The Bible’s Influence on the American Founding The American ideas of liberty, liberation, and the right of resistance were profoundly shaped by the Bible and its narratives. Daniel L. Dreisbach The Bible figured prominently in the political thought and practices of the patriotic Americans who, in the last third of the eighteenth century, fought for and secured independence from Great Britain and established new constitutional republics in their respective states and nation. It was, after all, the most accessible, authoritative, and venerated book in the world of the American founders. The Bible was the most accessible, authoritative, and venerated book in the world of the American founders. The founders read the Bible. Their many quotations from and allusions to both familiar and obscure scriptural texts confirm that they knew the Bible from cover to cover. Biblical language and themes liberally seasoned their rhetoric. The phrases and cadences of the King James Bible, especially, informed their written and spoken words. Its ideas shaped their habits of mind and informed their political pursuits. Although the founders held diverse theological views and some even doubted Christianity’s transcendent claims, including the Bible’s divine origins, many turned to Christianity and its sacred text for insights into human nature, civic virtue, social order, political authority, the rights and responsibilities of citizens, and other concepts essential to the establishment of a political society. In various conventions and representative assemblies of the age, as well as in state papers, political pamphlets, and private writings, founding figures appealed to the Bible for principles, precedents, and normative standards to shape their political communities and order their civic projects. There were founders who thought Scripture provided political and legal models—such as republicanism, separation of powers, and due process of law—that they believed enjoyed divine favor and were worthy of emulation in their polities. The Pursuit of Liberty In the American experience, few political or constitutional themes are more important or persistent than the pursuit of liberty. Liberty is mentioned in the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence and in the Preamble to the U.S. Constitution. It is an ideal and an aspiration the definition of which Americans have long debated and even fought over. It inspired patriots in 1776 in their conflict with Great Britain. It was the ideal that inspired and mobilized abolitionists, suffragettes, and Freedom Riders, among others, in the centuries that followed. Across the centuries, the Bible has informed the way many Americans have thought about liberty and the pursuit of liberty. Among the most recognizable symbols of liberty in American history is the Liberty Bell, which once hung in Philadelphia’s Independence Hall, emblazoned with the biblical text: “Proclaim Liberty throughout all the Land unto all the Inhabitants thereof. Lev. [25:10].” Drawing on the same tradition, Americans have appealed to no source more frequently to represent the pursuit of liberty than the exodus story recounted in the Hebrew Scriptures. The Liberty Bell on display in Philadelphia across from Independence Hall. Photo by Phil Roeder. Americans have returned to the exodus narrative at decisive moments in their history, beginning with seventeenth-century Pilgrim and Puritan settlers who believed they had escaped religious oppression in the Old World in pursuit of religious liberty in a new promised land, and continuing with the eighteenth-century patriots who fought the “tyranny” of George III (their Pharaoh), nineteenth-century abolitionists who sought the emancipation of African slaves and an end to slavery, and twentieth-century activists who struggled to secure the civil rights of African Americans and other minorities. The book of Exodus tells of the Hebrew people enslaved in Egypt. Their leader, Moses, as directed by God, would miraculously deliver them from their Egyptian bondage. This story of liberation and liberty has resonated through the ages. The major themes and motifs of the narrative—a chosen people, an oppressed community yearning for freedom, a tyrannical ruler, a leader-liberator of his people (and a forger of a nation), providential deliverance from oppression, and the pursuit of a promised land—have been appropriated by diverse peoples and communities. The Pilgrims and Puritans who settled in New England in the seventeenth century imagined that they were reliving the exodus story. The Pilgrims and Puritans who settled in New England in the seventeenth century imagined that they were reliving the exodus story. They saw themselves as a divinely directed and chosen (or elect) people—God’s new Israel. England, a land of political repression and religious intolerance from which they fled, was their Egypt; the Stuart monarchs were their intransigent Pharaoh; and the treacherous waters of the Atlantic Ocean were their Red Sea. They embarked on a dangerous journey in pursuit of liberty—specifically religious liberty. In their new Canaan, like the ancient Israelites, they found a land of hope and opportunity; they also encountered a forbidding terrain and hostile inhabitants. These would be recurring themes and motifs in the stories Americans would tell of their own experiences in the New World; and these themes, many Americans would come to believe, defined their national identity and shaped their own pursuits and aspirations. A conceptual drawing of Franklin’s proposed shield done by Benson J. Lossing in 1856 for Harper’s New Monthly Magazine. Source On July 4th, 1776, the Continental Congress appointed Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson to a committee to design a great seal for the United States. The Bible was, again, a source of inspiration. Franklin proposed an image of Moses extending his hand over the Red Sea in anticipation of God’s supernatural parting and then closing of the waters, allowing the divinely-directed Israelites to escape Pharaoh and his army (Exod. 14). He also suggested, and the committee later concurred, that the following motto be added to the design: “Rebellion to Tyrants Is Obedience to God.” According to Adams’s recollection, Jefferson initially recommended a portrayal of the “Children of Israel in the Wilderness, led by a Cloud by Day, and a Pillar of Fire by night” (Exod. 13:21–22).1Proposal for the Great Seal of the United States, [Before 14 August 1776], in The Papers of Benjamin Franklin, ed. William B. Willcox (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1982), 22:562–563; Report on a Seal for the United States, with Related Papers, [20 August 1776], in The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, ed. Julian P. Boyd (Princeton University Press, 1950), 1:494-495; John Adams to Abigail Adams, 14 August 1776, in The Adams Papers, series II, Adams Family Correspondence, ed. L. H. Butterfield (New York: Atheneum, 1965), 2:96. Remarkably, both men drew on familiar Old Testament images of the children of Israel who were miraculously released from Pharaoh’s bondage just as they hoped Americans would be providentially delivered from King George III’s tyranny, as fitting allegorical portrayals of the new nation’s plight. The committee eventually recommended a design drawn from Franklin’s proposal, which the Congress tabled, and no further action was taken on it. The Call for Liberation Enslaved Africans in the New World heard and experienced the same narrative in reverse order: they were transported from their homelands in chains across a great water to the land of Egypt where they were held captive by another Pharaoh. European Americans who, during their conflict with Great Britain, compared themselves to enslaved Hebrews in Egypt became, ironically, enslaving Pharaohs in African American accounts. In time, African American slaves came to identify with the children of Israel, and in spirituals, sermons, stories, and symbols they expressed a yearning to be liberated from their Egyptian bondage. Phillis Wheatley is one the most celebrated early American poets. Source Writing in early 1774, Phillis Wheatley, the acclaimed African American poet who was sold into slavery in Africa, transported to the British colony of Massachusetts-Bay, and sold to a prominent Bostonian family, drew on this biblical text to express a universal longing for liberty: “…for in every human Breast, God has implanted a Principle, which we call Love of Freedom; it is impatient of Oppression, and pants for Deliverance; and by the Leave of our modern Egyptians I will assert, that the same Principle lives in us.”2Phillis Wheatley to the Reverend Samson Occum, February 11, 1774; reprinted in Connecticut Gazette, March 11, 1774. Sojourning in Charleston, South Carolina, in 1775, just as the