“Biblicism is impossible.” So claims prominent Notre Dame sociologist Christian Smith in his latest book, The Bible Made Impossible: Why Biblicism Is Not a Truly Evangelical Reading of Scripture. He argues that the dominant approach to the Bible among American evangelicals is not just intellectually misguided but also inconsistent with practical reality. Readers may know Smith for his groundbreaking sociological work with the National Study of Youth and Religion, which profiled “moralistic therapeutic deism,” the now ubiquitous description of religiosity among America’s youth. Those familiar with his earlier work will quickly recognize that The Bible Made Impossible is not that kind of book. In fact, this work is at its weakest where dabbling in sociological explanations (e.g., 60–65).
Similarly, this book makes historical and theological observations, but it is not—and does not claim to be—a robust analysis of history or theology. Rather, it reads more like a manifesto, the personal reflections of one whose authority here is not based on research but on decades spent in keen observation of American religious thought and practice. Smith’s case divides rather evenly between his diagnosis of the problems with what he labels “biblicism” (chapters 1–3) and his suggestion of an alternative approach (chapters 4–6). His arguments destructive and constructive are wide-ranging, and some stronger than others. It is beyond the scope of this review to give each one its due, though readers should weigh them all carefully. For my purposes, I’d like to engage the book at two of its strongest points, one from each section. I’d like to engage his claim that biblicism is impossible, and his claim that it’s not truly “evangelical.”
What Is Biblicism and Why Is It Impossible?
First things first: What is biblicism, and why is it impossible? Smith defines his subject with a group of ten beliefs about the nature and purpose of the Bible, beliefs ranging from verbal plenary inspiration and inerrancy to internal consistency and universal applicability (4–5). It’s a wide-ranging definition, not particularly nuanced and often supported with strained examples. It’s also unclear in definition and deployment how many of the ten points or which ones must be present to constitute biblicism. And so it’s tempting to wonder whether the phenomenon even exists as he’s defined it. That said, it is clear enough where Smith’s concerns lie. When he uses biblicism, he is typically referring to a conviction that the Bible speaks with one clear, timeless, and solely authoritative voice to all matters of Christian life and doctrine. He’s referring to principles of internal consistency, perspicuity, and sola scriptura. Smith is not interested in challenging these tenets on theoretical grounds, or at least not directly. Rather, he argues that these claims about the Bible “are defeated in relevance” (xi) by the fact that the Bible “gives rise to divergent understandings among intelligent, sincere, committed readers about what it says about most topics of interest” (17). It’s a phenomenon he calls “pervasive interpretive pluralism,” and it’s the reason he believes biblicist theory is impossible. He demonsrates that pervasive interpretive pluralism is a real problem with numerous examples. The question is whether the reality of pervasive interpretive pluralism—that the Bible means many things to many people on many issues—renders biblicism de facto impossible as Smith suggests. And that, it seems, hinges on a question of authority and what sort of authority the Bible has.
For Smith, the point of biblicist theory is to bolster a conception of the Bible as the final court of appeals, with the authority to settle any issue. Because the Bible manifestly does not settle the issue—because readers widely disagree about what it says—it does not have the kind of authority biblicist theory is meant to bolster, and that theory is discredited. In sum, “it simply does not matter whether the Bible is everything that biblicists claim theoretically concerning its authority, infallibility, inner consistency, perspicuity, and so on, since in actual functioning the Bible produces a pluralism of interpretations” (17). But here it seems Smith makes an unnecessary assumption about the kind of authority the Bible is purported to have. For him, if biblicist principles carry any weight, they must uphold Scripture’s functional authority to settle disagreements, to determine what is true once and for all. But I would argue that for biblicists the Bible’s authority is less a factor of its ability to settle all disputes in this life than of (1) its right to instruct and hold accountable and (2) its trustworthiness as a guide worth consulting. Allow me to elaborate each in turn.
First, an inspired, infallible, harmonious, and sufficiently clear Bible has the authority to instruct readers in matters of theology and practice and to hold them accountable before God for their response. In this sense, the Bible’s authority this side of heaven is more like that of the Constitution than that of the Supreme Court. The authority of the Constitution is not rendered irrelevant because there are different interpretations of its meaning. It has inherent authority, it has the right to be obeyed, apart from its functional authority to settle disputes wielded by the courts. Similarly, the tenets of biblicism are meant to affirm the Bible’s inherent authority, an authority rooted in the identity of the God who speaks. It’s an authority that calls us all to wrestle with its meaning and implications because we are all directly accountable to its author. This is the vision of the Bible’s authority cited by Luther at Worms. Smith’s account is more akin to Alexander Campbell’s largely abandoned view of biblical authority, an extremely optimistic take on perspicuity that promised unity for all who applied a fresh and common sense reading of the text. That kind of functional authority—the authority to say what interpretations are right and what are wrong—belongs fully only to the Author who is also the Judge, and awaits the coming Day of the Lord. In the meantime, it’s not at all clear that in the absence of functional authority—in the presence, in other words, of pervasive interpretive pluralism—claims about the inherent authority of the Bible are rendered irrelevant or impossible.
