues that post-biblical Judaism is the tradition that grew out of the Old Testament and therefore has, in effect, de facto truth-value (281).  However, it is by no means obvious that the post-biblical Jewish tradition is not a wrongful distortion of the Old Testament’s essential message, simply because it “grew” out of the Old Testament in an undefined and unexamined way.

The Gospel accounts of Jesus attacking the traditions of the Pharisees such as “Corban” point in a different direction (Mark 7:11).  Jesus’ summary is telling: “Thus you nullify the word of God by your tradition that you have handed down. And you do many things like that” (Mark 7:13).  The word of God that is nullified in this context is the Old Testament (Ex. 20:12; Lev. 20:9) and the Pharisees do “many” things like that, not just a few.

One final weakness can be mentioned.  The necessity of locating an underlying structure to the thirty-five chapters is in itself a weakness.  The chapters could have been better organized and the flow could have been smoother throughout the work.

Third, in terms of Barr’s methodology and its validity for evangelicals, his overall approach can surely be appropriated by evangelicals, but only in part. Evangelicals can affirm that our method should conform to the needs of the particular question being addressed (61).  Furthermore, evangelicals can follow Barr in seeking a relative objectivity that is willing to reexamine our theological convictions and assumptions in light of our study of texts.  If our convictions don’t match the details of the text, we too must also be willing to undergo theological change.  We can also celebrate and draw upon the significant studies that are being done in many various fields of biblical studies.  Furthermore, we must not imagine that biblical theology is only served by large synthetic volumes and not by special studies or individual theologies of biblical books.  Most significantly, evangelicals can affirm the emphasis on the historical character of biblical theology.

However, certain elements of Barr’s methodology cannot be appropriated consistently by evangelicals.  One area that cannot be appropriated is Barr’s view of revelation.  We cannot affirm with Barr that there is no closed and self-contained organism of biblical theology (495).  We cannot appropriate an approach that says “the lines of demarcation for the canon of scripture are not identical with the circumference or horizon within which we look for God’s revelation” (283).

Evangelicals have historically affirmed that we look for God’s revelation within the lines of the canon only.  This approach is rendered null and void if the apocrypha, natural theology, post-biblical Judaism, and the like serve as equal sources of authority.  Furthermore, if all of these subjects contain “theology” then how can we adjudicate between competing theological claims within them?  If post-biblical Judaism has truth-value because it “grew out” of the Old Testament, then does this present review have revelational truth-value because it grows out of the tradition of the New Testament?  If the history of salvation and its revelation extends beyond the canon of Scripture, then do the opinions of contemporary Christians have revelatory value?  Does Barr’s own work?  The key question that plagues us, then, is how can we be assured of the faithful and trustworthy nature of what we deem as revelation if it is open to many things outside of what has been called “special revelation”?

Furthermore, evangelicals are not well-served by Barr’s reductionistic definition of biblical theology.  If it is “a level of study that is present in varying degrees in all sorts of teaching, courses, texts, dictionaries, encyclopedias, articles and books” (61), then how do we establish what “level of study” constitutes the level of biblical theology?  If biblical theology is identified with biblical scholarship of a certain “level,” then meaningful distinctions go out the window and we are all left wondering if a certain work “measures up” to that vague notion of a particular level.  The interests of biblical theology are not best served by allowing “biblical theology” to become a “catch-all” term.

Lastly, we may contrast Barr’s approach with the approach of one who takes an evangelical view of revelation.  It can be stated that the distinctions made by Geerhardus Vos in his inaugural address as Professor of Biblical Theology at Princeton Theological Seminary in 1894 are still relevant and helpful for the discipline of biblical theology today.  In the address, entitled “The Idea of Biblical Theology as a Science and as a Theological Discipline,” Vos states that we must begin with a general and clear understanding of what theology is, namely, knowledge concerning God.  If it is true that God has revealed Himself to us in the Scriptures, then it follows that theology “consists in the appropriation of that supernatural process by which God has made Himself the object of our knowledge” (5).  Biblical theology is thus a branch of exegetical theology in that it seeks to exegete God’s self-revelation.

The special character of biblical theology is that it “discusses both the form and contents of revelation from the point of view of the revealing activity of God Himself” (7).  Thus it focuses on the historical and progressive stages of God’s self-revelation.  This is necessary because God has revealed Himself to us, not in “the calm light of eternity to His own timeless vision” but in a progressive work covering ages of time.  Biblical theology differs from Systematic theology not because one contains the contents of supernatural revelation.  Rather, they differ in that systematic theology although containing the contents of supernatural revelation, does not present itself as aspects of the stages of the divine work (biblical theology) but as the “material for a human work of classifying and systematizing according to logical principles” (7).

