Believers in the pews are often bewildered how it can be that theologians and church leaders often proclaim positions at glaring odds with what they believe they read in Scripture. Why does my bishop say we should be "open and affirming" to homosexuals and my Bible say this about homosexuality at Leviticus 20:13: "If a man lies with a male as he lies with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination. They shall surely be put to death. Their blood shall be upon them." (NKJV) How is this possible?At this point historical-critical points are generally introduced, and the believer is taken back behind "God's Word" of Scripture into a world of causal explanations of Scripture, a world of socio-economic structural explanations, or perhaps of literary methodologies, or, if these don't do the trick, just plain bald assertions. (I remember debating an ELCA college religion professor who confidently told those assembled that Leviticus simply was "a weird book.")
In truth, however, the problem with "taking the Bible literally" has been around for a very long time, and it is not a problem that finally rides on historical-critical methodology or alternate socio-economic and ideological "causes" for Scriptural assertion. The problem with a literal reading of Scripture and a fortiori a sola scriptura approach is that such an approach seems to presuppose that there is not "a broad ugly ditch" (Lessing) that separates the horizon of the text and the horizon of the reader. In other words, the sola scriptura approach that holds to Luther's "literal sense of Scripture" seems to proceed blissfully unaware of the hermeneutical problem: How can one read a text and somehow apprehend the meaning of that text? If this is possible at all, what would be the conditions of this possibility? The problem with grasping the literal sense of Scripture is just part of the general problem of grasping the "literal sense" of any document. How could such a thing be possible? Where resides the meaning of the text, and how does a reader come to acquire it?
The believer attending services has, in general, no way to grasp that the difficulty in the theological community in grasping the simple, literal sense of Scripture has less to do with a wanton disregard for the specifics of the text, but rather with how one might understand Biblical authority on the other side of Gadamer. Just as there is a theological paradigm dominating in mainstream Protestant denominations that eschews theological and semantic realism and the very possibility of theophysical causation, so is there a paradigm that rejects the possibility of the text having meaning in itself. In the same way that Kant left the philosophical tradition with a dualism of the unknowable Ding-an-Sich (the noumenal) and a subjectivized Ding-für-Sich (the phenomenal), hermeneutics by the middle of the twentieth century was stuck with a dualism of the irrecoverable meaning of the text, and the subjectivized “reader response” to it. Just as Hegel tried to overcome the dualism of Kant by eschewing the very possibility of the thing-in-itself while showing the objectivity of the historicity of the thing-for-me, so did Gadamer seek to move beyond entirely the problematic of the textual meaning-in-itself, and embrace instead the objectivity of the historicized meaning-for-me.
For Gadamer, the meaning of a text arises in the back-and-forth movement of text and reader, where the horizon of the reader is figured as a historical product of the “spirit” that was itself realized in the text. The “effects of historical consciousness” are thus this: Historical movement produces cultural artifacts (texts) that effect subsequent historical movement. In any age, the spirit of its historical understanding is manifested in its texts. Texts are thus in a deep sense communal productions, with individual authors merely bespeaking the historical understanding of the age. When these texts of a previous age and community are read by later readers, the historical understandings in the text confront the later reader not as something wholly foreign, but rather as something deeply resonant to the later reader, because the historical understandings in the previous texts effect subsequent historical understandings that themselves are implicit in the later interpretive horizons.
It works like this: An earlier text (take Romans, for example) leaves an interpretative wake in the interpretive horizons of later generations. Thus, the text of Romans has formed the very interpretive equipment (my conceptual apparatus) by which I now in the early 21st century must use in reading the earlier text (Romans). In a real sense the historical effects of Romans in my interpretive horizon are now marshaled in the attempt to read Romans. Thus, in the reading, interpretation is possible because the “meaning of the text in itself” is already historically bequeathed into the interpretive horizon of the reader such that its effects (Romans effects) thus function to read Romans. The meaning of the text thus arises in the play of the historical effects of Romans on the reader who presupposes these effects in the reading of Romans. Meaning is a back and forth, to and fro, movement between text and interpreter; it emerges as a fusion of horizons where the impossibility of the ultimate “otherness” of Scripture is displayed; Romans is not ultimately foreign, but has formed me the reader of Romans. The necessary condition of its speaking is that it is not ultimately and wholly different from the one interpreting it. This is why I can be said to have a “pre-understanding” of the text even prior to the reading of the text.
