Historical study takes seriously the vast historical and cultural distance between us and the biblical past. It recognizes the truth of the opening lines of the novel The Go-Between: “The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.”3 It seeks to understand the Bible as a collection of ancient documents produced in worlds very different from our own.
The historical study of the Bible is one of the glories of modern scholarship. It has been immensely illuminating. Without it, much of the Bible would remain simply opaque. Setting biblical passages in their ancient context makes them come alive. It enables us to see meanings in these ancient texts that would otherwise be hidden from our sight. It unearths meanings that otherwise would remain buried in the past. Moreover, it allows us to hear the strangeness of these texts that come to us from worlds strange to us. Thus it helps us to avoid reading the Bible simply with our current agendas in mind and frees the Bible to speak with its own voices.
Limitations Yet the historical approach has its limitations. Some of these are due to the way it has been practiced in the modern period. When wedded to the modern worldview, with its skepticism about spiritual reality and its preoccupation with factuality, it sometimes leads to a “flattening” of the texts. That biblical texts may be saying something about God, or about genuine experiences of God, or about events that go beyond the boundaries of what is deemed possible by the modern worldview—these alternatives are often not addressed.
Moreover, much of modern biblical scholarship is highly technical and specialized, scholars often disagree with each other, and little seems certain. The result is that many people who went to seminary or graduate school in biblical studies motivated by a strong sense of Christian vocation and love for the Bible have experienced modern biblical scholarship as taking the Bible away from them. Some, clergy and scholars alike, have not recovered. For some, the Bible remains in shreds. Others launch broadside attacks on historical criticism, lambasting it as bankrupt.4 But even those who attack it (unless they are fundamentalists) cannot do without it.
There is one further limitation, and it is intrinsic. Namely, historical criticism treats only the ancient meaning of the text. Its focus, as mentioned in the introduction to this chapter, is the past-tense question, “What did this text mean in and for the ancient community that produced it?” Unless supplemented by another approach, historical criticism leaves the text imprisoned in the past.
The Metaphorical Approach
The metaphorical approach enables us to see and affirm meanings that go beyond the particularity of what the texts meant in their ancient setting. Like the historical approach, it is a large umbrella, encompassing a range of disciplines. What everything beneath the umbrella has in common is a way of reading the Bible that moves beyond the historical meanings of texts.
What It Is I am using the words “metaphor” and “metaphorical” in a broad rather than a narrow sense. In its narrow meaning, “metaphor” refers to a very specific kind of comparative language and is distinguished from its close cousin “simile”: a simile explicitly uses the word “like” as it makes a comparison, whereas a metaphor does not. For example, “My love is like a red, red rose” is a simile. “My love is a red, red rose” is a metaphor. In this chapter and book, I use “metaphor” and “metaphorical” in a much broader sense, however.
Metaphorical language is intrinsically nonliteral. It simultaneously affirms and negates: x is y, and x is not y. The statement “My love is a red, red rose” affirms that my beloved is a rose even as it negates it. My beloved is not a rose, unless I am literally in love with a flower. Rather, there is something about my beloved that is like a rose.
This realization leads to a second characteristic of metaphorical language: it has more than one nuance or resonance of meaning. In terms of its Greek roots, “metaphor” means “to carry with,” and what metaphor carries or bears is resonances or associations of meaning. The use of the plural is deliberate: a metaphor cannot be reduced to a single meaning. (If it could, one might just as well express that meaning in nonmetaphorical language.) To return to the rose example again, to say, “My love is a red, red rose” calls up more than one association. The metaphor may point to my beloved’s beauty, to her pleasant smell, to her being in full bloom; it may also point to ephemerality and finitude (since, like a rose, my beloved will wither and die); it may even point to difficulties, for there are thorns among the roses. In short, metaphorical language is intrinsically multivalent, with a plurality of associations.
“Metaphor” also means “to see as”: to see something as something else. Metaphor is linguistic art or verbal art. If you can bear the rose example one more time, I see my beloved as a rose. Or, to use a biblical example, we can see the story of the exodus as a metaphorical narrative of the divine-human relationship, depicting both the human predicament and the means of deliverance.
A metaphorical approach to the Bible thus emphasizes meta-phors and their associations. It emphasizes seeing, not believ-ing. The point is not to believe in a metaphor, but to see in light of it.
Finally, metaphors can be profoundly true, even though they are not literally true. Metaphor is poetry plus, not factuality minus.5 That is, metaphor is not less than fact, but more. Some things are best expressed in metaphorical language; others can be expressed only in metaphorical language.
A metaphorical approach to the Bible is central to a number of types of modern interpretation. These types include narrative theology, which focuses on the meaning of stories as stories, and some forms of literary criticism, in which the focus is on how the texts function as literature independent of their original historical meanings.