Biblical theology in its Vosian form takes the mode of revelation seriously.  Vos says, “By imparting the elements of the knowledge of Himself in a divinely arranged sequence God has pointed out to us the way in which we might gradually grasp and truly know Him” (7).  Furthermore, because the truth comes in the form of growing truth, biblical theology “undertakes to show how the truth has been set forth in greater fullness and clearness” (11).  Growing supernatural truth is not a contradiction in terms as referring to growth from the flawed to the perfect.  Rather the advance of revelation resembles the organic process through which “out of the perfect germ the perfect plant and flower and fruit are successively produced” (11).

Review of Adopted for Life

Moore, Russell D.  Adopted For Life: The Priority of Adoption for Christian Families and Churches. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2009. 230 pp.  $15.99.

Introduction

Russell D. Moore is the dean of the School of Theology and senior vice president for academic administration at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky.  He also serves as a preaching pastor at Highview Baptist Church.  He is the author of The Kingdom of Christ: The New Evangelical Perspective (Crossway), as well as many articles and essays.  More information, including his blog and many other sermons and articles, can be found on his website, Moore to the Point: www.russellmoore.com.  His blog also includes some short videos for each chapter of his book, Adopted for Life.  Russell and his wife Maria have four sons.

Moore dedicated this book to two of his sons, Benjamin and Timothy, whom Russell and Maria adopted from an orphanage in Russia. Notice that I wrote “two of his sons,” not “his two adopted sons,” even though the latter may have been easier to write.  The latter phrase, however, would have shown either that I did not read the book or I did not understand what I read.

How we talk about adoption can be an important indicator of how we think about adoption.  The first description (“two adopted sons”) could potentially compromise one of Russell Moore’s most instructive points from the book: adopted children are not a second, sub-par class of children as opposed to biological children.  Adopted children are real children who fully partake in all the privileges of family life.

Moore believes that it is important to talk about them in a way that communicates the fact that they really belong in our family.  Referring to some children as adopted may give the impression that the title “adopted” is what really defines them or is what really matters about them.  Moore asserts that they should not be identified in terms drawn from newspaper obituaries and the like that “refer to the deceased’s ‘adopted child,’ as though this were the equivalent of a stepchild or a protégé rather than a real offspring” (24; emphasis his).

The preceding points cannot be relegated to some kind of semantic gamesmanship because the gospel is at stake in how we think and talk about adoption.  Moore continually points to the connections between what some call “vertical adoption” (our spiritual adoption in Christ) and “horizontal adoption” (physical adoption).  Questions like “are they brothers?” or “do you know their real mother?” or “now, do you have children of your own?” betray what people really prize and esteem when it comes to family and sonship: DNA and biological lineage.   Some people say that they are open to adoption, but they want to have “a child of their own first.”

These questions or comments can reveal the cause of a great deal of confusion concerning our understanding of the gospel and our adoption in Christ.  Are all of the adopted sons of God in Christ really God’s “sons” in the truest sense of the word?  Do we truly belong in God’s family by faith or not?  Is their another aspect of our life that is more important or determinative like race, language, or socio-economic status?  This question became one of the most volatile questions in the early church as the church came to be comprised of both believing Jews and believing Gentiles.  Which category gives the church its essential identity: “believer in Christ” or “Jew or Gentile?”

Analysis

Hopefully, the reader will notice that the book review is already well-underway!  Thinking through issues of application concerning the language we choose for adoption has hopefully brought the reader closer towards understanding the point of the book.  It is time to back up and start at the beginning of the book in order to discuss its structure, main point and purpose.

In terms of structure, the book consists of nine chapters.  The subtitles of the chapters offer short summaries that provide the reader with a list of topics addressed in the book.  This list of topics is a helpful tool for following the flow of the book.  They are as follows:

1.  Why you should read this book, especially if you don’t want to.

2.  What some rude questions about adoption taught me about the Gospel of Christ.

3.  What’s at stake when we talk about adoption.

4.  How to know if you – or someone you love – should consider adoption.

5.  How to navigate the practical aspects of the adoption process.

6.  How to think about racial identity, health concerns, and other uncomfortable                                          adoption questions.

7.  How churches can encourage adoption.

8.  How parents, children, and friends can think about growing up adopted.

9.  Concluding thoughts.

I discovered that pages 18-19 offered the most helpful discussion for discerning the main point and purpose of the book.  The central theological point of the book is simple: there is an indissoluble link between the gospel and adoption.  Two sentences in the book succinctly and clearly convey this connection: “As we become more attuned to the gospel, we’ll have more of a burden for orphans.  As we become more adoption-friendly, we’ll be better able to understand the gospel” (18).

