November 12, 2012

A couple of weeks ago at Resurrecting Raleigh, David Williams posted on why he doesn’t need Adam to be historical. He begins–and what could be more obvious–by looking at a recent biography on Robert Oppenheimer (physicist working on the Manhattan Project) in which he is compared to Prometheus, the rebellious god who stole fire from Zeus.

That gets Williams thinking: the comparison of Oppenheimer to Prometheus is not diminished by virtue of the fact that Prometheus is not a historical figure (unless there are some “historical Prometheus” hold outs among us). If that’s the case, maybe this is helpful angle from which to look at Paul’s comparison of Adam and Paul in Romans 5 and 1 Corinthians 15.

As Williams correctly points out, even for Paul the comparison of Adam and Jesus isn’t perfect. As with all comparisons, some things are left hanging, unaddressed; some things don’t fit.

Here is the heart of it:

The analogy isn’t perfect.  Whereas Adam’s action (like Prometheus’s) was catastrophic, Jesus’s action was, to borrow Tolkien’s word, eucatastrophic.  Whereas Adam’s was an act of disobedience, Jesus’s action was one of obedience.  Whereas Adam’s action was a betrayal of God, Jesus’s action was a gift of God.  Whereas Adam’s action brought about a regime of death, Jesus’s action brought about the victory of life.  Jesus, in other words, is like Adam turned right-side-up.

The more I look at this passage, the less I see how it makes a lick of difference to the force of Paul’s argument whether Adam is a historical figure or not.  To my mind, the fundamental analogy still holds even if we were to add one more disanalogous element to those we have already rehearsed: whereas Adam was a fictional character of a mythic past, Jesus was for Paul a historical figure of recent memory. No matter. The comparison still holds. Jesus is, in some important ways, like Adam, just as He is said elsewhere in the New Testament to be like Moses, like Jonah, like Jeremiah,  like Elijah, like a lamb, like a vine, like a door, like a shepherd, and like dozens of other things.

I like that word “eucatastrophic.”

Anyway, Williams ends by saying that those Christian traditions that need an historical Adam,

are all varieties of Christian faith, not Christianity per se.  There have always been within the Christian tradition (better?) alternatives to these particular theological stances, some of which do not logically depend upon the historicity of the Adam story.  If the evidence should continue to mount against the historicity of Adam, the choice before us should not be whether we will be Christians or not, but whether we will be these sorts of Christians or those sorts of Christians.  Christianity itself is simply not at stake.

Some provocative thoughts there. If you want to engage Williams, you really need to go to his blog. I can’t answer for him, and if I try I might get it wrong. Just two suggestions: (1) Play nice, and (2) Don’t just quote Bible passages at him; he’s probably seen them already.

September 17, 2012

Last week, I was interviewed at “Beyond the Box” on my book The Evolution of Adam: What the Bible Does and Doesn’t Say about Human Origins.

If you’re not familiar with Beyond the Box, over the last year these guys have interviewed the likes of Brian McLaren, Robin Parry (an evangelical universalist), and Sharon Baker (justice, atonement, and hell). Here, from their website, is a brief description of what Beyond the Box is about:

Beyond the Box is the podcast of Raborn Johnson and Steve Sensenig. We have been encouraging each other in the journey outside the bounds of institutional religion for several years now and share many of our candid thoughts and questions in our podcast.

We don’t claim to have a corner on the truth, and there doesn’t seem to be any topic or question that is “out of bounds” in our discussions. As we say in the intro to each podcast, we’re just two guys thinking out loud, exploring the wide open spaces of our freedom in Christ.

To summarize: “The institutional church isn’t asking or answering questions we are asking and want answered, so we’re going to do it ourselves.”

The interview is about 1:20 long, which means I had so many profound things to say, and so loved hearing me say them, that I couldn’t shut up. And I think I might have dozed off for about 10 minutes.

