In addition to the sacred Christian Tradition, one of the main targets of modernist attacks has been – and continues to be – the Holy Scripture. By spreading reductionist interpretations based on the “historical-critical” method, confidence in the dogma of inerrancy, proclaimed by Pope Leo XIII in his encyclical Providentissimus Deus (1893), has been weakened, if not eliminated altogether. In a future article, we will see how it came to pass that the Bible ceased to be considered a source of ultimate authority, free from any error, both in the context of catechetical formation and in that of any theological discussions.
The attack directed against the dogma of inerrancy was accompanied by the rejection of the spiritual interpretation of the Bible practiced by all the Holy Doctors of the Church. In the name of the “historical-critical method,” modernist authors have cultivated a true disdain for the spiritual-allegorical interpretation, which they treat as incompatible with the current data of “science.” For example, one of the representatives of this direction, Father Joseph A. Fitzmeyer S.J., affirms the following:
“The Catholic Church also learned much from scholars at the time of the so-called Enlightment, even though it resisted their rationalistic and anti-dogmatic presuppositions. Today we often forget how, on the heels of the Enlightment, great historical and archaeological discoveries of the nineteenth century affected our reading of the Bible. Such discoveries were unexpected, but they made it impossible for one to interpret the Biblie in the simplistic and often allegorical ways that had been in vogue since the time of the Fathers of the Church and of medieval theologians.”[i]
Reading such a fragment, you can hardly believe it’s written by a Catholic professor and specialist in the study of the Holy Scriptures. Although he mentions the fact that the Church opposed the interpretations of those “scholars” from the Enlightenment period, it seems evident that Father Fitzmeyer actually favors them. In the name of those unexpected “discoveries” of the 19th century, he ends up postulating that today it would be impossible to interpret the Holy Scriptures in the allegorical manner – categorized as “simplistic” – of the Church Fathers and medieval theologians.
According to Saint Gregory of Nyssa, there is a biblical basis for allegorical interpretation that cannot be ignored. God Himself, through the sacred texts of which He is the Author, has seen fit to propose this form of interpretation in order to help us detach ourselves from the “bodily,” “childish” meanings of the holy writings.
First of all, without being sophisticated, their way of interpreting Sacred Scriptures is by no means “simplistic.” Then, to assert that a venerable hermeneutical tradition has become impossible today is unacceptable. But nothing surprises us anymore when we see the way in which the Holy Liturgy and sacred symbols have been treated by completely excluding them and replacing the Liturgy of the Ages with a “manufactured” liturgy. The basis for rejecting the spiritual interpretation of the Bible and destroying the sacred liturgical treasure is the same. Leaving aside this discussion for another article, I will only emphasize the necessity for all those who wish to be faithful to the true Christian Tradition of interpreting sacred texts, to faithfully follow the spiritual interpretation of the Bible practiced with the specific thoroughness of the Church Fathers. In this article, I will briefly present the teaching of such a holy theologian from the 4th century: Gregory of Nyssa (c. 335–c. 395).
Coming from an absolutely extraordinary family that gave the Church St. Macrina the Younger, St. Naucratius, St. Peter of Sebaste, and St. Basil of Caesarea, he transmitted to us in his commentary on the Song of Songs several decisive arguments that prove the necessity of the spiritual interpretation of the Bible. Against a modernist author like Fitzmeyer, Saint Gregory of Nyssa would not only support the possibility of allegorical interpretation of the Holy Scriptures but would also state that it is absolutely necessary. Why?
Firstly, he recalls the famous verse of St. Paul: “The letter kills, but the spirit gives life” (2 Corinthians 3:6). Following this axiom, he will then underline that sticking to the level of the “letter” can have serious moral consequences.
