Getting In The Mood For Pentecost: Some Thoughts On The Gift Of Interpretation

Paul's letters make embarrassingly clear that all was anything but well a lot of the time in some of his congregations. To his frequent dismay, power struggles often trumped sacrificial actions, posturing overwhelmed humility, and a worn-out legalism kept drowning out his message that all things were becoming new. As if all of this were not enough, God's own Spirit may have been making matters even worse, by sending to Paul's people a whole range of spiritual gifts that they promptly misused to stir up even more trouble among the faithful.

From his own account at least, one gift of the Spirit proved especially divisive, the gift of "tongues." Admittedly, it is hard to know just what Paul did and did not have in mind when he wrote on the subject. Sometimes, he referred to tongue-speaking as unintelligible sounds; at other times his references were to a language, but one whose meaning is either unknown by anyone, or known only to angels. His big point, though, seems clear enough: speaking in tongues can convey what God wants his people to understand, but if and only if what is spoken is subjected to interpretation, by those with the gift, also from the Spirit, to do so.

The problem, though, is that Paul did not tell us how someone with the gift of interpretation is to go about taking allegedly divinely inspired utterances that no one but the utterer understands initially and then transforming them into a message from God for all, including the tongue-speaker. And his not doing so leaves us with a number of questions to puzzle over. For instance, is the interpretation of something said in tongues directly inspired by God's Spirit in the same way that the tongue-speaking itself is said to be, or does the interpreter have both the freedom and responsibility to bring the meaning to light on his or her own terms? Paul, wisely it seems to me, seemed to think the latter.

But following him on this point leads to another question: if a particular act of interpretation, even if divinely inspired, is also a human and not merely a divine act, how do those of us who listen to it attain any kind of certainty that the interpretation really does say what God intended the tongue-speaking to say in the first place? Or: how can we know for sure that the interpreter is not merely substituting his or her own ideas for God's original ones? Do we need still another interpreter to help us sort out the work of the first one? And what about the tongue-speaker himself or herself? Must he or she concur with a particular interpretation for the rest of us to accept that interpretation as the right one? Given the very great difference that Paul seems to have had in mind between tongue-speaking and the interpretation of it, I even wonder whether a tongue-speaker could ever be in a position to understand, much less assess, anyone's interpretation of what he or she had just said.

What especially interests me about the gift of interpretation is the wide range of similarities there seem to be between its exercise on tongue-speaking and the interpretation of all kinds of other human expressions of meaning. It is as if God is continuing to bestow the gift of interpretation, in ways beyond mere human comprehending to be sure, but upon very human seekers after meaning and truth in and beyond the Bible everywhere. Could it be that the gift of interpretation is a gift that makes it possible for people in every generation to trust that throughout all of human experience, the most fundamental truth of all, the truth of saving grace, is always accessible?

Not long ago, I meandered through a stunning exhibition of paintings by a Mexican Surrealist painter, Enrique Chaverria. My knowledge of Jungian archetypes, incomplete to be sure, helped me to get at least some of his meaning, in a few of his paintings at least, but without input from the exhibit's director and without scanning quite a lot of literature about Echavarria, what I would have ended up with would have been my own eisegesis (reading-into, rather than reading-out-of) of what the painter was trying to say. And I would have missed out on the altogether more exciting process of discovering meaning alongside of other very human creatures like myself. Interpretation, whether of tongues, or of our dreams, our Bibles, and even of our preacher's most God-inspired sermons --- is in the final analysis a communal venture, and that is what makes it so interesting.

The Conservative/Liberal Divide: Narrowing?

For more years than I like to remember, conservatives and liberals in the church have been going at each other with toxic combinations of calumny, caricature, and contempt, pitting true believers against thoughtful ones, rejecting theology for ideology, and making a mockery of oneness in Christ and fools of themselves in the bargain. If God had had any idea that "reasoning together" (Isaiah 1:18 --- better: "arguing it out") would lead to such spirit-numbing impasses, I doubt that he would have ever issued the invitation in the first place. Taking him up on it in the ways that we have seemed most wont to do has made for some very ugly disputes that cannot fail to turn off a lot of genuine inquirers into the faith, and to make them wonder whether they might be better off for now and maybe forever in somebody else's sheepfolds.

Could it be that these rancorous and decidedly unenlightening debates might, finally, be taking a turn or two toward light instead of heat? They just might be. Consider, for instance, how difficult it has been for religious extremists on either side of this ideological divide to get even an initial, much less a sustained hearing in the current political debate for positions that until recently have kept their constituencies frothing at the mouth.

Instead of the same-old-same-old conservative fulminations against gay sex, abortions, illegal immigrants, and estate taxes, we are getting serious and credible rhetoric protesting environmental pollution, genocide, world hunger, and inadequate health care. And instead of the not-so-old but not-very-helpful liberal ranting against a racist America, the greedy wealthy, free trade, and security at the expense of freedom, we are getting serious and credible rhetoric on --- you guessed it --- eliminating pollution, genocide, world hunger, and disease. It is almost as if it has crossed the minds of our most dug-in conservatives and liberals that working with each other just might get us further after all than will their continuing to challenge each other's rationality, morality, and maternal lineage.

There are at least some signs on the horizon that a similar process of crossing enemy lines may be underway in our churches. One is that the generations-old, much respected, but thoroughly indefensible dichotomy between getting our souls right with God and meeting our neighbors' needs on his behalf may be softening more than a little. Many conservative Christians have been out-doing even more liberal ones for quite some time now on well-doing for others, not the least reason for which, I think, is that more liberals than in a long time have been about the also proper business of seeking a personal relationship with Christ in fellowship with others whom Christ has already found.

Another sign is a growing willingness to recalibrate the thermostats on hot issues, so that we can touch their buttons without getting burned so badly. A good example is the discussion on abortion in Adam Hamilton's admirable new book, Seeing Gray in a World of Black and White. Hamilton, founding pastor of one of the largest United Methodist churches on the planet, argues that while abortion still should be viewed as a remedy of last resort, it is on some occasions the only reasonable remedy, and that there is no justification for removing it either by statute or by social or ecclesial condemnation. What is significant about this argument is that it comes from an extraordinarily competent pastor who is arguably one of Christian conservatism's most eloquent voices.

At the other end of the theological spectrum, the recent Jeremiah Wright flap also proves instructive. Barack Obama's political fortunes aside, the reaction to the revelation of Rev. Wright's pulpit wrong-headedness from most Christian liberals with whom I have talked offers a good bit of hope that the radical, throw Momma from the train brand of liberal Christianity may finally be sliding over the edge itself, and good riddance. I take it as a good sign that very capable African-American pastors chose to offer only perspective on, rather than agreement with, the good Reverend as their own response to his blatant and long espoused racism.

Of course, a book and a few tapes do not a cultural trend make. But behind Adam Hamilton's latest contribution there are also new efforts stirring among editors to seek out for publication less polemical and more unifying discussions of healing a polarized church and society, just as there are sermons being preached every Sunday in a new mode of bridging racial, ethnic, and gender conflicts exacerbated for decades by mean-spirited pastoring, groundless theology, and overzealous axe-grinders everywhere. Let the new genre of books and sermons abound.