Allegorizing: Too Fast, Too Furious?

A friend of mine and I were discussing allegorizing and particularly “how far do we go?,” and “why do certain fathers seem to go farther than others?” The following were my own thoughts on these questions; I would love to hear others’ thoughts on the same, in the comments.

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Allegorizing is the disciplined practice of understanding otherwise than the letters say, as Augustine reminds. It follows extremely strict although often (to us today) opaque rules, and is highly controlled in its execution. The fact that many of the fathers’ allegorical interpretations appear to us as strange (or strained?), is only due to the fact that we have not followed the entire line of their thinking, much less apprehended their principles of thought. It is not because their minds were unhinged.

Yet as we face the wall of Migne and prepare ourselves to harvest from the results of patristic interpretation–results whose entire harvest, by the way, is the great scholastic systems of the high medievals, such as the system of Thomas–it is only natural to count the cost and ask beforehand how far must we be prepared to go in allegorizing, especially given that this is not an act which the scriptural letters support, strictly speaking. Again, we might ask why certain fathers seem to go so much farther than others: Origen is (in)famous as an allegorist for a reason, and Augustine is not. Should we follow then one rather than the other? Are certain safe, whereas others dangerous?

How then do we respond to these questions?

How Far Do We Actually Go?

Many people who honestly struggle with this question do so because (1) real abuses of allegorizing, which can certainly be found throughout church history (as well as today, among some who are currently calling for its return); and (2) patristic results from allegorizing which are (for lack of better terms) uncomfortable. Given both of these, it naturally feels safer to “stick with the letters” and, if any allegorizing is permitted, then it is minimized and shut down as quickly as possible.

These sentiments are understandable; and in a sense, they underwrite the fact that allegorizing is something that only mature readers of holy Scripture can (intellectually) and should (morally) do. The fathers repeatedly say that the ad litteram readings are for the immature, and allegorical ones for the mature. We ought not feel bad that we find ourselves more among the immature than the mature, but we ought to be at least mature enough to recognize that our immature status is a primary reason why (good/patristic) allegorizing makes us uncomfortable.

However, the question how far do we actually go in allegorizing is often an honest one, and deserves an honest answer. And the answer in this case is simple: we go as far as we actually need to go.

This might seem like a sarcastic response, or one which side-steps the issue; but it actually has its finger on the point at hand. As the disciplined practice of understanding otherwise, allegorizing holy Scripture arises in the wake of two assumptions: (1) holy Scripture returns true judgments; and (2) various scriptural propositions, if understood literally, would be false. In line with this (and assuming that one is committed to holy Scripture’s truthfulness), someone’s awareness of the need to allegorize corresponds exactly to his awakening to the fact that various scriptural propositions are false, i.e., when taken literally. By the same token, one must allegorize to the exact extent that the various scriptural propositions are false if taken literally. We go as far as necessary to achieve true judgments.

The letters themselves more often than not do not reflect true judgments. It is best to come to grips with this by way of easier examples, rather than more difficult and/or more controversial ones. The examples I often use (because I take them to be good ones) are the many and sundry scriptural propositions that God is variously impassioned: all the him being angered, him being regretful, and others of this sort. That God is not impassioned, is a true proposition; all these other scriptural ones are false, if they are understood as the opposite part of the respective contradictions. Supposing (as I obviously do) that they return true judgments, these scriptural propositions must be interpreted allegorically, i.e., understood altogether otherwise than they say. And here we can propose many possible interpretations: e.g., for the scriptural proposition God being angered, Satan inflicting pain; an angel executing justice; our being punished; and others are all standard allegorical interpretations. (In theology, we often are preparing stock interpretations to then be deployed in the wild of actually handling the letters.)

The point is that we go as far as we must go. The examples just used involve theological claims. But there are obviously others which are going to be dealt with…if they need to be: i.e., if taking the scriptural proposition literally would be a false judgment.

Why Do Certain Fathers Seem to Go Farther than Others?

Among the fathers, there are certainly those which seem to go farther than others. Broadly speaking, there will be two causes for these differences.

Philosophical Differences

First, there are philosophical differences, initially as to which propositions are false and which true. Thus, if e.g., Lactantius apprehends God being angered as true, then he is not going to interpret the scriptural proposition allegorically; whereas because Augustine apprehends it as false, he will always be inclined to do so.

More and on this point, there are also different “measures” of holding certain propositions as true and others as false: i.e., some merely suspect that a proposition is true, and thus hold it lightly; others opine that it is true, and thus hold it more firmly; whereas others altogether assent, especially given philosophical demonstrations, that it is true, and thus hold it with absolute intellectual certainty (having scientia). Accordingly, various fathers are going to be differently inclined to interpret allegorically, based upon their differing philosophical certainties.

Thus to use a contemporary example and even my own self, I would attest to having absolute intellectual certainty that God indeed is impassible. I hold this as true not just given various authorities (e.g., that of St. Thomas), but also given many intellectual demonstrations (admittedly borrowed from St. Thomas). I therefore have no intellectual doubt about this proposition’s truth value (or that of its opposite proposition); and am nowise intellectually moved by objections arguing to the contrary. Accordingly, facing each and every scriptural proposition which says that God is variously impassioned, I remain unfazed and immediately interpret allegorically.

