I was having a little conversation about interpretive maximalism and minimalism the other day. This is not to be confused with biblical maximalism/minimalism, which is to do with the total and complete historicity of scripture. Almost all evangelicals would be biblical maximalists inasmuch as they believe all of scripture is historically reliable and hold to the plenary and verbal inspiration of the scriptures. Evangelicals may disagree on so-called interpretive maximalism or minimalism and I thought it might be worth blogging a few thoughts about that here.

Before I do, I should probably note I wouldn’t call myself either an interpretive maximalist or minimalist. Not least, those terms are open to some interpretation of their own. If by ‘maximalism’ you are simply arguing for the plenary and verbal inspiration of scripture – that is, the whole of scripture is inspired and each word is the very word God wanted to include – then, yes, I am a maximalist. But this is not how the term is used typically.

James B Jordan – himself a maximalist – puts it this way:

Interpreting the Old Testament “maximally,” as I used the term, simply means trying to deal with the typological dimension, being open to finding Christ in the passage… I believe that the grammatico-historical “methods” of interpretation need to be complemented by Biblico-theological considerations, and that is what I have sought to do in my own work.

And, stated as simply as that, few would have any objections. Most evangelicals (particularly those of a Reformed bent) argue that our systematic theology must be built upon solid biblical theology and our interpretation of any given passage must take account of context; that is, sentence, paragraph, section, book and biblical context. That is to say, historico-grammatical considerations are about immediate context whilst biblical-theological considerations are about broader context. Few would dare to disagree that both matter.

But the maximalist term is often applied in a much broader way than this. It tends to lead to somewhat subjective inferences and distinguishes itself from minimalism through little more than asserting this reader sees a particular link that another does not. The maximalist thus avers their reading is merely mining the bible for all its richness. So-called minimalists (nobody called that seems to own the term) are considered to be overly cautious. Those who push against ‘maximalism’ argue that the interpretations offered are often subjective and speculative; the maximalist subjectively infers what is not evident and dismisses any who do not see it as being ‘minimalist’ in their reading when, in fact, they are simply looking for more objective grounds for the position.

I am not keen on the terms ‘maximalist’ and ‘minimalist’ because I think the so-called minimalist is simply looking for more concrete grounds to affirm the asserted biblical-theological connections. They are not in any way opposed to typology or biblical-theological links, they simply want some contextual and theological grounds before they affirm such links are really there and intended by the biblical author.

Speaking about Peter Leithhart’s commentary on 1&2 Kings (another maximalist), Shane Lems helpfully highlights the maximalist tendency here. He says the following:

I’ve run across a few “red flags” that have made me question Leithart’s interpretive methods. Time and again, his interpretation of different parts of these stories struck me as fanciful and far-fetched. Here are a few examples of this over-interpretation from Leithart’s comments on the early Solomon stories.

First, concerning Solomon riding on a mule for his coronation (1 Kings 1:44):

“Mules are mixed-breed animals, and this perhaps points to Solomon’s kingdom including Jews and Gentiles.  As mixed-breed animals, further, mules are cherubic, reflecting the composite character of those creatures that draw the chariot of Yahweh (cherubim have four faces: ox, lion, eagle, human; Ezek. 1).  Adonijah attempted to capture the high ground by presenting himself as the “son of Yahweh,” traveling in a glory-chariot, but in the end David designates Solomon as son of Yahweh, riding on a cherubic animal just as his divine father does” (p. 32).

My response: the problem here is that the text neither states nor hints that Adonijah or David had these things in mind. Further, I’m very hesitant to jump from a mule to a cherubim without clear textual warrant. It is quite a stretch to view Solomon’s coronation parade as a son of Yahweh riding a cherubic animal.

Next, Leithart comments on David’s speech to Solomon and Solomon’s executions (1 Ki. 2):

“Solomon is a ‘New Joshua,’ who spends the early part of his reign wiping out the ‘Canaanites’ that remain in David’s kingdom, bringing ‘rest’ to the land, and building a sanctuary for Yahweh, recapitulating the sequence of events in Joshua… Solomon’s execution of Joab is a cleansing sacrifices that saves Solomon from the consequences of Joab’s sins” (p. 36).

My response: The narrator does not commend Solomon for executing the enemies of the throne in 1 Kings 2. In fact, there are clear textual notes that make the reader seriously wonder if Solomon did the right thing in executing these men (i.e. Joab may have been holding the horns of the altar when he was executed, and Shimei was executed even though he didn’t cross the brook Kidron as he promised not to do). It’s not for nothing that some commentators say that Solomon was ruthless and callous in these executions. I simply do not see textual warrant for comparing Solomon to Joshua in this way. It sounds cool, but it’s not very accurate.

