A few brief thoughts on chapter one of Angus Paddison’s Scripture: A Very Theological 
Proposal:
The primary issue at stake in this first chapter concerns the doctrine of revelation and its mediation. Paddison’s brief discussion of the inspiration of Scripture (pp. 9-11) relies entirely on P.T. Forsyth’s arguments, which has the unfortunate effect of dating his treatment of the doctrine to the early 20th Century and renders it fairly obsolete. Paddison, via Forsyth, decries many faults in “typical” treatments of inspiration. Take, for example, his complaint that verbal inspiration risks ignoring or downplaying the Spirit’s “present action upon Scripture” (11). I couldn’t point you to a theologian who holds to a traditional view of inspiration and yet denies the necessity of the Spirit’s illuminating work. Apparently, neither can Paddison because we are given no example of this theological boogeyman (read: straw man). “Typical” sources such as Francis Turretin and Charles Hodge both emphasize the pneumatological aspect of reading.
The most damning portion of this section, for me, is in how it fails to escape a kernel/husk model of Scripture, despite his characterization of “de-historicized” or “subjectivist” theories of verbal inspiration. Sadly, name-calling replaces argumentation here. The primary mistake comes when Paddison draws upon Forsyth’s contention that authors, rather than their texts, were inspired, driving a wedge between inspired authors and their supposedly uninspired writings. Paddison appeals to Forsyth’s psychological distinction between revelation and its effect on the Christian consciousness, which is the dirty glass through which revelation must pass in the apostles and prophets before it’s spilled out onto the pages of Scripture. There are two fundamental flaws to this construal of revelation, as I see it. The first is that there is no solidified criterion for this disjunction between revelation and the apostle Paul, for example. Kevin Vanhoozer successfully deals with this disjunction when he claims,
communicative agency integrates the subjectivity (feelings, thoughts) of agents with the objectivity of their external deeds. The life of the apostle Paul, for instance, expresses the idea of Christianity. The overall shape of Paul’s life is as much a part of his communicative action as the content of his letters. His ministry itself is a “letter of recommendation” on behalf of the triune economy of the gospel (2 Cor. 3:2-3) (The Drama of Doctrine, p. 100).
Paddison’s idea of revelation as almost purely historical action stops short of a coherent account of action’s communicative aspects and fails to demonstrate how we can stop the buck at the level of apostolic consciousness. This move leads to a modernist hermeneutic, for it leaves us with a kernel/husk model of Scripture. As a result of Paddison’s account, we have to go “revelation hunting” in the muck and mire of prophetic and apostolic consciousness (perhaps Freud should’ve written a biblical hermeneutics text!). He says, “The correct attitude to Scripture will mean that we strain the writings written by inspired authors for the revelation that lies within” (p. 12 n. 36).
Following upon this construal of revelation, Paddison argues, “We thus avoid the thickets of elevating Scripture to an inappropriate status or of foreclosing the freedom of God to act upon us anew” (p. 19). Paddison here rehashes one of the more annoying arguments in modern theology: you cannot say God does x, because that restricts his freedom! Normally, this argument employs an otiose (or voluntarist) principle of freedom that is elevated over God himself, for the assumption here is that God’s freedom is something other than and independent of God‘s enacted freedom (i.e., the way God has freely chosen to act, as in inspiring the authors of Scripture and carrying their words along as his own throughout history). God is free to inspire Scripture, speak sufficiently in and through it, grant it authority, speak clearly and truthfully therein, etc., is He not? Paddison’s argument, overused in the modern academy, is weak and needs to be retired. In the words of Bob Newhart: “just stop it” (please). [On this, see Kevin Hector, "God's Triunity and Self-Determination," IJST 7]
His entire discussion of “time” sounds lofty, but I found it wanting because it functionally relocates revelation within the “politics” of the church (ecclesial practices). Getting into this would take too long, but a few brief comments are necessary. His understanding of time is theologically problematic primarily in how he understands time with reference to the church rather than God (p. 21), a notably a-theological proposal of time. This is an area where Paddison’s ecclesiocentrism is on full display, owing to his appropriation of Hauerwas. In other words, while he can quote John Webster to the effect that we should define time with reference to Jesus’ history (p. 25), Paddison collapses Jesus’ history into the church’s history – something the doctrine of the ascension protects us against. This ecclesiocentric move makes his enlistment of Webster all the more curious. Admittedly, these arguments will appeal more to postliberal Wesleyans and perhaps those of a more Catholic bent.
Finally, Paddison’s stated desire to avoid any competition between divine and human agency (p. 32) schematizes hermeneutics in a Pelagian fashion. Once again, ecclesiology is enlisted to shoulder more than it can bear. If not competition, there has to be some degree of conflict between divine and human agencies because the former is redemptive and the latter is rebellious. We are still sinners, are we not? Do our wayward hearts not affect how we read this side of the resurrection (cf. 2 Cor. 3:15-16)?
His desire to locate Scripture theologically within the economy of the gospel is laudable, but how he does this is not theological enough, in my opinion. Webster, Vanhoozer, Timothy Ward, and the recent offering by Scott Swain, do a much better job at this. Paddison’s arguments are not well-supported and he skirts over counter arguments in silence and caricature, out of either ignorance or willful neglect. If he were just describing his position, rather than casting down “idols,” then it wouldn’t be sensible to expect any of this from him. But he characterizes opposing views too briefly and too unfairly. For these reasons and more, it’s hard to find any of this persuasive, despite the author’s demonstrated learning in the subject. Hopefully, Paddison will one day refine his arguments against concrete foils and a more explicitly theo-centric method, leaving us with the promised theological proposal. Until then, one only has time to read so many books….
Thanks, Tyler. I’ve been interested in this book for a while but didn’t have the time (or money) to invest in it. I’m highly partial to Forsyth, but I agree that his doctrine of inspiration is working within the limited binaries of neo-orthodoxy (which Forsyth pioneered). If Paddison is not offering a creative updating of Forsyth’s critique (which is virtually identical with Brunner’s), then I’m less inclined to read it. I’ve been there, done that, learned a lot, but Vanhoozer and Webster are the way forward.
If you wanted to do a similar review of Scott Swain’s book, you have my vote of appreciation.
Good to hear from you, Kevin! Unfortunately, I don’t think Paddison’s book is worth the time or money. His thoughts on time are initially stimulating, but they’re too underdeveloped and it doesn’t seem like he’s thought through things enough. Vanhoozer’s discussion of time in Remythologizing Theology is much better.
Swain’s book is a gem and I do plan to do a short write up on it in the near future. The fact that at least one person will read it might actually compel me to do it!
The fact that at least one person will read it might actually compel me to do it!
Ha! Yes, blogging efforts often seem unappreciated. But, we are fighting the good fight with excellence in theo-blogging.