In his Theological Political Treatise, Spinoza enumerates explicit protocols for the interpretation of Holy Scripture. These directives appear in the middle of the manuscript, and call forth many of the essential philosophical positions that he formulates throughout the rest of the text. In this paper, I will address them in a different order than appears in the book, and they may be summarized as follows: 1. Scripture must be read in its original Hebrew 2. One must attend to the historical context from which Scripture emerges 3. One must not be hasty in resolving apparent contradictions and inconsistencies in the text. These three protocols signify a single commitment to reunite Scripture to the diversity of its origins. The harsh response to the publication of the TTP shows that this commitment yields philosophical consequences that strike at the foundations of established religious doctrine.
Spinoza insists repeatedly in the TTP that Scripture be studied in its original language of Hebrew. He argues that the true meaning of Scripture can only be approached by a strict adherence to the economy of words contained already in its pages: to “investigate from established linguistic usage, or from a process of reasoning that looks to no other basis than Scripture” (89). By restricting his lexicon to ‘established linguistic usage’, Spinoza commits to understanding every word within its specific context and with respect to its specific connotations.
Adherence to Hebrew exposes within the text many contradictions and inconsistencies that had been rationalized and smoothed over in translation. In many cases, these rationalizations radically changed the tone and character of the specific passages, producing in turn their own paradoxes and insoluble conflicts. Spinoza pointedly warns against such hasty attempts to rationalize scripture from outside its Hebraic context: “I term a pronouncement obscure or clear according to the degree of difficulty with which the meaning can be elicited from the context, and not according to the degree of difficulty with which its truth can be perceived by reason” (88). Here Spinoza breaks with the metaphysical tradition of interpretation, which seeks a true meaning lurking beneath the surface of the text. This approach supports the idea that there is an esoteric content to Scripture that awaits a future revelation through a kind of exegetical rationalization, a translation from myth and obscurity into logic and reason. For Spinoza, the text is a surface without depth. To seek an esoteric meaning beyond what is already present in the text is to add meaning and subtract from the original message. Spinoza rejects the style of interpretation that seeks to synthesize and cohere divergent biblical texts. His own protocols seek instead to recover areas of dissonance and contradiction where translators had surmised harmony and unity.
Spinoza’s break with the metaphysical approach also marks a significant shift in the temporal dynamics of religious observance. The metaphysical tradition held that the esoteric content of Scripture remained hidden until some future time when its true meaning could be illuminated by the divine light of reason. This futural orientation is what Spinoza refers to in the preface to the TTP, where he criticizes the piety that rests on hopes and fears; as hope and fear inevitably turn away from the present to what is to come. It is hope and fear, Spinoza says, that provide the ground for superstition and the usurpation of religion by illegitimate authorities. By insisting that the meaning of Scripture is immanent to the text itself, Spinoza refuses to defer its revelation indefinitely into the future. This gesture goes against a distinctly Christian/Platonic temporal structure that situates humankind behind a veil of tears, amidst ephemeral appearances, which, like Scripture itself, must be penetrated beyond. The Christian doctrine of salvation rests on this orientation to the future, which is one of the many reasons for the harsh response to the publication of the TTP.
Another reason for the negative reactions is that Spinoza’s position undermines the authority of the intermediary figures that interpret scripture for the masses. If the true meaning of Scripture can be found within its pages, then it does not rest on the approval, translation, or interpretation of any establishment that claims access to its esoteric content. If it were the case, Spinoza argues, that the meaning of Scripture were esoteric and hidden, “it would follow that the common people, for the most part knowing nothing of logical reasoning or without leisure for it, would have to rely solely on the authority and testimony of philosophers for their understanding of Scripture, and would therefore have to assume that philosophers are infallible in their interpretations” (101) - and not only philosophers, but the many political authorities that claim interpretive authority over holy Scripture. Spinoza’s protocols undermine such authorities: “There is nothing…in our method,” says Spinoza, “that requires the common people to abide by the testimony of biblical commentators” (101).
Spinoza’s fidelity to the original Hebrew implicitly undermines the authority of the many Latin translations of Scripture, and in bypassing these translations Spinoza makes another serious philosophical gesture. This is because Hebrew is a language that resists many forms of philosophical dualism that lie at the foundation of Christian dogma. The Divine Logos, the domination of Spirit over matter, the primacy of Heaven over earth – these cannot be found within the Hebraic forms that appear in original Scripture. Rather, these distinctly Christian dualisms inhabit the many Latin translations and commentaries. In his return to Hebrew, Spinoza gestures towards a collapse or a sublation of these binary oppositions.
Spinoza is most explicit on this point in relation to the separation between God and Nature. He says regarding this distinction: “what they mean by the two powers, and what by God and Nature, they have no idea, except that they imagine God’s power to be like the rule of some royal potentate, and Nature’s power to be a kind of force and energy” (71). This cosmology that divides God and Nature depicts God as an omnipotent sovereign and Nature as an inanimate flux. Spinoza counters this view: “since nothing can be or be conceived without God, it is clear that everything in Nature involves and expresses the conception of God in proportion to its essence and perfection; and therefore we acquire a greater and more perfect knowledge of God as we gain more knowledge of natural phenomena” (50). For Spinoza, God is not a sovereign with the power to intervene in Nature. God is entirely immanent and coextensive with his creation; in no way is He “numerically distinct” from it.
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