“Formerly
when men
had brought to their attention perfectly
plain documents like the Apostles’ Creed or the Westminster Confession or the
New Testament, they either adopted them or else denied them. Now they no longer deny, but merely
‘interpret.’ Every generation, it is
said, must interpret the Bible or the creed in its own way. But I sometimes wonder just how far this
business of interpretation will go. I
am, let me say, in a company of modern men.
They begin to test my intelligence.
And first they test me on the subject of mathematics. ‘What does six times nine make?’ I am asked.
I breathe a sigh of relief; many questions might place me very low in
the scale of intelligence, but that question I think I can answer. I raise me hand hopefully. ‘I know that one,’ I say. ‘Six nines are fifty-four.’ But my complacency is short-lived. My modern examiner puts on a grave look. ‘Where have you been living?’ he says. ‘ “Six nines are fifty-four” – that is the
old answer to the question.’ In my
ignorance I am somewhat surprised.
‘Why,’ I say, ‘everybody knows that.
That stands in the multiplication table; do you not know the
multiplication table?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ says
my modern friend, ‘of course I accept the multiplication table. But then I do not take a static view of the
multiplication table; every generation must interpret the multiplication table
in its own way. And so of course I
accept the proposition that six nines are fifty-four, but I interpret that to
mean that six nines are one hundred and twenty-eight.’ And then the examination gets into the sphere
of history. The examiner asks me where
the Declaration of Independence was adopted.
That one, also, I think I know.
‘The Declaration of Independence,’ I say, ‘was adopted at
Philadelphia.’ But again I meet with a
swift rebuke. ‘That is the old answer to
the question,’ I am told. ‘But,’ I say,
‘everyone knows that the Declaration of Independence was adopted at
Philadelphia; that stands in all the history books; do you not accept what
stands in the history books?’ ‘Oh, yes,’
says my modern friend, ‘we accept everything that stands in the history books –
hundred per cent Americans we are. But
then, you see, we have to interpret the history books in our own way. And so of
course we accept the proposition that the Declaration of Independence was
adopted at Philadelphia, but we interpret that to mean that it was adopted at
San Francisco.’ And then finally the
examination turns (though still in the sphere of history) to the department of
history that concerns the Christian religion.
‘What do you think happened,’ I am asked, ‘after Jesus was laid in that
tomb near Jerusalem about nineteen hundred years ago?’ To that question also I have a very definite
answer. ‘I will tell you what I think
happened,’ I say; ‘He was laid in a tomb, and then the third day He arose again
from the dead.’ At this point the
surprise of my modern friend reaches its height. The idea of a professor in a theological
seminary actually believing that the body of a dead man really emerged from the
grave! ‘Everyone,’ he tells me, ‘has
abandoned that answer to the question long ago.’ ‘But,’ I say, ‘my friend, this is very
serious; that answer stands in the Apostles’ Creed as well as at the centre of
the New Testament; do you not accept the Apostles’ Creed?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ says my modern friend, ‘of course
I accept the Apostles’ Creed; do we not say it every Sunday in church? – or, if
we do not say it, we sing it – of course I accept the Apostles’ Creed. But then, do you not see, every generation
has a right to interpret it in its own way.
And so now of course we accept the proposition that “the third day He
arose again from the dead,” but we interpret that to mean, “The third day He
did not rise again from the dead.”’
In
view of this modern art of ‘interpretation,’ one may almost wonder whether the
lofty human gift of speech has not become entirely useless. If everything that I say can be ‘interpreted’
to mean its exact opposite, what is the use of saying anything at all? I do not know when the great revival of
religion will come. But one thing is
perfectly clear. When it does come, the
whole elaborate art of ‘interpretation’ will be brushed aside, and there will
be a return, as there was at the reformation of the sixteenth century, to plain
common sense and common honesty.”
Readers must think about
what Machen wrote all those years ago.
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