Taking Jesus' Promises Literally

This just in from the question box:

“The reason I believe the Catholic church is the true one because it's most biblical, and it seems to follow the New Testament (excluding Revelations) most literally. However, if we take John 6 literally to the point of cannibalism, then what about Jn 14:12, and other promises made in the gospels that we will do greater things than Jesus, heal the sick, the blind, deaf, and lame, cast out demons, and other things? If the apostles did all these things in Acts, then why don't they happen today?”

Let's take it piece by piece.

“The reason I believe the Catholic church is the true one is because it’s most biblical....” Let’s stop there for a moment. The idea that you everybody should read the Bible and then decide which Church is the true one doesn’t really cash out when you think about it. What was everybody supposed to do before the printing press came along and made it possible for everyone have their own copy of the Bible? For 1500 years after Christ ascended into heaven, even a major cathedral would not likely have all the books of the Bible, because they were big, hand-made, expensive things; your average Joe in the pew would not have owned even a single book of the Bible, even if he were lucky enough to be able to read! The system Jesus had in mind for how we find his church could not have been that we were supposed to read the Bible and then decide—that just would not have been practical. As a matter of fact, it goes the other way around: the way Joe Pew would know whether X, Y or Z “gospel” is in fact a book of the Bible would be to ask at Church! You find the books of the Bible by looking to your Church instead of finding the Church by looking to your Bible.

“...and it seems to follow the New Testament (excluding Revelation) most literally.” To make sure we’re clear about what this means, let’s define some terms. Our words signify certain things by convention: for example, the word “ox” signifies a beast of the field, and that is the literal meaning of the word. When St. Paul says “You shall not muzzle the ox when it is treading out the grain” (1Cor 9:9), the literal meaning of “ox” is a beast of the field. But when you think about that ox, you realize that Paul is using the ox as a symbol of something else, namely an apostle preaching, and that is the figurative meaning of “ox”. So here’s the definition: the literal meaning of Scripture is whatever the words signify by convention, while the figurative (non-literal) meaning is what you get when the thing signified by the words is itself taken as a sign of something else. Here’s another example: Jesus says in John 15:1, “I am the true vine.” The literal meaning of that phrase would be that Jesus is a creeping plant with big leaves that bears grapes, because that’s what you get when you just take the conventional meanings of the words. But then you realize that Jesus understands that creeping plant with big leaves as a sign of something else, namely as a source of life for the branches. Then you see that what he means is that Jesus is a source of life for us the way a vine is the source of life for its branches. That is the figurative meaning, because that’s what you get when you take the thing signified by the words (“vine”) and understand that thing itself as a sign of something else.

Now, it is true that certain kinds of Protestants take literal interpretation as the best, and pride themselves on interpreting Scripture more literally than anyone else, as though it’s this big contest and whoever can manage to interpret Scripture most literally wins. This gives us Catholics an edge when we talk with them because in fact the passages we interpret differently we usually do interpret literally. But it should be clear if you think about it for a moment that interpreting Scripture literally is not really the goal. For example, surely we shouldn’t take “I am the true vine” literally! It just isn’t true that we should take Scripture literally everywhere.

So what is the goal? Well, here’s the way I understand it: the reason some Christians are proud of interpreting Scripture literally is that they know they aren’t using some kind of figurative interpretation as an escape hatch when the going gets rough. They are willing to take whatever Scripture tells them and just swallow it, no matter how bitter it may taste. If you take everything in Scripture figuratively instead of literally, then you can pretty much interpret Scripture to mean WHATEVER YOU WANT. These Protestants are proud, and rightly so, that they are obedient to Scripture instead of making Scripture say what they want to hear. So I think what they are really driving at is that you should take Scripture literally unless Scripture itself seems to indicate that you should interpret it figuratively. In other words, the goal is to take literal passages literally and figurative passages figuratively, but always in obedience to Scripture.

OK, so how do you decide when a passage should be taken figuratively? I think there are three factors: 1) convention, 2) context, and 3) possibility. Sometimes a particular phrase has a figurative meaning that everyone understands because it is conventional, like “I tried to get that job, but I STRUCK OUT.” Nobody will think that you lashed out at your interviewer in physical violence, because everyone in America knows that “I struck out” is a figurative expression taken from baseball, and we all know the meaning of it. Sometimes you have to judge based on context: for example, somebody not quite so familiar with the phrase “I struck out” would still be able to guess what you mean by it just because you brought it up in connection with your unsuccessful attempt to get a job. Finally, sometimes your first clue that something should not be taken literally is that the literal meaning is something impossible, like when Jesus says “I am the true vine.” He simply is NOT a creeping plant with big leaves, so he MUST mean something else!

