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Blessed are Those Who Mourn

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Andrew Kerr’s reflections on Psalm 90 are well worth considering.

For the Generation who fell in sand, before Israel reached the Promised Land, there could be no escape – as Adam found out, there is no such thing as truly-secret sins with God. All is laid bare before the eyes of Him to whom we must give account.

For the Generation who fell by sword, the experience of Jews in Exile was the same – chastened by wrath both now unite, by the Spirit of Christ, to break with their guilt and come back home to God, their true and timeless Dwelling Place.

Kerr observes the basic structure of the poem and shows us how to apply a psalm both individually and corporately. Check it out!

Arise, My Love — Part 2: Interpretation

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In a previous post, I pulled back the curtain on my observation of Song of Solomon 2:7-3:5, yielding the following structure:

  • Song 2:8-9 – her (daydreaming?) delight in the voice of her beloved
    • Song 2:10-15 – the contents of her beloved’s voice
      • Song 2:10-13 – Arise and come away
      • Song 2:14-15 – Come out and catch up
    • Song 2:16-17 – her declaration of mutual possession with her beloved
  • Song 3:1-4 – her dream of seeking and finding the one her soul loves
    • Song 3:5 – her oath for the other young women not to stir up love yet

Now I’d like to show you how I move further into interpretation and application.

Her Daydream

The chief goal of interpretation is to arrive at the poet’s main point. And to grasp the main point of the entire poem, it helps to first grasp the main points of each of the stanzas. So I investigate each stanza with the chief goal in mind: What is the main idea here?

Song 2:8-9: Why is her leading statement regarding “the voice” — and not the character, presence, or intimacy — “of my beloved”? Apparently, she is very much looking forward to what he will say to her in Song 2:10-15. What she daydreams about is those things he will say to her. But in these introductory verses, the emphasis is on the distance between them. He comes … He stands behind … gazing through … looking through … A barrier of miles separates them at first. And even when he arrives at her home, a barrier of brick and mortar continues to separate them. So she wants him close, but he can’t get too close yet.

Photo by Maksim Kolykhanov from Pexels

Song 2:10-13: The bookends on his first stanza appear to be the main idea: “Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away” (Song 2:10, 13). Everything in between is in support, providing the reasons he believes will persuade her to come away with him. For him, it is no longer time to avoid awakening love (Song 2:7); the season for love is in full bloom. It’s as though he says [translated into modern jargon]: “I like you. Do you like me? Check one: YES or NO.”

Song 2:14-15: The second stanza of his speech continues his persuasion. First, he proves to be a patient and gentle suitor, cherishing her like a precious dove hiding within the cliffside. Second, he asks for help with finding the things that will spoil their vineyards. Commentaries inform me that the verbs in v.15 are plural, so he is no longer talking to her alone, but to a group of others — most likely the daughters of Jerusalem. And it doesn’t matter whether verse 15 is spoken by the man (as suggested by the ESV headings) or the woman (as suggested by CSB headings): either way, the point is that this couple invites others to hold them accountable and help them protect one another’s bodies (as “vineyards” have been metaphors of bodies thus far in the Song – Song 1:6, 2:14).

Song 2:16-17: She describes their relationship as one of mutual possession of one another (v.16), which sounds a lot like the arrival and consummation of marriage. However, in v.17, she wants him to “turn” and do his gazelle-thing on cleft mountains — at least until the morning comes. Some think the “cleft mountains” are a metaphor for her breasts. This makes sense, as his gazelle-ness on mountains is clearly a picture of marital bliss in Song 8:14. However, in Song 2:17, the main verb is the imperative to “turn.” And the reference to “mountains” connects back to where he came from (Song 2:8). So it’s more likely that, in contrast to chapter 8, in this poem she recognizes that marriage has not yet come. They are not yet married, and they must say goodbye at the end of their time together.

Main Point of Song 2:8-17: This relationship is not yet a marriage relationship, but it is clearly heading in that direction. She daydreams about his invitation to join her in the season of awakening love. But though it is spring time, it is not yet morning. They are beginning to “possess” one another (to treat one another differently from how they treat others), but they are not yet fully there. Separate togetherness is the unfortunate reality of their relationship (Song 2:8-9). He makes a risk request (Song 2:10-15). She has clarity on the desired, though not yet present, result (Song 2:16-17).