Archetypal criticism, a third type of metaphorical approach, involves the study of archetypal symbols and stories, which are typically transcultural. Archetypal criticism most obviously leads to a psychological reading of biblical texts. But it moves beyond the psychological as well, for such stories and symbols sometimes also connect to social realities.6
A metaphorical approach also includes some ancient types of interpretation. The writers of the New Testament frequently used texts from the Hebrew Bible in a nonliteral way. The practice continued in the “spiritual” or “allegorical” reading of scripture that was widespread in Christianity from the second century through the Middle Ages. During these centuries, Christian theologians often spoke of four levels of interpretation of biblical texts: the literal, the allegorical, the anagogical, and the tropological.7 The details of these levels do not matter for my present purpose, which is simply to indicate the scope and antiquity of metaphorical interpretation.
Justification The justification for a metaphorical approach is at least twofold. First, some of the biblical narratives are manifestly metaphorical and thus require a metaphorical interpretation. This realization is not modern, but ancient. In the 200s, an early Christian theologian and biblical scholar named Origen distinguished between the “spiritual” and “bodily” meanings of the Bible. By “spiritual meanings,” he meant approximately what I mean by metaphorical. By “bodily meanings,” he meant literal-factual meanings. Using these distinctions, Origen argued that while the Bible as a whole is to be read in a spiritual sense, some parts are not to be read in a bodily sense.8
But even when a biblical narrative is not manifestly metaphorical, there is justification for reading it with a metaphorical approach. The reason is that the Bible is a “religious classic.”9 A classic is a piece of literature that has endured through time and has been (and continues to be) read and reread in new settings. By definition, a classic has a surplus of meaning. Its meaning is not confined to the intention of its author or to its original setting.
Limitations The primary limitation of a metaphorical approach is the danger that the imagination will roam too freely, producing uncontrolled, fanciful interpretations that have little or nothing to do with the actual text.
A classic example is Augustine’s interpretation of the familiar parable of t
he Good Samaritan in the gospel of Luke.10 As Jesus tells the story, a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho is attacked and beaten by robbers and left lying on the road half-dead. Two temple officials (a priest and a Levite) come along and pass by on the other side of the road. Then a Samaritan, a member of a despised group, comes along, attends to the wounded man’s injuries, puts him on a donkey, and takes him to an inn. For Jesus, it is a story of what it means to be compassionate.
Augustine read the story quite differently. I mention here only a few of the meanings he found. The man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho is Adam. The thieves who attack him are the devil and his angels. They beat Adam by persuading him to sin and strip him of his immortality. The priest and Levite who pass by are representatives of the old dispensation, which cannot provide salvation. The Samaritan who comes to his aid is Jesus. The oil with which he anoints Adam’s wounds is the comfort of good hope. The animal upon which Adam is put is the flesh of the incarnation. The inn to which Adam is taken is the church, and the innkeeper is St. Paul. Thus, on Augustine’s reading, the parable becomes an allegory of the Christian story of salvation from the fall of Adam through Jesus to Paul.
It is ingenious, and too clever by half. The problem, of course, is that this reading has nothing to do with the text. Neither Jesus nor the author of Luke can be imagined to have meant anything like this. Not only is it completely fanciful, but it obscures the meaning of the parable and thus in a sense destroys the text.
So the metaphorical approach needs controls: one cannot claim a metaphorical reading that has no conceivable connection to the text. The controls should be “soft,” however, since one of the main functions of the metaphorical approach is to keep a text from being confined to the past.
The needed controls are provided in part by the historical approach and in part by the discernment of the community to which the interpretation is offered. Several factors enter into the discernment of the community: their sense of the meaning of the Bible as a whole, their understanding of the Christian story as a whole, and their sense of “fittingness.” If an interpretation makes sense to nobody other than the individual who offers it, it is unlikely to have any meaningful significance.
In short, the historical and metaphorical approaches to reading the Bible need each other. The historical needs the metaphorical so that the text is not imprisoned in the past. The metaphorical needs the historical so that it does not become subjective fancy.
In the rest of this chapter, I have two purposes. The first is to suggest that the Bible is a combination of history and metaphor and therefore requires this approach. The second is to illustrate the kind of reading that results from this approach.
The Bible as History and Metaphor
The Bible is a combination of history and metaphor. To say the same thing only slightly differently, the Bible is a combination of historical memories and metaphorical narratives.
The meaning of “history remembered” or “historical memories” is obvious. Some events reported in the Bible really happened, and the ancient communities of Israel and the early Christian movement preserved the memory of their having happened. Indeed, the biblical story is grounded in the history of these two communities.
The meaning of “metaphorical narratives” requires more explanation. In the Bible, such narratives fall into two categories. The first encompasses narratives in which an event that happened (or may have happened) is given a metaphorical meaning. The second covers purely metaphorical narratives.
Narratives That Metaphorize History
The first type of metaphorical narrative is a story that combines both history and metaphor; it results in what we might call “history metaphorized.” A historical event lies behind the story, but the way the story is told gives the narrative a metaphorical meaning as well. For example, I think there are good historical grounds for saying that Jesus really did restore sight to some blind people. One or more of the stories reporting such an event probably reflect historical memory. But the way these stories are told gives them a metaphorical meaning as well.