Actually, the interview is long because my interviewer, Raborn, asked me a lot of great questions and we had a great time going back and forth about the Bible: what is it, how do we read it, the box we find ourselves in, and how to get out of it. We talked mainly about The Evolution of Adam, and that triggered some thoughts in other directions, as well.

I hope you have a chance to listen to it and to share your thoughts.

August 27, 2012

In the most recent issue of the Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society (June 2012, volume 55/2, pp. 408-10), Dr. Eric Bolger (Dean of the College of the Ozarks and professor of Philosophy-Religion) published a brief review of my book The Evolution of Adam: What the Bible Does and Doesn’t Say about Human Origins (Brazos, 2012).

Bolger’s review gives a reasonably accurate summary of my book, but his assessment of the book’s argument is limited to a brief concluding paragraph that in my view repeats the kind of default thinking that should no longer be allowed to define the discussion. I responded to another review recently that uttered similar themes, but I want to address some issues here peculiar to Bolger’s review in the hope that future critical reviews will go in different, and more constructive, directions.

As I said, the summary is reasonably helpful, though even there we see two points where Bolger misconstrues my meaning in such a way that, in my opinion, signals what we see more clearly in his conclusion.

Enns accepts the results of modern biblical scholarship, briefly rehearsing the rise of the Documentary Hypothesis. He argues that even if it has been modified in some ways over the past 150 years, it still provides the most convincing and well-accepted approach to explaining Genesis.

Bolger seems to attribute to me a view I tried assiduously to avoid, that “the Documentary Hypothesis” explains Genesis. Let me be clear. Source criticism is a vital component of any high-level work on the Pentateuch, but source criticism and “the” Documentary Hypothesis are not the same thing. The field has moved on and there are various models for construing the origins of the Pentateuch.

The point I make in the book is really not that controversial or ambitious, what I call the two “pillars” of Pentateuchal scholarship: (1) the developmental nature of the Pentateuch (it grew over time through oral and written tradition) and (2) the postexilic compilation of its final form. These two pillars are not “the Documentary Hypothesis” and it would be difficult to find trained biblical scholars who take issue with either of these points. Knowing something of how Genesis came to be will help us understand why it was written at all.

I tried to be quite clear on that point because I anticipated responses like this one, where my “developmental” explanation for Genesis would be rhetorically lumped together with that perennial bad boy “the Documentary Hypothesis.”

The second problem with Bolger’s summary concerns my reading of Paul, the topic in the second half of the book.

Paul, who is inspired by God, creatively reads and utilizes Adam to explain how Jews and Gentiles can now be one people of God in Christ. Enns supports his argument with examples of Paul’s use of the OT, which Enns says demonstrate that Paul routinely ignores the grammatical-historical meaning of the OT text.

I do not think that saying that I say Paul “ignores the grammatical-historical meaning” starts us off on the right foot. Paul is not “ignoring” grammatical-historical meaning, as if he is making some hermeneutical decision. Paul demonstrates again and again that he is not driven by grammatical-historical exegesis as some sort of default hermeneutic that one must choose to accept or ignore.

Rather, he was a product of his time, a Jew clearly influenced in his interpretation of Scripture by three interconnected factors: Second Temple Judaism, Greco-Romanism, and his faith that Israel’s messiah was crucified and rose from the dead. Grammatical-historical hermeneutics was not a pressing concern for Paul. The entire second half of the book is designed to help readers put the entire matter differently than Bolger does here.

Finally, in his concluding paragraph, Bolger says the following:

The Evolution of Adam  is a bold attempt to change evangelical thinking on the subject of human origins and the problem of sin. The author is to be commended for making his case in a manner that is accessible to a broad range of readers. Many readers will take issue with his assumptions regarding the assured results of modern science and of biblical scholarship, and Enns at times writes dismissively of those who take other views on these topics. In addition, the evidence he amasses for his arguments is at times cursory and therefore unconvincing, such as in the section of Paul’s use of the OT (pp. 103–13). For those who already embrace the naturalistic, scientific explanation of human origins and the historical-critical approach to Scripture, Enns’s arguments should resonate well. For those less confident of these things, Enns’s arguments are not as likely to prove convincing.

