The question before us is, “How do we read the Bible as a Catholic?”
First, we should distinguish two possible senses of the phrase, “reading the Bible as a Catholic.” “Reading” could be a synonym for “interpreting” or “understanding,” which raises the question of a Catholic hermeneutic—an interpretive system or methodology. On the other hand, “reading” could be taken as “daily reading” or “devotional reading,” which raises the rather different question of the practical practices of incorporating the reading and meditation on Scripture into our daily prayer routine.
In this essay, I’m going to be addressing the first of these questions: a Catholic “hermeneutic” or “hermeneutical system” for Scripture. Where should we start to develop such a thing? I would recommend the Catechism, which in paragraphs 109-119 lays out a fairly complete overview of how to interpret the Bible as a child of the Church.
The Church distinguishes two senses of Scripture, the literal and the spiritual (115), and the spiritual can be further subdivided into the allegorical, the moral, and the anagogical subsenses.
To get at the literal sense, we “must be attentive to what the human authors truly wanted to affirm and to what God wanted to reveal to us by their words” (109). To get at the author’s intention, we must “take into account the conditions of their time and culture, the literary genres in use at that time, and the modes of fealling, speaking, and narrating then current” (110). Then, as we explore the spiritual sense—the deeper meanings of the text placed there by the Holy Spirit—the Catechism lays out three criteria (i.e. principles of discernment) offered by the Second Vatican Council: (1) “be especially attentive ‘to the content and unity of the whole Scripture’” (112); (2) “read the Scripture within ‘the living Tradition of the whole Church’” (113); and (3) “be attentive to the analogy of faith,” by which is meant “the coherence of the truths of faith among themselves and within the whole plan of Revelation” (114).
To help my students master a systematic approach to interpreting the Bible that “covers all the bases”—gets at the four senses while respecting the three criteria—I have developed a six-step process for interpreting any particular Scripture passage that analyzes in turn the historical, grammatical, rhetorical, canonical, liturgical, and magisterial dimensions of the text. The first letters of these six aspects can be remembered by the acronym “How Good Readers Can Learn Meaning from the Bible.” We will discuss each of these aspects below.
After the initial stage of familiarizing ourselves with a particular passage of Scripture (for example, the wedding at Cana, John 2:1-11) by reading it over several times and formulating in our mind some questions about the text and its meaning, the first stage of a more formal interpretive process is to study the historical (and cultural) background of a biblical text, when it is possible to determine such matters. (That is, sometimes we don’t know much about the background of a biblical text, and speculating about the possibilities can be fruitless or even misleading.) This follows the Catechism’s recommendation that “in order to discover the sacred authors’ intention,” we “must take into account the conditions of their time and culture” (110).
For example, a knowledge of ancient Near Eastern culture during the time the Old Testament was written can be helpful in understanding the true meaning of certain passages. Take this law from Deuteronomy:
You shall not boil a kid [i.e., a young goat] in its mother’s milk (14:21).
What is the point here? Is it that mixing milk and meat is an offense to God? A little research into ancient history and culture will reveal that boiling a kid in its mother’s milk was a magic ritual used in Canaanite sorcery. This helps us to understand the point of the passage: God doesn’t want his people to imitate the witchcraft practiced by their pagan neighbors.
Likewise, in the New Testament, a knowledge of the history and culture of the times is helpful. The Gospels, both in stories and parables, make frequent mention of the monetary unit called a denarius. This was a typical day’s wage for a common laborer. Knowing that helps us grasp the size and significance of the amounts of money discussed in certain parables:
After agreeing with the laborers for a denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard (see Matt. 20:1).
Here, the owner of the vineyard is acting in a fair and conventional manner: the denarius was the usual payment for a day’s labor, and he commits to give it to his workers.
At other times, a knowledge of the history and culture may not change interpretation, but it allows us a greater appreciation of what the author is communicating. Take, for example, this statement of Jesus to the church in Laodicea in Revelation 3:
I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth (vv. 15-16).
The city of Laodicea was notorious in the ancient world for its poor drinking water. Its water supply was brought from hot mineral springs many miles from the city. By the time it arrived in town, the water had cooled to lukewarm temperature, but still had a foul taste due to its high mineral content (especially sulfur).