These two points are so intertwined that dangerous implications invariably follow if either side is erased from the equation.  “Without the theological aspect, the emphasis on adoption too easily is seen as mere charity.  Without the missional aspect, the doctrine of adoption too easily is seen as mere metaphor” (18).

This connection between the gospel and adoption leads to the missional purpose of the book.  Adoption is not about acquiring children; it is about a church culture that “sees adoption as part of our Great Commission mandate and as a sign of the gospel itself” (19).  Therefore, a Christian commitment to the gospel (vertical adoption) should translate into horizontal adoption in action.

Furthermore, the book does not argue for merely adding adoption to the church prayer list or the church budget.  The missionary connection with the gospel argues against maintaining a minimal level of involvement in the adoption endeavor within our churches.  The author argues that “families and churches ought to be at the forefront of the adoption of orphans close to home and around the world” (18, my emphasis).

The church should think differently than the world at this point.  It should not surprise us when the world does not “get” adoption, but Christians who do not “get” adoption invariably show that they do not “get” the gospel or “their own salvation” (19).  In a nutshell, one of the major differences between these two understandings is that the world thinks adoption is “charity,” while the church believes that “it’s war” (18).   Adoption is war because Satan and unseen beings contest it.  They oppose adoption because they want the world to remain ignorant of both the “eternal reality” (i.e., the gospel of vertical adoption) and the “earthly icon of it” (horizontal adoption) (18).

These points all come together in perhaps the clearest mission statement for the book:

In this book I want to call us all to consider how encouraging adoption – whether we adopt or whether we help others adopt – can help us peer into the ancient mystery of our faith in Christ and can help us restore the fracturing unity and the atrophied mission of our congregations (18).

Assessment

This book is immensely helpful in at least three ways.  It is informative, inspiring, and pastoral.  All three of these qualities are important.  First, the book is informative at many levels because the reader is exposed to all of the multi-faceted aspects of adoption along the way.  This sense of balance comes to the reader in many different forms.  We read informative, practical warnings about potential threats like finances and paperwork for adoption (the word “threat” resonates with anyone who has gone through the process of adoption!).  We read of the perplexing range of decisions facing those who adopt.  Should one choose a domestic or international adoption (117-123)?  Should they opt for an open or closed adoption (124-129)?

We also hear about the shameful state of the abortion status quo and how a culture of adoption can advance “the cause of life” (79).  We read honest assessments of adoption and racial identity and how prejudice shockingly rears its ugly head (60-61), even among family members (157).  We read important reminders concerning our identity in Christ through the gospel and the radical meaning of brotherhood in Christ (38).  We read about adoption as an important piece of the gospel’s mission and practical things that churches can do to encourage adoptions in both local and global ways (169-187).

Many books excel at information sharing but fail to bring the reader to the place where they feel the importance of the information.  The inspiring elements of the book allow the reader to see and feel the connection between the information on the one hand and its importance on the other.  Perhaps some who are unfamiliar with the experience of adoption will be surprised by how gripping the emotional and spiritual drama of adoption can be.  The personal touches drawn from Russell Moore’s adoption story gives the book a narrative dimension like a page turning novel that you can’t put down.  It is also inspiring to see this personal story in light of God’s overarching story of redemption.  Awareness of how God’s story of redemption intersects with adoption creates a feeling of connectedness to God’s cosmic purposes in Christ.

Finally, the book is very pastoral.   The author pastorally leads people by the hand and guides them through the adoption process.  Russell Moore excels as a guide because he is never narrow in his conception of adoption; he is aware of the varied problems, circumstances, and options facing those who adopt.  He is also authentic and empathetic enough to share his struggles along the way.  He is refreshingly honest when talking about pride’s refusal to accept financial assistance (138-139).  He even highlights the path of raw emotion and pain that can lead to bitterness with God and the how the path of repentance causes restoration and trust (103).

One glowing example of the author’s pastoral heart comes in chapter four.  He acknowledges the different scenarios that arise depending on whether the couple struggles with infertility (88-104) or whether they have existing families (104-111).  He is also very pastorally sensitive when discussing potentially painful issues and commendably honest about the real life emotions people experience.