In the span of one short paragraph, Bolger repeats a common stock of objections when traditional views are being challenged. First, he asserts that I have made assumptions regarding the assured results of modern science and of biblical scholarship.” But I am not making “assumptions”; I have drawn conclusions–as have other biblical scholars. The reasons for drawing those conclusions have to be addressed.

Steering the discussion away from the implications of biblical, extrabiblical, and scientific evidence and toward one’s “assumption” is, in my opinion, simply an avoidance tactic. “You are wrong about how you interpret the Bible because you have bad assumptions” is a wearisome retort, not to mention impossible to respond to (since doing so would only verify one’s philosophical deficiencies). The question remains how to handle the data.

Bolger also takes a familiar swipe at the those who accept the “assured results” of science and biblical scholarship. Similarly, this assertion seems intended to deflect the argument from evidence, this time by drawing attention either to one’s (implied) incompetence or hubris for having such assurance (though I am not accusing Bolger of impugning me intentionally). (Parenthetically, this same line of criticism, albeit with more substance, is present throughout much of the recent volume Do Historical Matters Matter to Faith?: A Critical Appraisal of Modern and Postmodern Approaches to Scripture. See my earlier response here.)

The fact is that there actually are many things that reasonable and educated people in these fields consider “assured results.” And, as above, these results are conclusions drawn from a preponderance of evidence. In a true dialogue, Bolger would need to address credibly the evidence that has led scientists and biblical scholars to draw the conclusions they do, showing how his own assumptions give a more compelling and persuasive account of the evidence.

Bolger also comments that my rehearsal of Paul’s use of the OT is too brief to convince him that Paul’s hermeneutic is not grammatical-historical. I suspect, however, that had I given 1000 pages it still would have left Bolger unconvinced. The deeper problem for Bolger is not the “cursory” nature of my treatment, but the conclusions I have drawn that run afoul of his theological convictions. Had I come to a conclusion more acceptable to Bolger, there would be no mention of brevity.

More importantly, the examples I give over this span of 10 pages or so was not to make some heretofore unheard of observation that in truth needed chapters of documentation. I was simply illustrating what is widely considered to be beyond serious dispute by scholars in the field: Paul’s use of the OT is driven by something other than the context of the original utterance. Understanding this may help adjust people’s expectations of how to understand Paul’s use of the Adam story.

Bolger’s final comment is an unfortunate, though commonly deployed, conversation stopper: Views such as mine are beholden to the naturalism that besets science and historical-criticism. The issue before us is complex and demands our focused energy and attention; it cannot be boiled down to naturalism vs. supernaturalism, regardless of how rhetorically and apologetically useful it may be to do so. I hope we can find a way to phrase things more constructively, for we do not all share the “assured results” of Bolger’s either/or thinking.

I realize that my response may already be longer than Bolger’s review, but I do not mean to appear reactionary or needlessly harsh. The type of thinking evidenced here is unsettlingly common among those looked up to as intellectual leaders of Christian thought. The dialogue has to be taken to a different level.

August 14, 2012

Recently, Hans Madueme, assistant professor of theological studies at Covenant College, wrote a lengthy review essay (5000 words plus footnotes) of The Evolution of Adam: What the Bible Does and Doesn’t Say about Human OriginsI appreciate the effort involved, and Madueme’s sincere attempts to maintain a balance between clarity of his conviction, Christian courtesy, and denominational constraints. (Covenant College is the denominational college of the Presbyterian Church in America, which requires belief in a historical Adam.)

Others have reviewed my book sounding similar themes (for example, two other reviews here and here, with my thoughts here and here). Madueme’s review stands out, however, not only for its length but also its methodological transparency.

Madueme is quite clear about why he disagrees with my arguments, and in laying out his case perpetuates many of the same problems that beset evangelical thinking in general about Adam and evolution. Responding to Madueme’s review allows me the opportunity to focus some of my general concerns with how I see things taking shape.