revolution was heating up, a missionary of African descent (perhaps a fugitive slave) from Great Britain named David Margrett “preach[ed] to several white People and Negroes” that “God would send Deliverance to the Negroes, from the power of their Masters, as He freed the Children of Israel from Egyptian Bondage.”3James Habersham to Robert Keen, 11 May 1775, in “The Letters of Hon. James Habersham, 1756–1775,” Collections of the Georgia Historical Society (Georgia Historical Society, 1904), 6: 243–244; Tim Lockley, “David Margrett: A Black Missionary in the Revolutionary Atlantic,” Journal of American Studies 46, no. 3 (2012): 729–745. To white authorities this sounded like incitement of a slave rebellion, and David was forced to flee the town to preserve his life. Continuing into the next century, the rhetoric of abolitionists—both black and white—was replete with appeals to the exodus story. Indeed, this narrative frequently inspired and explained the anti-slavery cause in the nineteenth century. For example, in the summer of 1822, Denmark Vesey, a former slave who had purchased his own freedom, was accused of, and swiftly convicted and executed for, plotting a slave insurrection in Charleston, South Carolina. An informant testified that, at a meeting of the conspirators in Vesey’s house, Vesey “was the first to rise up and speak, and he read to us from the bible, how the children of Israel were delivered out of Egypt from bondage.”4Negro Plot. An account of the late intended insurrection among a portion of the blacks of the city of Charleston, South Carolina (Boston, 1822), 36. William Lloyd Garrison, one of the most prominent anti-slavery activists of the nineteenth century, speaking in the voice of Moses in an 1829 Fourth of July oration, thundered: “I call upon the ambassadors of Christ everywhere to make known this proclamation: ‘Thus saith the Lord God of the Africans, Let this people go, that they may serve me.’”5William Lloyd Garrison, Garrison’s first anti-slavery address in Boston. Address at Park Street Church, Boston, July 4, 1829 [Boston, Directors of the Old South Work, 1907], 10. The major themes and motifs of the exodus narrative continued to resonate in the civil rights struggles. The major themes and motifs of the narrative continued to resonate in the civil rights struggles of the mid-twentieth century. Speaking to a massive audience in Montgomery, Alabama, on November 14, 1956, at a decisive moment in that city’s bus boycott, Martin Luther King, Jr. declaimed: “We have been in Egypt long enough, and now we’ve gotten orders from headquarters. The Red Sea has opened for us, we have crossed the banks, we are moving now, and as we look back we see the Egyptian system of segregation drowned upon the seashore.” Opposition, he continued, is still ahead, “but we are going on because we’ve got to get to Canaan.”6Martin Luther King, Jr., Address to the Montgomery Improvement Association, meeting at Holt Street Baptist Church, Montgomery, Alabama, November 14, 1956, in The Papers of Martin Luther King, Jr., vol. III: Birth of a New Age, December 1955— December 1956, ed. Clayborne Carson et al. (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1992), 3:433. Martin Luther King, Jr. speaking at Holt Street Baptist Church during the Montgomery bus boycott. Source The Bible informed the way the founding generation, as well as later generations of Americans, conceived of liberty and liberation. This is confirmed by frequent appeals to and invocations of the exodus narrative in their political discourse. Other biblical texts and themes would also shape American pursuits of liberty and liberation. The Right of Resistance Among the most vexing questions the founding generation confronted was: Do a people ever have a right to resist an unjust, tyrannical ruler? In their struggle for liberation from what they regarded as Great Britain’s “tyrannical” rule, patriotic Americans turned to Scripture for a political theology justifying resistance to their colonial master. Their rationales for a right of resistance drew on diverse sources and traditions, and among these sources was a political theology, with deep roots in western political thought, that claimed to be based on a nuanced reading of Scripture. A key biblical text in discussions concerning resistance to political authority is Romans 13:1–7, which by some accounts was the most referenced biblical text in the political literature of the founding era.7James P. Byrd, Sacred Scripture, Sacred War: The Bible and the American Revolution (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 170. All authority is “ordained of God,” one reads in this text, and a ruler is “the minister of God to thee for good.” Accordingly, citizens are instructed to be subject to those in authority over them. This was a challenging text for Americans contemplating resistance to what they regarded as oppressive, tyrannical British rule. It was the subject of many pamphlets and political sermons; and Americans, to be sure, were divided on whether Scripture approved or disapproved of resistance to British colonial authority. Get new articles and updates in your inbox. Leave this field empty if you’re human: The founders knew that Romans 13 taught citizens to “be subject to the governing authorities” (Rom. 13:1 ESV); but they also learned from Acts 5:29—and from biblical accounts of the prophet Daniel and many other biblical characters—that God, rather than man, must be obeyed. Drawing on a resistance theology most clearly articulated in the wake of the Protestant Reformation, patriotic Americans adopted a nuanced interpretation of Romans 13. God ordains and establishes civil authority to serve the public good, and citizens are subject to civil magistrates who serve as God’s ministers. In short, resistance to civil authorities is resistance to God. Rulers are to be supporters of good works and a terror to evil conduct. Indeed, the argument continues, civil magistrates have no authority from God to act contrary to the public good. Accordingly, one who bears the title of “ruler” (or civil magistrate) but is a terror to good works and fails to serve the public good deposes himself (or abdicates the office) and is no longer God’s minister. Such a person claiming the mantle of civil authority is not a legitimate ruler but is a tyrant and is not entitled to the people’s submission and obedience. Scripture, in short, does not obligate a citizen to submit to a tyrant; indeed, a citizen has the right, even the duty, to resist a tyrant.8See U.S. Declaration of Independence (1776); Maryland Declaration of Rights and Constitution of 1776, Declaration of Rights, Article IV; New Hampshire Constitution of 1784, Part I, Article 10 [Right of Revolution]. For other mentions of the right of resistance in state papers of the era, see John M. Kang, “Appeal to Heaven: On the Religious Origins of the Constitutional Right of Revolution,” William and Mary Bill of Rights Journal 18 (2009): 288–289. Samuel West’s sermon in 1776 defending the right of resistance against tyranny. Source Those Americans following this interpretation of Scripture thus concluded that “rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God.” In political tracts and sermons, patriotic Americans appealed to this interpretation of Scripture to justify their resistance to King George III and Parliament. Conclusion Americans have read widely and borrowed liberally in the formation of their civic ideas and ideals. Among the sources to which they have turned is the Bible. This is particularly true of American conceptions of liberty, liberation, and the right of resistance, as evidenced by the frequent invocations of Scripture, specifically the exodus narrative, in American political discourse on and contemplations of the great themes of political liberty. This article is adapted from Dreisbach, Reading the Bible with the Founding Fathers (2017).Notes1Proposal for the Great Seal of the United States, [Before 14 August 1776], in The Papers of Benjamin Franklin, ed. William B. Willcox (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1982), 22:562–563; Report on a Seal for the United States, with Related Papers, [20 August 1776], in The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, ed. Julian P. Boyd (Princeton University Press, 1950), 1:494-495; John Adams to Abigail Adams, 14 August 1776, in The Adams Papers, series II, Adams Family Correspondence, ed. L. H. Butterfield (New York: Atheneum, 1965), 2:96.2Phillis Wheatley to the Reverend Samson Occum, February 11, 1774; reprinted in Connecticut Gazette, March 11, 1774.3James Habersham to Robert Keen, 11 May 1775, in “The Letters of Hon. James Habersham, 1756–1775,” Collections of the Georgia Historical Society (Georgia Historical Society, 1904), 6: 243–244; Tim Lockley, “David Margrett: A Black Missionary in