Textual Criticism

[The Nehor]

A query: has textual criticism ever made testable claims about the urtext of some text other other that was subsequently verified? Or, to put it another way, has textual criticism got any controls over its claims, whatsoever?

I like this autobiographical take on criticism made by C.S. Lewis:

All this sort of criticism attempts to reconstruct the genesis of the texts it studies; what vanished documents each author used, when and where he wrote, with what purposes, under what influences -- the whole Sitz im Leben of the text. This is done with immense erudition and great ingenuity. And at first sight it is very convincing. I think I should be convinced by it myself, but that I carry about with me a charm – the herb moly -- against it. You must excuse me if I now speak for a while of myself. The value of what I say depends on its being first-hand evidence.

What forearms me against all these reconstructions is the fact that I have seen it all from the other end of the stick. I have watched reviewers reconstructing the genesis of my own books in just this way.

Until you come to be reviewed yourself you would never believe how little of an ordinary review is taken up by criticism in the strict sense: by evaluation, praise, or censure, of the book actually written. Most of it is taken up with imaginary histories of the process by which you wrote it. The very terms which the reviewers use in praising or dispraising often imply such a history. They praise a passage as 'spontaneous' and censure another as 'laboured'; that is, they think they know that you wrote the one currente calamo and the other invita Minerva.

What the value of such reconstructions is I learned very early in my career. I had published a book of essays; and the one into which I had put most of my heart, the one I really cared about and in which I discharged a keen enthusiasm, was on William Morris. And in almost the first review I was told that this was obviously the only one in the book in which I had felt no interest. Now don't mistake. The critic was, I now believe, quite right in thinking it the worst essay in the book; at least everyone agreed with him. Where he was totally wrong was in his imaginary history of the causes which produced its dullness.

Well, this made me prick up my ears. Since then I have watched with some care similar imaginary histories both of my own books and of books by friends whose real history I knew. Reviewers, both friendly and hostile, will dash you off such histories with great confidence; will tell you what public events had directed the author's mind to this or that, what other authors had influenced him, what his over-all intention was, what sort of audience he principally addressed, why -- and when -- he did everything.

Now I must first record my impression; then distinct from it, what I can say with certainty. My impression is that in the whole of my experience not one of these guesses has on any one point been right; that the method shows a record of 100 per cent failure. You would expect that by mere chance they would hit as often as they miss. But it is my impression that they do no such thing. I can't remember a single hit. But as I have not kept a careful record my mere impression may be mistaken. What I think I can say with certainty is that they are usually wrong.

And yet they would often sound -- if you didn't know the truth -- extremely convincing. Many reviewers said that the Ring in Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings was suggested by the atom bomb. What could be more plausible? Here is a book published when everyone was preoccupied by that sinister invention; here in the centre of the book is a weapon which it seems madness to throw away yet fatal to use. Yet in fact, the chronology of the book's composition makes the theory impossible. Only the other week a reviewer said that a fairy tale by my friend roger Lancelyn Green was influenced by fairy tales of mine. Nothing could be more probable. I have an imaginary country with a beneficent lion in it: Green, one with a beneficent tiger. Green and I can be proved to read one another's works; to be indeed in various ways closely associated. The case for an affiliation is far stronger than many which we accept as conclusive when dead authors are concerned. But it's all untrue nevertheless. I know the genesis of that Tiger and that Lion and they are quite independent.

Now this surely ought to give us pause. The reconstruction of the history of a text, when the text is ancient, sounds very convincing. But one is after all sailing by dead reckoning; the results cannot be checked by fact. In order to decide how reliable the method is, what more could you ask than to be shown an instance where the same method is at work and we have the facts to check it by? Well, that is what I have done. And we find, that when this check is available, the results are either always, or else nearly always, wrong. The 'assured results of modern scholarship', as to the way in which an old book was written, are 'assured', we may conclude, only because the men who knew the facts are dead and can't blow the gaff. The huge essays in my own field which reconstruct the history of Piers Plowman or The Faerie Queene are most unlikely to be anything but sheer illusions.