The core problem with Madueme approach to the Adam issue, the principle that guides his assessment of my book, represents an old and perennial conflict in the study of Scripture (my words):

Where dogmatic tradition is threatened by science or historical biblical scholarship, the latter should be held at bay, for they are the product of unstable and fallen human inquiry. When conflict is unavoidable, “Scripture” (i.e., the dogmatic tradition that flows from a “proper” reading of Scripture) will always have priority, regardless of the nature of the evidence to the contrary.

In other words, Madueme clearly gives final adjudicatory authority to theological/dogmatic traditions when science or historical biblical scholarship raise questions of the historical reliability of the Adam story. Reflecting critically on dogmatics in view of historical studies does not enter into the picture.

Embedded in Madueme’s assertion are two implicit methodological missteps:

(1) An underestimation, devaluing, and/or minimizing of the impact of biblical studies and/or the mainstream scientific consensus on evolution for an evangelical theology of Scripture.
(2) Functionally equating “dogmatics” and “Bible,” so that dogmatics and “what the Bible says” become  interchangeable.

This mindset is common in evangelicalism, not simply with respect to Adam/evolution but with most any matter where biblical studies, archaeology, or science raise questions of the Bible’s historical reliability. Such thinking may serve to protect evangelical boundaries, but it only perpetuates the very theological impasse I and others are trying to address more deliberately.

To his credit, Madueme himself comes clean with his methodology, though he does so only at the very end of his review (section 6, “Concluding Thoughts”):

I recognize the force of the mainstream evolutionary consensus, and I know that it raises tough questions for the viability of a historical Adam and the doctrine of the fall. But I am constrained by Scripture, tradition, and weighty theological considerations. I am a son of Adam. That is why I am a sinner. And it is why I need Christ.

Madueme is to be commended for saying plainly what many others only think: “I know there is serious evidence to the contrary that calls into question what I believe, but, come what may, I’m going to stick with ‘the Bible’ as understood by my tradition and the theological conclusions required to maintain theological stabilty.”

One might wonder, however, whether Madueme’s apologetic motives should have been stated at the outset, and perhaps led to a much shorter review. I mean no disrespect, but, after all, if Madueme truly recognizes the pressure that the scientific consensus on evolution (and I would add the study of ancient Israel) puts on the historical Adam and the fall, but then slips out the back door, so to speak, and returns home to his dogmatic commitments, all else is just filler. Any true engagement with counterevidence is in principle off the table at the outset.

I list below eleven (11) major examples from the review that show how Madueme’s dogmatic constraints skew not simply his assessment of The Evolution of Adam, but whether the serious historical study of Scripture can be in conversation with evangelical theology. (Since the review is online with no pagination, I give the section of the review.)

Section 2, “Doctrine of Scripture.”

1. Madueme claims that by saying a literal reading of the Adam story is “not an option,” I am assuming what needs to be demonstrated and so only employing a rhetorical strategy for “marginalizing” more conservative views. This is a discouraging comment, as my entire book is an argument to make that very case, not an assumption.

2. Madueme observes that my view of Scripture is built from the ground up “phenomenologically” rather than “dogmatically” (from the top down), which is functionally true. He contends, however, that this is not in line “the classical Reformation doctrine of Scripture.” From my own training in Reformed dogmatics, this is a fair but debatable point (perhaps a bit reductionistic), but I am happy to concede it for the sake of discussion because it is absolutely irrelevant. Failure to line up with tradition is not a counterargument, because lining up with tradition is not my intention. Further, appeal to tradition cannot be assumed to settle the hermeneutical question of how to read the Adam story. We are Protestants, after all.

3. Madueme challenges my suggestion that Paul can be wrong about Adam historically but still correct theologically. Madueme contends that I fail to provide epistemological justification for this distinction, and hence do not have a “functional” doctrine of biblical authority. My answer is that I have no more epistemological justification for my view than Madueme has for his. What I suspect Madueme means, however, is that a doctrine of inerrancy is an epistemological basis for interpreting Scripture, but of course that is not the case. Inerrancy does not provide a foundation for making sure hermeneutical decisions.

