The Important Difference Between "Bible Scholars" and "Theologians"
Rediscovering the proper function of intellect and study in the Church.
I’ve tried several different ways of beginning this article, but each ends up devolving into introductory fluff that, by the end, detracts greatly from the article and makes it feel clunky. I always like providing some introductory comments for an article before getting into the thick of it, but I’ve been repeatedly drawing blanks for this one. Accordingly, I find it easier to just jump straight into what the main idea of this article is and take it from there.
Who do we get our knowledge of the Bible from? In my own articles, whether in the main text or the footnotes, you can spot a few names (or associated concepts) that reoccur often, such as Michael Heiser, Greg Boyd, C.S. Lewis, different Church Fathers, John Walton, and others. These are men who’ve dedicated decades of their lives to teaching and researching the Bible and sharing their insights with others in various impactful academic and popular publications. They’ve made themselves known for their expertise or for their lauded advances in a certain subject.1
In circles I frequent, of those who value “academic Christiainty,” or a “faith seeking understanding,” one that is tempered by intellectual rigor and honed instruments of study, there is the desire to move beyond “Christian Middle-Earth,” which is, as its coiner Dr. Heiser describes, “that realm between actual biblical scholars…and the largest realm, the local church, where serious biblical content is like a Bigfoot sighting.”2 These people want a faith that isn’t based on blind traditions or pat answers, but has been seriously and earnestly probed for answers and insights. Granted, this can be a noble endeavor and its proponents, such as the late aforementioned Dr. Heiser (who valued the “naked Bible”), have provided much clarity and insight into Scripture through their works, however there is an unapparent (for many) issue here. Note that term Dr. Heiser used, “actual biblical scholars.” This is what most studious Christians think they need, a good, respected, and academic scholar to lead them through the exegetical, text-critical, historical, and theological mires of Scripture.
Now, again, while such “scholars” have contributed much there’s something we’re overlooking here. It’s not something many people think to consider, and when they tout how someone is a great scholar or a preeminent authority in their field they legitimately think they are applying the best criterion a person could have for sourcing their theology. The greatest thing about an intellectual like N.T. Wright, for example, would be that he’s been active for four decades and has published many respected theological works, such as his esteemed “Christian Origins and the Question of God” series. However, let me make a suggestion, one that should be obvious, but is incredibly important to the matter of genuine and disciplined biblical literacy: theology should be done by theologians.
“Well, isn’t it?” One may ask. “Aren’t these scholars explaining theology?” No, and I say that confidently. The scene that I’ve set up is that of biblical scholarship (or “studies”), which is a completely different animal. The fundamental problem with this, which I’ve alluded to, is that it takes place in a completely separate realm from theology proper(ly understood). Biblical scholarship is academic, as I’ve mentioned, but what that means, more fundamentally, is that it’s secular. Biblical scholars aren’t just genuine Christians, like C.S. Lewis or Michael Heiser were, but they can encompass people like Bart Ehrman, Rudolf Bultmann, Daniel Gullotta, Paula Fredriksen, Gerd Lüdemann, Abraham Heschel, Adolf von Harnack, and others, all admitted agnostics, atheists, non-Christians, and heretics. Since “scholar” is a fundamentally secular profession, and the modern liberal-democratic “virtue” of universal education means that anyone can be taught or teach,3 the institutionalization of casting pearls before swine has been achieved by the rise of the “biblical scholar,” platforming those who do nothing but profane the sacred truths of the faith.
Contrast this now with what a theologian, properly understood, is. “Theologian” wasn’t a title taken lightly throughout Church history, and among all the saints of the Church only three persons were ever formally given the title of theologian: John the Apostle, Gregory of Nazianzus, and Symeon the New Theologian. Now, this didn’t preclude other individuals from being called theologians, but in this particular sense of being a canonical title the use of it was especially restricted. The reason for this exclusivity is because the ancient Church recognized what I myself recognize, that, in the words of Evagrius Ponticus,
If you are a theologian, you will truly pray. And if you are truly praying, you will be a theologian.4
Those who can apprehend the doctrines and mysteries of the Chrisitan faith aren’t those with PhDs and who go through peer-review, but, rather, those who follow the words of Joshua: “This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it” (Josh. 1:8). Theology isn’t a scholarly abstraction, something that you take an intellectual scalpel to and cut to pieces. Oh, certainly, you could do that, but in the same way that we could sin, the more appropriate course of action is to walk in the light. Therefore, theology is inherently an act of faith (especially when that is understood as allegiance), not of mere intellect, and Scripture affirms this, because, “Has God not made the wisdom of the world foolish?” (1 Cor. 1:20). Only the redeemed nous, indwelt by the Spirit, can make a man capable of perceiving higher realities, for, as Paul writes in Ephesians,
I pray that according to the wealth of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inner person, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, so that, because you have been rooted and grounded in love, you may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and thus to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God (Eph. 3:16-19).
