Martini on Benedict’s Jesus (Update)
Today’s Corriere della Sera carries an Italian translation of a reflection on Pope Benedict’s book, given in Paris by the biblical scholar and retired Archbishop of Milan, Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini.
Given the ongoing discussion of the Pope’s book, here is the generous and nuanced conclusion of the Martini article:
Questa opera è quindi una grande e ardente testimonianza su Gesù di
Nazareth e sul suo significato per la storia dell’umanità e per la
percezione della vera figura di Dio. E’ sempre confortante leggere
testimonianze come questa. A mio avviso, il libro è bellissimo, si
legge con una certa facilità e ci fa capire meglio Gesù Figlio di Dio e
al tempo stesso la grande fede dell’autore. Ma esso non si limita al
solo dato intellettuale. Ci indica la via dell’amore di Dio e del
prossimo, come quando spiega la parabola del buon Samaritano: «Ci
accorgiamo che tutti noi abbiamo bisogno dell’amore salvifico che Dio
ci dona, al fine di essere anche noi capaci di amare, e che abbiamo
bisogno di Dio, che si fa nostro prossimo, per riuscire ad essere il
prossimo di tutti gli altri» (p. 226). Pensavo anch’io, verso la fine
della mia vita, di scrivere un libro su Gesù come conclusione dei
lavori che ho svolto sui testi del Nuovo Testamento. Ora, mi sembra che
questa opera di Joseph Ratzinger corrisponda ai miei desideri e alle
mie attese, e sono molto contento che lo abbia scritto. Auguro a molti
la gioia che ho provato io nel leggerlo.
The full article is available here. The title of the piece is: “Ammiro il Gesu di Ratzinger, ma non e l’unico” — “I admire the Jesus of Ratzinger, but it is not the only one.” Since this is in quotes, I presume it was said by Cardinal Martini, but I don’t find it as such in the article printed.
Here is a rough and ready translation of the conclusion. I’m on the road, so forgive the haste.
This book is, thus, a fine and ardent testimony about Jesus of Nazareth and his significance for human history and for the perception of the true figure of God. It is always stimulating to read testimonies like this.
In my opinion, the book is quite lovely, it reads rather easily, and it enables us to understand better Jesus, Son of God, and, at the same time, the great faith of the author.
But it does not limit itself to the merely intellectual. It shows us the way of love of God and neighbor, as when it explains the parable of the Good Samaritan.
“We recognize that we all need the saving love which God bestows on us, so that we too may be capable of loving; and that we need God, who becomes our neighbor, in order to succeed in being neighbor for all the others.”
I thought myself, towards the end of my life, to write a book on Jesus, as the conclusion of my works on the texts of the New Testament.
It now seems to me that this work of Joseph Ratzinger corresponds to my desires and expectations, and I am most happy he wrote it.
I wish for others the joy I experienced in reading it.
English translation, please.
Oops …..
The review is translated from the French — anyone know if the French version has appeared?
Martini has some very mild critical notes. He points out how difficult it will be for Catholics to dispute this book, despite the author’s foreswearing of magisterial authority. He notes that as a theologian, Joseph Ratzinger has not done first-hand study of exegetical matters, such as New Testament text criticism. ‘I think that not all will recognize themselves in his description of the author of the Fourth Gospel when he says : “The actual state of research completely allows us to see in John, son of Zebedee, the witness who responds solemnly with his own ocular testimony, also identifying himself as the true author of the Gospel.”’
Apparently Martini’s text is not a review but a presentation of the book in Paris, on behalf of the publishers, Rizzoli. Almost a blurb, in fact!
Perhaps the most alarming contextual aspect of Benedict’s book is what it augurs for the next Roman Synod on Scripture in the Church. The Synod will be dominated by the liturgical use of Scripture, with emphasis on canonical exegesis, typological and allegorical reading of the Old Testament — in the line of Henri de Lubac’s hollow restorationism, incisively criticized by Richard Hanson in Allegory and Event (SCM, 1959) — and probably with little participation of critical exegetes. Preachers will not be encouraged to distinguish the voice of Jesus in the Gospels from the words of the historical pre-paschal Jesus. The problems that Scripture poses to the faithful — such as the difficulty of reconciling the divinely sanctioned genocides with the notion of Inerrancy — will be brushed under the carpet as usual. Probably we will have more than what Byrne calls ‘the virtually compulsory salute in church documents on Scripture to the “treasure-house” of Patristic interpretation.’ A primacy of patristic over contemporary exegesis may be affirmed.