In the modern day, there are a host of resources to get at the historical and cultural background of the biblical text. Most modern commentaries do a good job of this. There are also many excellent Bible dictionaries and encyclopedias that explore the historical context of the biblical world. We have to exercise care, however, because much “mainstream” biblical scholarship is colored by an anti-historical bias—the academic system in most developed countries encourages students in Scripture to be skeptical of the Bible’s claims, de-emphasize data that might support biblical historicity, and over-emphasize data that may challenge the Bible’s self-presentation. Thankfully, it usually does not take much reading to pick up the authors’ and editors’ attitude toward Scripture, and there are sufficient published resources out there by believing Jews, Protestants, and Catholics.
After researching the historical background of the text, we move on to analyze its grammar. Grammar comprises at least two aspects: the meaning of words (lexicon) and their arrangement (syntax).
Obviously, knowing the meaning of words is important to the exegesis of a text! That is why, in order to do serious exegesis, it is necessary to master the languages in which Scripture was written: Hebrew (and a little Aramaic and Greek) for the Old Testament, and Greek for the New.
When we don’t know the original languages, the best we can do is compare many translations and consult several commentaries that discuss the meaning of individual words. More recently, many excellent websites permit the student to “drill down” into the original language of the text and extract a great deal of information.
Here is an example of when the meaning of words can make a difference in interpretation. Older translations of John 14:2 used to say, “In my Father’s house are many mansions.” But the Greek word monai actually means simply “dwellings.” Thus, more recent translations render it as follows: “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places” (NABRE). There is an important difference. When we translate with “mansions,” the emphasis seems to placed on the luxury of our heavenly accommodations. But when the proper word “dwellings” is used, we see that Jesus is emphasizing not the luxury of heaven, but simply the fact that there will be room for us there, and we will be in communion with him.
The second element of grammar is syntax—that is, how words are arranged. Again, it would be ideal to learn the original languages. Otherwise, we are again dependent on translations and commentaries.
Many verses have syntactical difficulties or ambiguities. For example, in John 7:37-38, the RSV renders the following:
On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and proclaimed, “If any one thirst, let him come to me and drink. He who believes in me, as the scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart shall flow rivers of living water.’”
But many scholars would argue that the sentences of the Greek should be divided as follows:
On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and proclaimed, “If any one thirst, let him come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart shall flow rivers of living water.’”
Whose heart flows with water? The first way, it sounds like the believer’s. The second way, it sounds like Jesus’.
Historical research comes into play here as well. The “last day” of the Feast of Tabernacles was when the Jewish people began to pray to God for rain. It makes sense that Jesus would rise on this day to emphasize that he is truly God, the source of life-giving water. For that reason, I think the second translation is preferrable.
After grammar, we look at rhetoric: all the higher-level literary features of a text beyond simply the meaning of the words and their arrangement. As the Catechism says, we should pay attention to “the literary genres in use at that time, and the modes of feeling, speaking, and narrating then current.” The study of rhetoric includes an analysis of at least the following: the genre, structure, and literary devices of a passage.
“Genre” refers to the kind of literature that a given biblical text is: history, poetry, hymn, psalm, proverb, parable, apocalyptic, etc. A great number of interpretive mistakes are made by confusing genres—reading poetry, for example, as if it were history. Take this description of God from Psalm 18:8, literally translated:
Smoke went up from his nostrils, and devouring fire from his mouth; glowing coals flamed forth from him (AT).
Does God really look like a fire-breathing dragon? Of course not. This is not historical or scientific writing; it is poetry, which uses images to communicate meaning.
“Structure” refers to the way a text is arranged as a whole. A common structural device in biblical literature is chiasm—arranging a text so that the first and last elements correspond, the second and second-to-last correspond, and so on. But there are many other structural patterns as well.
The structure of the Beatitudes (Matt. 5:1-12) shows something about their meaning. The Beatitudes consist of eight main statements of blessing and then an epilogue. The first (“poor in spirit”) and last (“persecuted”) of the eight main beatitudes promise the reward of the “kingdom of heaven” (see Matt 5:3, 10). This is an ancient structural device called an inclusio, where an author begins and ends on the same motif or concept. It generally shows what is most central or important point among all the things the author says, so in this case, we can say the “kingdom of heaven” is central to the Beatitudes, and therefore they can be thought of as “qualities of kingdom citizens.”