The fact is: we don’t know and we can’t be sure whether our interpretive conclusions are correct, Madueme included. Further, Bible readers cannot escape making the sorts of judgments I make with respect to Paul and Adam, for this is part and parcel of reading ancient literature and applying it today. Accepting Paul’s view of Adam would not make the epistemological question disappear.

At any rate, without implicating Madueme directly, shifting attention from concrete matters of biblical interpretation to “higher” matters of epistemology and theological prolegomena as the proper place to address the phenomena of Scripture is too frequently used as a stall tactic to hold at bay uncomfortable data. One would still need to engage the evidence credibly and knowledgeably without a predetermined outcome.

4. Following on the previous point, Madueme wants to know specifically how I can trust that Paul was right about the resurrection when I do not trust him about Adam. After all, Madueme argues, resurrection may be every bit as much ancient thinking as Adam, and science tells us people cannot rise from the dead.

First, “trust” is a scare word that already reduces a subtle issue to a simple matter of biblical authority. But the issue is not “trust” for the Bible, but understanding it well, which, again, cannot be settled apart from the nagging details that are part and parcel of proper biblical interpretation.

Having said that, Madueme is right–but perhaps more so than he realizes. Yes is possible that every last shred of the New Testament is as culturally determined as Paul’s view of Adam–including core matters of the Christian faith such as the resurrection of Christ. But that possibility has to be addressed on its own terms. The presence of that possibility does not give Madueme the methodological right, so to speak, to say, “Let’s not unravel that ball of yarn or open that can of worms. Let’s keep Adam historical so the resurrection is not threatened.” Arguing for the importance of a historical Adam because of what you might lose theologically without him is not an argument. At root it is an expression of fear.

But more importantly, I actually address resurrection specifically in my book, where I say that the origins of humanity (along with the earth and universe) are open to scientific inquiry whereas the resurrection of Christ not. How can I say this? Because there is scientific evidence for the former—testable, measurable, things—whereas by definition no such evidence exists for a one-time occurrence. Tying Adam and Christ’s resurrection together, as if they rest on the same evidentiary foundation, is simply wrong, though it is a common piece in arguments to counter theistic evolution.

Section 3, “Natural Science and Historical Criticism.”

5. Madueme claims that I place science in the “methodological driving seat” rather than Scripture. In my book I discuss this very problem of pitting science (and biblical studies) against the Bible like this. I point out that science (and the study of antiquity) help us “calibrate” the genre of Genesis and Paul so as not to have false expectations of what Scripture is prepared to deliver (e.g., to help us see that we should not expect science from Genesis 1.)

But Madueme continues his tendency to present us with an either/or choice, whether science or God has greater “authority.” That is a troublesome dichotomy, and we need to get beyond this if we are going to discuss the hermeneutical implications of evolution with the seriousness it deserves.

Further, there are many instances here I am sure Madueme puts something other than Scripture in the driver’s seat. I assume Madueme does not accept that a divine council conferred with Yahweh as he made decisions, or that other gods actually exist, or that a sea monster was tamed at creation. Exercising historical discernment is part of responsible Bible reading. (I am not suggesting, however, that only what can be verified historically is “true,” though that is another discussion and not relevant here.)

In this context, Madueme picks up on my view of the historical relationship between Genesis 1 and 2 (Genesis 1 is about the cosmos in general and chapter 2 begins to shift focus to Israel).  But for Madueme, making such an informed historical/literary assessment, “shifts the locus of epistemic authority from the canonical text to the world behind the text.” Apparently for Madueme, the relationship between Genesis 1 and 2 is too obvious to be burdened with historical analysis, and providing such an analysis (as all biblical scholars do) is an affront to biblical authority.