“If we stop short at the mere events, does not furnish us with models of the good life. How does it profit the cause of a virtuous life to hear that the prophet Hosea got himself a child by sexual malfeasance (Hosea 1:2) and that Isaiah went in to the prophetess (Isaiah 8:3), if one stops short at the literal sense? Or what do the stories about David, in which adultery and murder have agreed together in a single crime (cf. 2 Kings 11), contribute to the virtuous life? But if an account is found that gives an incontestable indication of how these events fit into the history of salvation, then the word of the apostle will be shown to be true: ‘The letter kills’ (for it contains examples of evildoing), ‘but the Spirit gives life’ (for it transposes a meaning that is incongruous and discordant into a more divine sense).”[ii]
The whole argument was developed after first mentioning (as Saint Augustine also did, for example) the interpretation of Saint Paul from the fourth chapter of the Epistle to the Galatians. Here, after recalling the two sons of Abraham born to him, one by a slave woman and the other by a free woman (Galatians 4:22-25), the apostle to the Gentiles “calls their interpretation allegory.”[iii]
Thus, according to Saint Gregory of Nyssa, there is a biblical basis for allegorical interpretation that cannot be ignored. God Himself, through the sacred texts of which He is the Author, has seen fit to propose this form of interpretation in order to help us detach ourselves from the “bodily,” “childish” meanings of the holy writings. Finally, last but not least, he mentions a multitude of gospel words in which one meaning is understood directly and another is sought through what is said:
“The water that [Christ] promised to the thirsty, through which believers become springs of fl owing waters (John 7:37–38); or the bread that comes down from heaven (John 6:50–51); the temple that is destroyed and raised up in three days (John 2:19); the way (John 14:6); the door (John 10:9); the stone that is rejected by the builders and is fitted in as the chief cornerstone (Mark 12:10); two persons upon a single bed (Luke 17:34); the mill, the two women grinding, one of whom is taken and the other left (Matthew 24:41); the corpse and the eagles (Matthew 24:28); the fig tree that becomes tender and puts forth its leaves (Matthew 24:32). All these examples – and as many other expressions as are of the same sort – can serve to encourage us to examine the divine words closely and to ‘give careful heed to our reading’ (1 Timothy 4:13) and to ascertain by every possible means whether perhaps one can discover a meaning higher than that of the surface sense, one that leads the mind upward in the direction of something more divine and incorporeal.”[iv]
Searching for the spiritual meanings of sacred texts does not mean, according to Saint Gregory of Nyssa, anything other than moving from the literal sense, which contains non-rational or irrational aspects, to a truly rational spiritual understanding, accessible to those who want to become “a perfect man, unto the measure of the age of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13). God Himself is the one who invites us, through such details, to delve into meditation and study the meanings of sacred texts. These texts are akin to a bottomless well filled with clear and refreshing living water.
All texts that require spiritual, allegorical interpretation contain elements that, at first glance, seem irrational. However, once noticed, these elements allow us to see – through contrast – the rational significance (that is, according to the divine Logos) of the respective texts.
All texts that require spiritual, allegorical interpretation contain elements that, at first glance, seem irrational. However, once noticed, these elements allow us to see – through contrast – the rational significance (that is, according to the divine Logos) of the respective texts. To make our statements as clear as possible, we will propose two examples, among the most well-known.
Any good Christian has heard countless times the famous parable of the sower. Retold both by the evangelist Matthew (chapter 13) and by Mark (chapter 4) and Luke (chapter 8), the parable relates, among other things, an incredible fact that raises spontaneous questions. We see a farmer who not only throws seeds on good soil but also on the path where they are easily detected and eaten by birds, on rocky ground where there is not enough soil, and among thorns and weeds. Reading such a text, it is impossible not to notice the absurdity of the situation. What sower would throw seeds on rock? Or among thorns? Or on the edge of the road? Any farmer would probably explain, smiling awkwardly, that the soil is carefully prepared, and the seeds are planted in optimal conditions – exclusively in good soil. They would never be thrown in those places mentioned by the Savior Christ in His parable. For a farmer, such behavior would be profoundly irrational. And, of course, the farmer is right!
