In a recently published article [1] Duane Proud, a dear friend and colleague of ours here at the Aristophrenium and one of its founding contributors, published what he understands to be Statham’s misgivings [2] about Walton’s central thesis on how the Genesis creation account might be properly understood exegetically. [3] While this is quite appropriate for Proud, given that the origins debate is his primary interest here at the Aristophrenium (i.e., creation versus evolution), I do find myself wishing that he had reached out to me prior to publication because, quite frankly, it does appear that Statham was rather confused about the book he was reviewing. That, in addition to the fact that Proud has not read Walton’s book, is why I say that he published what he understands “to be Statham’s misgivings,” putting the onus on Statham. There is not a lot I can say about Statham’s review because I am still waiting for a copy of his article, as I have been since Proud brought it to my attention November 28 last year in a personal email. [4] But if Proud had have reached out to me I could have cleared some of this fog up, injecting these concepts with the coherence needed for him to digest the ideas, allowing him to publish an article that hits closer to its mark. Instead, I shall have to provide that further clarification here.

In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, charity.

Perhaps one of the first things that should be noted is that how one views the Genesis creation account is not one of the ‘essentials’ over which the church should divide; whether the earth is young or old, whether or not there exists a gap of geological ages between verses 1 and 2, whether creation was instantaneous or not, whether God brought everything into material existence in a literal week or over a long period of billions of years and so forth, none of this constitutes a point over which the church should divide itself (i.e., you either hold view X or you are a heretic who imperils his own soul). Indeed great men of church history have held differing views over Genesis and how it should be understood; for example, from Augustine who interpreted the creation account as being instantaneous (The Literal Interpretation of Genesis) to Saint Basil who held  a literal interpretation (Hexameron); even one of my more favourite theologians, Arthur Pink, held to a gap theory (Gleanings in Genesis). The only point over which the church could divide, I might think, is the historical reality of Adam, that he was literally a person in history, because that ties in so crucially to our view of soteriology or salvation. I also believe the church could divide over taking the word of God as final and authoritative in all our beliefs and teachings, that Scripture and its Author should serve as our ultimate starting point and final court of arbitration (for indeed it was the sin of our first parents to second-guess God and his word). While it is clear from Scripture that Adam and Eve lived not more than 10,000 years ago, it is not clear that this gives us an age for the universe. As Jamin Hubner observed,

I really doubt if there is adequate information in Scripture to plainly tell us how old our expanding and mind-boggling universe is. And given the nature and purpose of Scripture, that’s not surprising. And this conclusion matches up with the fact that there is variety of conclusions reached by the church.
But I don’t doubt as much the Scripture to tell us how old God’s images have been around. … We have absolute certainty about the age of God: He’s eternal. We have less certainty about the age of His images: man is probably about 6,000-15,000 years old. We have even less certainty about the age of the universe: take a guess. [5]

Again it should be pointed out (because this point is so often missed) that tracing how long ago Adam lived through chronogenealogical calculations gives us an age for the universe only if the young-earth creationist interpretation is correct—which is a question that must not be begged but rather demonstrated, and that through the hermeneutic of historico-grammatical exegesis of the text. That is to say, we do not defend our beliefs by pointing to who shares it, their status in church history, or how many of them there are; we defend our beliefs by pointing to the text of Scripture as God’s authoritative word through sound exegesis. As Martin Luther so forcefully said at the Diet of Worms, “I stand convicted by the Scriptures to which I have appealed, and my conscience is taken captive by God’s word.” And this is something that I believe Proud likewise attests, that our acceptance of any view should be based not on what theologians or church fathers thought but rather on the Scripture itself; [6] we look to God and his word for what is true and right, not to ourselves or our fellows.

Exegesis versus eisegesis.

When it comes to how we interpret a text, I would argue that the the more reliable governing principle is historico-grammatical exegesis. As Kulikovsky observes, if we want to correctly interpret Scripture “we must understand its historical background and context” as well as the languages in which it was written. [7] (I have selected Kulikovsky as my reference because he is not only someone that Proud esteems and admires but also because he has an expressed interest in this issue.)