the Revolutionary Atlantic,” Journal of American Studies 46, no. 3 (2012): 729–745.4Negro Plot. An account of the late intended insurrection among a portion of the blacks of the city of Charleston, South Carolina (Boston, 1822), 36.5William Lloyd Garrison, Garrison’s first anti-slavery address in Boston. Address at Park Street Church, Boston, July 4, 1829 [Boston, Directors of the Old South Work, 1907], 10.6Martin Luther King, Jr., Address to the Montgomery Improvement Association, meeting at Holt Street Baptist Church, Montgomery, Alabama, November 14, 1956, in The Papers of Martin Luther King, Jr., vol. III: Birth of a New Age, December 1955— December 1956, ed. Clayborne Carson et al. (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1992), 3:433.7James P. Byrd, Sacred Scripture, Sacred War: The Bible and the American Revolution (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 170.8See U.S. Declaration of Independence (1776); Maryland Declaration of Rights and Constitution of 1776, Declaration of Rights, Article IV; New Hampshire Constitution of 1784, Part I, Article 10 [Right of Revolution]. For other mentions of the right of resistance in state papers of the era, see John M. Kang, “Appeal to Heaven: On the Religious Origins of the Constitutional Right of Revolution,” William and Mary Bill of Rights Journal 18 (2009): 288–289.
Summer 2026 Update As June gets under way, we want to share some important updates on the last year of our work. Peter J. Gurry and John D. MeadeThe last twelve months have been full of changes for us as founders of the Text & Canon Institute. Last June, we moved our families from Phoenix to Kansas City where we took up new teaching positions at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. It’s hard to believe we’ve now been here just over a year! The move involved all the normal upheavals of finding new homes, schools, and churches. As a result, our work here slowed but didn’t stop. What we’ve been up to Just a few weeks after landing in Kansas City, we were off to Amsterdam for the Preachers & Leaders conference at Tyndale Theological Seminary. It was a special time since the seminary was celebrating its 40th anniversary in the same year that marked the 500th anniversary of William Tyndale’s first attempt to print the English New Testament—all in the same year that Amsterdam celebrated its 750th anniversary. The conference was also the occasion for the first translation of our book Scribes & Scripture. It was translated into Dutch with additional material from Paulus-Jan Kieviet on the Dutch Bible. This was followed later in the year with a Croation translation. German is next and we would love to see it in Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese eventually. But Amsterdam was not the only long flight on our agenda. In October we headed to Fairbanks, Alaska to speak at the Christian Thought Forum held annually by Bethel Church. We saw snow, but no bears. We also flew to Spain to film about the incredible Complutensian Polyglot with Tony Evans’s Unbound documentary. We’ll let you know when it’s released. Other Scribes & Scripture conferences took us to Washington, Michigan, and our own backyard in Kansas City. We were even online for a TGC cohort. The trailer about the Complutensian Polyglot from the Unbound documentary. Speaking of online, both directors were interviewed earlier this year on Wes Huff’s YouTube channel. Dr. Meade talked about key prophetic texts in Isaiah and Dr. Gurry addressed places the NT text has changed. If you want to see us in person with Wes, join us for the annual Apologetics Canada conference in Ontario September 25–26. Dr. Meade will also be back in Canada for the Calgary conference October 24. Despite all the traveling, we did manage to publish several new articles. The first was by Dr. Tracy McKenzie in our Bible in America series on the Bible’s influence on the American constitution. Stay tuned for more articles in this series to mark America’s 250th anniversary. The other article, published in time for Christmas, was a detailed look at whether Isaiah predicts the virgin birth of Christ by Dr. Peter Gentry. Rebuilding our email list Regrettably, the move was not the only interruption to our work. Leaving Phoenix threw us into a disappointing and prolonged intellectual property dispute. As part of that, the marketing software we used to send new articles was apparently hacked and our access removed. (For more details, please contact us.) We share this not only so you know why we haven’t been more active, but also to let you know that we have to rebuild much of our email subscription list. If you want to get new articles and updates, please resubscribe using this new form: Get new articles and updates in your inbox. Leave this field empty if you're human: You can still follow us on X, Facebook, and YouTube as you always have. What’s ahead The good news is that we have recently finalized a new and exciting partnership with Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary (MBTS) and are excited to continue our work. We will be hiring new staff, publishing new articles, and speaking across the country. In addition, we are both able to take on doctoral students through the MBTS doctoral program. If you’re interested, please reach out. We are also making plans for our next academic colloquium and are in process of publishing the papers from our previous one. Stay tuned! As we resume work, you can once again look forward to regular, monthly articles along with ongoing translations into Spanish and Portuguese. We also have some helpful developments to our website in the pipeline that should make it easier than ever to find what you need among our nearly 100 articles on the history of the Bible. In all this, our mission remains the same: to illuminate the incredible history of the Bible. Thanks for reading!
The Fall and the American Founding While not explicitly Christian, the U.S. Constitution was forged by those who shared the Bible’s view of human nature. Tracy McKenzie Christians interested in America’s founding have typically been preoccupied with one question above all others: Was the United States founded as a Christian country? Concerning the Constitution specifically, we’ve wanted to know whether the Framers of that document were men of genuine Christian faith who were determined to establish an explicitly Christian government. But let me suggest that we’d gain more insight by turning our attention from the Framers’ theology to their anthropology—from what they thought about God to what they thought about us. Doing so is not only key to comprehending the Framers’ handiwork in 1787 but can also help us in understanding American politics two and a half centuries later. Almost without exception, the fifty-five men who took part in the Constitutional Convention held their religious views close to the vest. They produced a document that never refers to God, does not cite the Bible, and is silent concerning the religious questions that so divide Americans today. Throughout the four-month-long convention they abstained from making explicitly religious arguments, and they showed the same reticence during the state-level ratification debates that followed. In contrast, they were constantly proclaiming their views on human nature, and the reason that they did so was plain: they were convinced that no framework of government could long succeed that did not take human nature rightly into account. As George Washington observed to John Jay on the eve of the Constitutional Convention, “We must take human nature as we find it.” The Founders were convinced that no framework of government could long succeed that did not take human nature rightly into account. So let’s ask three simple but crucial questions: (1) What was the Framers’ view of human nature? (2) How did their view inform the Constitution? and (3) To what degree was their view compatible with the Bible? Note that this final question doesn’t ask whether the Framers’ understanding of human nature stemmed from their personal religious faith, whether they were self-consciously applying Christian insights as they crafted the Constitution, or whether the document they produced is evidence that they aspired to forge a Christian nation. As much as we might wish otherwise, we lack the evidence to answer any of those questions definitively. Instead, we’ll pose a question that is just as important and far easier to answer. The Framers’ view of human nature Like so much of their understanding of the world, the Framers’ assessment of human nature was complicated. On the one hand, they were consciously embarking on an experiment in self-government, and that presupposed a degree of optimism concerning the capacity of humans to govern themselves. They sought to enhance that capacity by promoting the inculcation of virtue, a