Joe,
I’d be interested to know what specifically in de Lubac you find “hollow” (I’m also not familar with the word “restorationalism” — what do you mean by that? Are you intending to criticize the ressourcement movement in theology often associated with de Lubac?). In my reading, de Lubac’s work on Origen and patristic / medieval exegesis in the 1950′s holds up far better than Hanson. Hanson imposes historical-critical categories on Origen’s exegesis and then condemns him precisely because Origen is not a 20th century historical-critical exegete. I wouldn’t dismiss Hanson — he is especially helpful in placing Origen’s work in the context of Hellenistic and Alexandrian allegory and is sympathetic to Origen in several areas. However, Origen studies moved well beyond Hanson sometime in the late 1960s. For the most part, current Origen scholars (I’m thinking of Frances Young in particular) are far more indebted to de Lubac than Hanson.
Any fears of a rejection of “contemporary exegesis” (not a very helpful term, in my opinion) in favor of “patristic exegesis” (also not an entirely helpful term) by the upcoming Synod are groundless if we take Benedict’s current book as an indication of where he would like to go. In my reading of the book, I understand Benedict to affirm strongly the Catholic “both/and” (to use a favorite expression of Fr. Imbelli). A very fine program for 21st century Catholic biblical exegesis has been put forward by Luke Timothy Johnson in the first part of The Future of Catholic Biblical Scholarship co-authored with William Kurz.
If I’m not mistaken Father O’Leary is commenting from Japan — which leads to the fantasy: what if Francis Xavier and Ignatius Loyola had had access to the internet?!
I would welcome from him and other interested readers of Benedict’s book some thoughts on four issues, all raised in the book’s “Foreword:”
1. the contemporary “crisis” of faith” provoked, in part, by a historical-critical exegesis which renders the figure of Jesus “increasingly obscured and blurred.” Thus “intimate friendship with Jesus, on which everything depends, is in danger of clutching at thin air” (p. xii).
Does this analysis ring true? How would you further expatiate on or qualify it?
2. Benedict affirms in different ways that historical critical exegesis is indispensable, but not sufficient (pp. xv and xvi).
Do readers concur? How would others express its insufficiency?
3. Benedict insists, appealing to Dei Verbum, on the unity of Scripture (p. xviii). Is this essential for present day theology and pastoral practice? Does it then entail some recourse to “typology” as a valid interpretive strategy? Is this typological appeal not found pre-eminently in the liturgy of the Paschal Vigil, but, in fact, in every celebration of the eucharist?
4. and decisively for Benedict: the advocacy of a “Christological hermeneutic, which sees Jesus Christ as a key to the whole and learns from him how to understand the Bible as a unity.” But this, admittedly, is not an affirmation stemming from historical-critical exegesis, but “presupposes a prior act of faith” (p. xix).
Is such a “Christological hermeneutic” indispensable for Christian life and theology?
If I’ve succeeded in raising up these issues with a modicum of clarity, they seem to me to be absolutely crucial for what we are about as believers, teachers, and preachers — each, in our circumstances, concerned with “giving an account of the hope that is in us”
A final observation by way of clarification:
Do we not need to distinguish in our reflection among “the historical Jesus” (understood as the reconstruction by practitioners of the historical-critical method), “the Jesus of history” (so much richer that any reconstruction who walked the roads of Galilee and Judea, preaching, healing, entering into conflict, leading to crucifixion) and “the real Jesus” (who for faith is living and reigning forever and ever)?
I sometimes have the impression that some take any comment regarding the insufficiency of the historical-critical method as entailing a denial or downplaying of the humanity of Jesus. I don’t believe that follows necessarily.
A linchpin of Benedict’s case for the special evidentiary status of the Fourth Gospel is that we may reasonably consider that John the son of Zebedee was the “Beloved Disciple”, i.e., the disciple who seems to have been the principal source for that Fourth Gospel. Much of the Benedict’s argument depends on the reconstruction of the family of Zebedee by Henri Cazelles. Cazelles suggests that Zebedee may have been a priest who had a commercial fishing business in Galilee where he made his livelihood, but also had a “pied a terre” in or near the neighborhood in which the Essenes lived. This latter would have been the place he stayed during his work as priest, which would have required only a few day each year. Cazelles further suggests that this “pied a terre” might have provided the “upper room” for the Last Supper. Finally, in the absence of the host, and now I quote, “[the host’s] firstborn son [would] sit to the right of the guest, his head leaning on the latter’s chest”.