Many others do not have this intellectual certainty, or perhaps even understand everything that God being impassible (should it be true) entails. Perhaps they suspect that it is true, given that it is the venerable traditional position; but their intellect suffers doubts, is clouded with opposing objections, and so on. What is more, they become intellectually uneasy whenever they face the same scriptural propositions, and thus do not immediately interpret them allegorically. The reason for the differences between us (and I certainly am not trying to boast!) is merely a matter of who has philosophical demonstrations, and who doesn’t. Simple as.

One is going to find comparable situations among the fathers, who both vary on their stock of philosophical propositions, but especially vary on how firmly each of these is held as true, given differences in philosophical study and having/lacking scientific demonstrations. As a result, certain fathers–speaking just to outward appearances–will be hasty and run on to allegorize, whereas others will be tentative and more reserved. Augustine attests to struggling for a very long time with God not being locally present; Origen does not attest to wrestling with this problem. It is thus not impossible that their interpretations of scriptural propositions which say this could vary.

“The Actual Reading” Differences

Second and actually more important and impactful, there are differences arising from converting scriptural propositions into logical-philosophical ones. This actually pertains to establishing the reading or interpreting ad litteram: differences in allegorizing arise, from differences in what readings are established.

Everyone knows that the concrete propositions of holy Scripture are not the same sort of propositions as e.g., those used by scholastic theologians, which are (much more) suitable for syllogism and reflect judgments largely one-to-one. Indeed, these logical/philosophical propositions are designed so that (inter alia) (1) the intellectual concept/definition signified by the predicated name is known and clear; (2) is means is, and a certain sort of is (is is said in many modes!); and (3) the grammatical subject is the same as the logical one. In short, when we read the scholastic proposition that God is angered, we know exactly (1) what concept the name anger signifies (e.g., Aristotle’s definition); (2) the fact that this proposition is proper-formal; and (3) that God means God and not e.g., Satan, or an angel (as so often occurs in holy Scripture; Maimonides reminds e.g., that the prophets are always calling literally everything God, from natural forces to supernatural agents).

Yet when we confront the scriptural proposition, we must convert it into a logical/philosophical one. Or to put it in other terms, we must establish the actual reading and sense at hand. Depending what reading is established, it might be that if this (now converted) scriptural proposition were understood literally, then it would be false, whereupon one must allegorize. (This last proviso, viz., now converted, is huge.) And here we are going to find very many differences among the fathers about the actual readings–whereupon certain are “forced” to allegorize, given their conversions; but others are not forced, and so instead literalize (=understand the converted scriptural proposition literally).

Two examples from my own work recently will help full out this point. The first example is that for a Greek or Latin mind, the scriptural proposition that God is merciful, converts more or less to the same philosophical proposition. Because mercy (=sympathy) is a passion, they thus must allegorize the scriptural proposition, and do so. But for a Hebrew mind like Maimonides, the same scriptural proposition converts to the philosophical one that God did something merciful. I.e., Maimonides holds that the Hebrew reads that God is merciful, but that the sense or semantic content is that he did something merciful. (Maimonides appeals to Muslim grammarians, and basically it seems to be a semitic thing: for more, see here). Maimonides thus can (and does) understand this literally, and it would be wrong for him to interpret it allegorically.

Let us imagine a scenario for illustration purposes. If half the fathers established the reading like Maimonides, then they are going to literalize; if the other half established the reading like the Greek/Latin mind, then they are going to allegorize. The latter thus seem to go farther than the former. The difference is due to the ad litteram interpretation.

A second example. Gnostic (among other) readers rather famously interpret (ad litteram) the Hebrew God being jealous as him being envious (φθόνος; roughly, sinful jealousy), not as him being jealous (ζῆλος; roughly, non sinful jealousy). Other and better readers like Augustine recognize that the Hebrew word קִנְאָה can sometimes have the former reading, as can the New Testament usage of ζῆλος, but that when used of God these never have such as their reading. Not only does God in reality not envy another having some good, but holy Scripture never reads (ad litteram) that he is envious of others–e.g., of other gods (cf. Isa. 43:11); or of men (cf. Gen. 3:22). The actual reading is only ever that he is jealous involving (but not merely toward) his spouse.

Proof of this position would require handling every instance; but here we merely cite the two instances when someone is said to be jealous with particularly jealousy of God: Phinheas in the Old Testament (Num. 25:11); and Paul in the New (2 Cor. 11:2). Both instances very clearly are from the marriage relationship, and this must be considered paradigmatic for all others: the equivocal name jealousy, whether in its Hebrew or Greek form (קִנְאָה or ζῆλος), is usurped into divinis only from the marriage relationship. In the case of God, all its instances come from the various modes how a husband is jealous involving his wife (as in e.g., the Law of Jealousy, Num. 5:11–31), not from e.g., how the Philistines felt about Isaac being rich (Gen. 26:14), or how Rachael felt about Leah having children (Gen. 30:1). While the Greek gods (at least according to the poets) are plagued with envy, the Jewish God is besotted with jealousy.

In this instance then, it would be perfectly right to respond to the Gnostic reading by saying, “You’re just wrong about the [ad litteram] interpretation; you just need to be a better reader. Go home and think about your life.” And that, for the record, is how Augustine responds (against the Manichean Adimantus, e.g.).

This current example does in the end fail to be a perfect illustration, because even the reading God being jealous must also be taken allegorically if one is to preserve truth. (Obviously if the reading were him being envious [as some fathers do seem to take it], then this would also be taken allegorically.) But if it were not so, then the ad litteram interpretation would stand. The point, once again, is that differences about the actual reading can and usually do impact differences about allegorizing or not. And this in large degree explains why certain fathers seem to go farther than others in the practice.