Accordingly, God cannot simply work as a wholly other One confronting us with wholly other mandates radically different from us. God’s Word in scripture is only possible because there is a pre-understanding of the text as a place where God might speak, a pre-understanding formed historically in the interpretive community by the text itself. Romans is a “classic performance” that has created a communal genre of interpretation that functions in the attentive listening to of the text. Just as we hear a classic performance of Beethoven and understand its “meaning” only if our interpretive horizon has been informed by listening to Beethoven, so do we hear the Word of God in scripture and understand its meaning only if our interpretive horizon has been informed by generations of communal experience with attentive hearing of the Romans texts as a place where God might speak.
The point in all of this is that just as there is no meaning to the music of Beethoven apart from listening to Beethoven, there is no meaning to the words of Romans apart from the history of communal experience with Romans. Just as musical meaning cannot reside anywhere but in the confrontation of the music with the listener, so too can textual meaning not reside anywhere but in the confrontation of the text with the reader. Theologians don’t so much want to “reject the literal Word of God plainly available in Scripture,” but find a way somehow to “make the literal Word of God possible.” It can only be possible in this complicated way where a historical interpretive community is dialectically related to the text, related such that the normative meaning of that text emerges on the basis of that dialectical relationship.
What church-going believers don’t realize is that the intellectual world that the theologian must inhabit makes it very difficult even to reclaim something of the horizon presupposed by much of the tradition. Gadamer, while he would appear to most non-theologians (many pastors included) as quite destructive to taking Scripture seriously, is really trying to reclaim the very possibility of taking it seriously by showing that the old dualism of textual objectivity and reader subjectivity (with the resultant “win” by the subject) can be overcome in the objectivity of the “spirit” of the text and tradition. The original Lutheran sola scriptura principle is fundamentally at odds with a Gadamerian approach unless it is reworked to show that the sola scriptura arises, and can only arise, in a communal situation presupposing tradition.
All of this is a bit complicated, and the reader of this blog might now actually know much more about about Gadamer than most ELCA pastors who don’t recognize the intellectual roots of the interpretive moves that they standardly make. Yet, these are the waters that must be swum if one is truly going to understand why “people just don’t take scripture at its clear sense when it prohibits homosexual activity.” In our present intellectual situation, we can’t think that any historical text has a clear sense without an interpretive community. If this is true of the Dialogues of Plato, it is true of Scripture as well.
There is no easy way out back to taking the text seriously. Perhaps what is needed is simply a move in the interpretive community not unlike the realist move of G.E. Moore. He said, “Instead of taking as the problematic the immediacy of the subject and the problem of the object, let us start with the immediacy of the object and see what happens.” This move put an end in philosophy to classical idealism, the "Hegelian synthesis" included. What is happening in theology is that we always assume an idealistic starting point and cannot find our way out of the subject. This is clearly true of Gadamer's hermeneutical analogue to "absolute idealism." So maybe it is time again for a new starting point. Why not simply start with the object and forgo the task of "building a bridge" to it? After all, there are only so many shots on the basketball court, and when you work yourself into the corner, the shots become very difficult indeed. If one still wants to play the game, one must find a different position on the court.
Recovering the “Literal Sense” of Scripture?
ReplyDeleteDennis—
You have done us a good service in this explication of the theologian’s dilemma: how to escape the event horizon of the black hole that is the acting self as the subject.
I used to have some difficulty distinguishing exegesis from hermeneutics until I came across this statement: “When you tell someone what a text means that’s exegesis. When you answer their question “How do you know,” that’s hermeneutics.”
Any system of hermeneutics including the acting self as the subject interpreting the texts cannot escape the event horizon of “free will.” The text conveys mere information of more or less legitimacy which the acting self can use (or not) as basis of, or reason for, certain types of thinking, feeling, or doing. In these systems the text must prove its worthiness as a proper source of motivation for the acting self’s free will.
To your question: “Why not simply start with the object and forgo the task of “building a bridge” to it?”
Yes, indeed, why not start with the text as something “wholly other,” the objective externality that refuses to be subjectively internalized? Would the following qualify?
1) Scripture as Incarnation;
2) Scripture as performative;
3) Scripture as retrospectively apprehended.