As we have seen, reducing complex matters to one of biblical authority vs. some other authority is an undercurrent in Madueme’s thinking about biblical scholarship, and to pose hermeneutical issues in this manner dooms the discussion before it begins. At this stage in his review I began wondering whether Madueme sees any difficult issue of biblical interpretation that cannot be easily solved by a simple appeal to biblical authority.

6. Madueme concludes that I do not have a “functional notion of biblical authority.” I would rather say that I do not have a notion of biblical authority governed by Madueme’s dogmatic requirements. “What does biblical authority mean?” is an open discussion, in my opinion, that will not be curtailed by older dogmatic assertions. A more narratival/biblical theological approach to biblical authority, such as what N. T. Wright articulates, is more promising.

7. It simply will not do for Madueme to assert that I am “too romantic about the reliability of mainstream scientific consensus” [sic] or  or “modern academic consensus [sic].” This is a

portion of Gilgamesh epic

common apologetic maneuver, that these disciplines are too muddled to be trusted, and Christians are to be patient to maintain sola Scriptura, knowing that God’s word will eventually be vindicated. Madueme even offers us, once again, a clear choice:

The two main options in biblical studies are the methodological naturalism of standard biblical criticism or a more robust, theistic, Augustinian supernaturalism.

This is a stunning and, frankly, inexcusable caricature of biblical criticism that effectively colors Madueme’s engagement of the historical data throughout his review. Caricaturing “standard biblical criticism” as beholden to “methodological naturalism,” the fruit of spiritual rebellion, is misinformed, minimizes the gravity of the situation, and will get us nowhere. This is not the way to work through the problem before us.

To be clear, I have no concern one way or the other where Madueme places his dogmatic convictions, and my purpose in life is not to change his mind. But I will raise a red flag when I see a legitimate and widely (if not universally) acknowledged hermeneutical problem essentially neutered by positing the unassailable priority of dogmatic non-negotiables.

8. Following on the previous point, Madueme poses another either/or:  the divine author’s intention is definitive for biblical interpretation, not what modern biblical scholars or historians say. Madueme acknowledges the human setting for Scripture, but that setting apparently has no real bearing on understanding what the divine author is saying. One might ask how Madueme is able to discern the divine meaning apart from the historical settings, to free it, as it were, from its unfortunate historical limitations. The answer for Madueme seems to be, without saying it explicitly, that a dogmatic system allows us to move beyond humanity to reveal the mind of God.

My disagreement with Madueme here is theological. To acknowledge Scripture’s historical dimension but then lay it aside when making dogmatic assertions fails to grapple with why God, in his wisdom, spoke truth in a world where myth and tribal culture were ubiquitous. Are those forms utterly inconsequential in how we approach biblical interpretation? Are they the shell that must be peeled away in order to arrive at a higher dogmatic truth? To say, as Madueme does, the we should “move on” from Scripture as a product of culture to get to the more valuable dogmatic nuggets obscured within the text is not a stable theological assertion.

The reason I suspect that Madueme can so easily equate his dogmatic structure with the divine meaning of Scripture is that he does not truly appreciate that hermeneutics, not dogmatics, is the arena for discussing matters of biblical interpretation such as what the Genesis story was written to convey concerning Adam, which necessarily involves us in a historical discussion of “Bible in context.” Dogmatic concerns are part of the discussion, but as a give and take dialogue, not the arbiter of how the very pressing and very real challenges raised through biblical studies, archaeology, and science are to be handled. What is sorely needed is true synthesis, not a reflex adherence to dogmatic priority.

9. Madueme insists that my observation that Adam is “absent” from the Old Testament betrays a myopic “historicism” for failing to take into account the witness of Scripture as a whole. Madueme contends that Paul’s references to Adam in Romans 5 and 1 Corinthians 15 provide the canonical context by which Adam’s true presence in the Old Testament can be understood. That canonical reading also gives us, as we saw in the previous point, the divine intention for the Adam story.