Am I then venturing to compare every whipster who writes a review in a modern weekly with these great scholars who have devoted their whole lives to the detailed study of the New Testament? If the former are always wrong, does it follow that the latter must fare no better?

There are two answers to this. First, while I respect the learning of the great Biblical critics, I am not yet persuaded that their judgment is equally to be respected. But, secondly, consider with what overwhelming advantages the mere reviewers start. They reconstruct the history of a book written by someone whose mother-tongue is the same as theirs; a contemporary, educated like themselves, living in something like the same mental and spiritual climate. They have everything to help them. The superiority in judgment and diligence which you are going to attribute to the Biblical critics will have to be almost superhuman if it is to offset the fact that they are everywhere faced with customs, language, race-characteristics, a religious background, habits of composition, and basic assumptions, which no scholarship will ever enable any man now alive to know as surely and intimately and instinctively as the reviewer can know mine. And for the very same reason, remember, the Biblical critics, whatever reconstructions they devise, can never be crudely proved wrong. St. Mark is dead. When they meet St. Peter there will be more pressing matters to discuss.

[Damien the Leper]

In concert with what others have said in this thread, it helps me to remember that textual criticism is a man-made, academic methodology, and not a divine, spiritual methodology.

This defines for me not only where this methodology best applies (e.g. in academia, and not as much in spiritual faith), and how it should be prioritized within different fields and in relation to other methodologies, but also its limitation (it is only as good as the oft scant available data and the finite minds that employ it).

In short, for me, while textual criticism may provide some useful insights within academia, when it comes to scriptural interpretation and determining what is or is not of God, it isn't the final arbiter, if an arbiter at all.

But, then, in godly and spiritual matters, I don't place man before God--though I can accept that others may believe differently.

Thanks, -Wade Englund-

Ahhh...very true. Yet it is Divinely Inspired for man's benefit.

[volgadon]

OOOH OOOH, can I play?

Nut 2 b ovrly criticism, butt shirley yew mint ... nevermind.

I think you entered the game long before I did. See below.

A query: has textual criticism ever made testable claims about the urtext of some text other other that was subsequently verified?

I have this essay in mind.

[Log]

I think you entered the game long before I did. See below.

Oh, drat. Meant "or other." Bother and obfuscation. Fixed.

Edited April 12, 2012 by Log

[Pahoran]

I like this autobiographical take on criticism made by C.S. Lewis:

All this sort of criticism attempts to reconstruct the genesis of the texts it studies; what vanished documents each author used, when and where he wrote, with what purposes, under what influences -- the whole Sitz im Leben of the text. This is done with immense erudition and great ingenuity. And at first sight it is very convincing. I think I should be convinced by it myself, but that I carry about with me a charm – the herb moly -- against it. You must excuse me if I now speak for a while of myself. The value of what I say depends on its being first-hand evidence.

What forearms me against all these reconstructions is the fact that I have seen it all from the other end of the stick. I have watched reviewers reconstructing the genesis of my own books in just this way.

Until you come to be reviewed yourself you would never believe how little of an ordinary review is taken up by criticism in the strict sense: by evaluation, praise, or censure, of the book actually written. Most of it is taken up with imaginary histories of the process by which you wrote it. The very terms which the reviewers use in praising or dispraising often imply such a history. They praise a passage as 'spontaneous' and censure another as 'laboured'; that is, they think they know that you wrote the one currente calamo and the other invita Minerva.

What the value of such reconstructions is I learned very early in my career. I had published a book of essays; and the one into which I had put most of my heart, the one I really cared about and in which I discharged a keen enthusiasm, was on William Morris. And in almost the first review I was told that this was obviously the only one in the book in which I had felt no interest. Now don't mistake. The critic was, I now believe, quite right in thinking it the worst essay in the book; at least everyone agreed with him. Where he was totally wrong was in his imaginary history of the causes which produced its dullness.

Well, this made me prick up my ears. Since then I have watched with some care similar imaginary histories both of my own books and of books by friends whose real history I knew. Reviewers, both friendly and hostile, will dash you off such histories with great confidence; will tell you what public events had directed the author's mind to this or that, what other authors had influenced him, what his over-all intention was, what sort of audience he principally addressed, why -- and when -- he did everything.