The way the author of Mark’s gospel tells the stories of two blind men to whom Jesus gave sight provides an illuminating example. The two stories frame the great central section of that gospel—a section that describes Jesus’ final journey to Jerusalem, contains three solemn sayings about his impending death and resurrection, and speaks of discipleship as following Jesus on this journey.11*
At the beginning of this section, Mark places the story of the blind man of Bethsaida. Jesus restores his sight in two stages. After the first, the blind man sees people, but not clearly: “They look like trees, walking.” After Jesus lays his hands on him a second time, the blind man sees “everything clearly.”12
At the end of the section is the story of a blind beggar named Bartimaeus. He cries out to Jesus, “Have compassion on me!” Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” In superbly evocative language, Bartimaeus expresses his deepest desire: “Let me see again.” Then, we are told, “Bartimaeus regained his sight and followed Jesus on the way.”13
By placing these stories where he does, the author of Mark gives them a metaphorical meaning, even as one or both of them may reflect history remembered. Namely, gaining one’s sight—seeing again—is seeing the way of Jesus. That way, that path, involves journeying with him from Galilee to Jerusalem, the place of death and resurrection, of endings and beginnings. To see that is to have one’s eyes opened.
Thus the way Mark uses these stories results in history meta-phorized. Moreover, the section as a whole provides yet another example of history remembered and metaphorized. History remembered: Jesus really did make a final journey to Jerusalem. History metaphorized: the way the story of that journey is told turns it into a metaphorical narrative about the path of discipleship.
Purely Metaphorical Narratives
The second type of metaphorical narrative consists of stories that are purely metaphorical. No particular historical event lies behind them. Rather, the stories as a whole are metaphorical or symbolic. Examples of this category from the Hebrew Bible are Israel’s stories of creation and human beginnings (the subject of the next chapter), the story of Jonah and the huge fish that swallowed him, and the story of the sun standing still in the time of Joshua. Examples from the New Testament include some of the early Christian movement’s stories about Jesus—his birth, walking on water, multiplying loaves and fish, changing water into wine, and so forth.
The decision about whether to see a story as a purely metaphorical narrative involves two factors. The first centers on elements within the story itself. Does the story look as if it is reporting something that happened, or are there signs within the story suggesting that it is to be read symbolically? Israel’s stories of the world’s beginnings contain many such signals, and the stories about Jesus just mentioned make use of rich symbolic motifs drawn from the Hebrew Bible.
The second factor involves a judgment about what I call “the limits of the spectacular.” I deliberately speak of “the spectacular” rather than “miracles.” The common modern understanding of miracles, accepted by both those who affirm and those who deny them, presupposes an understanding of the universe as a closed system of natural laws. Miracles are understood as supernatural interventions by a God “out there” into an otherwise completely predictable system of natural cause and effect. Because I do not accept that way of thinking about God’s relation to the universe, I avoid the term “miracles.” “The spectacular,” on the other hand, simply re-fers to events that go beyond what we commonly think to be possible.
Thus the question whether there are “limits to the spectacular” asks, “Are there some things that never happen anywhere?” As we think about that question, it is important not to draw the limits too narrowly, as the worldview of modernity does. More things are possible, and more things happen, than the modern worldview allows.
For example, I think that Jesus really did perform paranormal hea
lings and that they cannot simply be explained in psychosomatic terms. I am even willing to consider that spectacular phenomena such as levitation perhaps happen. But do virgin births, multiplying loaves and fish, and changing water into wine ever happen anywhere? If I became persuaded that they do, then I would entertain the possibility that the stories about Jesus reporting such events also contain history remembered. But what I cannot do as a historian is to say that Jesus could do such things even though nobody else has ever been able to. Thus I regard these as purely metaphorical narratives.
The recognition that the Bible contains both history and metaphor has an immediate implication: the ancient communities that produced the Bible often metaphorized their history. Indeed, this is the way they invested their stories with meaning. But we, especially in the modern period, have often historicized their metaphors. To make the same point only slightly differently: they often mythologized their history (again, for the sake of expressing meaning), while we have tended to literalize their mythology. And when one literalizes metaphor or myth, the result is nonsense. On the other hand, when one recognizes a metaphorical narrative as such, the result is a powerful story. This leads directly to the next point.
The Bible as Stories about the Divine-Human Relationship
Though the Bible contains more than stories, a surprisingly large amount of it consists of narratives. There are hundreds of individual stories, as well as what I have elsewhere called “macro-stories,” stories that shape the Bible as a whole.14 Moreover, to a large extent, these stories—both individual and macro—are about the divine-human relationship. The Hebrew Bible is ancient Israel’s story (and stories) of her relationship with God. The New Testament is the early Christian movement’s story (and stories) of her relationship with God as disclosed in Jesus.
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