1) Scripture as Incarnation:
The incarnate Word of God Jesus Christ has two natures—divine and human. Under “communicatio idiomata” no part of his divine nature is without all of his human nature and no part of his human nature is without all of his divine nature. Dare we say that Scripture and preaching are also “incarnate” as the Word of God? Scripture incarnated by the very human work of writing and transmitting the texts. Preaching incarnated by very delivery system—a mere puff of breath from all too frail flesh.
You wrote: “God’s Word in scripture is only possible because there is a pre-understanding of the text as a place where God might speak, a pre-understanding formed historically in the interpretive community by the text itself.” Three thoughts on this “dialectical” relationship emerged for me—one of which you considered: “…the intellectual world that the theologian must inhabit makes it very difficult even to reclaim something of the horizon presupposed by much of the tradition.” The intellectual world of the theologian—their interpretive community, if you will—is not a community readily acknowledging God’s Word in scripture. Unwilling or unable to see the Word incarnated in the text, the text resides in their community as an historical artifact quite susceptible to the kinds of manipulation used on other historical artifacts. The interpretive community has changed for our non-theologians as well. The cultural scene is awash in Christianized religiosity which forms our hearers into an interpretive community foreign to the vocabulary, definitions, and hermeneutics of the Wittenberg reformers and their reading of scripture and composition of confessional texts.
The second emerging thought says that the normative text itself is a product of the dialectical relationship. Robert Capon in his book “The Fingerprints of God” wrote that scripture is the product of centuries of struggle between the Holy Spirit and THE CHURCH. I take that to mean the Holy Spirit has an agenda and THE CHURCH has its own agenda as to what should be said in the texts. Generally speaking, THE CHURCH’s agenda promotes religion—various theologies of glory—while the Holy Spirit seeks for the text to establish faith in Christ among its hearers—forming them into theologians of the cross. Remembering, though, the “communicatio idomata,” we cannot neatly assign these attributes of human and divine work to particular portions of scripture.
Thirdly, these systems of hermeneutics built on “dialectical” relationship or on the “old dualism” all seek to peer behind the text to discover the truth hidden there. It’s as if the revelation itself isn’t good enough or sufficient enough. Indeed, the Word of God incarnate as scripture and as preached succumbs to the same vulnerabilities as did the person of the Word Incarnate Jesus Christ. God—the one who wants to be found as revealed in his Word—is passed over as too humble and profane as sinners seek out the glory of the hidden God beneath the masks of the texts. Corresponding to this is the reluctance to simply declare the revelation—that is, to use first order discourse to deliver the Word of God Incarnate to the hearers. Instead, God is talked about but not delivered; second order discourse prevails as the sermonizer attempts to motivate the listeners’ free wills into taking up the appropriate thinking, feeling, or doing.
2) Scripture as performative:
The paragraph above provides an appropriate segue: When the text is considered as mere information whose truth or authority lies behind or apart from the text itself, then the text remains “causally inert”—ineffective unless taken up by the acting subject. Such consideration allows the interpreter to be the active subject interpreting a passive object, the text. Forde makes the claim that the reverse is true: Scripture is the active subject “interpreting”—that is, exposing—the passive (now used in the sense of the one-who-suffers-the exposing) exegete. This stands in the Lutheran tradition of “Scriptura sacra sui ipsius interpres”—sacred scripture interprets itself.
Ample witness exists in the scripture itself testifying to the Word’s “performative” character: the creation story, Isaiah 55, Jesus’ miracles, etc. My particular favorite is the implication of Jesus commanding the wind and the waves (exemplifying the chaos now disrupting creation) to be still, and they were. This implies that when Jesus commands his hearers to “Repent!” and “Believe!” who do we think we are to doubt that we’ve been repented or established in faith? Well, we think we are the active subjects bringing to life an inert text by our thinking, feeling, or doing.
Here, too, fits the grand Lutheran understanding of God’s two ways of speaking to us: Law and Gospel. When Lutherans claim the necessity of distinguishing “Law and Gospel,” they are not merely claiming we must discern the one from the other but they are insisting on the performative character of the text as the Word of God in such a way that it actually kills and makes alive. This death and life confrontation with the Word makes the performative character of the text a frightening thing, something to be avoided by getting around the text in such a way that the interpreter can continue living.