Now I must first record my impression; then distinct from it, what I can say with certainty. My impression is that in the whole of my experience not one of these guesses has on any one point been right; that the method shows a record of 100 per cent failure. You would expect that by mere chance they would hit as often as they miss. But it is my impression that they do no such thing. I can't remember a single hit. But as I have not kept a careful record my mere impression may be mistaken. What I think I can say with certainty is that they are usually wrong.

And yet they would often sound -- if you didn't know the truth -- extremely convincing. Many reviewers said that the Ring in Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings was suggested by the atom bomb. What could be more plausible? Here is a book published when everyone was preoccupied by that sinister invention; here in the centre of the book is a weapon which it seems madness to throw away yet fatal to use. Yet in fact, the chronology of the book's composition makes the theory impossible. Only the other week a reviewer said that a fairy tale by my friend roger Lancelyn Green was influenced by fairy tales of mine. Nothing could be more probable. I have an imaginary country with a beneficent lion in it: Green, one with a beneficent tiger. Green and I can be proved to read one another's works; to be indeed in various ways closely associated. The case for an affiliation is far stronger than many which we accept as conclusive when dead authors are concerned. But it's all untrue nevertheless. I know the genesis of that Tiger and that Lion and they are quite independent.

Now this surely ought to give us pause. The reconstruction of the history of a text, when the text is ancient, sounds very convincing. But one is after all sailing by dead reckoning; the results cannot be checked by fact. In order to decide how reliable the method is, what more could you ask than to be shown an instance where the same method is at work and we have the facts to check it by? Well, that is what I have done. And we find, that when this check is available, the results are either always, or else nearly always, wrong. The 'assured results of modern scholarship', as to the way in which an old book was written, are 'assured', we may conclude, only because the men who knew the facts are dead and can't blow the gaff. The huge essays in my own field which reconstruct the history of Piers Plowman or The Faerie Queene are most unlikely to be anything but sheer illusions.

Am I then venturing to compare every whipster who writes a review in a modern weekly with these great scholars who have devoted their whole lives to the detailed study of the New Testament? If the former are always wrong, does it follow that the latter must fare no better?

There are two answers to this. First, while I respect the learning of the great Biblical critics, I am not yet persuaded that their judgment is equally to be respected. But, secondly, consider with what overwhelming advantages the mere reviewers start. They reconstruct the history of a book written by someone whose mother-tongue is the same as theirs; a contemporary, educated like themselves, living in something like the same mental and spiritual climate. They have everything to help them. The superiority in judgment and diligence which you are going to attribute to the Biblical critics will have to be almost superhuman if it is to offset the fact that they are everywhere faced with customs, language, race-characteristics, a religious background, habits of composition, and basic assumptions, which no scholarship will ever enable any man now alive to know as surely and intimately and instinctively as the reviewer can know mine. And for the very same reason, remember, the Biblical critics, whatever reconstructions they devise, can never be crudely proved wrong. St. Mark is dead. When they meet St. Peter there will be more pressing matters to discuss.

Thank you Nehor, that is simply superb.

Regards,

Pahoran

[selek1]

Ahhh...very true. Yet it is Divinely Inspired for man's benefit.

An interesting statement of faith unencumbered.

Could you be more specific about the "it" to which you are referring?

If by "it", you mean "textual criticism", then you have abandoned the allegedly "scientific" rigor of the discipline by incorprating a claim of supernatural involvement.

So- to which "it" are you referring?

If by "it", you mean "the Scriptures", then you are conflating the trendy reinterpretation of scripture with the Scriptures themselves.

[selek1]

Thank you Nehor, that is simply superb.

Ditto, Nehor.

Bravo Zulu.

[volgadon]

Oh, drat. Meant "or other." Bother and obfuscation. Fixed.

I thought both that and my typo pretty funny.

[wenglund]

On a somewhat personal level, this is one of the reasons I am totally uninterested in Book of Abraham "scholarship".