Theology does not exist in the abstract, merely within the rational faculties of man, but necessarily and authentically is focused on God reverently, not in any reductionist or agnostic way that many secular “scholars” practice it. Aquinas put it in an excellent way, saying (as conveyed by Kelly Kapic), “‘Theology is taught by God, teaches of God and leads to God’ (Theologia a Deo docetur, Deum docet, et ad Deum ducit). All good and faithful theology comes from God, Who is the ultimate theologian—the only One Who can, without weakness or misunderstanding, speak of Himself.”5
What makes more sense than to assert that someone who studies a subject should love that subject? Do we think that someone who despises mathematics would make a good mathematician, or someone who is “skeptical” about Darwinian science would make a good evolutionary biologist?6 True knowledge in toto subsists only in genuine relation to God, so how much more the direct and explicit contemplation of divinity must be in reverent relation to God?7
The repeated intellectual failures of scholars, from “simple” logical goofs to destructive amoral abstractions, demonstrates what an unbaptized mind can produce, one not clothed with humility and love by God. As it regards the failure of secular “theologians,” their theses have time and time again been rebuked and the historical orthodoxy of the Church affirmed. Harnack’s Hellenization thesis, while influential at first, was later resoundingly exposed as hyperbolic Greek-bashing by later scholars (like R.L. Wilken and J. Pelikan); the evolutionary and animist Urreligion, promoted by the higher-critical types of the Religionsgeschichtliche Schule (such as E.B. Tylor or J.G. Frazer), has been defeated by Christian writers like Winfried Corduan and Norman Geisler; the vilification and bifurcation of Paul and his theology has likewise collapsed, with the cockamamie views of scholars like Baur and Goulder (and other “Tübingeners”) giving way near-unanimously to the traditional in-house (Christian) understanding that Paul was as orthodox as orthodox can be, as coessential to Christian theology as James and Peter and other apostles, and likewise in agreement with them. What the performance record of secular academia shows is that secular academia cannot be trusted with these profound truths, because they are fundamentally focused on profaning those truths via their agnosticism and skepticism. Christian intellect has far sturdier moral and metaphysical foundations, for we directly commune with the all-holy God Himself, and are indwelt by His Spirit that “searches all things, even the deep things of God” (1 Cor. 2:10; cf. Rom. 8:5-10). Wisdom is solely a Christian virtue.8
Now, this isn’t to say two things: one, that any academically credentialed Christian “scholar” is errant or (worse) apostate, nor, two, that a secular/non-Christian scholar can’t have anything good or insightful to say about Christianity.9 Many of the genuine theologians that I could name, whether those who were simply believers or (better yet) ordained officers of the Church, were also academically inclined. C.S. Lewis is a great example, for he was a devout and learned Anglican, but at the same time served as a professor for nearly forty years. N.T. Wright, one of the foremost scholars of Pauline theology today, has been an ordained cleric of the Church of England for a half-century. Greg Boyd, despite what disagreements I might have with him (though still recognizing his influence upon me), has been a pastor for over twenty years.10 My (hopefully increasing) citations of the Church Fathers in my articles is also a great example, for they were all ordained, not one being a scholar in isolation from them being a servant as well.
What these thinkers all demonstrate is the redundancy in the term “pastor-theologian.”11 While, granted, it does describe an important collocation of offices, for, as Kevin DeYoung (another great example of the type of Christian I’m talking about) explains,
By pastor-theologian, I don’t mean a pastor-scholar who has one foot in the academy and one foot in the church. I don’t mean a pastor-pundit who regularly comments on the news of the day from a Christian perspective. I don’t mean a pastor-writer who publishes articles, blogs, and books. All of these examples can be a type of pastor-theologian, and in that sense they can all be good and necessary. As someone who dabbles in all of the above, I’ll be the last person to say we have no need of pastors who are involved in scholarship, punditry, and publishing.