Her Dream

Song 3:1-4: We now move into a full-fledged dream, as she “seeks” him on her bed by night. She can’t find him in her bed (Song 3:1). She can’t find him in the streets (Song 3:2). She can’t find him among the night watchmen (Song 3:3). But when she finally finds him, she clings to him and refuses to let go (Song 3:4). Until she brings him into her mother’s chamber (apparently quite romantic and not awkward at all in that culture) — so her dream’s end goal is the full consummation of marriage. She doesn’t want to have to say goodbye at the end of the evening any longer!

Main point of Song 3:1-4: She aligns her dreams for the relationship with the direction in which it ought to head: toward marriage and the intimacy of the marriage bed.

Her Charge

Song 3:5: She puts the young women of Jerusalem under oath not to enter this season of love until the right time. She understands how difficult and stressful that can be, but she understands how much it is worth it.

Main point of Song 3:5: Forsake all counterfeits to such love (which is heading in the direction of God-honoring marriage).

Conclusion

I’ve written this post according to the stream of my consciousness as I worked to figure out the main point of each stanza. But I’ve arrived at the following interpretive outline:

  1. Godly relationships pursue a clear and selfless direction – Song 2:8-17
    1. The unfortunate reality of separate togetherness – Song 2:8-9
    2. The risky request to join the season of awakening love – Song 2:10-15
    3. The desired result of marital possession, which is almost but not yet here – Song 2:16-17
  2. Align your dreams of romance with that direction – Song 3:1-4
  3. Forsake all counterfeits – Song 3:5

How does all of this add up into a main point for the entire poem? Main point: A couple’s purpose in pursuing a romantic relationship ought to be the movement from separated togetherness to the mutual possession of marriage.

In a future post, I’ll walk through my thinking on connecting this main point to the gospel of Jesus Christ, and then applying it to today.

Arise, My love, My Beautiful One, and Come Away

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I am very grateful to the Lord for the rich diversity of literature contained within the Bible. Not only do we have the narratives of Israel’s history and Jesus’ ministry, or the discourses of the law and letters, but we also have the wildly foreign yet lovely verse of the prophets and poets. Let me pull back the curtain for you on my own process for Bible study.

Right now, I’m studying Song of Songs 2:8-3:5 and trying to find my way. What clues can I find to show me how this text is organized, so I can follow its train of thought?

First, I notice the repetition of the label “my beloved,” from the woman regarding her man (Song 2:8, 9, 10, 16, 17). They are somewhat spaced out and appear likely to trigger a new thought or idea.

Second, I observe that the man never speaks in this passage as an independent character (as he does before and after this in the book). Instead, what we have is the woman’s report of what he says (Song 2:10: “My beloved speaks and says to me…”). Or is this more about what she wants him to say? She appears to be dreaming in Song 3:1-4 (especially see Song 3:1); could Song 2:8-17 be something like a daydream?

Photo by Scott Broome on Unsplash

Third, though Song 2:10-15 is all one speech by the man (at least according to the ESV editors; the CSB suggests that the man’s speech ends with verse 14), I observe the verbatim repetition of “Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away” (Song 2:10, 13). That repeated phrase wraps verses 10-13 like bookends, suggesting that Song 2:14-15 contain a second stanza within his speech.

Fourth, the poem reaches a clear climax in Song 3:5, when she puts the daughters of Jerusalem under oath not to stir up love.

All of this yields the following group of stanzas:

  • Song 2:8-9 – her (daydreaming?) delight in the voice of her beloved
    • Song 2:10-15 – the contents of her beloved’s voice
      • Song 2:10-13 – Arise and come away
      • Song 2:14-15 – Come out and catch up
    • Song 2:16-17 – her declaration of mutual possession with her beloved
  • Song 3:1-4 – her dream of seeking and finding the one her soul loves
    • Song 3:5 – her oath for the other young women not to stir up love yet

So much for an observational outline of the poem. What about an interpretive outline? What is the point of each stanza, and how does the train of thought move from one stanza to the next?

That will require more work, so I’m back at it. At least I have some handles on the text to guide my questions and answers.