I can understand. However, you are missing out on some of the most remarkable expressions of secular faith. LOL

Thanks, -Wade Englund-

[wenglund]

A query: has textual criticism ever made testable claims about the urtext of some text or other that was subsequently verified? Or, to put it another way, has textual criticism got any controls over its claims, whatsoever? I have this essay in mind.

Excellent questions.

Thanks, -Wade Englund-

[wenglund]

What forearms me against all these reconstructions is the fact that I have seen it all from the other end of the stick. I have watched reviewers reconstructing the genesis of my own books in just this way.

Until you come to be reviewed yourself you would never believe how little of an ordinary review is taken up by criticism in the strict sense: by evaluation, praise, or censure, of the book actually written. Most of it is taken up with imaginary histories of the process by which you wrote it. The very terms which the reviewers use in praising or dispraising often imply such a history. They praise a passage as 'spontaneous' and censure another as 'laboured'; that is, they think they know that you wrote the one currente calamo and the other invita Minerva.

What the value of such reconstructions is I learned very early in my career. I had published a book of essays; and the one into which I had put most of my heart, the one I really cared about and in which I discharged a keen enthusiasm, was on William Morris. And in almost the first review I was told that this was obviously the only one in the book in which I had felt no interest. Now don't mistake. The critic was, I now believe, quite right in thinking it the worst essay in the book; at least everyone agreed with him. Where he was totally wrong was in his imaginary history of the causes which produced its dullness.

Well, this made me prick up my ears. Since then I have watched with some care similar imaginary histories both of my own books and of books by friends whose real history I knew. Reviewers, both friendly and hostile, will dash you off such histories with great confidence; will tell you what public events had directed the author's mind to this or that, what other authors had influenced him, what his over-all intention was, what sort of audience he principally addressed, why -- and when -- he did everything.

Now I must first record my impression; then distinct from it, what I can say with certainty. My impression is that in the whole of my experience not one of these guesses has on any one point been right; that the method shows a record of 100 per cent failure. You would expect that by mere chance they would hit as often as they miss. But it is my impression that they do no such thing. I can't remember a single hit. But as I have not kept a careful record my mere impression may be mistaken. What I think I can say with certainty is that they are usually wrong.

And yet they would often sound -- if you didn't know the truth -- extremely convincing. Many reviewers said that the Ring in Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings was suggested by the atom bomb. What could be more plausible? Here is a book published when everyone was preoccupied by that sinister invention; here in the centre of the book is a weapon which it seems madness to throw away yet fatal to use. Yet in fact, the chronology of the book's composition makes the theory impossible. Only the other week a reviewer said that a fairy tale by my friend roger Lancelyn Green was influenced by fairy tales of mine. Nothing could be more probable. I have an imaginary country with a beneficent lion in it: Green, one with a beneficent tiger. Green and I can be proved to read one another's works; to be indeed in various ways closely associated. The case for an affiliation is far stronger than many which we accept as conclusive when dead authors are concerned. But it's all untrue nevertheless. I know the genesis of that Tiger and that Lion and they are quite independent.

Now this surely ought to give us pause. The reconstruction of the history of a text, when the text is ancient, sounds very convincing. But one is after all sailing by dead reckoning; the results cannot be checked by fact. In order to decide how reliable the method is, what more could you ask than to be shown an instance where the same method is at work and we have the facts to check it by? Well, that is what I have done. And we find, that when this check is available, the results are either always, or else nearly always, wrong. The 'assured results of modern scholarship', as to the way in which an old book was written, are 'assured', we may conclude, only because the men who knew the facts are dead and can't blow the gaff. The huge essays in my own field which reconstruct the history of Piers Plowman or The Faerie Queene are most unlikely to be anything but sheer illusions.

Am I then venturing to compare every whipster who writes a review in a modern weekly with these great scholars who have devoted their whole lives to the detailed study of the New Testament? If the former are always wrong, does it follow that the latter must fare no better?