Benedict has invited a critical response. I propose to offer one. What is at issue is historical probability. It is well founded that priests often lived outside Jerusalem and engaged in secular occupations. But is there any instance known of a priest whose occupation kept him for most of the time as far from Jerusalem as Galilee? And even if that be allowed as not impossible, is it probable even then that Zebedee, if he only visited Jerusalem over a few days in the year, would have owned a place in Jerusalem with a large upper room usable to accommodate thirteen guests? Then again, is it also not odd, given the religious and social significance of membership in the hereditary priesthood, that nowhere in the Gospels, or anywhere else, is there any hint that Zebedee was a priest. Or that James and John might have themselves, as sons of a priest, become priests? Then there is the Last Supper. On the occasion of the Passover, why is Zebedee, as a pious Jew, not in Jerusalem? Then again, since the order in the Gospels is consistently “James and John” why suppose that John is the firstborn? Would James not have had the place of honor? And lastly there is the fact that the participants at the Last Supper reclined. Could one sit with one’s head on one’s neighbor’s chest?
I submit that Cazelles’ reconstruction is a tissue of improbable possibilities. It is not enough to render a propositon believable merely to show that it is not impossible.
Fr. Imbelli,
My responses are indicated by an “a” added to your numerals.
I would welcome from him and other interested readers of Benedict’s book some thoughts on four issues, all raised in the book’s “Foreword:”
1. the contemporary “crisis” of faith” provoked, in part, by a historical-critical exegesis which renders the figure of Jesus “increasingly obscured and blurred.” Thus “intimate friendship with Jesus, on which everything depends, is in danger of clutching at thin air” (p. xii).Does this analysis ring true? How would you further expatiate on or qualify it?
1a. I do not agree that the use of historical criticism by Christians can be blamed for a “crisis of faith”, if one exists. Perhaps the misuse of historical criticisms has upset some. The judicious use of historical criticism by committed Christians has in fact, I would say, strengthened the faith of some by responding to their legitimate questions. For better of for worse, not everyone thinks about these issues.
2. Benedict affirms in different ways that historical critical exegesis is indispensable, but not sufficient (pp. xv and xvi).
2a. Obviously the Church guided by the Holy Spirit must ultimately decide what the Scriptures reveal. It is certaily useful to know what the human authors of the Scriptures meant to convey to the audiences for whom they they wrote.
3. Benedict insists, appealing to Dei Verbum, on the unity of Scripture (p. xviii). Is this essential for present day theology and pastoral practice? Does it then entail some recourse to “typology” as a valid interpretive strategy? Is this typological appeal not found pre-eminently in the liturgy of the Paschal Vigil, but, in fact, in every celebration of the eucharist?
3a. There is no denying the unity of Scripture which arises from the one Spirit from whom it derives its authority. The validity of any particular interpretation proposed as a sign of that unity is still subject to criteria of plausibility, or so I would think.
4. and decisively for Benedict: the advocacy of a “Christological hermeneutic, which sees Jesus Christ as a key to the whole and learns from him how to understand the Bible as a unity.” But this, admittedly, is not an affirmation stemming from historical-critical exegesis, but “presupposes a prior act of faith” (p. xix).
4a. Obviously true. But the user of historical-critical method is not by that method obliged to bracket all affirmations that arise from faith. There is no intrinsic opposition between critical reason and faith.
“I’d be interested to know what specifically in de Lubac you find “hollow” (I’m also not familar with the word “restorationalism” — what do you mean by that? Are you intending to criticize the ressourcement movement in theology often associated with de Lubac?).”
The rehabilitation of allegorical interpretation of Scripture in de Lubac’s Histoire et Esprit turns a blind eye to the evident weakness of Origen’s exegesis, not only as judged by today’s criteria (or rather by historical and exegetical common sense, such as Hanson represents) but also in its theological upshot (the main point of Hanson’s critique — that Origen’s way of connecting history and theology is insufficiently incarnational). Celsus Spicq was one of those who protested that de Lubac’s elevation of Origen to exemplary status was archaic and regressive.
” In my reading, de Lubac’s work on Origen and patristic / medieval exegesis in the 1950′s holds up far better than Hanson.”
I do not see how this can be so. De Lubac gives a glowing account of that tradition but refuses to evaluate it critically.