What Should We Make of Paul’s Shipwreck Narrative?

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When our church’s team of preachers decided to preach through Acts, I knew chapter 27 would be a doozy (notice how I cleverly ignored this chapter in my interpretive overview of Acts). I have always been confused by this chapter and its role within the book, and though I’m sure compelling sermons have been preached on this text, I have yet to hear one of them. I’m used to hearing otherwise fantastic preachers punt on this chapter, in the name of practicality, to talk about “weathering the storms of our spiritual lives.” So the extraordinarily detailed travelogue of Acts 27 is reduced to a parable and a few minor observations (typically surrounding verses 23-25) seeking to inspire us toward deeper trust in Christ—a wonderful thing to be inspired toward, of course!

Therefore, since I’m in charge of managing our sermon schedule, I made sure to assign Acts 27 to someone else. Pro tip: When you don’t know what to do with a text, require a friend or colleague to deal with it instead. This resulted in one of the most exciting “aha!” moments in my Bible study this year.

Photo by Olga Tsai on Unsplash

A Key Structural Observation

The sucker fortunate fellow to receive the assignment was a good man and marvelous student of the word named Tom Hallman. Tom eagerly set himself to observe the text inside and out, to give him the raw materials for a series of interpretive questions. Our practice is that our team of preachers gives feedback on every sermon before it is preached. We collaborate in two phases: the study of the passage and the delivery of the sermon. So in that first phase, Tom regularly laid before us the fruit of his study for comment and evaluation.

And Tom made a key structural observation that shed tremendous light on the passage for me. In following the narrative’s plot, Tom observed that the main conflict centers on the centurion’s failure to listen to Paul’s counsel in Acts 27:11. This led Tom to recognize a few arcs within the plot:

  • Acts 27:9-20: Paul speaks, and the centurion pays more attention to others. The result is that all hope of being saved is abandoned.
  • Acts 27:21-44: Paul speaks, and the Romans start listening to him. The result is that all are brought safely to land.

These observations of the primary narrative tension and its accompanying resolution gave us hope that we could sift through the flood of details to discern the author’s main point in this chapter.

Further Dialogue

As we discussed it further and kept staring at the text to observe it more closely, we eventually realized that there were not two arcs but three. Paul actually makes three sizable speeches (Acts 27:10, 21-26, 33-34). He also speaks in Acts 27:31, but that briefer statement does not have the same appearance of introducing a new scene. It is a response to what’s happening in the moment (Acts 27:30).

So we’ve actually got three main speeches from Paul. Do we correspondingly have a clear resolution with each one, to make three complete arcs? This question drove us back into the text.

And sure enough, there it was. So plain and obvious we couldn’t believe we had missed it or ever believed this passage to be opaque to us.

  • Acts 27:9-20: Paul speaks, and the centurion pays more attention to others. The result is that all hope of being saved is abandoned.
  • Acts 27:21-32: Paul speaks, and no-one immediately rejects him. But eventually the soldiers heed him. (The centurion and soldiers both hear Paul’s words in Acts 27:31, but only the soldiers are mentioned as acting on them in Acts 27:32.) There is no immediate “salvation,” but only a sense of “let’s wait and see; we hope this works.”
  • Acts 27:33-44: Paul speaks, and all are encouraged and choose to eat (Acts 27:36). The result is that the centurion has heard enough, and he now wishes to save Paul (Acts 27:43). “And so it was that all were brought safely to land” (Acts 27:44).

These three arcs showed us that the primary tension revolves around whether the Roman centurion (prominent enough to be named in the text—Acts 27:1,3) will listen to Paul or not. And in particular: Will he listen to Paul with respect to salvation? This salvation goes in two directions: Paul wants to save the centurion—along with everyone else on the ship; the centurion, in the end, wishes to save Paul.

In the first arc, Julius will not listen to Paul, and all hope is lost. In the second arc, the soldiers listen to Paul, and it is as though the centurion is watching and deliberating before rendering judgment on this most unusual prisoner. In the third arc, the centurion fully listens to Paul and doesn’t want him to die.