First, Madueme can only come to this judgment by ignoring the hermeneutical problem of the New Testament’s use of the Old, namely the creative and theologically driven manner in which the New Testament authors draw Israel’s story into their gospel proclamation, which also reflects the Second Temple interpretive conventions the New Testament writers share. The entire second half of my book deals with this topic.

Also, claiming Adam’s absence in Old Testament is not a product of historicism, but a simple observation of the topics treated in the Old Testament. Adam typology is certainly at work in the Old Testament, where, for example, Noah and the Patriarchs are presented by the biblical writers as carrying forward the Adamic project (which is one very good reason for seeing Adam as a proto-Israelite, but I digress). But the role that Paul assigns Adam (cause of universal condemnation) is absent in the Old Testament, though there are echoes of such a view in Second Temple Judaism before we arrive at Paul.

Clearly, Madueme is operating from a different “data set” than I, which illustrates the seriousness of the impasse.

Section 4, “Further Theological Concerns.”

10. Madueme is correct that an Augustinian notion of the fall is lost if there is no historical Adam. And once we lose the fall, Madueme contends that we are left with no adequate explanation for why people sin. I understand the point, but retaining a historical Adam because it is needed to maintain a theological position is a non-argument that Madueme has posed before, and it is not the the kind of argument we would tolerate from someone protecting another religious system. “If you’re right, then I am wrong so you must be wrong” is not an argument.

We would do better to acknowledge the implications of evolution for Augustinian theology and try to work through it collaboratively. I attempted to do this, as others have, by suggesting that an Orthodox view of the Adam story (Adam’s failure to follow the path of wisdom) is worth considering for evangelicals. Madueme, however, feels that Irenaeus (whom I mention in this regard) will not help, since he believed in an historical Adam. Yes, of course he did, but that is not the point. The point is that Irenaeus, unlike Augustine, did not think that Adam’s transgression was somehow downloaded onto all posterity. If an Orthodox view is adopted, Madueme’s concerns about the fall are undercut.

Section 5, “A Methodological Aside”

11. Madueme claims it is an “overstatement” to say that Genesis has nothing to say about “scientific concerns.” He also feels I am ”cocksure” and “breezy” when I say that Genesis, “cries out to be read as something other than a historical description of events.” Madueme’s comments here suggests perhaps an unfamiliarity with the dominant voices in biblical studies and science that must be taken with greater seriousness. He may not agree, of course, which is his prerogative, but I am hardly shooting from the hip. These are conclusions I and others have reached, not cocksure and breezy overstatements. Were Madueme to make this claim in scientific or scholarly debate, he would quickly see they have very good reasons for arriving at their conclusions.

Apparently Madueme feels that Genesis does indeed have something to say of scientific value and that it should be read as a historical account. One would ask on what basis he makes these claims, other than an appeal to a dogmatic structure that requires it. Has he worked through and interpreted the scientific and extrabiblical evidence on his own and arrived at compelling conclusions to the contrary? What type of account is he prepared to give for how he reads the scientific and historical evidence differently—an account that deals with the data and not at the distance from the data that theological prolegomena afford? I would like for Madueme to give an argument for his hermeneutic that goes beyond dismissing contrary evidence as the by-product of unbelief.

***********

The problems I see with Madueme’s thinking pervade the entire review and rest on the core assertion that his dogmatic structure is the first and final court of appeal for handling difficult matters of biblical interpretation, one of which is Adam vis-a-vis evolution. This train of thought recurs in the defensive strategies of traditionalist evangelical responses when dogma is challenged.

No one should conclude, I hope, that I am making the opposite error, of casting aside theological categories for biblical interpretation, and a reading of either The Evolution of Adam or Inspiration and Incarnation should make that clear whether one agrees or disagrees with the argument. I am calling, rather, for a true dialogue among biblicists and theologians. I understand that this has been difficult in evangelicalism, mainly because the latter is functioned as a guardian against the troubling influence of the former.  Neverthless, that discussion needs to happen deliberately, not accidentally in blog posts.