character trait which they defined as the willingness to sacrifice personal interests for the good of the community. On the other hand, the Framers discerned a basic selfishness in the human heart that consistently trumped virtue. In short, human nature mixed elements of “rectitude” and “venality,” as Alexander Hamilton explained in Federalist no. 76. The former justified a measure of “confidence,” James Madison noted in Federalist no. 55. The latter necessitated a healthy dose of “distrust.” Barry Faulkner’s mural depicting the writing and adoption of the Constitution hangs in the National Archives. Source The Framers devoted more attention to the latter. While they had no doubt that humans are capable of morally admirable acts of courage or compassion or sacrifice or generosity, they were equally certain that the “stern virtue” that places the common good above self-interest “is the growth of few soils,” as Hamilton observed in Federalist 73. George Washington, who chaired the Constitutional Convention, maintained that “the motives which predominate most in human affairs [are] self-love and self-interest.” Pennsylvania delegate James Wilson observed, “It is the nature of man to pursue his own interest, in preference to the public good.” New Jersey delegate William Livingston agreed that “it is extremely difficult, for the best of men, to divest themselves of self-interest.” James Madison, often remembered as “the Father of the Constitution” for the seminal role that he played, lamented that “self-love” is “sown in the nature of man.” Or as Madison put it privately in a letter to Thomas Jefferson, “Wherever there is an interest and power to do wrong, wrong will generally be done.” Related The title to the “Jefferson Bible.” Illustration by Josh Koch. The Jefferson Bible and the Faith of an American FounderThomas Jefferson’s cut-and-paste version of the Gospels reveals important facets of the famous founder’s faith and the Bible’s role in American history. Thomas S. Kidd The Framers’ view and the U.S. Constitution And so, even as they praised virtue and exhorted their fellow Americans to practice virtue, the men who gathered in Independence Hall in Philadelphia in 1787 did not craft the Constitution with a virtuous citizenry in mind. Following Washington’s advice to “take human nature as we find it,” they sought instead to structure the government in such a way as to compensate for “the defect of better motives,” as Madison explained in Federalist 51. To be blunt, they assumed that both government officials and common citizens would be prone to selfishness, and they designed the Constitutional system accordingly. It was a monumental challenge. Human selfishness meant that the propensity to abuse power would always be present—in any form of government. This meant that power would always be a threat to liberty, whether that power was wielded by a king, a dictator, or a democratic majority. The Framers’ daunting task, then, was to find a way to give the government sufficient power to promote the general welfare without creating at the same time a Frankenstein’s monster that could devour citizens’ liberty. As Madison famously observed in Federalist 51, their goal was to “enable the government to control the governed” and at the same time “oblige it to control itself.” To enable it to “control the governed,” the Framers granted the federal government a host of prerogatives that had been denied the government under the Articles of Confederation—most notably the power to tax and regulate commerce—while also distancing the Senate, the president, and the federal judiciary from undue popular pressure. (As originally conceived, members of the House of Representatives would be the only popularly elected federal officeholders.) To oblige the government “to control itself,” the Framers devised the separation of powers and “checks and balances” that most of us were introduced to in junior high but have rarely thought deeply about since: the tripartite structure of the government, the division of the legislative branch into two houses, the executive’s power to veto acts of the legislature, the legislature’s role in approving executive treaties, and so forth. Nearly two and a half centuries later, these provisions fairly shout to us the Framers’ understanding of human nature, especially their keen awareness of the tendency of human beings to abuse power. It’s no exaggeration to say that the Framers’ awareness of human selfishness permeates the document that they created. The Framers’ view and the Bible This brings us to our third question: was the Framers’ view of human nature compatible with the Bible’s understanding of it? The answer, without a doubt, is an emphatic “Yes!” Historically, Christians have grounded their understanding of human nature on two doctrinal pillars: the concepts of imago Dei and original sin. The doctrine of imago Dei teaches that we bear the image of God and thus occupy a unique place in God’s created order. Dr. McKenzie’s book explores the Founders’ view of human nature in greater detail. The Framers never spoke explicitly of imago Dei, but they took for granted two of the key attributes that theologians associate with the divine imprint on human beings, namely the faculty of reason and a capacity for moral discernment. Had they doubted that humans possessed such traits, their commitment to a form of government grounded in the consent of the governed would have made no sense. A second relevant doctrine, the doctrine of original sin, instructs us that our rejection of God’s rule has defaced the divine image we each bear, marring though not obliterating it entirely. Since “the Fall,” each of us enters the world as a natural rebel against our rightful ruler. Our hearts are characterized by “recalcitrance” and “concupiscence,” as Augustine put it in The City of God, driven above all to rule ourselves and please ourselves. Whether the Framers believed in this doctrine in its fullest theological sense is questionable. They rarely spoke of “sin” at all, much less “original sin,” and yet their view of human selfishness at the very least overlapped with that doctrine extensively. When the Framers insisted that none of us is naturally inclined to virtue—that the act of denying ourselves to promote the good of others is contrary to our nature—Christians around the country could have cheerfully responded, “Amen!” The importance for democracy In sum, although the Framers didn’t use religious language in articulating their understanding of human nature, nor did they appeal explicitly to Scripture or Church teaching to justify their assessment, on the whole, their view—whatever its origins or foundation—was broadly compatible with orthodox Christian understandings of the earthly implications of imago Dei and original sin. I would add that, for Christians who want to think Christianly about the underpinnings of the Framers’ constitutional vision, the Bible’s teaching on the imago Dei and original sin are invaluable. The two concepts in tandem capture the tension at the heart of the Framers’ philosophy of government. If the traits associated with imago Dei make self-government possible, the corroding effects of original sin make self-government problematic. It was a brilliant accomplishment to fashion a form of government that would make allowance for both. Sadly, Americans today generally don’t understand this underlying foundation of the Constitution. Sadly, Americans today generally don’t understand this underlying foundation of the Constitution, nor do we, on the whole, subscribe to the understanding of human nature that guided the Framers. Especially is this true regarding the concept of original sin. Numerous opinion polls reveal that a large majority of Americans—typically two-thirds to three-fourths of respondents—believe that most humans are naturally good. This is not a new development. Whatever was being taught from America’s pulpits in the early decades after independence, in the realm of political rhetoric, at least, the presupposition of essential human goodness had replaced the Framers’ beliefs within two generations. A shift in beliefs By the 1830s, politicians were routinely proclaiming what I call “the democratic gospel,” namely, the good news that humans are not naturally selfish, but rather virtuous by nature. Here it’s instructive to compare the farewell addresses of the country’s first and seventh presidents. In 1796, George Washington used his final message to the nation to warn Americans of “that love of power, and proneness to abuse it, which predominates in the human heart.” Four decades later, Andrew Jackson praised his countrymen for their “high tone of moral character,” rhapsodized that they were “uncorrupted and incorruptible,” and reassured them that “the cause of freedom will continue to triumph” as long as they