Conclusions About the Text

I’m not weirded out by this chapter any more. It fits cleanly within the book’s main idea that the world’s salvation cannot be stopped. It also masterfully advances Luke’s primary agenda to petition for Paul’s exoneration before Caesar. “Julius was uncertain at first, and unwilling to listen to Paul. But he has been convinced that this Paul is who he says he is, and he refuses to let anyone execute him. Caesar: Why wouldn’t you do the same?”

And not only that, but Acts 27 also serves Luke’s secondary purpose to lead all of Abraham’s children to salvation through the Savior, who is Christ the Lord. “Julius was uncertain at first, and unwilling to listen to Paul. But many have been convinced that this Jesus, whom Paul preaches, is who he says he is. Don’t just stand there watching others listen and find rescue. Noble reader: Why wouldn’t you do the same?”

Conclusions About Our Study Methods

If Luke can have two simultaneous purposes in mind, so can I. While I wanted to help you observe and interpret Acts 27 along with me, I also wanted you to see how I got there. And the events that took place this past week in my dialogues with Tom highlight a few conclusions. First, Bible study needs to be a community project. Second, structure conveys meaning. And third, the most important tool for observing the structure of a narrative episode is plot structure.

Identifying Stanzas in Lamentations

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For a number of years, I have been following Joe Carter’s excellent Bible reading plan: Read an entire book of the Bible 20 times. Pick another; read it 20 times. Repeat. I just finished working through Lamentations, which was surprisingly refreshing. As my wife just had a baby, I don’t have time to compose a full interpretive walkthrough just yet. But I’d like to comment briefly on the book’s literary units.

Photo by Sofia Alejandra from Pexels

Lamentations seems quite straightforward, with five main poems, matching the five chapters in our English Bibles. This seems all the more straightforward when you learn (perhaps from a commentary or study note) that the first four chapters are all acrostic poems in Hebrew, where each verse (or, in the case of chapter 3, every three verses) starts with the next letter of the Hebrew alphabet.

In fact, my initial take on the book labeled the five chapters with the following headings:

  1. Grief
  2. Loss
  3. Wrestling
  4. Shellshock
  5. Appeal

But David Dorsey, in his masterpiece The Literary Structure of the Old Testament, makes a compelling case for recognizing an additional structure superimposed over the acrostic structure. Upon reading the entire book in one sitting, day after day, I observed that the poems ebb and flow with periodic shifts in the pronouns. For example, chapter 1 begins in third person (“the city … she … her … Judah … Zion … Jerusalem” — Lam 1:1-11) but shifts to first person exactly halfway through, as the people express their groaning (“I … my … me … my” — Lam 1:12-22).

I hadn’t yet sat down to map out the shifts and consider how they might affect the structure and flow of thought. But I was not surprised when I read Dorsey’s analysis pulling it all together. By collecting the pronoun-shifts into the main stanzas, Dorsey (p.251) identifies 13 sections (perhaps we’d consider them lengthy stanzas?) in the book, which match up in mirror-image pairs:

  • she—Zion—is desolate and devastated (Lam 1:1-11)
    • I—Zion—was betrayed and defeated (Lam 1:12-22)
      • he—Yahweh—has caused this in his anger (Lam 2:1-8)
        • they—princes, maidens, nurslings, children, mothers—suffer (Lam 2:9-12)
          • you—Zion—should cry out to God (Lam 2:13-22)
            • he—Yahweh—has afflicted (Lam 3:1-20)
              • CLIMAX: Yahweh’s great love! (Lam 3:21-32)
            • he—Yahweh—afflicts humans (Lam 3:33-39)
          • you—Yahweh—to you I cry out (Lam 3:40-66)
        • they—princes, maidens, nurslings, children, mothers—suffer (Lam 4:1-10)
      • he—Yahweh—has caused this in his anger (Lam 4:11-16)
    • we—the people of Zion—were betrayed and defeated (Lam 4:17-22)
  • we—the people of Zion—are desolate and devastated (Lam 5:1-22)

The heartbreaking poetry of Lamentations is quite moving, and it gives us a vocabulary for our own losses and laments. And the book’s structure greatly helps us to recognize the book’s overall message, which is one of profound hope in the midst of the deepest suffering. Even when the king who was supposed to save is himself wrecked (Lam 4:20), the law and the prophets have failed to provide the life and direction you need (Lam 2:9), and the place where God and man are supposed to be able to dwell together in peace is no more (Lam 5:18)—there is a big “but” writ large across time and space:

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of Yahweh never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lam 3:21-22)

The structure gives us every reason to look to the book’s center for the key message, which just might become a hinge for our perspectives on dark situations. As Ryan put it, when he explained why the context of Lamentations 3 matters:

We should remember the steadfast love of the Lord every day, but we need reminders most when we feel it least. When we’re tempted to lose heart, when our souls are cast down, we need to remember what God is really like.

