The Cappuccino Bible

Whenever I teach on hermeneutics (the art and science of biblical interpretation), I invite everyone to consider what they think it means to speak about the Bible as “God’s Word.” Clearly, that is respecting there is “something of God” about it—something unique—in relation to other literature. But what is that something, exactly, and how does it affect how we understand it and what we do with it?

The phrase “God’s Word” (or, “the Word of God”) sounds very close to saying “God’s own words.” But no serious theologian or biblical scholar believes in a “dictation” model; that in some way the Spirit of God dictated audible sentences to its human authors to write down, or spoke it in their heads, or took control of their pens (in a sanctified version of a Ouija board). Although we often see quotations ascribed to God (“And the Lord said, …”) and the words of Jesus in the Gospels, the vast majority of the Bible does not read like that. At its simplest level, the Bible was written by people. So the question is what was the interaction of those people with the Holy Spirit that ultimately gave rise to a Bible that we reverently speak of as God’s Word?

The nature of the Bible matters not so much for its own sake as for our expectations of it. It is by no means an “academic” question. If and to the extent that the Bible’s words are God himself speaking to human beings, then that suggests we should be taking its content very seriously indeed, not least on a personal level—God speaking to you, and me. This is what gives rise to the concept of the “authority” of Scripture. For example, the not-atypical Vineyard Churches’ statement of faith says, “We receive the sixty-six books of the Old and New Testaments as our final, absolute authority, the only infallible rule of faith and practice.” In other words, though we may look to tradition, reason, and experience, to guide us in matters of faith and practice, the casting vote always goes to the Bible.

The “authority of Scripture” sounds fine in a statement of faith. And indeed, the more colloquial idea of the Bible having the “casting vote” sounds fine. It’s only when we stop to think what all that means in practice that things become complicated. By whom and towards whom is that “authority” of Scripture to be applied? Is it simply by each individual believer in their own life, for themselves? Is it by the local church minister in his or her congregation? Is it a denomination’s national leadership directing what its members must believe and do? This highlights that although statements of faith may affirm the infallibility of the Bible, its interpretation and consequent application are by no means infallible. People do that. And people are not infallible. When we speak of “the authority of Scripture,” in practice that means the authority that someone claims for an interpretation of Scripture (that others should accept). The Bible does not interpret itself. Whenever the archetypal preacher says, “The Bible says …” (plus a verse taken out of context), or its more authoritative sounding cousin, “The Bible clearly teaches …” they are laying claim to an interpretation and application of something in the Bible (at times, it’s simply what they say is in the Bible; not always the same thing!) that carries with it the weight of divine authority: “It’s not just me saying this—see, God agrees with me!”  

Surprisingly, the Bible says very little about itself. Almost nothing in fact. When the Bible speaks about “the Word” or “the Word of God” it means either Jesus himself (John 1:1), the message about Jesus (1 Thessalonians 2:13), or what God says or commands (John 10:35, John 17:17). Remember, too, that there is no capitalisation in the original, so the choice of a capital W (with whatever that implies) is purely the translators’.

The one clear thing that the Bible itself says about its nature is found in 2 Timothy 3:16. Even then it was, at the time, speaking only (or at the very least, primarily—see 2 Peter 3:16) of the Old Testament, though I think it’s entirely reasonable to carry over the idea to the New Testament as we have it today.

2 Timothy 3:16 says, “All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness.”

Rather modest in comparison to statements of faith. No sign of phrases anywhere near approaching “final, absolute authority” or the “only infallible rule of faith and practice.” Indeed, what could be a more modest claim for the Bible (in its own words) than “it’s useful”?

Now I am not suggesting that we “downgrade” the Bible by saying that it should not operate authoritatively in matters of Christian belief and practice.  I am not suggesting it is unreliable. What I am suggesting is that the assertions someone makes for the Bible’s authority and infallibility can easily become synonymous with claims for their own authority and infallibility—or rather, the authority and infallibility of their interpretations and applications of it. Whenever you hear someone say, “The Bible says …” or “The Bible clearly teaches …” that’s what they’re asserting or implying. And, of course, they may be right. Or they may be not.       

But let’s return to this idea of the Bible as “God’s Word” having that “something of God” about it. What takes it from being simply the words of people (even people who sincerely believed in God), to that higher level of a divine imprimatur?  

“Inspiration” in 2 Timothy 3:16 means, literally, “God-breathed” (as the NIV renders it). Does that mean divinely “breathed into” (as the 4th-century Latin Vulgate translated the Greek theopneustos) or divinely “breathed out” (per the ESV)? Or even, divinely “breathed upon?” Good question! That “something of God” remains slightly elusive. The idea of divine breath featuring in some way in Scripture’s generation might sound a little vague, if not also bland, but that’s kind of the sense of it (compare, for example, John 20:22, though a different Greek word is used here).

It may sound as if I am trivialising (I’m not doing so intentionally) but I wonder how we would picture the divine “inspiration” in Scripture using the metaphor of a cappuccino. Don’t laugh (or cry) but I was thinking about that in a sleepless moment last night (yes, it may well have been the cheese at dinnertime). Is the inspiration the expresso, for example, that gives a cappuccino its main flavouring (without which it would not be a cappuccino)? Or is it the milk, that makes up the principal part of its content? Perhaps you are someone who stirs your cappuccino before drinking it, such that the expresso and the milk (the divine and human elements of Scripture) fully blend together. Or maybe the inspiration is neither the expresso nor the milk. Perhaps it comes through the aeration of the milk; that certainly seems to “fit” the metaphor quite well. Or maybe the inspiration is more “light touch”—the chocolate powder dusted on top, that final ingredient applied at the end, which makes it uniquely a cappuccino.