remain “true to themselves.” If Jackson’s rhetoric sounds familiar, it’s because his presidency marked the inception of the political world we now inhabit and take for granted. In democracy as Americans have lived it for nearly two centuries, vote-seekers routinely pay tribute to the wisdom of the people and impute an intrinsic moral authority to their preferences. If this strikes us as utterly unexceptional, as little more than white noise, that’s partly because it’s so ubiquitous, and partly because it gives voice to what the culture now accepts as a truism. One of the great benefits of history is that, when we pay attention to the past, it enables us to see aspects of our present that have become invisible to us. One of the great benefits of history is that, when we pay attention to the past, it enables us to see aspects of our present that have become invisible to us. Even a brief review of the Framers’ understanding of human nature underscores the chasm that separates their view from the dominant view among contemporary Americans. The Framers did not craft our Constitution for a people who were “uncorrupted and incorruptible,” but for citizens who would always be prone to “self-love and self-interest.” In Christian terminology, they fashioned a form of government for a “fallen” people. In forgetting that fact—and in rejecting belief in original sin itself—Americans today miss one of the Framers’ greatest insights, and arguably the message from our past that we most need to hear: Given humankind’s fallen state—what the Framers would have called our lack of virtue—a free and just society is as fragile and unnatural as it is precious.
What Are the Apocryphal Gospels? These diverse ancient works expand upon the four canonical Gospels in creative and sometimes subversive ways. Markus Bockmuehl and Jacob RodriguezThe so-called “apocryphal” gospels are a subject of fascination among many today. How do they relate to the four canonical gospels? What are they and why did people read and write them? To start with a definition, the apocryphal gospels are a diverse collection of texts that expand and elaborate on the teachings and narratives of Jesus’ birth and life, ministry, death, and post-resurrection appearances as found in the canonical gospels. These noncanonical writings were produced from the second century onward and provide insights into the diverse and creative ways early Christians interpreted the traditions about Jesus. The major types of noncanonical gospels can be divided into several categories, each with its own focus, including infancy gospels, ministry gospels, passion gospels, and post-resurrection dialogue gospels. These works not only reveal the vibrancy of early Christian imagination but also their theological, pastoral, and often esoteric concerns. We begin with a survey of the various types before returning to the question of why they were produced (and reproduced). Infancy gospels A depiction of Jesus bringing clay birds to life in St. Martin’s church, Switzerland. Encyclopædia Britannica The infancy gospels address a gap in the canonical gospels by focusing on the early life of Jesus. The most famous of these is the Protevangelium of James, which situates Jesus’ birth within a larger narrative about Mary, his mother. This gospel includes popular traditions, such as the names of Mary’s parents (Joachim and Anna), and embellishes the biblical accounts with additional details like Mary riding a donkey to Bethlehem and the birth of Jesus occurring in a cave. The text was well-received in early Christianity and continued to influence Christian piety in later centuries. In contrast, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas presents a more episodic portrayal of Jesus’ childhood, often characterized by playful and even mischievous behavior. The gospel contains stories such as Jesus creating birds out of clay and bringing them to life, as well as his disputes with teachers over the meaning of letters. Unlike the Protevangelium, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas seems to have been more focused on entertainment than religious edification. Both texts, though different in tone and content, reflect an early Christian desire to fill in the gaps of Jesus’ early life, which the canonical gospels leave largely unaddressed. Ministry gospels Several apocryphal gospels focus on Jesus’ ministry, often combining sayings and episodes from the canonical gospels with new material. For example, the Egerton Gospel (Papyrus Egerton 2 + P.Köln VI 255) presents fragments of a narrative that includes a dialogue about Jesus’ authority in comparison to Moses, a miraculous healing of a leper, and a dialogue about the emperor’s rule. These fragments suggest that the Egerton Gospel drew upon both Synoptic and Johannine traditions, creating a composite portrait of Jesus’ ministry. A fragment of the ‘Egerton Gospel’ (P.Köln VI 255). Image source Other fragmentary texts, such as Oxyrhynchus Papyri 840 and 1224, also provide tantalizing glimpses of second-century ministry gospels. These texts include dialogues and debates, sometimes featuring Pharisees or other Jewish authorities. For example, Oxyrhynchus Papyrus 840 contains a debate between Jesus and a Pharisee named Levi, focusing on purity laws. These gospels demonstrate the ongoing interest in Jesus’ teachings and actions, particularly as they related to Jewish religious practices. In addition to these ministry gospels, certain texts categorized as “Jewish Christian Gospels” also emerged. The Gospel of the Hebrews and the Gospel of the Ebionites are two such examples. These texts appear to have drawn heavily from the Gospel of Matthew, and their content includes familiar episodes such as Jesus’ baptism, the Last Supper, and his resurrection. However, they also contain unique material, leading some scholars to consider them distinct gospels, while others view them as recensions or revisions of Matthew. Related Drawing of Jesus teaching in the synagogue by Gustave Doré (1832–1883). Illustration by Peter Gurry. What’s the Big Deal about a New Papyrus with Sayings of Jesus?A second-century date for a new Greek fragment with gospel material makes it unique among papyri. Michael W. Holmes Passion gospels The apocryphal passion gospels focus on the events surrounding Jesus’ death, often with theological or narrative innovations that distinguish them from the canonical accounts. The Gospel of Peter, for instance, presents a distinctive version of the passion narrative, emphasizing the guilt of the Jewish leaders and downplaying the role of Pontius Pilate. This gospel also features a dramatic and theologically rich resurrection account, in which Jesus emerges from the tomb accompanied by two angels, towering over the earth. Other passion gospels, such as the Fayyum Fragment (Papyrus Vindobonensis G. 2325), offer only small portions of the passion narrative, such as Jesus predicting Peter’s denial. Although these texts do not provide a full passion account, they highlight the continued interest in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. One of the most notorious of the passion gospels is the Gospel of Judas, which presents a radically different interpretation of Judas’s role in Jesus’ betrayal. Far from being a simple traitor, Judas is portrayed as Jesus’ most trusted disciple, the one who understood his true nature and mission. This gospel, linked to Gnostic theology, presents a subversive reinterpretation of the passion story, challenging mainstream early Christian understandings of Jesus’ death and its salvific significance. Post-resurrection dialogue gospels The post-resurrection dialogues fill another gap in the canonical narratives, where the risen Jesus speaks little compared to his pre-resurrection ministry. These gospels often present a timeless Jesus in extended conversations with his disciples, revealing esoteric teachings or hidden wisdom. The Gospel of Thomas is perhaps the best-known of these texts. It consists of 114 secret sayings of the “living Jesus,” many of which parallel the Synoptic gospels, but others reflect a Gnosticizing interpretation of Jesus’ message. The Gospel of the Lots of Mary (6th c.) is a miniature codex with 37 oracles attributed to Jesus’ mother. Harvard Art Museums/Arthur M. Sackler Museum Other post-resurrection dialogue gospels, such as the Gospel of Mary and the Apocryphon of James, emphasize Jesus’ communication with specific disciples, often Mary Magdalene or James, to whom he reveals special, secret knowledge. The Gospel of Mary portrays Mary as a key figure in understanding Jesus’ teachings, especially regarding the soul’s journey after death. The text suggests a spiritual hierarchy in which Mary has access to wisdom that even Peter and the other apostles do not. In contrast, the Epistula Apostolorum (“Epistle of the Apostles”) offers