Join the author of Lamentations. Recall the mercies of God throughout history and in your own life. Remember that he is your portion. Wait for him; he will have compassion according to his abundant, steadfast love.

Discourse Analysis of the New Testament Writings: Profitably Intense

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Discourse Anaylsis of the New Testament Writings, edited by Todd A. Scacewater, is an ambitious text that seeks to explain the structure and chief arguments of every book of the New Testament. I am grateful to Fontes Press for a complimentary copy given in exchange for an honest review.

Each book of the New Testament gets a chapter, where the contributor seeks to map out that book’s structure and chief arguments. Before doing so, however, each contributor takes a few pages to describe their methodology for “discourse analysis” (which is essentially the process of mapping out a book’s structure and chief arguments). A variety of contributors employ a variety of analytical methods, though many of them overlap, sharing the same theoretical influences.

But will this book help the ordinary believer in their Bible study?

Assessment

For many years, I have enthusiastically commended David Dorsey’s Literary Structure of the Old Testament as providing much help with the literary structures of every book of the Old Testament. I have long hoped for a companion volume to recommend that does a similar thing for the New Testament. Does Scacewater’s edition fulfill that role?

Yes and no.

Yes, it does complement Dorsey’s work — in that I can and will regularly reference this book when I seek to get a broad overview of an NT book. There is much insight here worth gleaning, and this book is well crafted to encourage us readers to dive back into the Scripture ourselves and continue to observe, observe, observe.

But sadly, no, it doesn’t complement Dorsey’s work — in that this book is clearly written with a strongly academic audience in mind. Dorsey is academically robust, yet still comprehensible to average Bible students. But the contributors to Scacewater’s work use a very high degree of technical terminology, both theological and grammatical, without defining terms. Many of them quote the Greek NT text without translating it. And they presume a high degree of background knowledge in the field of discourse analysis.

Therefore, I am happy to recommend this book as worthy of your time if you’re wishing to work hard and be stretched far. For a sample, see this reflection on the state of structural studies stimulated for me by the chapter on John’s gospel. But for most folks seeking to study the Scriptures, I will not be recommending this book as a matter of routine.

Finally, I’ll mention that one of the book’s endorsers, Stephen E. Runge, wrote of the varied approaches to discourse analysis demonstrated from chapter to chapter: “Some succeed more than others.” I heartily agree. Some of the contributions are not as clear as they could be in presenting a clear argument or distinct structure for some of the NT books. I found some others not especially helpful. But I find the chapters on the following NT books particularly strong and insightful: Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Romans, Ephesians, Colossians, Hebrews, James, and 1 Peter. I would more quickly recommend Discourse Analysis to someone seeking help with one of those particular books. (And in the interest of full disclosure: I have not yet finished reading the book. I’ve made it through 1 Peter and believe that has given me enough exposure to write an accurate review. As I finish the remaining chapters, I may add to the list in this paragraph.)

You can find Discourse Analysis of the New Testament Writings on Amazon or directly through Fontes Press.

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Find Your Way in Isaiah

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Isaiah is one of those books I find especially difficult for modern readers. It is very long, and the neverending poetry can make it feel like sinking into a marsh with nothing to hold on to. Davy Elilson is here to help.

I hate being lost. Few things are more frustrating for me than meandering through an unfamiliar city, or hopelessly searching for an elusive item in the supermarket. I confess I’m not pleasant to be around in such moments.

Yet lost is exactly how I feel every time I come to Isaiah. As I begin reading, the same thoughts seize my attention: I will soon be lost; totally disoriented; Isaiah feels too big; there is no immediately discernible structure. Perhaps you share this experience. Somewhere in the middle of Isaiah 24, you begin to reel at the winding path that has brought you there and the unknown path that awaits you.