The section on infertility is an excellent case in point.  He starts by telling people who are infertile yet do not want to adopt that they are not horrible people (98-99).  He also tells them to pray for guidance with the help of others (99).  He offers helpful advice for couples when one is excited about adoption and the other is not (99-100).  He is authentic and courageous when talking about hard struggles with sadness and bitterness.  He owns up to the difficulty of knowing what to say and how to say it, but he also offers sensitive and constructive ways to encourage people towards adoption in that grief and despair (102-103).

The present reviewer would have preferred a bit more scriptural exposition like the excellent material found on pages 26-56.  There is no detailed, in-depth exegesis like the reader will find in Trevor J. Burke’s book Adopted into God’s Family: Exploring a Pauline Metaphor.  There is not as much detailed scriptural and theological exposition as a reader will find in Robert A. Peterson’s Adopted by God: From Wayward Sinners to Cherished Children.  Those two books are excellent biblical and theological supplements to the material in Adopted for Life.  However, the books by Burke and Peterson lack the kind of narrative personal touches and practical application that make Adopted for Life such a stimulating read.

In the end, I must confess that I love the relentless, unswerving way in which Russell Moore drives home the indissoluble link between the gospel and adoption.  When answering rude questions, thinking about identity, talking about brotherhood, or highlighting the Great Commission, the author persistently points us back to the gospel.  This book is an informed celebration of the gospel and adoption and a rallying cry for their advancement in our day.  Let the church say “amen” and show our “amen” by action.

book review of John Owen’s Communion with God

Owen, John.  Communion With the Triune God, eds. Kelly M. Kapic and Justin Taylor.  Wheaton, Crossway, 2007.  448 pages.  $22.00

This book represents a reprint of John Owen’s classic treatise on the Trinity, which was originally published in 1657.  This edition, however, is much more than a reprint.  It is chock full of extras designed to enhance Owen’s exposition by helping the reader navigate through Owen’s dense content and verbiage.  The twenty-seven page introduction to Owen’s Trinitarian theology is an excellent synthesis of the book.  The thirty page analytical outline is an amazing tool that makes Owen’s flow of thought more readily accessible to the reader, which is no small accomplishment.  The four page glossary makes the transition from 17^th century to the present day much less painful.  It is like having a Puritan dictionary at one’s finger tips, which the reading of Owen requires even more than other Puritan authors.  In other words, this edition is remarkable in that the reader has purchased both a classic theological work and a theological tour guide to ensure that Owen’s mind and heart will leave an indelible mark upon the reader’s mind and heart.  Furthermore, the remarkable thing about Owen is that he is such a reliable tour guide in his own right who specializes in introducing readers to the Triune God.

Upon learning what makes this edition of Owen’s book so laudatory, one may justifiably want to know what makes Owen’s material so valuable.  In other words, in the light of so many books on the Trinity, why bother with John Owen?  In a nutshell, Owen’s great accomplishment is as follows: he explains the distinct role of each member of the Trinity so that the reader can have a distinct relationship with each member of the Trinity.  Furthermore, understanding the unique work of each person in the Godhead enables the Christian to give each person a distinct praise for that work.  Owen calls to the reader to press onward and upward in order to plant their feet on higher ground where they will experience a deeper relationship with God and enjoy the exquisite pleasures to be found as the reader sees and treasures more of His beauty and majesty.  Many rightly read the book as a theological treatise, but too few find it to be a manual for worship.

A few snippets will usefully demonstrate Owen’s masterful weaving of theology and doxology.  Owen shows that lost humanity rests under the wrath of God.  However, one must remember that it is the love of God that saves humanity from the wrath of God.  Owen brings many Scriptures to the attention of the reader that highlight God the Father’s love (Ex 34:6-7; 1 John 4:8; John 3:16; Rom 9:11-12; Eph 1:4-5; 2 Thess 2:13-14, etc.).  This love is most clearly revealed in the Father’s sending of His own Son.

This is the great discovery of the gospel: for whereas the Father, as the fountain of the Deity, is not known any other way but as full of wrath, anger, and indignation against sin, nor can the sons of men have any other thoughts of him (Rom. 1:18; Isa. 33:13–14; Hab.1:13; Ps. 5:4–6; Eph. 2:3)—here he is now revealed peculiarly as love, as full of it unto us; the manifestation whereof is the peculiar work of the gospel (Titus 3:4) (107).

Owen also dismisses the all-too contemporary idea that Jesus is the loving member of the Trinity who saves us from the Father, the angry member of the Trinity:

Christians walk oftentimes with exceedingly troubled hearts, concerning the thoughts of the Father toward them. They are well persuaded of the Lord Christ and his goodwill; the difficulty lies in what is their acceptance with the Father—what is his heart toward them? “Show us the Father, and it suffices us” (John 14:8). Now, this ought to be so far away, that his love ought to be looked on as the fountain from whence all other sweetnesses flow (110).