There are two answers to this. First, while I respect the learning of the great Biblical critics, I am not yet persuaded that their judgment is equally to be respected. But, secondly, consider with what overwhelming advantages the mere reviewers start. They reconstruct the history of a book written by someone whose mother-tongue is the same as theirs; a contemporary, educated like themselves, living in something like the same mental and spiritual climate. They have everything to help them. The superiority in judgment and diligence which you are going to attribute to the Biblical critics will have to be almost superhuman if it is to offset the fact that they are everywhere faced with customs, language, race-characteristics, a religious background, habits of composition, and basic assumptions, which no scholarship will ever enable any man now alive to know as surely and intimately and instinctively as the reviewer can know mine. And for the very same reason, remember, the Biblical critics, whatever reconstructions they devise, can never be crudely proved wrong. St. Mark is dead. When they meet St. Peter there will be more pressing matters to discuss.

I third the motion!

In concert with this, I have found that the people most likely to misinterpret things I have said, and put words into my mouth, and who are the most dogmatic in telling me what I believe and think, on this and other LDS related boards, tend to by critics who are the greatest advocates and adherents of textual criticism. I have even mentioned on occasion that if they have such trouble correctly interpreting someone of their same generation, same language, and similar cultural and religious background, imagine how likely they are to misinterpret the statements of people of foreign lands, different faiths and cultures, who lived hundreds and thousands of years ago. Yet, they seem undeterred and continue with supreme confidence. It is a wonder to behold.

Thanks, -Wade Englund-

[Damien the Leper]

An interesting statement of faith unencumbered.

Could you be more specific about the "it" to which you are referring?

If by "it", you mean "textual criticism", then you have abandoned the allegedly "scientific" rigor of the discipline by incorprating a claim of supernatural involvement.

So- to which "it" are you referring?

If by "it", you mean "the Scriptures", then you are conflating the trendy reinterpretation of scripture with the Scriptures themselves.

I was being facetious, Selek.

[zerinus]

Does evidence and scholarly research concerning textual criticism of Biblical books have any bearing on whether a teaching or thought process is actually inspired?

This thread is in response to Pahoran's statement:

Does such a default position really stand on a firm foundation with well reasoned and thought out arguments?

Personally, I disagree with the default position because there seems to be little to no real merit to the argument. Furthermore, "because the General Authorities say so" is not a valid argument.

The default position is as follows:

Articles of Faith 1:

8 We believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly; we also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God.

D&C 42:

12 And again, the elders, priests and teachers of this church shall teach the principles of my gospel, which are in the Bible and the Book of Mormon, in the which is the fulness of the gospel.

And I agree with default position.

Edited April 13, 2012 by zerinus

[The Nehor]

I would add that using C.S. Lewis's observations as a weapon to bludgeon those criticisms you disagree with is not the main point.

The correct use is to look at your understanding of the teachings of God throughout the ages and the possibility of misunderstanding you might have and say, "Lord, is it I?"

[Maidservant]

you might have and say, "Lord, is it I?"

Wow .

[Damien the Leper]

I like this autobiographical take on criticism made by C.S. Lewis:

All this sort of criticism attempts to reconstruct the genesis of the texts it studies; what vanished documents each author used, when and where he wrote, with what purposes, under what influences -- the whole Sitz im Leben of the text. This is done with immense erudition and great ingenuity. And at first sight it is very convincing. I think I should be convinced by it myself, but that I carry about with me a charm – the herb moly -- against it. You must excuse me if I now speak for a while of myself. The value of what I say depends on its being first-hand evidence.

What forearms me against all these reconstructions is the fact that I have seen it all from the other end of the stick. I have watched reviewers reconstructing the genesis of my own books in just this way.

Until you come to be reviewed yourself you would never believe how little of an ordinary review is taken up by criticism in the strict sense: by evaluation, praise, or censure, of the book actually written. Most of it is taken up with imaginary histories of the process by which you wrote it. The very terms which the reviewers use in praising or dispraising often imply such a history. They praise a passage as 'spontaneous' and censure another as 'laboured'; that is, they think they know that you wrote the one currente calamo and the other invita Minerva.