Again we’ve run into the hidden God. Not satisfied with receiving God where he wants to be found—that is, in his Word—we eschew what the revelation declares as the reality God has established for us and attempt to disclose what has been hidden to all except for the eyes of faith. Regin Prenter has said: “Faith in Christ is the real presence of Christ in us as a redeeming reality which is an invisible and incomprehensible but divine reality that tears us away from and places us in contrast to all other realities.” God has declared this reality to us through the Word of God incarnate—the person of Jesus Christ, the text as witness to Jesus Christ, and the preaching as the delivery of Jesus Christ “for you!” Because this reality remains hidden—only revealed at pulpit, font, and altar, to faith and for faith—we as the active subjects attempt to force the hidden reality into visibility through our thinking, feeling, doing. Thus the “normative” character of scripture is NOT that it provides norms to inform our thinking, feeling, and doing, but that it “norms” us in the sense of Romans 8: “those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be CONFORMED (i.e. “normed”) to the image of his Son.” Everything that is not Christ is stripped away.
The sense of our “passive righteousness” corum Deo is not only that we “suffer” having it done to us through the Word’s killing and making alive but also that we suffer its hiddenness, having no more sign than “the sign of Jonah”—that is, death and resurrection.
3) Scripture as retrospectively apprehended:
The death and resurrection worked by the performative Word actually changes the hearer’s situation. There is a “translation.” We are bespoken dead in the kingdom of sin, death, and power of the devil and bespoken alive in Christ’s kingdom of everlasting innocence, blessedness, and righteousness. For the time being we have this existence simultaneously: the paradoxical life of 100% sinner and 100% saint. The sinner is dead merely awaiting the expiration of mortal life. The saint’s life is—for now—hid with Christ in God and waits in peace for the revealing of Christ in his glory.
While we wait we have a curiously null existence; as Paul would declare in Galatians: “It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me and the life I now live, I live by the faith of the Son of God.” If the sinner tries to grasp hold of the life hidden away with Christ in God, the paradoxical tension collapses and the null, selfless existence turns selfish. The sinner who has once experienced this translation of situation can only remember, anticipate, and beg “Say it again, preacher! Say it again!” For only through confrontation with the performative Word which kills and makes alive does the sinner’s situation actually change. We are all beggars for this Word.
While we wait we exist as a delivery system for handing over the gifts of creation (both this creation and the new one) to the neighbor. Our wholly human task—you could say our “righteousness” corum mundo—is to fulfill our vocations so that the gifts of this world meet the needs of the neighbor. The sole vocation we have as those baptized into the apostolic faith is to be sent forth bearing the Word to those begging for a preacher to say it, again and again so that they might suffer their righteousness corum deo. All humanity is a collection of interdependent beggars
As I researched Gadamer I found this quote: “All understanding that is directed at the grasp of some particular subject matter is thus based in a prior ‘ontological’ understanding -- a prior hermeneutical situatedness.” This prior “ontology” results in “the priority of understanding as a dialogic, practical, situated activity.” http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/gadamer/
The performative character of the text or the Word precludes an understanding a priori that engages the text dialogically for practical application in a particular situation. The performative character of the text can only be grasped a posteriori—that is, apprehended in retrospect once it has done its work. The a posteriori realization is that there is no dialogical spiral peeling back the mask of the text to reveal ever greater, more practical (could you read “more acceptable” here?) truths that change situationally. Confrontation with the text—an incarnation of the Word of God—always yields the same result: death and new life. As per Luther, the only progress is to begin again. The particularity is not situational but personal—that is, delivered “for you.”
Conclusion:
If one starts with a sense of freedom over against the text, letting the free will get hold of it, the result will always be bondage to the law either as tyranny or anarchy. However, if one comes bound in sin so that Word of God gets hold of you, then the result will be freedom in Christ. This freedom in Christ lets us see our bondage to various manipulations of the text.
Thank you, Tim, for your excellent post and comments. I liked very much the metaphor with which you began: “How to escape the event horizon of the black hole that is the acting self as subject.” This is indeed the problem. The curvatus in se ipsum character of man and woman in bondage to sin shows itself as the free subject thinking, feeling, and doing that which it can only do: actualize itself in accordance with that which is its pleasure - - whether that be sensual or spiritual. Indeed, texts “cannot escape the event horizon of the free will.”