The Bible was originally written to people who lived in a different place, in a very different culture, at a different time and period of history, and who spoke different languages. It also contains several different types of literature (called genres). … Therefore, the goal of interpretation is … to discover the original intended meaning of a passage—the way the original audience understood it. The task of discovering the original intended meaning is called exegesis. [8]

Therefore it surely is relevant and important to consider discoveries made about the people, time, and place that occupied the text we are examining. Kulikovsky again notes that the historico-grammatical approach to exegesis “involves a systematic approach to analyzing in detail the historical situation, events and circumstances surrounding the text, and the semantics and syntactical relationships of the words which comprise the text.” [9] As Walton is careful to point out, although the Old Testament was written for us it was not written to us; it is God’s revelation of himself to Israel, and through Israel to everyone else. [10]

As obvious as this is, we must be aware of the implications of that simple statement. Since it was written to Israel, it is in a language that most of us do not understand, and therefore it requires translation. But the language is not the only aspect that needs to be translated. Language assumes a culture, operates in a culture, serves a culture, and is designed to communicate into the framework of a culture. Consequently, when we read a text written in another language and addressed to another culture, we must translate the culture as well as the language if we hope to understand the text fully. [11]

What we must not do is work from the English words and their meaning in our modern culture and derive an interpretation of the text based on that, for that risks bringing something to the text that was not there. Exegesis calls for working from the Hebrew words and their meaning in Israel’s ancient culture of the Near East. One example Walton uses is Abraham’s wife, Sarah, being referred to as “beautiful.” What that literally means depends not only on the meaning of the Hebrew word used but also on what defined beauty in the ancient world. And as Kulikovsky implied, translating the words involves understanding the time and culture in which they existed. Walton uses the example of marriage to make this point; what marriage means to us in our modern culture is barely similar to what it meant to the Israelites of the ancient Near East, even though the word itself is translated properly. “We would seriously distort the text and interpret it incorrectly if we imposed all of the aspects of marriage in our culture into the text and culture of the Bible.” [12]

Given the enormous difficulty in trying to translate a culture and its ideas in order to understand its texts, lifting them from their native contexts and relocating them into our own, we need to instead enter the culture. “We must make every attempt to set our English categories aside,” Walton argues, “to leave our cultural ideas behind and try our best (as limited as the attempt might be) to understand the material in its cultural context” by entering the culture rather than translating it. [13]

Due to the study of archaeology we have a vast and growing collection of materials by which to do just that, to discover and understand the culture, period, and language of the text “as the original audience understood it,” as Kulikovsky notes. But indeed that study did not fully arise until the eighteenth century when the Society of Antiquaries in London formed, finally receiving a charter from King George II in 1751. Scotland formed a similar society in 1780, as did America in 1812, France in 1814, Ireland in 1849, and Germany in 1852. “The first excavations of the ‘Bible Lands’,” Kulikovsky notes, which included Egypt, Palestine, Mesopotamia, Babylon and so forth, “were carried out at the end of [the eighteenth] century.” [14]

Thus it is hardly surprising that “the people who lived in the first few centuries after Christ lacked the recently recovered knowledge” which now enables us to enter the culture and language of the text to exegete it with authentic accuracy. The Bible is God’s word in history revealed to people in history, Kulikovsky argues, which thus places the text in an historical context—a particular author, audience, purpose, and occasion. [15] (But we also remember that the Bible, as the word of God, has eternal relevance for us.)

The cosmic temple and Genesis.

