Research can be
focussed either on the past or the present. This difference is
reflected in tradition enquiry and contextual theology. Tradition
enquiry is interested in the origins of the tradition and how it has developed
over time, as though one is studying the river in its source and flow. Contextual
theology is focussed on a section of the river and the context in which this
section is found. One can see that both approaches to research have
their strengths, but the river analogy breaks down in discussing the
theological approaches. In theology, the ‘source’ of the
river determines the ‘flow’ of the river, and any interest in the
present context necessarily involves what came
before. Tradition enquiry looks not only at the tradition and how it
flows from the beginning but also critiques the flow of the tradition
in regard to how it has stayed true to the source. We do
not do this when talking about rivers, or at least not to the extent we need to
when talking about traditions. Many times, traditions take a wrong
turn, and they are called back to the right flow of the tradition by engaging
with the source, that is, with the Scriptures. This is because
Scripture is not just a source, like a spring in the ground or melting ice in
the mountains that make a river; it is also and especially an authoritative
source. Why is this? Because both Scripture itself and
the tradition claim that Scripture is the Word of God.
Contextual
theologies are often developed as ways in which to communicate the Word of God
and the Church’s tradition to new cultures and contexts. In this
regard, they are necessary and appropriate. When, however, only a
section of the river in a current context is studied—that is, when contextual
theology is developed apart from the authoritative source and its right
and wrong developments in time past—the present context takes on too great an
authority. It either ignores the source or claims to have a freedom
to use it (hermeneutically) as it wishes (reader-response criticism that
prioritizes the reader over the author’s intention, cutting the flow of
communication with the source and the past twists and turns of the
river). Thus, some contextual theologies might be compared to a
country that receives a river flowing from some other country, diverts its
flow, builds a dam, and substantially changes the river. Such a
radical alteration may affect the fish, wildlife, and fauna of the
region. Such contextual theologies will rightly be understood as
things unto themselves rather than as truly Christian theologies. Thus,
we might say that Christian theology is ‘translatable’ in the sense that its
message might be communicated better by using contextually relevant
expressions (finding the dynamic equivalence in contextual expressions), but
this translation must be true to the original meaning of Scripture and engaged
with the Church’s understand through the centuries.
In giving
thought to possible relationships between the Old Testament and African
theology, Kwesi Dickson has, whether intentionally or not, brought the question
of 'narrative' theology into the picture. He has suggested that
African theology is not and should not become ‘Marcionite’—rejecting the Old
Testament. Nor should it replace the Old Testament narrative with an
African cultural narrative. Instead, he points out three areas of
continuity between the Old Testament story and African life and thought:
theology, religion and culture, and hermeneutics. He says,
The Old Testament offers theological continuity with African life and thought in that the story of Israel has, on the one hand, within it ‘the seeds of universality’, and, on the other hand, others are invited to share in the Israelite tradition.[1]
We might
offer our own example of this from 1 Corinthians 10.1-13. Paul first
tells the exodus story of what ‘our fathers’ experienced in verses
1-5. Already, he has drawn the Gentile converts to Christianity into
the Jewish story in Scripture. He then says in verse 6, ‘Now these
things took place as examples for us….’ The exodus story is
universalised to include Gentile converts. How does Paul do
this? First, the ‘rock’ from which life-giving water flowed for the
Israelites is identified as Christ (v. 4). Second, the Israelite
failure in the wilderness is described in more general terms: they desired evil
(v. 6), just as the Corinthian Christians might in their
context. Third, as some of them were idolaters (cf. the Israelites
worshipping the golden calf at Mt. Sinai), so now the Corinthian converts are
tempted in their context to continue with the religious practices of their
Graeco-Roman neighbours. Fourth, as some Israelites committed sexual
immorality (cf. Numbers 25.1), so too the Corinthian Christians dwelt in a
highly sexualised culture. God’s judgement that came down on the
Israelites could come down on them, too, if they indulged in sexual immorality
(vv. 7-8). Fifth, the Corinthians must not grumble as the Israelites
grumbled and were destroyed (Numbers 14.2, 29-37). Sixth, as the
Israelites participated in the altar when eating their sacrifices at the
tabernacle and temple, so the Corinthian Christians participate in the body of
Christ (vv. 16-18). Paul expands on this point, saying that
Christians must not participate with demons in Corinthian idolatry as they
would do if they ate food offered to idols in pagan sacrifices (vv.
19-21). The Christians must have nothing to do with the worship of
Greek and Roman religion.
Secondly,
Dickson says that religio‑cultural continuity may be seen, inter alia, in
the theology of nature, which Yahweh's prophets opposed (sacred trees, e.g.)
and in the notion of corporate personality. In African life and
thought the solidarity of the community involves even the unborn and the dead,
and Dickson claims to find some similar notions in the Old Testament
outlook. However, what we find in the Old Testament is that God
opposed any contact with the dead. He set His people apart from this
religious context. Communicating with the dead, as other Ancient Near
Eastern cultures did, was specifically forbidden (e.g., 1 Samuel 28.7ff.)