ReplyDeleteYou ask if the “objective externality” of the text might be considered along the lines of 1) Scripture as incarnation; 2) Scripture as performative; 3) Scripture as retrospectively apprehended. You say some very interesting things about each of these three things, nicely connecting them to traditional Lutheran loci. I wonder, however, about this thing called “objective externality.” On the one hand, I agree with, and applaud, everything you say about the incarnational and performative nature of Scripture, and can see how Scripture’s incarnational and performative nature can be understood as being extra nobis. However, I still remain worried that these two scriptural properties are present only for faith. Now, while this is not immediately troubling, it does raise an issue: The tradition’s read of Scripture was propositional to the extent that the text made truth-claims of a certain nature, and these claims were “objective” apart from the act of faith. Faith thus neither comprises nor determines the truth-value of the claims. However, it seems clear that the incarnational and performative theory of Scripture you suggest does indeed rest upon faith, or at least a prior agreement to the prevailing norms of an interpretive community. There can only be a text having incarnational and performative properties if one is already within the Christian religious tradition.
Your work on the performative nature of Scriptural language is fascinating. You are saying, that the text cannot be mere information that is subsequently judged by the omnivorous subject. The text’s words “perform” in that they are causally efficacious in killing the Old Adam and raising up the New One to take his place. But this is where things become murky. If humans are passive to the text, and have thus no “free will” with respect to it, then their thinking, feeling, and doing is causally produced by the text. But what in the text does the producing? It can only be the Word, whose incarnation in the text produces effects in the hearers of the Word. Strictly speaking, the words of the page do not cause changes in human beings, but it is the Word that is present in, with, under and beyond the words of the text that is causally related to changes in the text’s hearers. The problem of interpretation is, of course, to distinguish between the Word of God and the words of the Scriptural writers whose writing bespeaks the Word. If we take the communicatio idiomatum seriously as a way to connect the Word and words, then there are no places in Scripture where the words can be seen as mere human artifacts, dismissible in theory in the face of the eternality of the Word. But if they cannot be dismissed, then the very meaning of the Biblical text becomes analogous to the reality of the person of Jesus the Christ. Just as the being of the Christ includes both His divine and human nature, the meaning of Scripture must include both the divine Word and the words of the writers. Accordingly, the meaning of the text is logically prior to the claim of the texts incarnational and performative properties. Simply put, meaning must include the Word of God, but not be exhausted by it.
Now you may find neither of these points ultimately troubling. It is, in fact, what one might expect if one eschews dreams of occupying an “Archimedean point” above the text, if one gives up any claim to being a neutral epistemic and hermeneutical agent in the fact of the text. This is exactly what one would expect if, in the face of the text, one’s freedom of interpretation comes to an end, and one is driven by the Divine Agent speaking “in, with, under, and beyond” the text. But I am concerned, on this view, that the “otherness” of the text becomes an “otherness on the basis of a prior commitment.” We live in a time where textual objectivity is the problem, and one cannot simply declare, “This is what the text says!” It seems that the incarnational and performative view of Scripture is committed to claiming, “This is what the text says - - for me.” While this may not be immediately troubling, it does get us into the problematic of “what is good for the goose is good for the gander.” While the Christian finds the objectivity of the text in its incarnational and preformative nature, this would not be true of the Muslim, or perhaps the Jew, or clearly the secularist interested in old religious texts. Myriad reads of Scripture simply do not presuppose its incarnational and preformative character.
Your insight that the performative character of the text can only be grasped a posteriori is indeed deeply correct. Your appreciation that humanity is a collection of “independent beggars” is profound. The question is, however, whether the following is true: “The performative character of the text or the Word precludes an understanding a priori that engages the text dialogically for practical application in a particular situation.” Here the battle is joined. One can simply say that human beings are causally inert in the face of Scripture, and that they are merely passive agents to the text (or textual agent’s) causal efficacy. Accordingly, this text, unlike other texts, does not require a pre-understanding in order for it to be interpreted. In so claiming, one is standing with much of the Christian tradition which eschewed use of critical tools and methodologies on the text. But this way of proceeding lost traction after the Enlightenment, and now with the demise of Enlightenment-style objectivity, it has led to the image of the event horizon of the black hole of the free subject. The question is this: Can one recover the externality of the text on the other side of the Enlightenment and the problematic it has spawned?
Two responses are possible. One can say, as you have said, that the scriptural text has a certain nature - - might one say ‘ontology?’ - - that objectively obtains, though this can be only known from within the Christian tradition by one already in faith. Or one can suggest, as I have suggested, that we must somehow recapture a prior textual propositional objectivity that allows finally for the claim that the incarnational and preformative nature of the text is really true. Your option, which I readily grant may be the only live option, retains our post-Enlightenment, hermeneutically-situated, context-bound presuppositions. One can confidently claim objective externality, but has to add, ‘for me’. My suggestion, which is fraught with unmitigated hermeneutical problems, tries to lop off the ‘for me,’ believing that the ‘for me’ is precisely the problem. Finally there must be revelation, and the necessary condition of robust revelation is some semantically stable field. And, of course, the necessary condition of such stability can only be found in the text itself.