Another comment that makes me wary of Leithart’s interpretive method is the section on the court case of the two prostitutes and the living child (1 Ki. 3).  This is the famous case where Solomon wisely suggests cutting the child in two in order to determine which woman is the child’s true mother. Here is one thing Leithart says about the story:

“[It] has an eerie resemblance to Passover.  The exchange of sons takes place at night, as does Passover (Exod. 12:29), and as at Passover one male child dies while another is delivered.  This suggests that the false mother is Egypt, a Pharaoh-like woman who smothers her own child and then seeks to toss Israelite children into the Nile.  Endowed with Yahweh’s wisdom, the king comes with a sword to kill, as the angel of Yahweh frees the sons of the Israelites, under threat from Pharaoh. …Through this test, Solomon discerns which woman is the true Israelite, the true daughter of Abraham, who, like Abraham gives up her child in faith to save him.”

My response: This is far too fanciful.  There are no hints in the text that the one prostitute had a Pharaoh-complex, nor is there any indication that Solomon is trying to find out which woman is the true Israelite.  What is more, we have no idea what kind of faith the one woman had; we only knew that she really loved her child (1 Ki. 3:26).  Again, it sounds cool, but it is speculative.

There are many more examples like this in Leithart’s commentary.  I wouldn’t call this a redemptive-historical commentary as some have called it – it is sort of redemptive-historical, but not really.  I hate to use the term allegorical, but that word did come to mind when I was working through these parts of this commentary.

I think it is notable that these so-called maximalist tendencies are often turned up to 11 when it comes to those of a theonomistic bent and is writ large amongst Federal Vision advocates. That is to say, connections are consistently drawn and applied where the majority of evangelicals insist there is little to no contextual warrant to do so.

I have noted this tendency before when I was writing sermons and reading commentaries on Song of Songs. Nothing brings out the allegorists quite as readily as stylised poetry and end times apocalyptic literature. After all, if we are arguing that every word of scripture is inspired and subsequently insist that every word of scripture must therefore have something specific to say to us, it is only natural that we might mine the ready allusions of poetry and prophecy for all they’re worth. But the hay many make with these things is telling. As Iain Duguid rightly points out in the introduction to his commentary on Song of Songs:

[A] twofold division into spiritual and natural interpretations enables us to recognize that both of these broad categories cover a wide spectrum of approaches to the book [Song of Songs] that range from responsible attempts at biblical interpretation to the kind of free association of ideas that people often link with allegory. In other words, ‘allegory’ is not just a facet of the ‘spiritual’ approach, but of the ‘natural’ approach as well. The contemporary Christian relationship manuals that take Song of Songs as the departure point for their lessons on courtship and marriage are simply the modern equivalent of the ancient allegorists. Both use the scriptures to lend a veil of authority to their (often helpful) teachings, but neither is well grounded in a proper understanding of the text itself.

You can follow the link here to see several examples that illustrate the point. The interpretative principle at play, that Duguid considers to be ‘free word association of ideas that people often link with allegory’, are remarkably resonant of the examples Lems offers from Leithart’s commentary in 1&2 Kings. As Duguid goes on to note:

[This] kind of free association… is, of course, precisely the problem with allegorical interpretation. Given enough imagination, radically different messages can be drawn out of the same passage… Instead of the text controlling the interpretation, the text becomes a flexible vessel in the hands of the interpreter, a container into which meaning may be memorably imported. Positively, of course, this uncontrolled subjectivism – whether of the spiritual or natural variety – generally flows from a conviction of the importance of the pastoral relevance of scripture. As a result, when faced with a text that is hard to understand, the interpreter defaults to making it support doctrines and truths that he or she believes to be true and important. Like a mirror, allegorical exegesis tells us much more about the interpreter than it does about the biblical text… The modern prevalence of therapeutic interpretations of the Song of Songs in preference to older Christ-centred allegories may thus tell us something significant about the functional priorities of the church in our day and age, but it doesn’t help us to understand the text… the desire for relevant application of the biblical text can make allegorists of us all. Claiming an attachment to the ‘literal’ and ‘natural’ sense of the text does not automatically free an interpreter from the temptation to wild speculation, as anyone who has ever read end-times prophetic fiction will understand… the only way to avoid that danger is by careful, patient and disciplined study of the text in its original context, against a proper and Ancient Near Eastern background.

And here, I think we get to the nub of the issue. Nobody wants to hear more or less than whatever it is the Lord is saying. Maximalists may insist they are mining scripture for the fullness of its meaning, but it is hard to avoid the sense that if they subjectively infer a link, they are adamant it is what God would have us hear. Those who reject their findings insist that it is the maximalist, and not the scripture, that is driving the interpretation. The key distinction between the so-called ‘maximal’ or ‘minimal’ readings of scripture is subjective allegorical vs objective contextual readings of scripture.

There is nothing wrong with asking the question: why is this here? That is a good question to ask. But the answer must lie in the text and context of the passage rather than in subjective links we might draw in our own minds. The bible is clear that typology, and thus literary links, are written across its pages. But the sensible exegete does not insist every link they might draw in their own mind is typologically valid.