The Bible Made Impossible: Why Biblicism Is Not a Truly Evangelical Reading of Scripture
Christian Smith
The Bible Made Impossible: Why Biblicism Is Not a Truly Evangelical Reading of Scripture
Christian Smith
Biblicism, an approach to the Bible common among some American evangelicals, emphasizes together the Bible’s exclusive authority, infallibility, clarity, self-sufficiency, internal consistency, self-evident meaning, and universal applicability. Acclaimed sociologist Christian Smith argues that this approach is misguided and unable to live up to its own claims. If evangelical biblicism worked as its proponents say it should, there would not be the vast variety of interpretive differences that biblicists themselves reach when they actually read and interpret the Bible. Smith describes the assumptions, beliefs, and practices of evangelical biblicism and sets it in historical, sociological, and philosophical context.
Second, the authority of the Bible as undergirded by biblicism is not primarily functional authority, but the authority of a trustworthy source or guide. Again, Smith argues that claims about the Bible’s nature—claims like infallibility and clarity and harmony—are irrelevant because no one can agree what the single infallible meaning actually is. He cites as a helpful example a pair of government-certified, military-issued binoculars (16–17). What good is the government certification as to the quality of the binoculars if five different generals see five different things through them? To borrow his example, the certification matters because it establishes that the binoculars are worth using, worth trusting. The certification doesn’t mean that users can forsake the hard work of learning how to use them properly. The certification doesn’t mean that the user can ignore defects in his eyes.
Here I’ve simply tried to suggest that Smith’s claim is too strong. Biblicist theory—or at least parts of it as defined by Smith—is not impossible because of pervasive interpretive pluralism. I do not mean to suggest, however, that pervasive interpretive pluralism is anything less than a significant problem, particularly for the doctrine of perspicuity. Ultimately perspicuity is rooted in the conviction that God is sovereign and able to accomplish what he intends by his Word despite the limitations of human language. So the question is this: why would God give a clear word to his people and not ensure that they all got the same message? That’s an old but serious question—one that Smith helps to clarify—and it could use a fresh answer. Mark Thompson’s A Clear and Present Word (IVP, 2006) is a helpful place to start, especially for its response to the sorts of chastened epistemological adjustments to biblical language and authority like those Smith suggests in his later chapters. That Smith fails to engage Thompson’s work is a significant omission. Unfortunately the implications of pervasive interpretive pluralism for claims of perspicuity, though acknowledged by Thompson, are never fully addressed.
A More “Evangelical” Approach?
The book’s second half, a collection of more helpful, constructive alternatives, turns on Smith’s elaboration of his claim that biblicism in practice often isn’t “evangelical” at all. Among what he identifies as the more egregious abuses of biblicism, a particular application of perspicuity draws most of Smith’s critical attention. It’s an approach to the Bible he labels the “handbook model,” and by which he means the tendency to view the Bible as a resource for comprehensive and authoritative instruction on issues like politics, dating, or money management. It’s an approach that views the Bible as a how-to handbook for all of life, as if it were meant to offer a definitive “biblical” assortment of policy solutions, a “biblical” system of economics, or a “biblical” prescription for dieting. Smith argues that the Bible is not a how-to book but a “here is who” book (176). He claims the Bible’s purpose is to announce the coming of Christ and explain his significance. Holding fast to this Christocentric gospel purpose, and using it as a hermeneutical key to all of Scripture, offers a safeguard against moralism and the tendency to press the Bible for clear instruction on issues that matter more to us than to the Bible itself. Or as Smith puts it, such a key would guard us from making the Bible into a “tool in human hands used to facilitate the kind of secure, stable, and therapeutically satisfying lives we wish to live” (94).
Of course, the devil is in the details. Some readers will question his designation of tertiary issues, given that he seems to place baptism and church polity on the same plane as schooling choices (135). Others will question what counts as Christocentric gospel, and how that gospel could avoid consideration of the atonement issues he’s earlier labeled as too divisive. But the fact remains that it’s an important qualification even for those of us who insist on the clarity of Scripture. Scripture doesn’t intend to speak with same degree of clarity or decisiveness on all issues, and we must hold our positions with a humility that reflects this reality.
An Anecdotal Summary
In sum, this book is a mixed bag. It’s frustrating and inspiring. It’s obfuscating and clarifying. It’s slippery and provocative. But ultimately I believe it may be worth your time to read and assess as a fresh presentation of an age-old objection that seems to have renewed resonance today. If it’s ever been trendy for committed believers to convert as adults to Christianity’s most venerable traditions, it’s trendy now. Anecdotally, this was a phenomenon I witnessed in many of my graduate school friends. These friends were drawn in part by the beauty and tradition of the liturgies, but they were also driven there—to Roman Catholicism, to Eastern Orthodoxy, to Anglicanism—by frustration with the conservative Christianity of their youth. They resented the reality of pervasive interpretive pluralism. They resented the lack of accountability in common appeals to the Bible as a handbook on just about anything. And they found no acceptable alternative in Protestant liberalism’s celebration of unfettered readings of Scripture in service of particular interest groups. So they sought the hermeneutical shelter provided through one or another Church. This promised a more concrete place from which to do their work in an environment marked by radical plurality and relativity. Smith’s book—completed shortly before his own decision to join the Roman Catholic Church—represents this trend. Protestant pastors and academics would do well to take his case seriously.