Finally, the analysis of rhetoric includes identifying and understanding literary devices. “Literary devices” cover a broad range of ways that words are used in artistic, unconventional, or non-literal ways. One literary device is hyperbole—making an overstatement for the sake of emphasis:
Call no one on earth your father; you have but one Father in heaven (Matt. 23:9).
And yet there are at least eleven places in the New Testament in which the apostles themselves call themselves or other men “father” in both a biological and spiritual sense. The Church has always realized that Jesus was speaking non-literally here, using a provocative hyperbole to emphasize that all fatherhood ultimately comes from and resides in God.
Most commentaries will do a good job of discussing the various rhetorical aspects of the text (genre, structure, literary devices). When doing your own research, it is helpful to have a list of commong literary devices to look for, and such lists are available on websites like https://literary-devices.com.
The investigation of the historical, grammatical, and rhetorical dimensions of the text mostly helps with determining the literal sense and flow naturally from what the Church says about it (see CCC 110, 115). The next three dimensions—the canonical, liturgical, and magisterial—relate more directly to the spiritual sense(s).
The canonical dimension of a text is the position and role of the text within the context of the whole canon of Scripture (i.e., the Bible). This dimension has been neglected both in traditional Christian commentary (i.e., the Fathers and the Doctors) as well as in modern (i.e., post-Enlightenment) academic commentaries. Nonetheless, the Catechism calls us to be attentive to the “content and unity” of all of Scripture, so doing a thorough canonical analysis of a text is non-negotiable in the process of interpretation.
First, we should examine the passages that immediately precede and follow the one we are studying. This helps us grasp the immediate context. For example, the Beatitudes (Matt. 5:2-12) are immediately preceded by a remark that Jesus “went up on the mountain, and when he sat down, his disciples came to him” (v. 1, ESV). The ascent up the mountain to teach reminds us of Moses. Also, sitting was the authoritative posture of the teacher in Judaism—rabbis sat to teach. So Jesus assumes the posture of Moses the teacher before proclaiming the Beatitudes.
Second, we can analyze the place of our passage in the section of the book where it occurs. Matthew arranges Jesus’ activities and teachings into five large blocks, each ending with a sermon. The first and largest block (Matt. 3-7) ends with the Sermon on the Mount (5-7), where the Beatitudes have the first and most prominent place. They pair with the end of the Sermon on the Mount, the parable of the man who built his house upon a rock (Matt. 7:24-27). This alludes to Solomon, the greatest man who built the greatest house (the Temple) on the largest rock (the Temple Mount) in Israel’s history. The theme of the Beatitudes is the kingdom of God, and the concluding parable is about being like God’s greatest king.
Third, we should examine the role of our passage in the context of the whole book. Is your text related to other texts? Does another passage later or earlier in the same book speak to the same issues as your text, and if so, does that cast light on the significance of your text? For example, in the Gospel of John, the Blessed Mother appears only twice—at the wedding at Cana and at the foot of the cross. One event begins Jesus’ ministry; the other event closes Jesus’ ministry. Mary’s presence at both ties the events together and suggests (1) there is something important about Mary relevant to Jesus’ ministry and (2) the wedding at Cana and the cross are somehow related. When we read the two passages in light of each other, interesting correlations start to appear, and we discover nuptial images in the account of Jesus’ crucifixion.
Finally, we must examine the text within the context of the canon (the Bible) as a whole. This is what the Catechism means when it says to “keep in mind the content and unity of all of Scripture.” To do this well, the reader needs to (1) understand what place in the divine economy the text has and (2) be aware of related texts both earlier and later in the canon. (Related texts are texts that speak on the same subject, or perhaps serve as a source for the present text, or use the present text as a source.)
Let’s give an example of interpreting a text within the canon as a whole.
When a man takes a wife and marries her, if then she finds no favor in his eyes because he has found some indecency in her, and he writes her a bill of divorce and puts it in her hand and sends her out of his house . . . (Deut. 24:1)
Does this verse imply that divorce is acceptable for God’s people? To answer that, we first have to be aware that Deuteronomy was written by Moses after struggling for forty years with the people of Israel and their rebellious ways. In several places, it has laws that have a clearly lower standard—especially from a moral and liturgical standpoint—than laws that were spoken earlier at Sinai.