a more orthodox portrayal of the post-resurrection period, emphasizing the collective witness of the apostles to the risen Christ. This text serves as a defense of the apostolic tradition, countering the more esoteric and individualistic post-resurrection dialogues found in other apocryphal gospels. Gospel harmonies and Marcion’s ‘Euangelion’ In addition to composing original gospels, second-century Christians also engaged in the harmonization of existing gospels. The most famous example is Tatian’s Diatessaron, a gospel harmony that combined material from all four canonical gospels into a single continuous narrative. This project reflected a desire to synthesize the Jesus tradition, creating a unified account from the diverse and sometimes divergent canonical sources. A little earlier in the second century, Marcion’s Euangelion (“Gospel”) represents a very different approach. Marcion accepted only Luke’s gospel and heavily redacted it, excising any references to Jewish prophecy or the Old Testament. His gospel reflects his theological agenda of separating the Creator God of the Old Testament from the Redeemer God revealed in Jesus. Marcion’s approach stands in stark contrast to the harmonizing tendencies of other early Christians, who sought to preserve the fullness of the Jesus tradition and its connection to the Old Testament. Related Portraits of the four evangelists from GA 773 (10th c.) Why Are There Four Gospels in the Bible?Despite tales of conspiracy, there are good historical and theological reasons why the Church recognized four—and only four—Gospels. C. E. Hill Why the Apocryphal gospels were written and read When many Christians today learn about these Apocryphal Gospels, their first question is often Why? Why did people write these gospels and why did others read them? The proliferation of apocryphal gospels in the second century can be attributed to several factors. First, these gospels allowed early Christians to fill in gaps left by the canonical gospels, especially regarding Jesus’ early life and his post-resurrection appearances. The Infancy Gospels and post-resurrection dialogues are prime examples of this. They have sometimes been characterized as an ancient form of fan fiction. Second, the apocryphal gospels were read for entertainment and moral instruction. The Infancy Gospel of Thomas, with its playful stories of the boy Jesus, likely entertained its readers while also offering lessons about Jesus’ divinity and humanity. These gospels often reflect theological and pastoral concerns specific to particular Christian communities. Third, these gospels often reflect theological and pastoral concerns specific to particular Christian communities. For example, the Gnostic gospels, such as the Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of Judas, express a worldview that emphasized secret knowledge (gnosis) and rejected the material world in favor of spiritual enlightenment. These texts catered to the spiritual needs of communities that valued esoteric wisdom and saw themselves as possessing deeper insights into Jesus’ teachings. On the other hand, texts like the Epistula Apostolorum arguably were written by proto-orthodox authors in the service of canonical gospels, validating their apostolic authority and promoting their use as Scripture alongside the Old Testament. Finally, the apocryphal gospels reveal the diversity of early Christian beliefs and practices. While the four canonical gospels became increasingly authoritative, other gospel compositions demonstrate awareness of them to various degrees and were often read alongside them. Diverse groups continued to produce and read augmented narratives or alternative sayings that aligned with their theological perspectives. In this sense, some apocryphal gospels served as a way for marginalized or heterodox groups to preserve their traditions and interpretations of Jesus. That said, the historical evidence suggests that apocryphal gospels did not generate or sustain an independently viable alternative tradition either of Jesus’s life or of a rival collection to the fourfold gospel. Rather, they typically presupposed a widespread acceptance of the canonical gospels as the authoritative center of gravity for the Jesus tradition. Apocryphal gospels did not generate or sustain an independently viable alternative tradition. Conclusion The apocryphal gospels represent a rich and diverse body of literature that expands upon the canonical gospels in creative and sometimes subversive ways. Whether filling in gaps, offering new theological insights, or harmonizing existing traditions, these texts reflect the vibrant and complex world of early Christian thought. Their composition and reception reveal not only the diversity of early Christian beliefs about Jesus but also the enduring, unparalleled influence of the four canonical gospels, which provided the foundation upon which much of this creative gospel writing was built.
Suffer Not a Witch to Live? Biblical exegesis and Bible translation both played a role in the rise—and demise—of witch hunts. Daniel N. GullottaThe portrayal of witches in movies and TV often conjures up images of medieval settings, seen in comedies like Monty Python and the Holy Grail, fantasy series like Harry Potter and the Chronicles of Narnia, or more serious movies like In the Name of the Rose and Black Death. These depictions usually show women in black robes riding broomsticks, linking witches to a world of swords and bow-and-arrow warfare, often viewed as remnants of the inaccurately labeled “dark ages.” However, witch-hunting as we understand it was a far more modern phenomenon than many realize, and this is reflected even in English Bible translation. The famous witch trial scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) The rise in witch-hunting Contrary to the medieval image, the most intense period of witch-hunting coincided with the rise of the early modern world, particularly the 15th and 17th centuries, which witnessed the most intense witch-hunting in history. An estimated 100,000 individuals in Europe and colonial America were prosecuted for witchcraft between 1400 and 1775, with around 50,000 facing execution. Historians debate the various and overlapping sources contributing to the rapid increase in witch-hunting, pointing to factors such as the Catholic and Protestant Reformations, changes in European economic and social life, new ‘modern’ criminal procedures, and the growth of nation-state power. Alongside these factors, biblical exegesis and, with it, Bible translation played a crucial role in both supporting and condemning witch-hunting. Witches in exegesis and translation Biblical exegesis significantly influenced the perception and prosecution of witchcraft during the Reformation. One of the key biblical passages often cited in witch trials was Exodus 22:18, which in both Tyndale and the King James Bible reads, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” In this verse, taken from the Hebrew Bible, the key term “witch” was translated in the Septuagint as pharmakos (φάρμακος), a Greek word that can refer to poisoners or those who practice nefarious arts with drugs, poisons, and medications. The Vulgate, a Latin translation made by Jerome in the fourth century, also reinforced this interpretation. Likewise, the Bishops’ Bible (1602) includes a note stating: “The word in Hebrew signifieth a sorcerer or enchanter, or anyone who, through devilish means, harms livestock, crops, or people.” But in the Reformation period, translations varied, and exegetes debated the exact meaning of the term. The note in the 1602 Bishops’ Bible explains the meaning of “witch” in Exodus. This image shows the revisions made for the King James Bible, a translation that eschewed such interpretive notes. Photo: © Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford Johann Weyer, a Dutch physician and chief surgeon to the Duke of Cleves, argued that Exodus 22:18 had been mistranslated. In his work On the Tricks of Demons (De praestigiis daemonum), Weyer contended that the passage condemned poisoners, not witches. He concluded this after consulting rabbinical commentaries as well as Hebrew, Greek, and Latin editions of Exodus. This interpretation challenged the prevalent belief in witches’ supernatural powers and the necessity of their execution. The Geneva Bible (1560) labeled the woman in 1 Samuel 28:3–25, the Witch of Endor, as “a woman that hath a familiar spirit” and “a witche.” Martin Luther’s German translation used the term Zauberin (sorceress) and later editions used Hexe (witch). These translations reinforced the belief in the existence and malevolence of witches. In contrast, earlier commentators, including Thomas Aquinas, often denied any supernatural power to the Witch of Endor, viewing her as a clever illusionist or a conduit