Say that we agree that Scriptural
texts can have a plain or relatively straightforward sense. And say that we can
agree that Scriptural texts can have a more obscure or figurative meaning. That
should not be particularly difficult. These things have been true since
Augustine.
But interpreters have had a
great deal of trouble agreeing for long on which should be properly applied in
any given Scriptural case. We may call this Scripture’s obscurity, and we can
follow this in some detail when considering, briefly, a study done by Frank
Kermode on the Gospel of Mark.
He is likely quite right to
point out that there likely are no narratives of greater obscurity than the
parables, and few parables of more difficult interpretation than those in
Mark’s Gospel. But just as metaphor was a hopefully illuminating case of
language, and scripture a heightened example of created revelation, so too may
hard parables indicate the particular nature of Scripture’s narrative meaning.
And these parables are, like
the metaphors and symbols we have so far explored, clearly open to
interpretation yet eliding any final conclusion. Also like many of the other
uses of language by Scripture which we have explored, the words of the parables
must “mean more and other than what they say.”
What is unique in Mark’s
parables is the clarity of their refusal to be understood: “The opinion of Mark...says
that the parables are about everybody’s incapacity to penetrate their sense.”
Referring particularly to
Mark’s parable of the sower, Kermode writes, “to you has been given the secret
of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything is in parables, so that
they may indeed see but not perceive, and may hear but not understand; lest
they should turn again and be forgiven.”
He concludes: “Mark is a strong witness to the
enigmatic and exclusive character of narrative, to its property of banishing
interpreters from its secret places.”
What is the value of such
obscurity? Kermode admonishes that it “cannot be a work of irony or a
confidence trick.” Rather, we may assume the following difference is key:
“Outsiders see but do not perceive. Insiders read and perceive, but always in a
different sense.”
But where Kermode assures us that “world and
book, it may be, are hopelessly plural, endlessly disappointing,” providing
“the perception of a momentary radiance, before the door of disappointment is
finally shut on us,” we have far less reason for such pessimism. Ricoeur’s
point, and ours, is that meaning in unstable rather than ephemeral and
endlessly occurring as much as it is fading away.
We may ask ourselves then, if
what matters between insiders and outsiders is the difference, the change from
ignorance to understanding. If that were so, then a metaphor, a narrative, a
Scripture that constantly suggests and then transcends its apparent meaning
intends to lead all who read it into a life of perpetually startled
recognition.
This understanding occurs as
an event, a beneficent transformation. Now this may or may not be the same
effect as the transformation from glory to glory spoken of by Paul. But it has
salutary effect regardless, and that suffices for this study. After all, even
Kermode is not pessimistic enough to say that everything resets when the lights
go out.
Scripture
shatters communities. That is, the practice of the interpretation of Scripture
challenges our assumptions, counters our experience, baffles our intuition and
defies our best attempts at reason, proclaiming that we do not understand.
Scripture, like Lewis’s Aslan, is always on the move.
Scripture
provokes argument and encourages dissent, dividing one from another. Interpreting
Scripture is not for the faint of heart. Honest interpretation exposes our
injustice and unrighteousness, the self-seeking of our thinking, the glibness
of our understanding, and the futility of our efforts at finality – not because
we should be ashamed but because the vital goodness of God stands in such sharp
contrast to so many of our sicknesses.
The
interpretation of Scripture kicks us out of the fold, showing that we
misunderstood and will no doubt misunderstand again, because in this world finitude
is the price of understanding. That is the authority of Scripture.
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