Perhaps a map would be useful. Let me offer some help by mapping five movements in Isaiah’s prophecy. These movements can aid us in finding our bearings in this mammoth book. As you’ll see, the movements are centered on one of Isaiah’s favorite descriptions of God: “the Holy One of Israel.”

Ellison’s concise map would be well worth your time and consideration. Along with an overview of the book, perhaps it may improve your chances of finding your way through such a crucial part of God’s Word.

Check it out!

Why is Structural Ignorance or Agnosticism Tolerated in Biblical Studies?

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Fontes Press recently sent me a review copy of Discourse Analysis of the New Testament Writings edited by Scacewater, and a review is forthcoming, once I can blaze a trail through this mammoth volume. (Thanks to Robert Hatfield for tipping me off to this intriguing text!) But I recently hit a priceless quote worthy of your reflection.

Structural analysis is a glaring weakness of NT studies. The absence of any structural consensus for most NT texts is frequently admitted … The failure to resolve this issue can be attributed to one of two opposite extremes: a dismissive attitude that mistakenly minimizes the significance of structural analysis, or a reliance upon complex terminology and intricate diagrams that obscures the analytical impotence and fundamental flaws of the underlying linguistic paradigm. Both extremes are roadblocks to exegetical clarity. Since how an author shapes a message is often as critical for interpretation as what the author’s explicit message is, one should wonder why this state of affairs is tolerated regarding such a foundational issue.

Michael Rudolph, Discourse Analysis, ed. Scacewater, 127.

In the contributors’ bios at the front of the book, Michael Rudolph is described as “a Theological Educator with World Venture in Kyiv, Ukraine.” This introductory paragraph, which I have now quoted for you, to his essay on the structure of John’s Gospel nearly makes me want to relocate my family to Kyiv, Ukraine so we can sit under more such theological education. In the rest of his essay, Rudolph’s insights into the structure of John’s Gospel are worth their weight in vibranium, inviting me to observe, as I have never observed before, the structural breadcrumbs dropped throughout the text, in black and white, to help us grasp the author’s message.

But my goal in this post is not to discuss the structure of John’s Gospel but to serve as something of a wifi extender to Rudolph’s presenting problem. Why is the following state of affairs tolerated in biblical studies?

  1. Scholars often appear unwilling to engage with or resolve the lack of consensus on the structure of New Testament books.
  2. The reason given by some is that structural analysis is not all that important anyway (structural agnosticism).
  3. The reason given by others boils down to outlines and jargon so impenetrable or complex that nobody recognizes how flawed the presenter’s assumptions are to begin with (structural ignorance).

Rudolph’s not exercising a vague hand-waving, either, in order to pull his own structural rabbit from his own touch-not-able, high-priestly hat. He goes and names names in his extensive footnotes. On point number 3, he cites the example of Mlakuzhyil (never heard of him). On point number 2, he cites well-knowns such as Kostenberger, Carson, and Keener. Hear Keener:

Any modern outline of the Fourth Gospel is somewhat arbitrary … But given the expectation that a commentary will divide sections, we have offered a division as likely as any.

Quoted in Discourse Analysis, 127-8

Regarding the attempts to hide ignorance behind impenetrable scholastic lingo, I can’t help but think of my favorite giggle-inducing quote from sociologist Rodney Stark:

I have tried to write everything else in plain English. I do not concede that this in any way compromises sophistication. What it does do is prevent me from hiding incomprehension behind a screen of academic jargon.

From the Preface to Discovering God, viii

On this blog, I have argued that structure provides the very shape of the author’s intended meaning. In other words, structure is not irrelevant for meaning; it is one of the most important expressions of it. Therefore, it is worth our time and effort to learn how to observe it so it can help us to avoid errors or pointless excursions in interpretation or application.

In addition, structure provides us with the very raw materials we require to follow the logic of an author’s argument. It gives us the nuts and bolts of the context, which always matters. Without a grasp of the structure, we might be right about a text, or we might be wrong about it; perhaps we’ve excluded from our study the divinely inspired tools to render a confident judgment either way.

