Tag Archives: Hermeneutics

Figurative Language

April 6, 2015 By in Language Tags: , , 2 Comments

I’ve been trying to figure out how to write about this for a while, and I don’t think I’ve got it worked out yet.

 

Firstly, what’s the gap between literal and figurative language? Literal language is generally thought of as ‘according to the proper meaning of a word’. Figurative language, then, is when words are applied not according to their ‘proper’ meaning.

Unfortunately words cross their ‘proper bounds’ all the time, and the figurative can become literal. Is referring to the ‘leg’ of a table a proper or a figurative usage? Was it perhaps once figurative but its usage has now become literal, so that within the bounds of this lexeme’s semantic domain one must include ‘one of several generally-vertical portions of a table used to elevate the horizontal portion off the ground’?

When it comes to the Bible, nobody reads literally. And calling oneself a ‘literalist’ is itself a figurative use of the word, because it usually means ‘someone who holds to a higher concept of inspiration/authority/etc. than that group of Others’. The attempt to distinguish between ‘literal’ and ‘literalistic’, while sometimes helpful, it itself this kind of exercise in Othering. Those who want to frame themselves as ‘literal’ refer to the genre of a text, the intention of an author, the ‘normal’ ways of meaning applied in language; i.e., the recognise that the Scriptures contain figurative usages.

Our real points of contention come when we try and work out where does Figurative language ‘start’, where does it ‘end’, and where is ‘too far’? Does Figurative interpretation have ‘proper limits’? This is the concern with ‘allegory’.

What is allegory? Typically, allegory is understood to be a figure of speech involving a sustained or extended metaphor (itself not a very helpful word, “a word or phrase applied to an object or action to which it does not normally refer, to create an implied likeness or comparison”) in which multiple points of comparison are made, transforming the original text into a highly symbolic or coded text.

Rather than giving you an example of allegorical interpretation of Scripture, I want to illustrate with an allegory used within Scripture:

Judges 9:8-15

“The trees were determined to go out and choose a king for themselves. They said to the olive tree, ‘Be our king!’  But the olive tree said to them, ‘I am not going to stop producing my oil, which is used to honor gods and men, just to sway above the other trees!’ “So the trees said to the fig tree, ‘You come and be our king!’ But the fig tree said to them, ‘I am not going to stop producing my sweet figs, my excellent fruit, just to sway above the other trees!’ “So the trees said to the grapevine, ‘You come and be our king!’ But the grapevine said to them, ‘I am not going to stop producing my wine, which makes gods and men so happy, just to sway above the other trees!’ “So all the trees said to the thornbush, ‘You come and be our king!’ The thornbush said to the trees, ‘If you really want to choose me as your king, then come along, find safety under my branches! Otherwise may fire blaze from the thornbush and consume the cedars of Lebanon!’ (NET Bible)

Actually, you probably need to read all of 1-20 to get the proper context, but this is an allegory that is easily understood. It’s an extended metaphor with multiple points of comparison, giving a vivid symbolic narrative. The allegory is controlled by the author – he gives us the points of comparison and the limits of the allegory itself, in vv16-20.

The problem, generally, with allegorical interpretation of Scripture is that it is uncontrolled because the text and its author have no scope for limiting the points of comparison or analogy.

Those who rail in favour of ‘literalism’ often do so against allegorical interpretation and especially its excesses and caricatures. But attacking the extremes of figural language is no more convincing than attacking literalism by constructing a straw man of ‘literalists’ who refuse to accept even the most common figures of speech.

I think we need to do ‘better’ in this area. We need a more thorough-going thoughtfulness about how figurative language works, and how it is bounded. I hope to keep exploring this in some future posts, which I will get to whenever I get to them. But feel free to add some thoughts and questions in the comments.

Exegesis as Reading

November 26, 2014 By in Language Tags: , , , , 1 Comment

A little while ago there was an exchange that started on B-Greek, a place I generally read but do not interact, about Exegesis. Then there were a few blog posts, one by D. Streett, one by B. Hofstetter.

I often deliberately don’t engage in discussions that I don’t have time for, but obviously I have opinions. Particularly outrageous, bombastic ones. So part of my heart warms when R. Buth writes, “This is why I define “exegesis” as learning to extract meaning from a language that one does not control. “

Somewhat like Barry, I had already done a degree that was virtually Literature studies, as well as started down the Classics track, and taught myself the fundamentals of Koine Greek, before I got to seminary. One of the reasons “exegesis” is so problematic is that Biblical Studies got hived off, with so many other humanities disciplines, into a discrete ‘discipline’ about 200-150 years ago. On this regard, see the recent volume by James Turner, Philology: The Forgotten Origins of the Modern Humanities, which among other things does a good job of explaining how humanities ‘disciplinised’.

Exegesis as practised by most biblical studies students is a process of analysis and interpretation of a text at a fine-detail level: grammatical, lexical, syntactical analysis of words, phrases, verses, put together at the level of a paragraph. It rarely moves beyond paragraph level. It is, as Buth points out, often done by students/scholars who actually have no “control”, that is no genuine active competency, in the target language.

Let’s just stop and say, “That’s odd.” We would find that incredibly odd for a modern foreign language student. “Oh, you can’t speak a word of French, but you can analyse to death the syntactic choices of individual sentences in Camus’ The Plague?”

I want to be really clear here: there is a place for fine-detailed studies of grammatical, lexical, syntactical elements of small units. Everyone else calls this linguistics. And many, many of these ‘questions’ disappear, or better yet are disambiguated by a genuine competency in the language.

Take a step back – what is the purpose or goal of exegesis? To acquire a better understanding of the meaning of the text. We can call this ‘exegesis’, but we may as well call it ‘reading’, though we must keep in mind that ‘reading’ here actually means something like ‘interpreting’, i.e. we are engaged in attentive, analytical reading at micro and macro levels. Or, “literary criticism”.

I don’t think calling it ‘reading’ is always helpful. In my school there were some teachers who used to say nonsense like “We don’t interpret the Bible, we just read it.” Which was always doctrinal dribble based on a claim to avoid the theological difficulties that the very idea of ‘interpretation’ generates. No, that won’t do. Reading itself is an interpretive act.

On the other hand, reading here is a higher order activity than mere reading. And it really must go beyond the sentence level. Unless you can get to a level of discussing a whole text – a whole book, then you are missing the integrity of the text and cannot complete your reading. That’s why discourse analysis, or just plain literary criticism, needs to work at the macro-level.

To wrap up, I am constantly amazed to interact with so called ‘critical scholars’ who look at, say, a book like John’s Gospel and see nothing but a pastiche of cut-up pieces that represent a proto-Gnostic text re-edited by a proto-Orthodox edited then re-edited again. Why do they see only that? It’s because they analyse a painting by looking at each blob of paint from a stroke of the brush and consider it a different source. They never step back and see the artistry. Whether they are right or wrong is irrelevant to the fact that they can’t step back and look at the whole, can’t discuss the meaning of the book, can’t discuss themes, genre, art, motifs. Because they can’t decide which of 400 types of genitives the proto-Gnostic redactor meant, and their competency in the language is like a tourist who got off the plane with an antique reference grammar of the language and nothing else.