But that’s not what I mean by pastor-theologian. What I have in mind is simpler, more explicitly biblical, and therefore more important. When I say we need pastor-theologians in the church, I mean that every pastor must conduct his ministry with an eye to declaring theological truth, diagnosing theological error, and disciplining his congregation to be theologically informed and articulate.
Nonetheless, this double-barrelled term indicates some sort of independent existence of the two offices, that they can survive in abstraction from each other. Rather, pastor necessarily means theologian and theologian necessarily means pastor, especially in the sense that a pastor literally means “he who tends the flock” and a theologian is “he who talks to God,” or, by extension, “he who talks to God on behalf of others.” The pastor shepherds God’s flock and the theologian speaks to the Good Shepherd about the specifics of shepherding. How exactly are these different? They are, rather, two closely intertwined functions of the same office.12 So, what I’m saying about “Christian academics” or “biblical scholars” is that they’re confused, although not in mortal error, and they’re better off being genuine shepherds of the flock, that is the flock of saints, rather than university colleagues, peer-review processes, and students who couldn’t care less about outdated, stuffy religious stuff like Aquinas, Augustine, or Anselm.
Such a vision and call isn’t outlandish, but incredibly historical. This is the very origin of the modern university system, as an intrinsically religious entity. First beginning in the cathedral and monastic schools, where learned clerics (literate in and possessing divers texts) educated the laity, this model later expanded into fully-fledged institutions, the universities, which were overwhelmingly founded, funded, and staffed by religious orders. Chapels were often built along with or within these schools, further accentuating the religious nature of medieval education, a model still followed in certain private religious universities (like Abilene, Biola, Liberty) or universities that have since secularized but originated in this manner (like Princeton, a Presbyterian school originally, with its grand University Chapel). All I call for, then, is the reconsecration of university life, administration, and academics, a ressourcement above all else.
All this talk about pastors, however, doesn’t mean to exclude those called “laypersons,” such as myself. Indeed, if I mean to cut off my own variety of Christian didact (writer? thinker?) and deem them as illegitimate I wouldn’t even be capable of writing this article, or any others, lest I give into cognitive dissonance and hypocrisy (or even arrogance). Rather, I speak informed by the clear reality of an ecclesiastical order in the Church, but at the same time of the universal priesthood of believers. I have the right to understand and discuss my faith, but even though I am a very smart sheep that doesn’t mean I have by some means metamorphosed into a sheepdog or shepherd, for I remain a sheep/unordained (not an elder nor a pastor). Here is the important caveat, and how I wish to do all my important theologizing (especially if it comes to publicly publishing, or teaching, anything): it must be done under the supervision and permission of the church. I have not hidden this blog from my church nor tried to share my beliefs in obscurity, but I’ve made it a point to make people know that I do what I do. If I am ever given the opportunity to teach something, likewise I and all that I have to say will be an open book for my elders and brethren to consider.13 This is similar to my thoughts on the importance of Christianity’s sacred tradition (flowing from my ecclesiology), something secular academia would just call “patristics,” positioning oneself within the great witness of the Church and remaining conscientious of where you stand and your relation to those that have gone before you.
This is precisely what I feel that most academic Christians are missing out on. They want to hold themselves to the standards of the deans, an academic society, or the peer-review process, rather than to the kingdom of God. Michael Heiser, an important scholar to me as well as an exemplar of the academic Christian, was sensitive to this, for while he decried biblical illiteracy and a lack of academic rigor, he was still willing to adamantly affirm his dissension from the party line of academia, especially on his views on biblical monotheism and the divine council. Now, did he do this because he was convicted by the truths of the Chrisitan faith (which declares, “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one”) or because he saw that the proper application of academic tools results in these more “orthodox” conclusions? I don’t know, I’d like to think the former, but at the least Dr. Heiser himself admitted that we need to look beyond mere academia. Men like Athanasius, Augustine, Gregory Palamas, the Cappadocians, and others lived and breathed Scripture; John Chrysostom took an intense, monastic devotion to Scripture so intensely that he denied himself sleep, food, and basic comfort for weeks to the point of near-death,14 Athanasius fervently served the brethren of Alexandria for the majority of his life (around a half-century) and led the orthodox charge against the heresies of the day (like Arianism) to triumph in the Council of Nicaea, and Thomas Aquinas would abandon all his famous studies to humbly bow before God and beg for His wisdom whenever he became confused or uncertain. These men talked with God, and contained more wisdom and insights than most modern “scholars.”