Third, with
respect to interpretation of the Old Testament, Dickson avers that continuity
might be established when the interpreter gives his or her own situation
significance while hearing the Scripture. That is, the reader brings
a reading interest to the Scriptures that contributes to and gives the
Scriptures meaning. However, this suggestion should raise
significant concerns about the authority of Scripture versus the reader’s
culture and context, and one wonders why Dickson would not rather say the
opposite. Continuity is not established by my reading my meaning
into the Scripture but by my seeing how the Scriptures have authority and
significance for my situation.
However, while
Dickson does not offer a critical hermeneutic by which to assess which African
traditions might stay and which must go within African Christianity, he does
emphasize that the Old Testament must both retain its authority in theology and
provide a fruitful dialogue between African culture and
Scripture. However, therein lie an abundance of possible false
tributaries for the river of Christian tradition. One difficulty
with this is that beliefs are web-like: to remove one strand of the web affects
the whole web.[2] Whether
beliefs are organized in systems of thought or through narrative, picking and
choosing what stays or goes and how to relate two different systems or
narrative worlds is fraught with problems. It is like removing one
strand of a spider’s web and trying to attach it with some significance in
another spider’s web.
One type of a
highly contextualized proposal for reading Scripture is given by Gerald West.[3] West
is a South African who sees Biblical scholarship as a kind of colonial
domination over the ordinary reader. Insisting on academic study to
get at the meaning of ancient (Biblical) texts, the scholar becomes an
oppressor of the reader. While not excluding the contributions of
Biblical scholarship, West suggests that scholars should help the ordinary
readers gain their own language to express their own experience. He
says that contextual Bible study requires a willingness to be ‘partially
constituted by each other’s subjectivities’.[4]
In response to
West, we might first acknowledge that many readers do exactly this when reading
Scripture. They even look over various translations of the Bible
into their language to choose the one that they ‘like’ best. Similarly,
they take their agendas with them into their Bible reading and sometimes
wrestle a meaning that appeals to them from it despite all the objections of
the author. We find this irritating if not destructive in our day to
day attempts at communication, complaining, ‘No, no, that is not at all what I
meant!’ Yet, with the author long dead, people feel free to read
Scripture this way.
We might also
note that sometimes an author invites us to find our meaning in his
communication or writing. He does this by choosing a genre that is
more open than closed to such a reading. In such genre, the reader
does not need to know the author’s context to get at the meaning of the
text. The words are open to such an extent that the reader’s
significance itself enlivens the text, and the ‘meaning’ is not the author’s
specific meaning. Biblical genre that are ‘open’ include poetry (the
Psalms, Lamentations, and much of the prophets) and proverbs. Job
and Ecclesiastes, too, invite the reader to find existential meaning in the
text. On the other hand, historical, biographical, and epistolary
literature are closed: the author is conveying meaning tethered to his own
intentions. The reader may discover further implications and
significance in these texts, but this is only legitimate when they are founded upon
the author’s intended meaning.
Thus, West’s
proposal goes too far and turns communication into a power struggle for who gets
to control meaning. The author or the scholars are seen as
dominating ordinary readers. Contextual theology is not infrequently
just such an exercise. Postcolonial reading, feminist reading,
so-called ‘queer theology’, and liberation reading are examples of recent
theologies in which the reader’s or readers’ interests overshadow or even
contradict the meaning of Scripture. Not only is the author’s
meaning rejected, but the text’s own communication is replaced with the
reader’s needs or interests. Such readings have no regard for
Biblical authority or a doctrine of divine inspiration that has guided
Christian theology through the centuries. A letter such as 1
Corinthians is an example of how Paul resists the Graeco-Roman culture’s shaping
of Christian community. Instead, Paul demonstrates how the Gospel,
the story of Christ (cf. 1 Corinthians 1.23), transforms Gentile
ethics. In the passage noted earlier (1 Corinthians 10), Paul
rejects Graeco-Roman practices. Instead, the Gospel narrative itself
gives meaning to both the Old Testament experience of Israel and to the
Corinthian Christians.
This discussion
helps to highlight the differences between Tradition Enquiry and Contextual
Theology. The swift flow of the tradition reshapes the context rather
than the context controlling the river of tradition. The
significance of the tradition is felt in the context, just as a river may bring
new life to the regions through which it flows—even to deserts. The
tradition has a significance for the context, but the meaning that the
tradition bears must derive its legitimacy and truth from the source, the
Scriptures. On this understanding, Contextual Theology, as well as
related theologies such as Practical Theology and Public Theology, are inadequate,
if not also deconstructive, to the extent that they fail to grapple with the
meaning of Scripture and the interpretations of the Church through the
centuries. This is to say that they cannot and must not be
considered legitimate theological enquiry unless they are also Biblical and
historical.
[1] Kwesi Dickson, "Continuity and Discontinuity Between the Old Testament and African Life and Thought", in African Theology en Route, ed. Kofi Appiah‑Kubi and Sergio Torres (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1979), p. 99.
[2] Cf. C. E. O. Quine, The Web of Belief (New York:
Random House, 1970).
[3] Gerald West, ‘Reading the Bible Differently: Giving Shape to the
Discourse of the Dominated,’ Semeia 73 (1996): 21-41.
[4] Ibid., p. 38.
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