So what do you think? Why is structural ignorance or agnosticism tolerated so widely? And how can we further improve that state of affairs for the next generation? And not just in the academy or publishing houses, but also in our pulpits, Sunday schools, and small groups?

Amazonian digital connective interfaces found within the present writer’s subtext, compiled and rendered for premium convenience on behalf of anonymous inquisitive participants, render no judgment on the value of one’s economic interactions but remain copacetic to the originating body. Let’s see if you can verstehe that prior sentential communicative event sans compromising your bid for respectable sophistication.

Help for Identifying Literary Units

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One common challenge in Bible study is figuring out how much text to study. Whether it’s for personal study, small group discussion, or a sermon selection, students of the Bible have a number of things working against them in making this choice.

First, ancient literature didn’t have typesetting, headings, or subheadings in the same way modern literature does. If you pick up the latest bestselling fiction, chapters are clearly marked. If you prefer non-fiction, you have not only chapters, but clear section headings to break up units of thought. Having no such conventions, ancient literature had to embed its literary markers within the text itself.

Second, modern presentation of Bibles is not always all that helpful. For about 8 centuries, we’ve been stuck with a system of chapter and verse numbers that were designed primarily to help us find things and not to mark off literary units. But most people reading a Bible will presume the chapter and verse divisions should be treated like modern chapters and subheadings, when they ought to function more like line numbers in a Shakespeare play.

Add to that the common publishing practice of adding headings over segments of text, which may or may not be sensitive to the innate literary markers, and readers have a lot to sort through (and learn not to rely on) before they can begin observing.

So I regularly hear folks asking how to figure out how much text to study at once. Ryan wrote a great piece on this question, which you can find here, where he argues we ought to study complete units of thought. That then begs the question of how to identify complete units of thought. Ryan’s piece offers much help to that end.

And a reader of the blog, Barbara Johnson, recently put me on to another wonderful piece by Jason DeRouchie that goes into greater depth on this crucial topic of identifying units of thought. Perhaps you’ve read some of my interpretive book overviews, and you wonder what I mean by “literary markers” and why I begin each piece with them. I am simply trying to show the literary conventions, found within the text itself, that mark off the author’s units of thought.

DeRouchie can help:

The limits of the passage could be a quotation, a paragraph, a story, a song, or even an entire book. The process of establishing literary units is not random, for the biblical authors wrote with purpose, logic, and order, creating groupings and hierarchies of thought to guide understanding. As a biblical interpreter, consider whether there is a clear beginning and end to your passage. Are there clues in the content and/or the grammar that clarify a passage’s boundaries? … Determining the boundaries of a passage can help you lead a Bible study, plan a series of Bible studies, or plan a preaching series. Before you can do any of these things, you have to know where to start and where to end. This blog post offers some basic guidelines for establishing the boundaries of literary units.

He then gives 5 primary steps to help you establish these boundaries, with much insight into each step:

  1. Don’t automatically trust English translations’ verse and chapter divisions.
  2. Remember that some multi-volume works in our English Bibles were single books in Jesus’ Bible.
  3. Look for recognizable beginning and ending markers.
  4. Treat literary units as wholes.
  5. Check your decision against modern translations and, if possible, the standard Hebrew text.

This is very helpful material, which will help you to grow into a more literary student of the Scriptures, acquiring an appropriate sensitivity to the shape of the text before you. I highly commend DeRouchie’s article.

Check it out!

How Structure Communicates Meaning in Acts 2

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I’ve written before about how to observe structure and how structure conveys meaning. In this post, I’d like to give a practical example, in Acts 2.

Resist Familiarity

Familiarity is the greatest enemy of observation. When we presume to already know a text, we tend to stop listening to it. In the case of Acts 2, our familiarity may perhaps blind us with the dramatic theological import of what takes place. The Day of Pentecost. The coming of the Holy Spirit. The new creation, heaven on earth, God dwelling with men. Absolutely, these matters are weighty and earth-shattering, and they deserve intense reflection.