Like I mentioned earlier, the repeated failure of secular theses concerning Christian dogmas, giving way to what we’ve always believed, is an excellent example of how a faith seeking understanding is always far more effective than an ego seeking affirmation. So, to return to what I said earlier, I don’t condemn the “academic Christian” or the Christian scholar, but I question the legitimacy of them during their work in abstraction, again, of them answering to the annual conference of the Evangelical Theological Society or university Board of Trustees rather than the Holy Spirit or presbytery. You may apply historical-grammatical methods to Scripture, you may research Ugaritic tablets, you may write about the Trinitarian theology of Gregory Nazianzen, but you must, in all these things, like Aquinas, prostrate before God and offer your nous to Him “as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God” (Rom. 12:1).
Do you study Scripture with the historical-grammatical method because it’s just an ancient text, or because as God’s inspired word formed as an ancient text that is the most appropriate way to glean its ancient yet eternal truths? Do you piece together Gregory’s wisdom because he is a saint of the sacred Church of Christ, a man to whom we (consciously or unconsciously) owe much to, or because he’s another historical datum to be reconstructed? Again, many Christian scholars do have a reverent, orthodox, and worshipful attitude, but since we’ve sold our catechesis to secular institutions and have yoked our intellects to the same we’ve lost the emphasis we should have on proper theology.15 Bros. Wright, Heiser, Gorman, Bates, Strobel, and others are all great and smart saints, but are they trying to serve two masters: Christ and Academia? This is probably why my favorite theologians are almost all pastors (or have important pastoral experience)16 because their homiletic and pastoral experience has shown them how to make doctrine spiritually edifying and uplifting as well as intellectually empowering and rigorous. They have the expertise not only in how to study rigorously and glean important truths, but also how to guide a group of people and genuinely nourish their souls. If you don’t have “spirit and truth” (Jn. 4:24) you just have intellectual assent to the faith, mind in abstraction from body and soul. This affects not just the theologian but the layperson as well who feeds on spiritually inert material.
As I mentioned earlier, I’m not trying to prohibit laypersons from having access to theology, but only carefully nuancing our relationship to it, everyone’s relationship in fact (ordained and unordained). So, for how all this can apply to the lay theologian, who by definition isn’t a pastor theologian (lest he should cease being lay), I’d say that all the same applies with the difference of the lay theologian having an exclusively edifying and submissive role, while the pastor theologian has shepherding and leadership in addition. As a layperson, I can’t dare to presume that my theology, no matter how right I think it is (and I think it’s right quite a bit), deserves recognition and affirmation. I do actively seek teaching opportunities from my elders, but those opportunities are from my elders, at their behest, with their assent. My theology is only legitimate insofar as I humbly place it before the elders and let them do something with it, such as instructing it to the laity (a role they may permit me to perform myself, as they have), and as I seek for it to edify my brethren rather than just batter them with “scholarship.” Considering, as I’ve mentioned, how my eldership has been doing this and how, after the few times I’ve taught to date, I’ve been repeatedly complimented for my oration and insights, I’d say this is being lived out swimmingly in my own church life. Could things happen faster? Could my theology be lived out as well? Could the eldership give me more opportunities sooner? Yes, all these could happen, but only in God’s design and honor should it happen, and if I rush or impose things it’ll be turned into a self-serving affair and more of a detriment to my brethren than anything. The leaders of the church, being of a mediatorial office, must serve God’s will in their congregation, take all that comes before them, sanctify or exorcize it, and then return it to the congregation to present them with God’s graces through a homiletic, sacramental, or catechetical means. It’s our duty as laypersons to receive that catechesis politely, inquisitively, and wisely, or to provide the same honorably, dutifully, and contemplatively.