What the value of such reconstructions is I learned very early in my career. I had published a book of essays; and the one into which I had put most of my heart, the one I really cared about and in which I discharged a keen enthusiasm, was on William Morris. And in almost the first review I was told that this was obviously the only one in the book in which I had felt no interest. Now don't mistake. The critic was, I now believe, quite right in thinking it the worst essay in the book; at least everyone agreed with him. Where he was totally wrong was in his imaginary history of the causes which produced its dullness.

Well, this made me prick up my ears. Since then I have watched with some care similar imaginary histories both of my own books and of books by friends whose real history I knew. Reviewers, both friendly and hostile, will dash you off such histories with great confidence; will tell you what public events had directed the author's mind to this or that, what other authors had influenced him, what his over-all intention was, what sort of audience he principally addressed, why -- and when -- he did everything.

Now I must first record my impression; then distinct from it, what I can say with certainty. My impression is that in the whole of my experience not one of these guesses has on any one point been right; that the method shows a record of 100 per cent failure. You would expect that by mere chance they would hit as often as they miss. But it is my impression that they do no such thing. I can't remember a single hit. But as I have not kept a careful record my mere impression may be mistaken. What I think I can say with certainty is that they are usually wrong.

And yet they would often sound -- if you didn't know the truth -- extremely convincing. Many reviewers said that the Ring in Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings was suggested by the atom bomb. What could be more plausible? Here is a book published when everyone was preoccupied by that sinister invention; here in the centre of the book is a weapon which it seems madness to throw away yet fatal to use. Yet in fact, the chronology of the book's composition makes the theory impossible. Only the other week a reviewer said that a fairy tale by my friend roger Lancelyn Green was influenced by fairy tales of mine. Nothing could be more probable. I have an imaginary country with a beneficent lion in it: Green, one with a beneficent tiger. Green and I can be proved to read one another's works; to be indeed in various ways closely associated. The case for an affiliation is far stronger than many which we accept as conclusive when dead authors are concerned. But it's all untrue nevertheless. I know the genesis of that Tiger and that Lion and they are quite independent.

Now this surely ought to give us pause. The reconstruction of the history of a text, when the text is ancient, sounds very convincing. But one is after all sailing by dead reckoning; the results cannot be checked by fact. In order to decide how reliable the method is, what more could you ask than to be shown an instance where the same method is at work and we have the facts to check it by? Well, that is what I have done. And we find, that when this check is available, the results are either always, or else nearly always, wrong. The 'assured results of modern scholarship', as to the way in which an old book was written, are 'assured', we may conclude, only because the men who knew the facts are dead and can't blow the gaff. The huge essays in my own field which reconstruct the history of Piers Plowman or The Faerie Queene are most unlikely to be anything but sheer illusions.

Am I then venturing to compare every whipster who writes a review in a modern weekly with these great scholars who have devoted their whole lives to the detailed study of the New Testament? If the former are always wrong, does it follow that the latter must fare no better?

There are two answers to this. First, while I respect the learning of the great Biblical critics, I am not yet persuaded that their judgment is equally to be respected. But, secondly, consider with what overwhelming advantages the mere reviewers start. They reconstruct the history of a book written by someone whose mother-tongue is the same as theirs; a contemporary, educated like themselves, living in something like the same mental and spiritual climate. They have everything to help them. The superiority in judgment and diligence which you are going to attribute to the Biblical critics will have to be almost superhuman if it is to offset the fact that they are everywhere faced with customs, language, race-characteristics, a religious background, habits of composition, and basic assumptions, which no scholarship will ever enable any man now alive to know as surely and intimately and instinctively as the reviewer can know mine. And for the very same reason, remember, the Biblical critics, whatever reconstructions they devise, can never be crudely proved wrong. St. Mark is dead. When they meet St. Peter there will be more pressing matters to discuss.

Wonderfully fascinating response, Nehor.Thank you for the response. Not to take their side, because I do really appreciate what you have written...I'm curious what the Biblical critics would say in response to this post.

Also, and this is not directed at you, it is disappointing to know that many have a negative opinion of the criticism disciplines that are applied to scriptural study.

[mfbukowski]

"Lord, is it I?"