” Hanson imposes historical-critical categories on Origen’s exegesis and then condemns him precisely because Origen is not a 20th century historical-critical exegete.”
He doesn’t condemn him, merely looks at his exegesis warts and all in a way that de Lubac refuses to do.
“Origen studies moved well beyond Hanson sometime in the late 1960s. For the most part, current Origen scholars (I’m thinking of Frances Young in particular) are far more indebted to de Lubac than Hanson.”
I haven’t read her 2005 book. If she is discussing the historic contribution of allegory to Christian biblical culture, no doubt de Lubac has more information. But if she is interested in an evaluation of that tradition, she may find that Hanson still reads as very pertinent after 50 years.
“Any fears of a rejection of “contemporary exegesis” (not a very helpful term, in my opinion) in favor of “patristic exegesis” (also not an entirely helpful term) by the upcoming Synod are groundless if we take Benedict’s current book as an indication of where he would like to go. In my reading of the book, I understand Benedict to affirm strongly the Catholic “both/and”.”
Sobrino was accused of playing down New Testament teaching that Christ is fully divine. But what if the evidence in question relies on a “patristic” rather than “contemporary” exegesis of the text? Does the both/and in that case not become an alibi for punishing scholars who fail to read back into the text the “fuller meaning” that it is alleged can be derived from viewing Scripture as a whole in light of church doctrine?
By the way, on Origen, I recommend the brilliant almost book-length essay of Gaetano Lettieri in the recent Adimantius volume on Origen’s Commentary on John. He points out that the Gnostic context of Origen’s thought, his truly crucial engagement with Valentinus, has been downplayed for confessional reasons (it scarcely gets a look-in in de Lubac or Crouzel). Lettieri recovers a vibrant historical image of Origen that is infinitely more engaging than the sanitized presentation of the French Jesuit school (Danielou excepted).
P. 166 of Frances Young’s expensive book, which I am looking at on amazon.com, says that Hanson’s idea of the historical grounding of Christianity is specifically modern and is now being challenged in postmodern hermeneutics. If she thinks that Hanson is victim of a positivist sense of history as “just the facts”, to be put together by digging behind the scriptural text, I think that would not be true of Hanson (who was after all an Anglican bishop and an Irishman). Interestingly, Hanson is quoted eight times by Young and de Lubac is quoted only once, according to my amazon.com search; hardly proof that Hanson is a dodo.
Searching for ‘Lubac’ rather than ‘de Lubac’ I find that Young refers to him five times.
On the restorationist attitude to patristic exegesis (think Catholic Restoration of the early 19th century) there is a valuable insider account from Brendan Byrne SJ on the preparation of “The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church” (Pontifical Biblical Commission) in Australian EJournal of Theology 1 (August 2003): ‘On the one hand, older scholars such as Joseph Fitzmyer were determined not to yield an inch of the hard-won high ground in regard to the primacy, almost the exclusivity, of the historical-critical method; on the other hand, there were those who felt it was time to recognise that the historical critical method had its limitations, that it had limited appeal in many pastoral and homiletic contexts, and needed to be supplemented by other approaches and methods of interpretation. At one stage, too, it had more or less been agreed upon to omit the virtually compulsory salute in church documents on Scripture to the “treasure-house” of Patristic interpretation. Then, not without some encouragement from the Cardinal President, back came a “patristic paragraph” (III, B, 2), albeit, to my mind, very well composed by one of the French members of the Commission. So the document emerged, with the historical-critical method still enjoying a certain primacy but having to make room on its perch for several other methods and approaches—literary and structuralist, canonical, social scientific, liberative (liberation theology and feminist theology)—all critically reviewed, to be sure, but none rejected or regarded as totally without merit.’
Could I ask what is meant by “the restorationist attitude to patristic exegesis”? What is it that people allegedly want torestore? I’m trying to find anything that would compare with early 19th-centurt Catholic Restorationism.
Restoration of (1) the fourfold exegesis of Scripture, as the supremely authoritative method. That is, the exegetes are supposed to establish the literal sense, and then the moral, allegorical, and anagogical senses are to be found — the idea being that even the slightest detail of Scripture has moral, mystical, Christological, ecclesiological and eschatological meanings that are not apparent if one looks only at the mere letter; (2) the sensus plenior — implied in the above.
This restoration is not uniquely positive. It carries the old Origenian depreciation of the amici litterae — who are consider carnal and Judaizing. Thus down to earth historical inquiry into the original meaning of the Song of Songs, or historical criticism of the Gospels, will be placed under a cloud and treated as a betrayal of the fuller, integral meaning.