Then we have to be aware of what Jesus says later on the same subject:
He said to them, “For your hardness of heart Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but from the beginning it was not so” (Matt. 19:8).
Here Jesus holds up the creational model of one man, one woman, for life, as being the divine intention, not the concessions introduced by Moses due to the Israelites’ stubbornness for forty years in the wilderness. We also should ponder the following verse from an Old Testament prophet long preceding Jesus:
For I hate divorce, says the LORD the God of Israel. . . . So take heed to yourselves and do not be faithless (Mal. 2:16).
The point is this: we cannot simply read Deuteronomy 24:1 and apply it directly modern life. When interpreted in the context of the whole canon, we see that God does not desire divorce, though for a time he allowed Moses to permit it for hard-hearted Israel. Why did God permit it? The rabbis said: to prevent spousal abuse or even murder among the Israelites.
So we can see how a canonical analysis of the text rather directly responds to the Catechism’s criterion of keeping in mind the “content and unity” of Scripture. But next the Catechism insists on keeping in mind the living tradition of the Church, and many theologians have emphasized that the liturgy is the privileged expression of the Church’s living tradition. Therefore, we can gain spiritual insight into the meaning of a text by observing its use within the liturgy.
Thus, when interpreting a text, it is always wise to examine if and where it is used in the Church’s liturgy, which usually means checking the index to the lectionary (both weekday and Sunday/Holy Day) and the Liturgy of the Hours, which is theologically an “extension of the eucharistic liturgy.” If possible, checking its use in the Church’s other rites (Byzantine, Ruthenian, Maronite, Syro-Malabar, etc.) is also helpful.
A striking example of the liturgy’s assistance in interpretation is Song of Songs 3:1-5. This text is read for the feast day of St. Mary Magdalene, and it is paired with John 20:11-18, the account of Mary finding Jesus at the tomb after his resurrection. When we examine both texts in light of each other, striking parallels emerge. In both cases, we have a woman going out in the dark to find her “beloved,” etc. The liturgy shows the ultimate meaning of Song of Songs 3:1-5 points not to human romantic love, but to Jesus, and to finding him who is our true beloved.
The final step of Scriptural interpretation is to review the teaching of the Magisterium about the text. As Dei Verbum and other magisterial documents have stated, the ultimate interpreter of Scripture is not the guild of biblical scholars (who never completely agree among themselves anyway), but the Church’s teaching authority. Therefore, it is necessary to see if the meaning of a given text has been defined authoritatively by the Magisterium at some point in Church history. The teachings of the Fathers is also weighty, and can even be infallible if there is a consensus among them. The teachings of the Doctors, the popes, and the saints should also be consulted, as they are significant witnesses to Tradition and the way the Holy Spirit has guided the Church to receive God’s word through history.
Discovering where and when Church authorities have spoken about any particular text is not always easy, but one excellent if not yet exhaustive resource is a website hosted by the Congregation for the Clergy: www.bibliaclerus.org. It allows us to search an electronic database of Patristic, medieval, and magisterial documents for references to a specific text. There are also software packages like Verbum that permit electronic searching of a large library of the Fathers, Doctors, and saints, along with papal and conciliar documents. Checking these authoritative witnesses to the Church’s interpretive tradition are crucial for ensuring that we interpret within the living tradition and the analogy of faith, the “coherence of the truths of faith among themselves and within the whole plan of revelation.”
Once the interpreter has analyzed the Scripture passage in question from the historical, grammatical, rhetorical, canonical, liturgical, and magisterial perspectives, he should be in a good position to articulate its literal sense (the meaning of the words according to the intent of the author), the allegorical sense (the meaning it takes on in light of Christ and the new covenant economy), the moral sense (its significance for our behavior as disciples of Christ), and the anagogical sense (the way the passage leads us to contemplation and union with God).
Within the life of the Church—whether in preparing homilies, class lessons, Bible studies, or public talks—rarely will it be both possible and necessary to follow every step laid out here comprehensively, unless perhaps the reader is writing a commentary. However, it is helpful for all Catholics—laity, religious, or clergy—to have a vision for the process necessary for responsible interpretation of Scripture from the heart of the Church. I hope I have succeeded in laying out such a vision here.