| ON THE 100TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE PONTIFICAL
BIBLICAL COMMISSION
I chose the topic of my report not only because it concerns the
questions which rightly belong to a retrospective of the 100 years of
the Pontifical Biblical Commission, but also because it enters, so to
speak, into the problems of my own biography: for more than half a
century my personal theological journey has taken place within the
particular sphere of this theme.
Lives of two Scripture scholars: Tillmann and Maier
Two names appear in the decree of the Concistorial Congregation of 29
June 1912, De quibusdam commentariis non admittendis,
which have crossed my own life. Friesing professor Karl Holzhey's Introduction
to the Old Testament would in fact be condemned; he had died by the
time I began my theological studies on the hill of the Cathedral of
Friesing in January 1946, but colourful anecdotes about him still
circulated. He must have been a rather proud and sensitive man.
The second name which appears is more familiar to me, that of
Fritz Tillmann, the editor of a Commentary on the New Testament labelled
as unacceptable. In this work, the author of the comment on the
Synoptics was Friedrich Wilhelm Maier, a friend of Tillmann, at the time
a qualified lecturer in Strasbourg. The decree of the Concistorial
Congregation established that these comments expungenda omnino esse
ab institutione clericorum. The Commentary, of which I found
a forgotten copy when I was a student in the Minor Seminary of
Traunstein, had to be banned and withdrawn from sale since, with regard
to the Synoptic question, Maier sustained the so-called two-source
theory, accepted today by almost everyone.
At the time, this also brought Tillmann's and Maier's scientific
career to an end. Both, however, were given the option of changing
theological disciplines.
Tillmann took advantage of this possibility and later became a top
German moral theologian. Together with Th. Steinbüchel and Th. Müncker,
he edited a manual of avant-garde moral theology, which
addressed this important discipline in a new way and presented it
according to the basic idea of the imitation of Christ.
Maier did not want to take advantage of the offer to change
disciplines as he was, in fact, dedicated body and soul to work on the
New Testament. So, he became a military chaplain and in this capacity
took part in the First World War; following this he worked as a prison
chaplain until 1924, when, with the nulla osta of the Archbishop
of Breslau (today Wroclaw), Cardinal Bertram, in a by then more relaxed
climate, he was called to the chair of New Testament Studies at the
Theological Department there. In 1945, when that Department was
suppressed, he went to Munich with other colleagues, where he worked as
a teacher.
He never quite got over the humiliation of 1912, notwithstanding the
fact that he could now teach his subject practically without
restrictions and was supported by the enthusiasm of his students, to
whom he was able to transmit his passion for the New Testament and a
correct interpretation of it. From time to time in his lessons,
recollections of the past came up. I was especially impressed by a
statement he made in 1948 or 1949. He said that by then, as a historian,
he could freely follow his conscience, but that he had not yet arrived
at that complete freedom of exegesis of which he had dreamed. He said,
furthermore, that he probably would not live to see this but that he
desired at least, like Moses on Mount Nebo, to be able to gaze upon the
Promised Land of an exegesis freed from every control and conditioning
of the Magisterium.
We note that on the soul of this gifted man, who led an exemplary
priestly life founded on the faith of the Church, weighed not only that
decree of the Concistorial Congregation, but also the various decrees of
the Biblical Commission — on the Mosaic
authenticity of the Pentateuch (1906), on the historical character of
the first three chapters of Genesis (1909), on the authors and the
composition of the Psalms (1910), on Mark and Luke (1912), on the
Synoptic question (1912), and so forth — impeding
his work as an exegete with fetters which he deemed to be undue.
The impression continued to persist that, due to those Magisterial
decisions, Catholic exegetes were hindered from carrying out
unrestricted scientific work, and that in this way Catholic exegesis, as
opposed to Protestant, could never meet the standard of the times and
its scientific seriousness was questioned, in part rightly, by the
Protestants.
Naturally, the conviction that a rigorously historical work could
authentically ensure the de facto objective data of history, or
rather, that this was the only possible way to understand the biblical
books which are, precisely, historical books in their true
meaning, also had an influence. He took for granted the authenticity and
the unequivocal nature of the historical method; the idea that
philosophical presuppositions entered into play in this method and that
reflection on the philosophical implications of the historical method
could become necessary did not affect him, either.