There is an interesting book by one A. Fierro on Barth and Rahner as restorationist theologians. Of course, Von Balthasar would be far more restorationist, at least in his later works.
Alfredo Fierro, “La imposible Ortodoxia”, Salamanca, 1974.
Comparison with 19th century restorationism: it is anti-modern, like the ultramontanism and integralism of that time; it is stylistically archaic, like the Neo-Gothic revival; it glorifies and idealizes an alleged Golden Age, like 19th century medievalism. The ressourcement of De Lubac et al. insofar as it is ideological rather than strictly historical and critically theological is a replacement for neoscholasticism and shares a similar restorationist strategy.
Does anyone here have a sense of how the Scriptures are being taught in seminaries over the past few years?
Cardinal Ratzinger’s 1988 talk, along with talks/essays by Raymond Brown, William H. Lazareth, and George Linkbeck, and an accurate and full account of the two-day colloquium in which the Cardinal participated, has been published as Biblical Interpretation in Crisis: The Ratzinger Conference on Bible and Church, ed. R.J. Neuhaus (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1989.
Raymond Brown’s talk is followed by an addendum in which he sets out, on the basis of the two talks given and the give-and-take of the conversations that followed, the agreements and differences between him and the Cardinal over the historical critical method. The account of the conversations will also give a sense of how the Cardinal responded to the issues raised, many of them not unlike those raised in this discussion.
Joseph O’Leary –
I’m not sure the most helpful way to evaluate one scholar’s influence on another is to determine how many times the latter cites the former in a given work. My point is that Frances Young (for example) represents a current strain of Origen studies that owes much, much more to de Lubac than to Hanson (by the way, I never wrote or implied that Hanson was a “dodo”). That being said, in some way de Lubac and Hanson are two ends of a spectrum. Both of them evaluated Origen’s exegesis based on historical-critical categories and criteria. De Lubac’s Histoire et Esprit is basically an apology for Origen’s method in terms of his sense of history — de Lubac wants to show that Origen’s three-fold interpretation (which, for de Lubac is ultimately a two-fold interpretation) is rooted in the historical sense of the text (thus the title of the book). As you indicate, Hanson strongly disagrees with de Lubac’s conclusions on the basis that Origen’s connection of history and theology is insufficiently incarnational. What de Lubac did, and (in my reading) Hanson did not, was to spark renewed interest in returning to Origen’s own work. I would suggest that return lead present Origen scholars to abandon (artificial) historical-critical criteria as tools for evaluating Origen’s exegesis and to read him on his own terms. Frances Young is an excellent example because, in the book you cite, she provides an entirely new set of categories and criteria for evaluating Origen and patristic exegesis in general. She far from the categories of de Lubac and Hanson, but it was de Lubac who provided the initial push toward such an approach to Origen. Whatever one might make of de Lubac’s method or presuppositions or conclusions, it is entirely unfair to call his scholarship “hollow.” If one were to evaluate his work based on the fruit it bore (and is bearing), it is anything but hollow.
I think a new look at patristic and medieval exegesis is one of the exciting possibilities for the future of Catholic biblical interpretation. Very often in my reading, I find patristic exegetes are struggling with the same questions and issues in a given text as contemporary exegetes — they often identify the same difficulties. Precisely because they lived in a very different time, with different presuppositions and worldviews from ours, their writing is valuable — at times they see clearly what we can no longer see at all (C.S. Lewis has a wonderful essay along these lines in his introduction to On the Incarnation by Athanasius, republished by St. Vladimir’s Press). In no way does this challenge or diminish the insights of various contemporary exegetical methods, including the historical-critical. It seems to me that many of our best contemporary exegetes often include at least some aspect of the text’s Wirkungsgeschichte in their analysis (Blackwell is currently publishing an excellent series of commentaries devoted entirely to this).
Benedict’s approach, as described in his present book but above all in his homilies, is not reactionary at all — he may even be cutting edge.
I agree that one can appreciate the riches of the allegorical traditions as part of the Wirkungsgeschichte of a text. But this must be done in full awareness that this is a question of church piety and imagination at given epochs, and that considered as credible exegesis for today most allegoresis is simply untenable.
This applies even to New Testament typology — the rock that Moses struck is not Christ in terms of exegesis of the Pentateuch. Origen reads the Pentateuch systematically on the basis of applying that kind of allegory to the entire text. Benedict may be going beyond healthy respect for Wirkungsgeschichte to a hermeneutics that follows Origen in this regard.