Here’s an example from real life. My brother and I met with our families at the big aquarium in Chicago for a day of fun. After some six hours or so of moving from display to display, eating lunch, watching the dolphin show, etc., my brother turned to me and said, “Well, I’m a pumpkin.” Here’s what happened in my mind in less than two flicks of a bat’s eyelash: first, that statement failed the possibility test immediately and thoroughly. My brother is NOT a pumpkin, so I was sure that he did not mean that statement to be taken literally. I racked my memory for something about pumpkins that would fit the context, and bingo! Cinderella’s coach turned into a pumpkin when it was time to go! My brother’s word “pumpkin” signified a large orange vegetable, but that large orange vegetable was itself a sign of something that needs to go home. He meant that he needed to go home. So you see the factors of possibility and context at play there. Over time I have heard other people use the same phrase, and eventually I realized that it is a common phrase for people to use in that situation: had I been more hip, I would have understood my brother’s figurative statement immediately just by knowing its conventional meaning—that’s the convention factor coming in.

The tricky part is the possibility factor. What you think is possible is not always what someone else thinks is possible. We all agree that my brother cannot be a pumpkin, but what if he had turned to me and said, “I’m an alcoholic”? Maybe I think that’s not possible, but maybe I’m just fooling myself because I don’t want to face the truth. If I don’t want to face up to the possibility that my brother is an alcoholic, then I could use a figurative interpretation of his statement as an escape hatch. On the other hand, if he isn’t an alcoholic, then a literal interpretation would be a big insult to him. It takes prudence and sensitivity to context to navigate the situation, but the goal is clearly to interpret the statement the way that he meant it—the goal is not just to take it literally no matter what. [By the way, my brother has no problems with alcohol. I just took that as an example of something somebody could say.]

OK, let’s look at the particular passage you were asking about, John 14:12-13: “Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go to the Father. Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it, that the Father may be glorified in the Son.” That last statement about “Whatever you ask in my name” is obviously limited in some ways: for example, you could not ask that only your own prayers and nobody else’s be answered—God would not do THAT for you, because that would contradict the promise itself! And obviously God will not give you anything that you want for wicked purposes, because then the Father would not be “glorified in the Son.” So there are limits. The two key questions about this promise are 1) what are the limits and 2) why does Jesus make a statement that sounds unlimited (“Whatever”) when in fact there are limits? I’m not too worried about the answer to question #1, because the passage itself does not spell out clearly what the limits are. Opinions could be different. But I think I can answer question #2: Jesus uses a word like “whatever” because there is NO LIMIT on the SIZE of what God will give. You don’t need to worry about budget limits or lack of resources or power. It’s like when the company president hands you the company credit card and says, “OK, get the job done and buy whatever you need—you want it, you got it.” He obviously doesn’t mean that you can buy anything your heart desires, and so there are actually limits, but no purchase is too great for getting this job done.

In particular, Jesus specifies that the size of the miracles he worked during his own earthly ministry do not set a cap on what you can ask for. You don’t need to think to yourself, “Well gee, Jesus never moved a mountain, so I probably shouldn’t even think of praying for that.” Nope—sky’s the limit. Ask away.

If you look at the definitions I gave above, I think you would say that I am interpreting Jesus’ statement literally. I am just running with the conventional meaning of the words and taking what I get, but it seems to me that what he is literally saying is something limited in one respect and unlimited in another.

Here’s where the last part of your question comes in: “If the apostles did all these things in Acts, then why don't they happen today?” I should note from the outset that Jesus does not go into this kind of detail—how long, where, on what occasions, etc.—so at this point I am not interpreting his words anymore. I am speculating about his plans based on what has happened. First off, I would say that the Church needed more miracles right at first to get off the ground, but once the Church was going she needed fewer supernatural confirmations to convince people. She could point to things like the miracle of her own growth—from 120 disciples in the upper room at Pentecost to most of the known world within a couple of generations and without a single sword drawn. Once people were not in danger of being killed for becoming Christian, it was easier to persuade people to do it. For any number of reasons, miracles were more necessary early on than they were later. Secondly, I would say that miracles DO happen today, but they are almost impossible to verify if you aren’t personally on the scene. The Church requires a certain number of certified miracles before she will canonize a new saint, and she is canonizing them faster than ever now, so SOMETHING is going on out there. But it is generally very difficult to be certain about these things second-hand. You can examine evidence for miracles and decide for yourself about specific ones—I have a handful that convince me.