For him, as for many of his colleagues, philosophy seemed a
disturbing element, something which could only pollute the pure
objectivity of the historical work. The hermeneutical question did not
arise, that is, he did not ask himself to what extent the outlook of the
questioner determines access to the text, making it necessary to
clarify, above all, the correct way to ask and how best to purify one's
own questioning. Precisely for this reason, Mount Nebo would surely have
held some surprises for him which were completely beyond his horizon.
Ascending Mount Nebo: the past 50 years of Biblical studies
I would now like to attempt to ascend Mount Nebo with him, so to
speak, to observe from that perspective the ground which we have covered
in the last 50 years. It might be useful, in this regard, to recall the
experience of Moses.
Chapter 34 of Deuteronomy describes how it was conceded to Moses on
Mount Nebo to gaze upon the Promised Land, which he saw in its entirety.
The look he was conceded was, so to speak, purely geographical, not
historical. Nevertheless, one could say that chapter 28 of the same book
presents a glance, not on geography, but on the future history in and
with the land, and that this chapter offers a very different, much less
consoling, perspective: "And the Lord will scatter you among all
peoples, from one end of the earth to the other.... And among these
nations you shall find no ease, and there shall be no rest for the
sole of your foot" (Dt 28:64ff). What Moses saw in this interior
vision could be summarized in this way: freedom can destroy itself; when
it loses its intrinsic criteria, it is self-destructive.
What could a historical glance of Nebo over the land of exegesis in
the last 50 years have perceived? In the first place, many things that
would have been consoling for Maier, the realization of his dream, so to
speak.
Major Magisterial developments affecting Catholic Scripture study
Already in 1943 the encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu
introduced a new way of understanding the relation between the
Magisterium and the scientific exegesis of the historical reading of the
Bible.
Following this the 1960s represent the entrance into the Promised
Land of exegetical freedom, to continue the metaphorical image.
First, we encounter the Biblical Commission's instruction of 21 April
1964 on the historical truth of the Gospels, and then, above all, the
Conciliar Constitution Dei Verbum of 1965 on divine revelation,
with which, in fact, a new chapter in the relation between the
Magisterium and scientific exegesis is opened. There is no need to
emphasize here the importance of this fundamental text. This primarily
defines the concept of Revelation, which is not to be wholly identified
with its written testimony which is the Bible, and thus opens the vast
historical and theological prospect in which Biblical interpretation
takes place, an interpretation that sees in the Scriptures not only
human books, but the testimony of divine speech. It thus becomes
possible to determine the concept of Tradition, which also goes beyond
Scripture while having it as its centre, since Scripture is above all
and by nature "tradition".
This leads to the third chapter of the Constitution, dedicated to the
interpretation of Scripture; in this chapter, the absolute necessity of
the historical method convincingly emerges as an indispensable part of
the exegetical effort, but then the precisely theological dimension also
appears, which — as has already been said — is essential, if that
book is more than human words.
Let us continue our investigation from Mount Nebo: Maier, from his
vantage point, could have especially rejoiced in what took place in June
of 1971. With the motu proprio Sedula Cura, Paul VI
completely restructured the Biblical Commission so that it was no longer
an organ of the Magisterium, but a meeting place between the Magisterium
and exegetes, a place of dialogue in which representatives of the
Magisterium and qualified exegetes could meet to find together, so to
speak, the intrinsic criteria which prevent freedom from selt-destruction,
thus elevating it to the level of true freedom. Maier could also have
rejoiced in the fact that one of his best students, Rudolf Schnackenburg,
became a member not of the Biblical Commission itself, but of the no
less important International Theological Commission, so that he now
found himself, as it were, almost a part of that Commission which had
caused him so much worry.
We recall another important fact that, from our imaginary Nebo, might
have appeared in the distance: the 1993 document of the Biblical
Commission, The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, in
which the Magisterium no longer imposes norms on the exegetes from
above, but they themselves are the ones who determine the criteria that
indicate the way for a fitting interpretation of this special book,
which, when seen only from the outside, constitutes fundamentally
nothing other than a literary collection of writings whose composition
extends over an entire millennium. Only the subject from whom this
literature is born — the pilgrim people of
God — makes this literary collection, with
all of its variety and apparent contrasts, one single book.