for demonic activity, rather than possessing inherent powers. The most notorious text associated with witch-hunting is the Malleus Maleficarum (1486), commonly known in English as The Hammer of the Witches. Authored by the German Dominican inquisitor Heinrich Kramer, with possible assistance from Jacob Sprenger, the Malleus argued that witches were real and dangerous agents of the devil. The text used biblical references, including the story of the Witch of Endor, to support its claims. It dismissed earlier interpretations that minimized the witch’s powers, asserting instead that witches acted at the devil’s behest, shedding innocent blood and revealing secret things. Critics of witch-hunting Despite the widespread fear and persecution, there were notable critics of witch-hunting from both Catholic and Protestant circles. These critics raised legal and moral objections to the methods used in witch trials, such as reliance on gossip, weak evidence, and the use of torture during interrogations. Johann Matthäus Meyfart, a Lutheran professor, warned of the potential for abuse in such trials, suggesting that prosecuting the innocent could endanger the salvation of those involved. He urged Christians to trust in Christ’s judgment at the Second Coming rather than relying solely on the legal system. The English Puritan Reverend John Gaule criticized the infamous witch-hunter Matthew Hopkins, decrying the ungodly scenes of torture inflicted by Hopkins and his associates. German Jesuit Friedrich Spee von Langenfeld, who witnessed several witch-hunts, condemned the violence against innocent victims, noting that many were forced to confess under torture. Spee’s stance was supported by Jesuits Adam Tanner and Paul Laymann, who also denounced witch-hunting in their works on moral theology. Laymann, citing Christ’s teachings in the Parable of the Wheat and the Tares (Matt. 13:24–43), argued that it was better to let some guilty individuals go unpunished than to condemn the innocent unjustly. Conclusion While 19th-century historians viewed the decline of witch-hunting as evidence of diminishing religious influence, it is crucial to note that many critics of the trials were devout Christians. They acknowledged the reality of witches and the power of the devil but questioned the competence of governments and churches in conducting trials, the obvious bias in such proceedings, and the theological justifications behind them. These criticisms were rooted in a Christian perspective that opposed the troubling beliefs and violent actions of their contemporaries, highlighting the complex interplay between biblical exegesis, translation issues, and the persecution of alleged witches. Given that witch trials are still happening in the world, we must recognize the high stakes involved in accurate and ethical Bible translation and interpretation in addressing and preventing such injustices.
Why We Worry When Choosing a Bible Translation The ‘paradox of choice’ explains why Christians worry so much about picking the wrong translation. What can we do? Peter J. GurryBy far the most common question I get asked about Bible translation is What’s the best one? What I’ve noticed is that, very often, the question comes with a hint of worry—worry that, depending on my answer, the person may discover they’ve been using a second-best translation. And when it’s God’s word we’re reading, no one wants to settle for second best! The anxiety is understandable. But can anything be done about it? Are those without knowledge of Greek and Hebrew simply doomed to always second-guess their translation choice? How much should we worry that we’ve picked the wrong translation? How much should we worry that we’ve picked the wrong translation? So many options Before we go further, we need to consider the historical conditions that lead to our question. For much of history, the ordinary Christian couldn’t ask it at all since he either had no direct access to the Bible, couldn’t read it, or couldn’t afford to own one. One further reason is that for many, in the past and still for some today, their native language only has a single Bible translation. Of course, for those of us living in the modern West, things are quite different. We can download Bible apps at no cost and then choose between any number of translations. At Biblegateway.com you can, right now, choose among over 60 English translations. There are twenty for Spanish, five for German, and four for French. Given the size of the Bible and the amount of work required to make a translation, this is a huge abundance and a remarkable testament to our Christian heritage. The reign of the King There was a time when each of these languages was dominated by a single Bible translation. In English, there was a period of over 250 years when the King James Bible reigned as the Bible of the English-speaking world. In Spanish, the Reina-Valera had an even longer run and, in German, the Luther Bible had an equal or greater effect in German than the King James had in English. Related Decoration from the title page to the New Testament. Illustration by Peter Gurry. Seven Common Misconceptions about the King James BibleThe most widely read English Bible translation has sprouted a series of fictions about it. It’s time to prune them. Timothy Berg The long reign of these translations makes us wonder: is it good to have so many? Were we better off when we all read the same Bible? There can be little doubt that having a single, shared translation comes with significant benefits. In his book Authorized: The Use and Misuse of the King James Bible, Mark Ward discusses five of them, and I’m sure his list could be expanded. He notes how even the late atheist Christopher Hitchens saw the problem. Writing in Vanity Fair for the four-hundredth anniversary of the King James Bible, Hitchens complained that the proliferation of Bibles means “there will no longer be a culture of the kind which instantly recognized what Lincoln meant when he spoke of ‘a house divided.’ The gradual eclipse of a single structure has led, not to a new clarity, but to a new Babel.” One of the biggest losses when translations proliferate is the loss of a shared reference point. He’s not wrong. One of the biggest losses when translations proliferate is the loss of a shared reference point across an entire language. When we all share the same Bible all our theological debates have to be hammered out on the same anvil. There’s simply no option to object, “But my Bible says…” Sectarianism isn’t impossible, but it is harder when we all use the same Bible. The blessing of abundance But for all the benefits of a single translation, there are also drawbacks. Without anything else to compare it to, readers of a single translation are left in the dark about difficult translation decisions where differing interpretations of the original are possible. Marginal notes can alleviate some of this, and the King James translators certainly used them. But notes are a limited tool, and most readers in my experience blissfully ignore them. One of the benefits of multiple translations is that it makes Bible readers more aware that what they are reading is a translation. For all the problems that come with “but my Bible says,” one of the benefits of multiple translations is that it makes Bible readers more aware that what they are reading is a translation and not the original. They may then be further inclined to compare translations and become more discerning readers. The fourth-century church father Augustine (354–430 AD), whose own ability in the original languages was limited, realized some of the benefits of using multiple Bible translations. In his classic book on Christian interpretation he wrote this: In this matter [of learning unknown idioms], too, the great number of the translators proves a very great assistance, if they are examined and discussed with a careful comparison of their texts. Augustine, On Christian Doctrine, 2.14 [21] Augustine is saying that having multiple translations can help the reader who’s tripping over an unknown idiom. That’s still the case today. Where one translation is opaque another may come to the rescue with clarity. This is especially true for first-time Bible readers who may stumble over any number of unfamiliar terms in a verse like Romans 3:21. In the NASB it reads: But now apart from the Law the righteousness of God has been revealed, being witnessed by the Law and the Prophets. A turn to the NLT offers clear interpretations—and they are interpretations—for each of the key terms: But now God has shown us a way to be made right with him without keeping the requirements of the law, as was promised in the writings of Moses and the prophets long ago. For some readers, the NLT will prove to be, as Augustine said, “a very great assistance” in understanding these biblical idioms. The