This is the second post in our Fundamentals of Communication series. This series provides a very high-level overview of the key concepts that undergird human communication. These concepts are the building blocks we will use to build a foundation for future learning. They are the moving pieces that make everything else work. They are so basic that we rarely think about them consciously, but they are critically important nonetheless. The power of understanding them comes from recognizing how they interact and each contributes in a given context.
As we continue this series, you'll recall that the first post described how everything we say has an intended outcome, and how reliant we are on ?common ground? information to fill in the gaps. There is an important corollary to be drawn from the relationship between communicative intent and common ground. We can learn about a communicative situation not just from what is said, but also from what is left unsaid in a given context.
If a writer mentions a concept without elaborating on it, it is typically for one of two reasons: you don?t need the info to get the point, or alternatively, he or she assumes you already knew. If I began a story, ?This guy walks into a bar??, it is clear that a specific person is in view, but neither of us may know what he looks like. The looks don?t matter, what matters is being able to fit this bit of information into the rest of the story. But if I were to say the guy had only one leg or was dressed as a pirate, you?d rightly expect that these details are ?need to know? info.
The same principle holds true for the Bible. In Luke 4:38 we read that Jesus went to Simon?s house where his mother-in-law was suffering from a high fever. We don?t know where the house was located, what it looked like, or even what the woman?s name was or his wife?s name. The salient bit is that she is ill, setting the stage for Jesus to heal her. Omitting details is one of the ways a writer directs our attention to what he or she deems important, avoiding the possibility we get distracted by something that looks interesting.
Now let?s take a look at the alternate reason for omitting information: assuming that the reader already knows it. Think back to the gourmet hamburger example in our first post about how much information I omitted, and what kinds of effects result from filling it in (?Do you think I?m stupid??).
We do this all the time without thinking about it, but there is a really scary, humbling implication of this principle when it comes to Bible study: We don?t know what we don?t know. Sometimes it?s pretty clear when we don?t know what something is, like an ephod. We know from the usage that it is an article of clothing worn at times in Ancient Israel, but we don?t have any pictures or instructions about how to make one. The same holds true for the Hebrew word selah from the Psalms. Some say it means ?pause,? others think it is an interlude of some sort. These are instances where we know what we don?t know.
There are also situations where we don?t know what we don?t know. Just like with our gourmet burger example, there are lots of short but commonly used expressions that we have thought we knew, but recent scholarship has cast doubt on that. Instead of having nothing come to mind with words like ephod or selah, sometimes the wrong thing comes to mind. We activate a mental file folder about, or picture of, the thing ? but it is the wrong one. Based on the differences in time, culture, language, values, and worldview between now and then, we are far more likely to activate the wrong mental file than you might think.
For example, most of our nativity sets picture the place where Jesus was born as a kind of lean-to shack with animals looking on. A study has shown that it is much more likely that ?the inn that didn?t have room? for Jesus was a modest ancient house and that the place where Jesus lay with the animals was essentially the basement, where the heat from the animals would rise and help warm the inhabitants in the house above. This doesn?t mean that you need to throw away your nativity set, but it does highlight the need for learning to recognize anachronistic mental pictures.
It?s not just the flannelgraph pictures that need updating. Since the time Martin Luther began his push for the Church to address his 95 theses, the expression ?works of the law? has become associated with the process of justification, a works-based alternative or addition to justification by faith. There is little question about what activities qualify as ?works of the law,? such as circumcision, dietary laws, and separation from Gentiles. The proverbial million-dollar question potentially overlooked was the why. Were they doing them because they believed in a faith+works salvation or for some other reason?
Scholars like E.P. Sanders, N.T. Wright, and James Dunn have made a compelling case that our modern understanding of the why has been overly influenced by Luther?s objections to the Catholic church?s view that works of righteousness contribute to the process of justification. In other words, the mental file most believers open up when they read ?works of the law? is the one about a works-based path to salvation. The problem is not mistaking what the works are, but the why motivating them, profoundly impacting how we read certain passages.
Another good example of activating the wrong why stems from British biblical scholar John Barclay?s study of gift-giving in Greco-Roman culture. At the end of Ephesians 2:8 where Paul says that salvation by grace through faith is a ?free gift,? what exactly does that mean? It has been common for evangelicals to interpret this to mean ?no strings attached,? what Barclay terms ?non-circularity? in the sense of not having to give anything in return. Barclay demonstrates that such an understanding has no counterpart in the ancient world.
Rather, what Paul is highlighting has to do with our unworthiness, or what Barclay describes as ?incongruity.? Not unlike today, gifts in the ancient world were typically only given to worthy recipients, and with an expectation of something in return. Think of the last time you gave a big gift to someone who treated you very poorly, or didn?t feel some obligation after someone gave you a gift and you had nothing to reciprocate with.
Patrick Schreiner summarizes Barclay?s claims this way: ?God?s grace is so amazing because the gift of Jesus Christ is offered to all, without regard to worth. But Barclay also pushes against the notion that this means nothing is to be given back in return. Gifts in the ancient world always required reciprocity. Therefore, the gift of Jesus Christ is unconditioned, but not unconditional. It demands a response.? Once again, there is no ambiguity about what the gift is, but the sociological whys that would have been activated by the expression ?free gift? aren?t as clear.
Summary/Application
Understanding the complexity and magnitude of communicative intent and common ground in communication should bring humility to our study of Scripture. The good news is that there is an incredible amount of common ground that we share with the ancients just by being human. The same intentional motivation motivates what we say and how we say it. We share similar experiences such as experiencing hunger, grief, fatigue, or adversity. Still, even these seemingly universal experiences must be nuanced in light of things like a shame/honor worldview. But knowing what role these cognitive forces play in the reading process enables us to slow down and take them into account.1
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