As I said at the outset, I genuinely appreciate the time invested and the clarity and generosity with which Madueme expresses his convictions. I encourage interested readers to read the review themselves and give it more attention than I have been able to give here. If anything, Madueme’s review serves a purpose of making absolutely clear where some feel the lines need to be drawn. For my tastes, I would rather see fewer lines of separation being drawn and more lines of communication opened.

 

 

July 27, 2012

Several months ago, Pickwick Publications was kind enough to send me a copy of Adam as Israel: Genesis 1-3 as the Introduction to the Torah and Tanakh by Seth D. Postell. This is a brief note on a valuable book for understanding the purpose of the Adam story in Genesis.

As the title suggests, Postell sees Adam not as the first human, but a foreshadowing of Israel. Specifically, Genesis 1-3 is an introduction to the Torah and the Old Testament as a whole. That story is about Israel’s failure to keep the Sinai Covenant (law of Moses), subsequent exile, and a view forward to eschatological renewal.

Postell’s argument is largely a fleshing out of the work of his mentor, John Sailhamer, especially his The Meaning of the Pentateuch: Revelation, Composition and Interpretation. (Postell’s Ph.D. work was done under Sailhamer at Golden Gate Baptist Theological Seminary.)

Bottom line: I think this is a book worth looking into seriously for an understanding of Adam as an Israel figure, rather than the first human, or even a historical figure. (Postell takes a “text-centered” approach and therefore is not occupied with historical issues. It is not clear to me to what extent he holds to a historical Adam, and I am not implying that he would agree with my arguments in The Evolution of Adam.)

Postell makes many intriguing connections between the Adam narrative and that of Israel. Even if readers find he stretches some points too far, I don’t think readers can escape the overall impact of his argument.

Some things that struck me as I read:

1. Chapter 2 on the history of interpretation is key for showing that “Adam as Israel” is not a recent invention but has rabbinic roots. However, I was hoping for more information on not only rabbinic Judaism but Second Temple and pre-Christian literature. More, I think, could have been and needs to be done in laying out the antiquity of this line of interpretation.

2. Too frequently, Postell seems to go out of his way to distance himself (too quickly, I think) from critical approaches (i.e., Pentateuchal authorship) to the point where it can easily become a distraction.

3. Although too briefly (pp. 32-42), Postell lists modern interpeters who also see the parallels between Genesis 1-3 and Israel’s story in the Old Testament. This, too, could have been expanded, though there is enough there to make the point.

4. Postell’s chapter on methodology (pp. 43-74) reads more like an obligatory dissertation chapter. It is designed to justify his approach to reading Genesis 1-3, but (understandably) it does not contribute specifically to the argument itself. Most readers would likely skim or skip this chapter and nothing of substance would be lost. I think the author’s purposes would have been better served had he simply given due acknowledgment to Sailhamer and alerted the readers that he is following his mentor’s approach and expanding on it (even in those infrequent occasions where he challenges Sailhamer, e.g., p. 93).

5. Postell’s exposition of Genesis 1-3 is smattered with Hebrew words, but they are all translated into English. This should not be an obstacle to most readers.

6. Without wishing to prejudice the matter by offering too many specific instances, on more than a few points, Postell’s arguments to connect the Adam narrative to Israel are thin, whether we are reading his own observations or those of Sailhamer. For example, following Sailhamer, Postell argues that the “land” in Genesis 1:1 (traditionally translated “earth” as in “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth”) is already referring to Canaan. Another example is seeing the serpent as representative of Canaanite influence on the Israelites, rather than as a (false) wisdom figure.

Postell may occasionally go too far in his reading of Genesis 1-3 as a preview of Israel’s covenantal disobedience, and he may be too dismissive at times of critical scholarship. Generally speaking, however, his Sailhameresque observations about the Adam story cannot be credibly brushed aside as subjective meanderings. “Adam as a preview of Israel” is a position that finds strong–I would go so far as to say overwhelming–support in the text.

If you are interested in a more thorough review of the book that is both fair and critical, you can find one here.


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