Furthermore, Owen clears up some common misconceptions about Jesus the Son.  Some in the church today act as though they were only dating Jesus.  Some act as though they need to impress Jesus and keep him interested in them by Christian obedience.  This approach causes Christians to remain unsure of his eternal commitment to us.  Christians are married to Christ, they are not dating him.  Owen shows that Christ binds himself to us as an all-sufficient Savior and mediator who has purchased our redemption and thus never divorces his bride.

This is the first thing on the part of Christ—the free donation and bestowing of himself upon us to be our Christ, our Beloved, as to all the ends and purposes of love, mercy, grace, and glory; whereunto in his mediation he is designed, in a marriage covenant never to be broken. This is the sum of what is intended: The Lord Jesus Christ, fitted and prepared, by the accomplishment and furniture of his person as mediator, and the large purchase of grace and glory which he has made, to be a husband to his saints, his church, tenders himself in the promises of the gospel to them in all his desirableness; convinces them of his goodwill toward them, and his all-sufficiency for a supply of their wants; and upon their consent to accept of him—which is all he requires or expects at their hands—he engages himself in a marriage covenant to be theirs forever (156).

Kelly M. Kapic describes the essential difference in Owen’s thought between union and communion.  Union with God is a unilateral and receptive.  Union is a sovereign work of God in which the believer is receptive as an object of God’s grace.  Communion with God is mutual and responsive as the believer responds to God’s grace in relationship with Him.  Kapic unpacks the practical implications of this distinction:

While union with Christ is something that does not ebb and flow, one’s experience of communion with Christ can fluctuate. This is an important theological and experiential distinction, for it protects the biblical truth that we are saved by radical and free divine grace. Furthermore, this distinction also protects the biblical truth that the children of God have a relationship with their Lord, and that there are things they can do that either help or hinder it. When a believer grows comfortable with sin (whether sins of commission or sins of omission) this invariably affects the level of intimacy this person feels with God. It is not that the Father’s love grows and diminishes for his children in accordance with their actions, for his love is unflinching. It is not that God turns from us, but that we run from him. Sin tends to isolate the believer, making him feel distant from God. Then come the accusations—both from Satan and self—which can make the believer worry that he is under God’s wrath. In truth, however, saints stand not under wrath but in the safe shadow of the cross” (21).

One of the most helpful sections of Owen’s book was his section on worshipping the Holy Spirit.  I grew up singing songs of praise to the Father and the Son, but I was always a little unsure in how to worship the Spirit.  Owen shows us how to worship the Holy Spirit by faith as the distinct object of our worship:

Let the saints learn to act faith distinctly on the Holy Ghost, as the immediate efficient cause of all the good things mentioned—faith, I say, to believe in him; and faith in all things to believe him and to yield obedience to him; faith, not imagination. The distinction of the persons in the Trinity is not to be fancied, but believed.  So, then, the Scripture so fully, frequently, clearly, distinctly ascribing the things we have been speaking of to the immediate efficiency of theHoly Ghost, faith closes with him in the truth revealed, and peculiarly regards him, worships him, serves him, waits for him, prays to him, praises him—all these things, I say, the saints do in faith. The person of the Holy Ghost, revealing itself in these operations and effects, is the peculiar object of our worship (421).

Owen also gives practical guidance for recognizing the acts of the Spirit that we may adore Him for each distinct act:

Let us, then, lay weight on every effect of the Holy Ghost in any of the particulars before mentioned, on this account, that they are acts of his love and power toward us. This faith will do, that takes notice of his kindnessin all things. Frequently he performs, in sundry particulars, the office of a comforter toward us, and we are not thoroughly comforted—we take no notice at all of what he does. Then is he grieved. Of those who do receive and own the consolation he tenders and administers, how few are there that consider him as the comforter, and rejoice in him as they ought! Upon every work of consolation that the believer receives, this ought his faith to resolve upon—“This is from the Holy Ghost; he is the Comforter, the God of all consolation; I know there is no joy, peace, hope, nor comfort, but what he works, gives, and bestows; and that he might give me this consolation, he has willingly condescended to this office of a comforter (422).

In a nutshell, then, I heartily recommend this new edition of Owen’s work on two fronts.  First, Owen’s book itself is an absolute masterpiece of theology proper.  No work on the doctrine of God gives the reader so much light matched with so much heat.  Second, Kapic and Taylor have made this masterpiece more useful and accessible for future generations.  John Owen is a gift to the church and the editors have ensured that this gift will be one that keeps on giving.