But the student of Scripture who wishes to observe the text and hear God’s voice clearly in it will ask: What is the narrator’s chief message here? And a cursory look reveals only four verses dedicated to describing the phenomenon of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-4). Most of the narrative takes us elsewhere. In narrative terms, the coming of the Spirit in Acts 2:1-4 basically provides the setting for the discussion that follows. (I do not intend to minimize the theological importance of what happens in Acts 2:1-4; I’m only observing the literary shape of the text.)

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Basic Structure

After the narrative introduction of Acts 2:1-4, the rest of the chapter describes the fallout. And the narrator structures that fallout around two main questions:

  • Men from “every nation under heaven” (Acts 2:5-11) ask: What does this mean (Acts 2:12-13)?
    • Peter answers this question at length (Acts 2:14-36).
  • The foreigners follow up with a second question (Acts 2:37): What shall we do?
    • Peter answers this question briefly, at least as far as the narrative is concerned (Acts 2:38-40). At the time, this answer was also lengthy (Acts 2:40).

After this two-part Q&A, there is a narrative conclusion (Acts 2:41-47).

So a broad outline of the chapter would look like this:

A The descending Spirit
B What does this mean?
B’ What shall we do?
A’ The resulting community

A Closer Look

A closer look at these sections shows the first Q&A getting the most space, by far (32 verses). The narrator has done us a service by breaking this section down into subunits for us.

Verses 5-13 list the nations in attendance and lead to the big question itself: What does this mean (Acts 2:12)?

Peter’s speech divides into three units, each marked by a direct address: “Men of Judea” (Acts 2:14), “Men of Israel” (Acts 2:22), and “Brothers” (Acts 2:29). In each of the three sections, following the direct address, Peter makes a clear point and then supports that point with an Old Testament quotation.

  • Men of Judea – Acts 2:14
    • This is what Joel predicted – Acts 2:14-16
      • Quote from Joel 2 – Acts 2:17-21
  • Men of Israel – Acts 2:22
    • The crucified Jesus has been raised – Acts 2:22-24
      • Quote from Psalm 16 – Acts 2:25-28
  • Brothers – Acts 2:29
    • The risen Jesus is on his throne – Acts 2:29-34
      • Quote from Psalm 110 – Acts 2:34-35

The only part of the speech that falls outside the pattern is the last verse, which highlights this sentence as perhaps the most prominent part of the speech. Here is the conclusion Peter’s three points are driving toward:

Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.

Acts 2:36

Because this concluding sentence stands outside the threefold pattern of the rest of the speech, it is given such prominence as to almost be a distinct unit itself. And in light of the entire chapter, we see the author’s main idea right here, at the center of the structure:

A The descending Spirit
B What does this mean?
C God has made this Jesus both Lord and Christ
B’ What shall we do?
A’ The resulting community

Peter’s Argument

Follow Peter’s argument in his first, lengthy speech. You have heard us speaking in your native tongues, right? That means God’s Spirit has been poured out on us, like Joel said. That means the Messiah has poured the Spirit out on us. That means the Messiah was given the Spirit by the Father. That means the Messiah is seated at the Father’s right hand. That means he ascended into heaven. That means he’s not dead, but was raised by God. That is the same JESUS you killed by enlisting pagans who don’t care about the law of Moses. We saw him ourselves and testify to these things. Stop doing what you’re doing (repent) and publicly pledge allegiance to him as Lord and Christ (be baptized).

Conclusion

The structure of this chapter suggests a few things about Luke’s intentions in this narrative:

  1. His intention for Theophilus is not as much to teach about the coming of the Spirit, in itself, but to communicate the meaning of his coming and the response of individuals and communities.
  2. The meaning of the Spirit’s coming is not primarily about the ability of a believing individual to commune directly with God (though that is certainly a result of the Spirit’s coming, unpacked in other passages), but more so about the testimony to Jesus as both Lord and Christ.
  3. The proper response to the Spirit’s coming is not primarily to seek particular ecstatic manifestations of his presence, but to call on Jesus to be saved (Acts 2:21), to repent and be baptized to pledge allegiance to his new kingdom community (Acts 2:38), and to submit every aspect of the Christian community to Jesus’ true lordship (Acts 2:41-47).

There is much theology we can develop from Acts 2, but let’s allow the narrator’s own structure and argument to guide our interpretation of the text, showing us where he wants us to focus our interpretive efforts.