Edited April 13, 2012 by mfbukowski

[mfbukowski]

Again it occurs to me to say that when it comes to highly abstract matters like religious discourse and textual criticism, all we have are metaphors, largely of our own invention.

[wenglund]

...it is disappointing to know that many have a negative opinion of the criticism disciplines that are applied to scriptural study.

I certainly don't. If I have a negative opinion at all, it isn't about the disciplines, itself, but the over-confidence (sometimes dogmatic) and unwarranted priority that some may give the disciplines over that of divine methodologies.

Thanks, -Wade Englund-

[Damien the Leper]

I certainly don't. If I have a negative opinion at all, it isn't about the disciplines, itself, but the over-confidence (sometimes dogmatic) and unwarranted priority that some may give the disciplines over that of divine methodologies.

Thanks, -Wade Englund-

I see what you mean. Honestly, I'm not sure how to best approach or understand divine methodologies because I don't know of a solid foundation in which they stand. This my ignorance and not my argument against it.

[zerinus]

I see what you mean. Honestly, I'm not sure how to best approach or understand divine methodologies because I don't know of a solid foundation in which they stand. This my ignorance and not my argument against it.

1 Cotinthians 2:

11 For what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him? even so the things of God knoweth no man, but [by] the Spirit of God.

12 Now we have received, not the aspirit of the world, but the spirit which is of God; that we might know the things that are freely given to us of God.

13 Which things also we speak, not in the words which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth; comparing spiritual things with spiritual.

14 But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.

Edited April 13, 2012 by zerinus

[wenglund]

I see what you mean. Honestly, I'm not sure how to best approach or understand divine methodologies because I don't know of a solid foundation in which they stand. This my ignorance and not my argument against it.

To me, as with most any pragmatic methodology, the so-called solid foundation comes as a result of using, in faith, the divine methodologies--or rather, our recognition of the solid foundation comes through the growth in faith process, and is not as a prerequisite thereto. The more you use the divine methodologies, and exercise faith therein, your faith may grow, and the more you may see what is the best approach and/or gain greater understanding of the divine methodologies.

I hope this helps.

Thanks, -Wade Englund-

[mfbukowski]

I see what you mean. Honestly, I'm not sure how to best approach or understand divine methodologies because I don't know of a solid foundation in which they stand. This my ignorance and not my argument against it.

The problem is that what most people regard as having a "solid foundation" is a scientific methodology, and that is based on objective observations and experiments which can be replicated.

On the other hand, science cannot tell us much about the most important things in life, which are often subjective problems like whom to marry, what gives your personal life meaning, understanding your place in the universe, and achieving a personal sense of peace. All the scientific investigation in the world cannot give you a sense of peace and meaning in your life, since science pursues only factual information.

So the two are incompatible- one can have either a "solid foundation" based on scientific fact, or a not-very-solid-to-others foundation which cannot be "proven" to others, based on religious methodologies.

Yet on a subjective basis those subjective methodologies can produce a high degree of certainty to the individual. When a spiritual principle works for you in your life, you can know that it works for you. That is the good old Alma 32 "experiment" on faith. But proof to you is not proof to anyone else.

So I think it is important to distinguish between what is a "solid foundation" on a personal, subjective, religious basis and what is a "solid foundation" which can be proven to others in a factual, scientific way.

Big difference!

Edited April 13, 2012 by mfbukowski

[mfbukowski]

I hadn't read those other posts before I posted mine- Valentinus please notice that all three of the previous posts answer the question, independently, with the same answer in different words.

[The Nehor]

Wonderfully fascinating response, Nehor.Thank you for the response. Not to take their side, because I do really appreciate what you have written...I'm curious what the Biblical critics would say in response to this post.

Also, and this is not directed at you, it is disappointing to know that many have a negative opinion of the criticism disciplines that are applied to scriptural study.

I don't have a negative opinion of them. I just think they are regularly wrong and the shifts in their conclusions rarely come from new information but from the latest fad of interpretation, none of which can be proved right or wrong. I also don't limit it to scriptural study either. When someone attempts to tell me why Shakespeare wrote the things he did or why Alexander's upbringing led to him making a certain mistake I take it with a massive shaker of salt.