Thank you again for this marvelous post. I think you have clarified things greatly, and I am, as always, open to your instruction.
Dennis said: "The question is this: Can one recover the externality of the text on the other side of the Enlightenment and the problematic it has spawned?"
ReplyDeleteThis is an astoundingly good conversation and I thank you for it. As I continue to chew the cud of what I have read here,-- the product of minds much greater than mine,I can merely offer some thoughts of those who remind me that it always and forever comes back to the problem of free will, or as my personal chaplain, Dick Smith puts it, "Too much gets so esoteric, using theological terminology to avoid the simple devastating fact that we simply are NOT IN CONTROL."
The fine path (indeed, razor's edge)that Dennis and Tim are walking here reminds me of Luther's fine path between God and the Devil, ("fine" as in extremely difficult, but also most delicious). In Oberman's book of the same title he writes (p. 224-5):
"Once Scripture has been dealt with down to its language and grammar, what does it reveal to man in his yearning for knowledge of himself and the world? The diagnosis is frightening: man cannot redeem himself; he is only a heartbeat away from death and on the way to nothingness. Where it is a question of salvation, decisions lie not with the free will but with God alone, on whom man is dependent from his first sigh to his final breath. Man must be driven forward by the Word and grace and held fast to his faith to the very last moment; without divine mercy he collapses into himself and back into nothingness.
"But where it is a matter of shaping the world, man, even the wicked godless man, has the duty and the ability to use his reason and good judgment to act freely and steer the course he chooses. This distinction between man and the world, between person and achievement, is undoubtedly less than the 'Erasmians' and 'fundamentalists' expect from the Scriptures. What they are seeking there -- whether in the laws of the Old Testament or the Sermon on the Mount -- are specific instructions that enable the new man to enforce God's supremacy on earth.
"'God and the Scriptures are two different things' -- Luther's distinction sounds as alien and bold to the medieval man as to his descendants in the age of the Renaissance and Reformation. Reform and renewal, the best any age has to offer, was always -- whether for Bernard of Clairvaux, Desiderius Erasmus, or John Calvin -- inspired by the Holy Scriptures and directed toward enforcing God's law in Church and society, in monastery, study, and town hall. Luther, on the other hand, dared to stress the distance: two different things -- like creator and creature. The clarity of the Scriptures leads to the recognition of man and his indestructible dependence either on God the Redeemer or Satan the corrupter. There is no third alternative. But the Scriptures do not lead to a disclosure of the majesty of God's dominion, and they do not reveal His plan for the history of the world, in which the new man can simply take his place as the vanguard of freedom and progress.
"'The Bondage of the Will; of the year 1525 is directed against the most important representatives of the Renaissance north of the Alps -- but not only against them and their followers then and now. It is aimed equally against the fundamentalists, who have taken up the cause of the Reformation and promoted it under the motto of 'sola scriptura.'
"It is a very narrow path Luther is walking. Following him means being initiated into life between God and the Devil, the vital problem of his theology, where Scripture, grace, and faith -- the three basic Reformation concepts --interpret and clarify one another."
Thank you and I look forward to learning more here.
Kris,
ReplyDeleteIt is really interesting to think of the history of hermeneutics in terms of the distinction between the free and bound will. Thinking in this way, "method" is the ultimate act of self-assertion. One devises rules or principles that can be applied to the text to mine the semantic treasury therein. Gadamer, as is well known, prefers truth to method. He claims not to want to apply external tools or rules to the text at all. What he wants is to be pushed to and fro by the text such that the meaning of the text is disclosed. One's will is supposedly bound by the text, I suppose. But the question is this: Is this supposedly bound will captured by the text really closeted free will? It seems to me that this is precisely what happens in post Gadamerian hermeneutics. One is siezed by the text in precisely the way one "choses" to be siezed. There is a clandestine act of freedom lingering in the supposed death of external methodology. I would claim that the subsequent post-structuralist, deconstructionist run has shown clearly the marks of the capricious freedom of the dear little self.