Christian theology needs to change, change back to the days of parochial schools, seminaries, and intellectual discipline, and while there’s still a lot of good and potential present in Christian academia (as the rise of the “pastor-theologian” indicates) this invites us not to be complacent with the status quo but move it further back into the realm of sacrality and piety, for “the fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge.” The essence of theology lies not solely in scholarly pursuits but in the devotion of the heart and the spirit. While “scholars” have the capacity for intellect, it’s theologians who have the capacity for worship, for reverent dialogue with divinity. True theology, as exemplified by saints and theologians throughout history, transcends empirical studies, historical criticism, and other “scholastic tools of study,” or at the very least reigns over them rather than being their subject. It’s a communion, a prayerful dialogue with God, where understanding is rooted in faith rather than mortal intellectual prowess alone. The in this article call is not to simply disregard scholarly contributions as if they’ve never produced anything of worth, but rather to infuse theology with the sanctity and piety it deserves, aligning it once more with the sacred rather than confining it solely to academic corridors. This certainly won’t be an attractive proposal to those secular scholars referenced throughout here, as it constitutes taking a favored toy of theirs away in punishment for their misbehavior, but it’s a proposal most pleasing to God, “For of Him, and through Him, and to Him, are all things: to Whom be glory for ever. Amen” (Rom. 11:36).
Heiser with the divine council worldview or Gorman with Pauline [participatory] theology
Not entirely accurate to what “Middle-earth” usually connotes, but I won’t fault the late doctor too severely.
As the 19th century Calvinist theologian Robert Dabney warned, the universal and common access to education doesn’t do much more than debase the quality of that education, as all manners of people are merely given mental exercises in intellectual skills but not genuinely imparted any skills, resulting in a supply of “false, shallow, sciolist literature, science, and theology, infinitely worse than blank ignorance.”
Kelly Kapic, A Little Book for New Theologians, 36.
Presuming that there is any credence to Darwinian science, of course.
Credo ut intelligam, “I believe so that I may understand.”
Hence why “middle-grounding” tactics are disingenuous to me, which I may discuss further later.
Indeed, some of those secular scholars I mentioned earlier have made some interesting observations and contributions, although, on the whole, they are muddied by their sinfulness. Ehrman, for example, made a nice contribution to the “field” of “Church history” in writing Did Jesus Exist?, a helpful albeit non-apologetic work on Christ’s historicity and a rebuttal to mythicist pseudointellectuals. Yet, most of his writings have been attacks on the textual integrity/reliability of the New Testament, making claims to its flimsiness, fabrication at the hands of later Chrsitian scribes, and numerous historical and transmissional contrivances (I refer you to the entire chapter on Ehrman’s scholarship written by Josh and Sean McDowell in their apologetics textbook Evidence That Demands a Verdict, 705-722). Nonetheless, when Ehrman joined forces with his academic mentor, the esteemed (Christian) textual critic Bruce Metzger, to write the academic textbook The Text of the New Testament, Ehrman took a noticeably milder approach to biblical textual criticism, leading to many Christian scholars to point out that Ehrman wasn’t nearly as intense in his claims when placed under formal academic scrutiny.
We’ll table considerations of “ecclesiastical legitimacy” for now.
There is an accelerating trend in contemporary pastoral theology that seems to agree with my convictions, insofar as it uses the term “pastor-theologian” and is steeped in ecclesial tradition, which is certainly insightful and relevant but I feel can be informed by my following comments below. See Todd Wilson and Gerald Hiestand, The Pastor Theologian; idem, Becoming a Pastor Theologian; Kevin Vanhoozer, The Pastor as Public Theologian.
In words that Chris Castaldo shares in reflecting upon this subject, “It’s like the hypostatic union—two natures conjoined in one person.”
Consider the two articles I’ve written for this blog that came from Bible classes I led, Habakkuk and Naaman (although “Light and Dark and John” might also count).
Christopher Hall, Reading Scripture with the Church Fathers, 94-95.
I will dedicate a future article to discussing how to revise this error in practice. For now, my comments in this article on the resourrcement of the medieval university model shall suffice.
Even so for some of the laypersons/academics, such as C.S. Lewis, who preached many sermons, some of which became a few of his books, e.g., The Weight of Glory.