As we meditate more carefully on such an unlikely situation, it becomes clear to us, first of all, that God did not incarnate to teach us agriculture. Not at all. He came to earth to teach us essential things so that we may enter, like the thief to the right of the crucified Savior Christ, Saint Dismas, into paradise. So what does He want to tell us through the parable of the sower, which contains elements that can scandalize the reason of any decent farmer? Fortunately for us, the apostles themselves asked the Savior Christ, “What does this parable mean” (Luke 8:9). Here is the divine answer:
“When any one heareth the word of the kingdom, and understandeth it not, there cometh the wicked one, and catcheth away that which was sown in his heart: this is he that received the seed by the way side. And he that received the seed upon stony ground, is he that heareth the word, and immediately receiveth it with joy. Yet hath he not root in himself, but is only for a time: and when there ariseth tribulation and persecution because of the word, he is presently scandalized. And he that received the seed among thorns, is he that heareth the word, and the care of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choketh up the word, and he becometh fruitless. But he that received the seed upon good ground, is he that heareth the word, and understandeth, and beareth fruit, and yieldeth the one a hundredfold, and another sixty, and another thirty” (Matthew 13: 19-23).
As we can immediately see, our King and Lord proposes to us a spiritual, allegorical interpretation. An interpretation that clarifies the purpose of those statements that are presenting a sower who throws his seeds on rocky ground or among thorns. In fact, through all these, we must understand the different types of “soil” onto which the divine words have been cast. Essentially, it’s about the condition of our hearts: we can have hearts of stone, where the holy words do not penetrate and take root, hearts of flesh, full of the weeds of sin, or, on the contrary, we can have humble hearts open to the workings of divine grace. The parable of the sower is not about agriculture. It is about the state of the souls/hearts of those who hear the words of the Gospel.
The cursed fig tree is the symbol of a reality: it is about us. We are the fig trees in which God, when He pleases, seeks fruit. And woe to us if we cannot offer it to Him! So, He does not want to teach us about fruitful trees, but about His demands on us, the Christians.
Another biblical sequence relates a concrete event in which our Savior was once again the protagonist. In the Gospel according to Mark (chapter 11: 12-14), we read that one day, Jesus felt hungry. And being hungry, he sought fruit on a fig tree encountered by the roadside. Nothing could be more natural in the world of those who have the privilege of living in villages blessed with orchards and fruit trees. However, the Savior found no fruit on that fig tree. This fact immediately aroused His anger: he cursed the tree – which withered instantly. The shock of the readers is amplified by a small detail reported in the sacred text of the gospel: “It was not the season for figs” (Mark 11:13). Inevitably, the question arises: what rational person would be upset that they did not find fruit on a tree whose bearing period had not arrived? What rational person would seek fruit outside its specific season?
Our minds, intrigued by such an episode, must seek the answer. It seems that this is precisely what God, the divine author, desires. He wants us to ask questions. He is the one who wants us to search for treasures hidden in the sacred texts. In short, He invites us, like pearl seekers, to dive into the deep waters of the Bible to search for the gems hidden in the shells of its words. For He wants us to make a thorough effort to read and meditate, praying, the sacred texts.
A perfect pedagogue, God knows that only thus can our minds open to receive the rays of the light of grace. The asceticism of prayerful meditations, of assiduous readings, can give us the answer to such mysteries. Likewise, the cursed fig tree is the symbol of a reality of the same nature as that which was discussed in the parable of the sower: it is about us. We are the fig trees in which God, when He pleases, seeks fruit. And woe to us if we cannot offer it to Him! So, He does not want to teach us about fruitful trees, but about His demands on us, the Christians. But what kind of fruit does He want to find in our souls, in our hearts? I will leave it to you to answer. Likewise, for now, I will proceed regarding the question of why God speaks in parables and proposes allegorical interpretations.
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[i] Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Interpretation of Scripture: In Defense of the Historical-critical Method, New York: Paulist Press, 2008, p. 79.
[ii] Gregory of Nyssa, Homilies on the Song of Songs, Translated with an Introduction and Notes by Richard A. Norris Jr., Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Atlanta, 2012, pp. 5-7.
[iii] Here is the passage from Saint Paul’s letter to the Galatians: “It is written that Abraham had two sons: the one by a bondwoman, and the other by a free woman. But he who was of the bondwoman, was born according to the flesh: but he of the free woman, was by promise. Which things are said by an allegory (Latin: “Quae sunt per allegoriam dicta”). For these are the two testaments. The one from mount Sina, engendering unto bondage; which is Agar: For Sina is a mountain in Arabia, which hath affinity to that Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children.”
[iv] Gregory of Nyssa, Op. cit., pp. 7-9.