precedent for plurality Besides noting the benefits and drawbacks of multiple translations, there is also the importance of precedent. This is especially the case in English where Christians sometimes think that our modern proliferation of translations is completely new. It isn’t. English has had multiple translations before. Miles Coverdale (1488–1569) was one of the great heroes of the English Bible and he knew this well. Coverdale is the unsung hero of the English Bible. He produced several important translations in his lifetime. Image source His most famous Bible was his first. Finished in 1535, it has the distinction of being the first complete, printed English Bible. Given that he based it on the work of William Tyndale and made use of other Bibles in German and Latin, it’s not surprising that he felt the need to defend the value of multiple translations in his preface. In doing so, he appealed to precedent. And he had plenty of it to appeal to. He wrote: Whereas some men think now that many translations make division in the faith and in the people of God, that is not so: for it was never better with the congregation of God, than when every church almost had the Bible of a sundry [= different] translation.1Taken from Alfred W. Pollard, Records of the English Bible (Oxford: Henry Frowde, 1902), 203 (spelling updated). Also available in updated spelling in Gerald Bray, Translating the Bible from William Tyndale to King James (London: Latimer Trust, 2010), 69. Coverdale goes on to cite examples from both Greek and Latin, drawing special attention to the case of the Greek Septuagint, which was revised three separate times. For Coverdale, the existence of multiple translations was a blessing. It was evidence that God “hath opened unto his church the gift of interpretation [= translation] and of printing.” He praises God that there are so many capable of doing the work of translation. If only such eagerness for new translation hadn’t died with Augustine, Coverdale says, the church in his day might not be in such need of reform. In all this, Coverdale was frank about his own limits as a translator (he did not know Greek and Hebrew). As a result, he offers a refreshing call for teamwork in the task of translating. Not every translator will hit the bullseye every time, he says, but we shoot better when we shoot together. Where one misses, the others should encourage rather than criticize out of envy or spite. Get new articles and updates in your inbox. Leave this field empty if you're human: Coverdale has hit on an important point. Today, the proliferation of English Bible translation can, at times, encourage competition rather than collaboration. This can happen whenever Bible readers—or Bible publishers—exaggerate the differences between translations in their effort to identify “the best” one. This can also lead us to needlessly denigrate other translations. This hardly means endorsing every crackpot translation. There really are bad translations. But our mainstream, evangelical translations are good. Where they differ, it is usually a matter of legitimate difference in how to interpret the original or in the audience they are trying to reach or in their translation philosophy. To be sure, not every difference in translation is inconsequential. Some really do matter. But, on the whole, we benefit from having multiple archers shooting at the same target. The paradox of choice But, if Coverdale is right about the benefits of multiple translations, why do many of us feel so much angst when choosing a translation? Why is there so much pressure to have the best one? One reason is what psychologist Barry Schwartz calls the paradox of choice, and it’s one that Coverdale did not anticipate. The paradox, as Schwartz explains it, is simple: “Though modern Americans have more choice than any group of people ever has had before, and thus, presumably, more freedom and autonomy, we don’t seem to be benefiting from it psychologically.”2Barry Schwartz, The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less, rev. ed. (New York: HarperCollins, 2016), 103. Instead, the explosion of choice, he argues, often leads to dissatisfaction, regret, and paralysis. More becomes less. Every car shopper has felt the problem. When you leave the house, you are content to find a good, reliable car to get you to and from work. But when you arrive at the lot and look out across the sea of endless options, you quickly begin to feel that you absolutely must get THE BEST car. Details you weren’t even thinking about before—color, trim, electronics—suddenly become deciding factors. The smaller the differences are between options, the more anxiety we feel in choosing between them. What’s true of cars is true of translations. The more choices we have, the more we feel compelled to get the absolute best one. And just like with cars, it’s sometimes the case that the smaller the differences are between options, the more anxiety we feel in choosing between them. It’s no longer enough to have a literal translation; we must have the most literal. But then we wonder if what we really need is the most accurate. Or, should we get the most accurate and most readable? As the options grow, so does the fear of picking the wrong one. To solve the problem, we might even exaggerate the differences in order to help make the decision easier. After all, a choice between good and bad is much easier to make than one between good and good-in-a-slightly-different-way. It certainly doesn’t help that publishers sometimes leverage this anxiety in their marketing. The website for the recent NRSVue, for example, calls it “the most meticulously researched, rigorously reviewed, and faithfully accurate translation on the market.” (I’ve yet to see a new translation marketed as “accurate enough” or “pretty readable”!) How to avoid paralysis So, what can we do? Of the suggestions that Schwartz offers, I think the ones that apply most readily to choosing a Bible translation are these: reduce your options, be content with “good enough,” and be grateful. 1. Reduce your options When you reduce your options, it makes the decision feel less momentous. There are any number of ways to do this with translations. The simplest is to adopt the translation your church or denomination uses. If you trust your church or denomination enough to be a member, it makes sense that you would also trust their choice in translation. So, pick theirs and be done. Another way to narrow your choices is to pick a translation that descends from a trusted tradition—that of the KJV, for instance. These include the NKJV, ESV, NASB, and NRSV. If readability is most important to you, then pick one with a focus on that like the NLT, NIV, or maybe the CSB. If you preach regularly, you probably want something more literal like the ESV or NASB that lets you, as the preacher, explain the text. 2. Be content with good enough If this still leaves too many options, ask yourself if you’re making perfection the enemy of the good. I think many Christians who are worried about choosing the “wrong” translation need to hear that any mainstream, evangelical translation is going to serve them very well. They are all very good—even if they are good in different ways. If you already use the NIV or the NASB, ask yourself why you feel the need to switch. Is there really something wrong with your current translation? Or, have you fallen prey to the comparison trap? If so, it may help to remember that you can always supplement your main translation with others by using any number of free online resources. I highly recommend it. 3. Be grateful Finally, I think the best way to overcome the paradox of choice is to turn angst into gratitude. Behind the problem is a blessing: we have so many good English translations to choose from! Most Christians in history, and many Christians around the world still today, do not have the rich legacy of Bible translation we have in English. We should be enormously grateful for this heritage. Instead of worrying about choosing the wrong translation, most of us should just be grateful we have a choice at all. As Coverdale realized, we should not take it for granted when those with gifts in the biblical languages use them to produce good translations. “Ye ought rather,” he writes, “to give God high thanks therefore, who through his Spirit stirreth up men’s minds, so to exercise themselves therein.” Today, we have more reason than ever to give God such “high thanks.”Notes1Taken from Alfred W. Pollard, Records of the English Bible (Oxford: Henry Frowde, 1902), 203 (spelling updated). Also available in updated spelling in Gerald Bray, Translating the Bible from William Tyndale to King James (London: Latimer Trust, 2010), 69.2Barry Schwartz, The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less, rev. ed. (New York: HarperCollins, 2016), 103.