This people knows, however, that it neither speaks nor acts by
itself, but is indebted to the One who makes them a people: the same
living God who speaks to them through the authors of the individual
books.
So did the dream come true? Have the second 50 years of the Biblical
Commission cancelled and overridden what the first 50 years produced?
I would respond to the first question that the dream has become a
reality and that it has also been corrected at the same time.
The mere objectivity of the historical method does not exist. It is
simply impossible to completely exclude philosophy or hermeneutical
foresight. This was already shown while Maier was still living, for
instance, in Bultmann's "Comment on John", in which
Heideggerian philosophy served not only to make present what
historically was distant, so to speak, to transport the past to our
today, but also as a bridge which carries the reader into the text.
Now, this attempt has failed, but it has become evident that the pure
historical method — as in the case of
secular literature as well — does not exist.
It is certainly understandable that Catholic theologians, at the time in
which the decisions of the Biblical Commission of that time impeded them
from a pure application of the historical-critical method, looked with
envy at the evangelical theologians who, in the meantime, with their
most serious research, were able to present results and new findings on
how this literature which we call the Bible was born and grew during the
journey of the people of God.
Problems existed within the field of Protestant Biblical studies
With this, however, the fact that the opposite problem existed in
Protestant theology was taken too little into consideration. This is
clearly seen, for example, in the conference on the ecclesial
responsibility of the student of theology, held in 1936 by Bultmann's
great student, Heinrich Schlier, who later converted to Catholicism. At
this time evangelical Christianity in Germany was involved in a battle
for survival: the encounter between the so-called German Christians (Deutsche
Christen), who, subjecting Christianity to the ideology of
National Socialism, distorted its roots, and the Confessed Church (Bekennende
Kirche).
In this context Schlier addressed these words to students of
theology: "...Reflect a moment on what is better: that the Church,
in a legitimate way and after careful reflection, remove from teaching a
theologian of heterodox doctrine, or that the individual freely charges
one or another teacher of heterodoxy and protects himself from him? It
must not be thought that judging is eliminated when each is allowed to
judge ad libitum. Here the liberal vision is consistent in
affirming that no decision on the truth of a teaching can exist, that
therefore every teaching has something of truth and that thus all
teachings must be admitted in the Church. But we do not share this
vision. This denies in fact that God truly made a decision among us
...".
Those who recall that then a great number of the Protestant Theology
Departments were almost exclusively in the hands of the German Christians,
and that Schlier had to leave academic teaching for affirmations
such as the one just cited, can become aware of the other side of this
problematic as well.
We come thus to the second and conclusive question: how should we
evaluate, today, the first 50 years of the Biblical Commission? Was
everything only a tragic conditioning, so to speak, of theological
freedom, a collection of errors from which we had to free ourselves in
the second 50 years of the Commission, or should we not consider this
difficult process more articulately?
The fact that things are not as simple as they seemed in the first
enthusiasm of the beginning of the Council, emerges perhaps already from
what we have just said. It is true that, with the above-mentioned
decisions, the Magisterium overly enlarged the area of certainties that
the faith can guarantee; it is also true that with this, the credibility
of the Magisterium was diminished and the space necessary for research
and exegetical questions was excessively restricted.
But it remains likewise true that faith has a contribution to make
with regard to the interpretation of Scripture, and that therefore the
pastors are also called to offer correction when the particular nature
of this book is lost sight of, and objectivity, which is pure in
appearance only, conceals what the Sacred Scripture itself specifically
has to offer. Laborious research has therefore been indispensable in
order that the Bible has its just hermeneutic and historical-critical
exegesis its proper place.
It seems to me that two levels of the problem in question, both then
and now, can be distinguished.
The historical-critical method in relation to faith
On a first level, it must be asked how far the purely historical
dimension of the Bible extends and where its specificity, which escapes
mere historical reasoning, begins. A question within the historical
method itself could also be formulated: what can it in fact do, and what
are its intrinsic limits? What other modes of understanding are
necessary for a text of this type?
The laborious research to be undertaken can be compared, in a certain
sense, to the effort required by the Galileo case. Until that moment it
seemed that the geocentric vision of the world was connected in an
inextricable way to what was revealed by the Bible; it seemed that those
in favour of a heliocentric vision of the world demolished the core of
Revelation. The relation between the external appearance and the true
and proper message of the whole had to be thoroughly revised, and only
slowly would criteria be able to be developed that would permit the
placing of scientific reason and the specific message of the Bible in
right relation.