As James Hamilton notes in his excellent book Typology:

Two essential features of typology are historical correspondence between events, persons, and institutions in the Bible’s salvation-historical unfolding and the consequent escalation in significance that accrues to recurring patterns. The kind of typological interpretation the biblical authors practice affirms the historicity of both the initial instance of the pattern as its recurrences… the biblical authors are not engaging in literary contrivance that creates these parallels and patterns.

He argues we establish historical correspondence by:

(1) The reuse of key terms; (2) the quotation of phrases or lines; (3) the repetition of sequences of events; (4) similarity in salvation-historical significance or covenantal import. These means for establishing historical correspondence provide us with criteria that can be used to determine when later biblical authors mean to signal typological relationships with material in earlier passages of Scripture. If we can establish that a later author meant to draw attention to a typological pattern, we have warrant for regarding the historical correspondences, as well as the escalations in significance and the resulting typological development, as intended by the human author of the passage.

That is to say, not every claim to typology is typological. We have to establish a typological link by specific criteria before we can insist this is a link intended by the biblical author. Whatever is not intended by the author is not intended by God. That is to say, subjective free word association dressed up as typological link does not a theologically credible position make. For example, you may notice the word ‘donkey’ is used in the story of Balaam and that same word shows up when Jesus rides into Jerusalem. But the simple use of the same word does not, by itself, make a typological link.

I think Hamilton’s definition of typology is, therefore, instructive. He says, ‘typology is God-ordained, author-intended historical correspondence and escalation in significance between people, events, and institutions across the Bible’s redemptive-historical story (i.e. covenantal context).’ He goes on to insist, ‘Typology is not mere literary contrivance, nor is it the result of the imaginative creativity of either the biblical authors or those who interpret them. God ordained that the parallels would actually happen, and he also providentially ensured that the biblical authors would notice them. The Holy Spirit superintended the process so the biblical authors rightly interpreted both the history they observed and the earlier Scripture to which they had access.’

In respect to defining typological interpretation he says:

Typological interpretation establishes historical correspondence on the basis of linguistic points of contact (i.e., the re-use of significant terms), quotations, repeated sequences of events, and similarities in salvation historical significance and covenantal context. As these features are discerned in the text, interpreters detect author-intended parallels between people, events, and institutions, and they have textual warrant to perceive a growing significance in the repeated patterns. The Holy Spirit’s inspiration ensured that the biblical authors infallibly interpreted the Scripture and inerrantly presented it. Later interpreters, who are neither inspired by the Holy Spirit nor writing Scripture, are neither infallible nor inerrant, but they should nevertheless seek to think and read and interpret in accordance with what the biblical authors intend to teach.

What does all that mean? Certainly that the whole of God’s word is inspired and inerrant. It means that typological linkage is entirely legitimate because it is what the later biblical authors were divinely inspired to see. But it similarly means that such typology must be evidenced in the text and requires more than merely the same use of a word and a subjective word-association game played by the interpreter. Typological links are only typologically valid when they are signalled in the text by the biblical authors themselves. That is to neither argue for a ‘maximalist’ nor a ‘minimalist’ reading. Rather, it is to argue for an objective, text and context driven understanding of scripture with less subjectivity.

My problem with so-called maximalism is not that proponents want maximum benefit from the Word and to understand the fullness of what God is saying. We should all want that! My issue is that those who call themselves maximalists seem closer to allegorists and, far from maximising their understanding of God’s word, wander into eisegesis and the subjective drawing of links where the text gives no cause. But that is not how typology works.

We are justified in reading scripture as the biblical authors did – understanding it typologically – but we are not justified in seeing typological links they never intended which are not signposted in the text or context. We are not justified in seeing typology behind every instance of a shared word. We are not justified in imagining links and then determining that the authors must have intended them simply we found them. We most certainly are not justified in drawing speculative and subjective links and then building our theology on them. That way lies sheer imaginative interpretive madness.

Whilst we don’t form our theology based on the company that it keeps, it is telling that Federal Vision advocates all land quite hard on this approach. I, further, have dealt with others who are prone to Gnosticism, and to a lesser extent those who are charismatic, that also land very hard on this ‘maximalist’ approach. It isn’t hard to see in the latter two cases how and why they might be prone to the kind of subjective free word association of interpretive maximalism that allows them to ‘sense the Spirit’ and/or alight upon secret knowledge that is not immediately obvious. I have dealt directly with people in bible studies who simply bring two words together in their mind, insist the Spirit brought to mind verses altogether unrelated to the ones we’re discussing, and insisting on this basis the Lord must be saying X despite it having no contextual foundation whatsoever.

If our typology and ‘maximal reading’ isn’t textually bound and contextually driven, it isn’t the bible we are reading but our own subjective allegorical whatevers. Wherever they might land, we are reasonably safe in saying it isn’t what God has said.