The following is an excerpt from "Modern Theology and Biblical Criticism", by C.S. Lewis.
It is so typically C. S. Lewis, shining enlightenment where there was previously dullness and depression, we felt compelled to share it with you:
"The undermining of the old orthodoxy has been mainly the work of 'divines' engaged in New Testament criticism. The authority of experts in that discipline is the authority in deference to whom we are asked to give up a huge mass of beliefs shared in common by the early Church, the Fathers, the Middle Ages, the Reformers, and even the 19th century. I want to explain what it is that makes me skeptical about this authority. Ignorantly skeptical, as you will all to easily see. But the skepticism is the father of the ignorance! It is hard to persevere in a close study when you can work up no prima facie confidence in your teachers.
First then, whatever these men may be as Biblical critics, I distrust them as critics. They seem to me to lack any literary judgment, to be imperceptive about the very quality of the texts they are reading. It sounds a strange charge to bring against men who have benn steeped in these books all their lives. But that might be just the trouble. A man who has spent his youth and manhood in the minute study of the NT texts and of other people's studies of them, whose literary experiences of those texts lacks any standard of comparison such as can only grow from a wide and deep and genial experience of literature in general, is, I should think, very likely to miss the obvious things about them. If he tells me that something in a Gospel is legend or romance, I want to know how many legends and romances he has read, how well his palate is trained in detecting them by the flavour; no how many years he has spent on that Gospel. But I had better turn to examples.
Example A:
In what is already an old commentary I read that the 4th Gospel is regarded by one school as a 'spiritual romance', 'a poem not a history', to be judged by the same canons as Nathan's parable, the Book of Jonah, Paradist Lost, or, more exactly, Pilgrim's Progress. After a man has said that, why need one attend to anything else he says about any book in the world?
Note that he regards Pilgrim's Progress, a story which professes to be a dream and flaunts its allegorical nature by every single proper name it uses, as the closest parallel. Note that the whole epic panoply of Milton goes for nothing. But even if we leave out the grosser absurdities and keep to Jonah, the insensitiveness is crass - Jonah, a tale with as few even pretended historical attachments as Job, grotesque in incident and surely not without a distinct, though of course edifying, vein of typically Jewish humour. Then turn to John. Read the dialogues: that with the Samaritan woman at the well, or that which follows the healing of the man born blind. Look at its pictures: Jesus (if I may use the word) doodling with his finger in the dust; the unforgettable "And it was Night..." (13:30).
I have been reading poems, romances, vision-literature, legends, myths all my life. I know what they are like. I know that not one of them is like this. Of this text there are only two possible views. Either this is reportage - though it may no doubt contain errors - pretty close up to the facts; nearly as close as Boswell. Or else, some unknown writer in the 2nd century, without known predecessors, or successors, suddenly anticipated the whole technique of modern, novelistic, realistic narrative. If it is untrue, it must be narrative of that kind. The reader who doesn't see this has simply not learned to read."
It is so typically C. S. Lewis, shining enlightenment where there was previously dullness and depression, we felt compelled to share it with you:
"The undermining of the old orthodoxy has been mainly the work of 'divines' engaged in New Testament criticism. The authority of experts in that discipline is the authority in deference to whom we are asked to give up a huge mass of beliefs shared in common by the early Church, the Fathers, the Middle Ages, the Reformers, and even the 19th century. I want to explain what it is that makes me skeptical about this authority. Ignorantly skeptical, as you will all to easily see. But the skepticism is the father of the ignorance! It is hard to persevere in a close study when you can work up no prima facie confidence in your teachers.
First then, whatever these men may be as Biblical critics, I distrust them as critics. They seem to me to lack any literary judgment, to be imperceptive about the very quality of the texts they are reading. It sounds a strange charge to bring against men who have benn steeped in these books all their lives. But that might be just the trouble. A man who has spent his youth and manhood in the minute study of the NT texts and of other people's studies of them, whose literary experiences of those texts lacks any standard of comparison such as can only grow from a wide and deep and genial experience of literature in general, is, I should think, very likely to miss the obvious things about them. If he tells me that something in a Gospel is legend or romance, I want to know how many legends and romances he has read, how well his palate is trained in detecting them by the flavour; no how many years he has spent on that Gospel. But I had better turn to examples.
Example A:
In what is already an old commentary I read that the 4th Gospel is regarded by one school as a 'spiritual romance', 'a poem not a history', to be judged by the same canons as Nathan's parable, the Book of Jonah, Paradist Lost, or, more exactly, Pilgrim's Progress. After a man has said that, why need one attend to anything else he says about any book in the world?
Note that he regards Pilgrim's Progress, a story which professes to be a dream and flaunts its allegorical nature by every single proper name it uses, as the closest parallel. Note that the whole epic panoply of Milton goes for nothing. But even if we leave out the grosser absurdities and keep to Jonah, the insensitiveness is crass - Jonah, a tale with as few even pretended historical attachments as Job, grotesque in incident and surely not without a distinct, though of course edifying, vein of typically Jewish humour. Then turn to John. Read the dialogues: that with the Samaritan woman at the well, or that which follows the healing of the man born blind. Look at its pictures: Jesus (if I may use the word) doodling with his finger in the dust; the unforgettable "And it was Night..." (13:30).
I have been reading poems, romances, vision-literature, legends, myths all my life. I know what they are like. I know that not one of them is like this. Of this text there are only two possible views. Either this is reportage - though it may no doubt contain errors - pretty close up to the facts; nearly as close as Boswell. Or else, some unknown writer in the 2nd century, without known predecessors, or successors, suddenly anticipated the whole technique of modern, novelistic, realistic narrative. If it is untrue, it must be narrative of that kind. The reader who doesn't see this has simply not learned to read."