Certainly, the contention can never be said to be completely
resolved, since the faith testified by the Bible includes the material
world as well and affirms something about it, about its origin and that
of man in particular. To reduce all of reality as we meet it to pure
material causes, to confine the Creator Spirit to the sphere of mere
subjectivity, is irreconcilable with the fundamental message of the
Bible. This involves, however, a debate on the very nature of true
rationality; since, if a purely materialistic explanation of reality is
presented as the only possible expression of reason, then reason itself
is falsely understood.
A similar affirmation must be made with regard to history. At first
it seemed indispensable for the authenticity of Scripture, and therefore
for the faith founded upon it, that the Pentateuch be indisputably
attributed to Moses or that the authors of the individual Gospels be
truly those named by Tradition.
Here too, so to speak, it was necessary gradually to redefine the
spheres; the fundamental relation between faith and history was
rethought. A similar clarification was not undertaken since it could not
be made from one day to the next. Here as well there will always be room
for discussion. The opinion that faith as such knows absolutely nothing
of historical facts and must leave all of this to historians is
Gnosticism: this opinion disembodies the faith and reduces it to pure
idea. The reality of events is necessary precisely because the faith is
founded on the Bible. A God who cannot intervene in history and reveal
Himself in it is not the God of the Bible. In this way the reality of
the birth of Jesus by the Virgin Mary, the effective institution of the
Eucharist by Jesus at the Last Supper, his bodily resurrection from the
dead — this is the meaning of the empty tomb
— are elements of the faith as such, which
it can and must defend against an only presumably superior historical
knowledge. That Jesus — in all that is
essential — was effectively who the Gospels
reveal him to be to us is not mere historical conjecture, but a fact of
faith. Objections which seek to convince us to the contrary are not the
expression of an effective scientific knowledge, but are an arbitrary
over-evaluation of the method.
What we have learned in the meantime, moreover, is that many
questions in their particulars must remain open-ended and be entrusted
to a conscious interpretation of their responsibilities,
This introduces the second level of the problem: it is not simply a
question of making a list of historical elements indispensable to the
faith. It is a question of seeing what reason can do, and why the faith
can be reasonable and reason open to faith.
'Faith and science', 'Magisterium and exegesis'
Meanwhile, not only those decisions of the Biblical Commission
which had entered too much into the sphere of merely historical
questions were corrected; we have also learned something new about the
methods and limits of historical knowledge. Werner Heisenberg verified
in the area of the natural sciences, with his "Unsicherheitsrelation",
that our knowing never reflects only what is objective, but is always
determined by the participation of the subject as well, by the
perspective in which the questions are posed and by the
capacity of perception. All this, naturally, is incomparably most true
where man himself enters into play and where the mystery of God is made
perceptible.
Faith and science, Magisterium and exegesis, therefore, are no longer
opposed as worlds closed in on themselves. Faith itself is a way of
knowing. Wanting to set it aside does not produce pure objectivity, but
comprises a point of view which excludes a particular perspective while
not wanting to take into account the accompanying conditions of the
chosen point of view. If one takes into account, however, that the
Sacred Scriptures come from God through a subject which lives
continually — the pilgrim people of God —
then it becomes clear rationally as well that this subject has something
to say about the understanding of the book.
The Promised Land of freedom is more fascinating and multiformed than
the exegete of 1948 could have imagined. The intrinsic conditions of
freedom have become evident. It presupposes attentive listening,
knowledge of the limits of the various paths, full seriousness of the ratio,
and also a readiness to limit and surpass oneself in thinking and living
with the subject, which the different writers of the Old and New
Covenant guarantee us is a single work, the Sacred Scripture. We are
profoundly grateful for the openings the Second Vatican Council has
given us, as the fruit of a long effort of research.
Yet, neither do we lightly condemn the past, even if we see it as a
necessary part of a process of knowing which, considering the greatness
of the revealed Word and the limits of our abilities, continually places
new challenges before us. But its beauty lies precisely in this.
And thus, at the 100th anniversary of the establishment of the
Biblical Commission, despite all the problems which have arisen during
this length of time, we can still look, thankfully and hopefully, upon
the path which lies ahead of us.
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