The Bible, through a Scientist’s Eyes, part four

Testing Scripture: A Scientist Explores the Bible
by John Polkinghorne

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To my ears, one of the most bizarre and troubling passages in the Hebrew Bible describes the "bitter water" ritual (Numbers 5:11-31). This ceremony was to be used when a man suspected his pregnant wife of adultery. He was to bring her to the priest and present an offering. The priest would then have her stand before the Tabernacle and make her drink a mixture of holy water and dust from the floor of the holy place. If she was guilty, the potion would cause a miscarriage and she would become infertile. If innocent, the bitter water would have no effect on her. Whether guilty or innocent, the man would bear no guilt for being jealous and accusing her.

The text is sufficiently ambiguous that it has prompted much discussion. Was this a "trial by ordeal," designed to bring out a secret act of sin by appealing to God using a kind of divination? Is this a reflection of ancient magical practices? Why was the ritual only for women suspected of unfaithfulness and why didn't wives have similar recourse when their husbands cheated on them? Why was the woman exposed to public humiliation before proof of guilt? As some have suggested, could this elaborate ritual have actually been a way of protecting women by forbidding husbands from acting alone in a jealous rage when suspecting unfaithfulness?

This is one of those difficult, enigmatic Scriptures that came to mind when I read the chapter "Ambiguity" in John Polkinghorne's book, Testing Scripture.

The tapestry of life is not coloured in simple black and white, representing an unambiguous choice between the unequivocally bad and the unequivocally good. The ambiguity of human deeds and desires means that life includes many shades of grey. What is true of life in general is true also of the Bible in particular. An honest reading of Scripture will acknowledge the presence in its pages of various kinds of ambiguity.

Akedah, Chagall

To hear some people talk, the Bible is perfectly clear and well defined in its teachings. Black is black, and white is white. The way is plain and one can walk it by following transparent, easily perceived steps.

How then, John Polkinghorne asks, do we explain stories like God asking Abraham to sacrifice Isaac? How do we square the fact that Abraham is commended as the great exemplar of our faith, when he is also shown to have so many flaws? And what of his family of scoundrels like Jacob? Likewise, David, the "man after God's own heart," who not only committed adultery and murder, but who apparently could also act like the most vengeful of near eastern kings. An example of this is when he revoked his pardon of Shimei, who had cursed him, on his deathbed and commanded his execution. Polkinghorne remarks, "It is the vengeful act of a spiteful old man."

Ambiguous characters, all.

And how are we to understand some of the events and descriptions written in Scripture? What of angels? Are all the miracle stories to be taken at face value? Is there room for interpretation with regard to some of these portrayals? Are there symbolic, figurative, or typological aspects that we should consider when reading about some of the more unusual depictions?

The Bible is like life, John Polkinghorne affirms. It is multifaceted, complicated, and at times bewildering. It portrays characters and situations with all the rich complexity of life itself, exploring the shadows along with the light. Furthermore, it is written about people who lived long ago, in cultures quite different than our own. It uses language, metaphors, illustrations, and conventions that are foreign to us, that may reflect practices and perspectives we find troublesome or obscure.

Trying to understand and apply what Scripture says can be frustrating, especially if we have accepted the commonly advanced idea that the Bible is "life's instruction book," designed to give clear answers to life's problems and questions. Open its pages, and you'll find a much more interesting -- if ambiguous -- story than that.

Recently, Don Carson wrote a fine book designed to introduce the Great Story of the Bible, called, The God Who Is There: Finding Your Place in God’s Story. In the light of this morning’s discussion on John Polkinghorne’s view of the Genesis stories as “myth,” I want to share something with you from Dr. Carson. Now, mind you, you won’t find too many people more conservative and more committed to a rigorous Reformed theology. And yet, as you read the following summary of the genre of Genesis 1-2, you will see a thoughtful and careful recognition that this inspired material is more than a literal reporting of historical events. I’m sure Carson wouldn’t like the word “myth” because of some its associations, but what he says here comes very close to my own understanding of what “myth” (or “true myth,” to use Polkinghorne’s phrase) is, when speaking of the genre of certain Biblical texts.

But that is the subject of another post. For today, I would like you to consider what Dr. D.A. Carson says about the relationship of the Bible’s early chapters to science and the issue of genre.

Genesis 1-2 and Science
From The God Who Is There, D.A. Carson

Because much of twenty-first-century culture is convinced that contemporary scientific thought is fundamentally incompatible with the opening chapters of Genesis, I had better say something about the approach I adopt here….

…There is more ambiguity in the interpretation of these chapters than some Christians recognize. Some Christians are convinced, for example, that this pair of chapters, read responsibly, insists that the world is not more than four thousand years older than the coming of Jesus. Others insist that it is entirely compatible with vast ages. In particular, some think that each “day” represents an age. Others infer that there is an enormous gap between verse 1 and verse 2 of Genesis 1.

Still others see the seven-day week of Genesis 1 as a literary device: creation week is symbol-laden and focusing on other points of interest rather than describing a literal week.

Others devote their energy to comparing these two chapters with other creation accounts in the ancient world in which the book of Genesis was written. In the Babylonian era, for example, there was a document called the Enuma Elish, which describes the creation of the world. It has been argued that the biblical account is basically shaped along the lines of those Babylonian myths.

In short, there are significant differences of opinion among Christians, let alone among those who want to write the entire account off. What shall we do with this?

I hold that the Genesis account is a mixed genre that feels like history and really does give us some historical particulars. At the same time, however, it is full of demonstrable symbolism. Sorting out what is symbolic and what is not is very difficult.