De Lubac made much of the fact that Origen, unlike modern scholars, considers the Exodus story historically true (though vastly understating the ease and frequency with which Origen dismisses history when he considers it unworthy of Scripture), but this by no means ensures that Origen’s exegesis is historically grounded. Origen regards history, even when literally recorded, as a trampoline for higher wisdom, a set of Platonic images.
The Jews, he thinks, did not understand their own Scriptures, because they could not see that the true meaning of every part of them in the presence of Christ in his Spirit. Origen scholarship has yet to face the full implications of this.
The trouble is that it is all very well to speak of the spirit of patristic and medieval exegesis, and to find in its spirituality a challenge to recover the spiritual dimension of biblical texts (as Benedict can be praised for doing), but the idea that these traditions are going to save current exegesis from an alleged crisis seems to me misleading. I know a book by Anne-Marie Pelletier that tried to rehabilitate the spirit of tradition commentary on the Song of Songs, and I suppose there are many other such ventures. The trouble is that they are unconvincing, mainly because they do not really respect, or really understand, the ethos and procedures of historical critical study of Scripture, a criticism that can also be made of Benedict.
(An exegete friend in Paris tells me that Cardinal Martini only just stopped short of making the same criticism of Benedict that I have attempted — ah the subtle lightness of touch of Cardinaliate criticism! So far I know of no Catholic exegete who has truly endorsed Benedict’s viewpoint.)
Church traditions are very often very far indeed from a sensible reading of Scripture. For instance, Origen suggests that John the Baptist was an angel, and this topic is taken up in Byzantine art. But a modern exegete would not even know where to begin with it. Not because the exegete is spiritually deficient, but because we live in a more scientific age.
Is Origen’s allegorical exegesis really as popular as is claimed? I attending the last four Origenianum conferences, including the one at Chantilly on “Origen and the Bible”. I did not notice any particular enthusiasm for allegorical exegesis, though of course scholarly criticism of Origen’s exegesis continues. There is an Italian series which consists of essays by Manlio Simonetti and some of the many younger Italian scholars on selected sermons from Origen’s homiletic commentary. It may testify to people finding historical and spiritual culture in Origen, but I doubt if it is meant to be an adjunct to contemporary exegesis.
Perhaps on a less scholarly level there are books of patristically inspired commentary on Scripture; but note that Italian scholars like Pesce are complaining about the backward state of scriptural study in their country and blaming it in part on the over-promotion of such patristic-sapiental approaches.
Origen thinks that Jesus entering Jerusalem on a donkey cannot be historical, because it would be unworthy of the Holy Spirit to record such a trivial matter. He thinks the Gospels are inspired in direct verbal inspiration, so that any disharmonies between them cannot be explained by human factors such as defective memory. Thus the three different accounts of the anointing at Bethany, or the three different accounts of the blind man/men at Jericho must refer to three different incidents in each case. The almost boundless prevalence of the allegorical method in Origen “must be seen as an insurmountable limit of Origen, which the recent rescue operations are also unable to really overcome”, says Helmut Merkel, referring to de Lubac (Widersprueche zwischen den Evangelien, Tuebingen, 191, p. 94).
Tuebingen 1971. I really don’t see that the 36 year’s since then have overturned this judgment.
From today’s online issue of The Tablet:
Martini queries aspects of Pope’s book
THE TABLET, 1 June 2007
Robert Mickens
http://www.thetablet.co.uk/articles/9856/
Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini has generously praised Pope Benedict XVI’s best-selling new book on Jesus as “beautiful”, defining it as an easy read that “helps us better understand Jesus as Son of God and, at the same time, the great faith” of Joseph Ratzinger.
But in a 30-minute talk at the Unesco headquarters in Paris on 23 May, the former rector of the Pontifical Biblical Institute also respectfully raised questions about the Pope’s scriptural expertise and use of critical sources.
Etc ,,,,,,,,
The hollowness of de Lubac on Origen hit me again when I read a few pages on O’s respect for the historicity of the Gospels in Histoire et Esprit today. In his overemphatic debating style de Lubac conveys the false impression that O never discards the literal historicity of the gospel narratives, ignoring texts in which O bluntly says that the evangelists sometimes offer a “bodily lie” to convey a spiritual truth. Hanson had a better grasp of Scriptural realities than de Lubac and a better command of Greek.