It would seem that Statham correctly identifies Walton’s argument, that the creation account in Genesis 1 is based on a function oriented ontology rather than a material oriented one (such as we hold in our modern culture), although Statham gets a little sloppy in his report by saying that this is “when God assigned the cosmos its real intended functions.” [16] This is sloppy because it carries the implication that there were tentative functions the universe had prior to what God reveals in Genesis, which is something that cannot be found anywhere in either Walton’s thesis or in Scripture. The cosmos as temple was always its intended function; but there is an important distinction “between the building of a temple and the creation of a temple,” Walton points out:

When we look again at the account of Solomon’s temple we see that he took seven years to build it (1 Kings 6:37-38). Most of this time was spent on what may be called the “material phase.” The stone was quarried and shaped, the precious metals were mined, the furniture built, the cedar acquired and shipped and shaped, the veils sewn, the doors carved, the priestly vestments made and so on. When all of this was done, did the temple exist? Certainly not [since] a temple is not simply an aggregate of fine materials subjected to expert craftsmanship. [17]

That is to say, the temple uses that which is material but it is not constituted by its material components. If God has not taken up residence in it, nor are its functions and functionaries established, then it is not a temple. “If those elements are not in place, the temple does not exist in any meaningful way. … It is the inauguration ceremony that transforms a pile of lumber, stone, gold and cloth into a temple.” [18] The descriptions in the Bible of the tabernacle and temple “contain many transparent connections to the cosmos,” Walton argues, and “explicitly recognized as early as the second century A.D. in the writings of the Jewish historian Josephus, who says of the tabernacle: ‘every one of these objects is intended to recall and represent the universe’.” [19] Just as the temple represents the cosmos, so the cosmos represents a temple. In both cases God reveals to Israel (and all believers) the deep theological truths about the roles and relationships constituting his divine purposes. Walton goes on:

By naming the functions and installing the functionaries, and finally by deity entering his resting place, the temple comes into existence—it is created in the inauguration ceremony.

A good biblical example can be seen in the tabernacle account in Exodus 35-39, which concerns the material phase. Exodus 39:32 gives the report on the material phase: “So all the work on the tabernacle, the Tent of Meeting, was completed. The Israelites did everything just as the Lord commanded Moses.” In Exodus 39:43, after they have brought everything to Moses, he inspects it and judges it worthy of blessing. Exodus 40 describes the inauguration—this is the creation of the tabernacle. The chapter reports everything being put in its place, anointed and consecrated (Ex 40:9-16). When all of this is done, the inauguration is completed by the glory of the Lord filling the tabernacle (Ex 40:34). [20]

The creation of the tabernacle and temple is not constituted by the material phase of construction; “it is the inauguration of the functions and the entrance of the presence of God to take up his rest that creates the temple.” [21] This is the point and focus of Genesis 1, the inauguration that creates the cosmic temple and culminates in God coming to rest in it on day seven. But regardless of how long the material phase of construction took, which Genesis does not regard, its existence as temple was the intended function and purpose of the cosmos all along; thus Statham’s wording was somewhat sloppy.

Taking all of this information as a whole, in conjunction with the discovery that God rests in a temple and that therefore Genesis 1 would be viewed as a temple text, Walton writes, we are provided deep and profound insight on the Genesis creation account.

Genesis 1 can now be seen as a creation account focusing on the cosmos as a temple. It is describing the creation of the cosmic temple with all of its functions and with God dwelling in its midst. This is what makes day seven so significant, because without God taking up his dwelling in its midst, the (cosmic) temple does not exist. The most central truth to the creation account is that this world is a place for God’s presence. Though all of the functions are anthropocentric, meeting the needs of humanity, the cosmic temple is theocentric, with God’s presence serving as the defining element of existence. This represents a change that has taken place over the seven days. Prior to day one, God’s spirit was active over the nonfunctional cosmos [22]; God was involved but had not yet taken up his residence. The establishment of the functional cosmic temple is effectuated by God taking up his residence on day seven. This gives us a before/after view of God’s role. [23]

On evolution and animal death

For some reason not apparent to me, having been unable to read Statham’s review myself yet, he injects a strange tangent about theistic biological evolution, dinosaurs, and animal death into the review, as if that has anything to do with Walton’s exegesis of Genesis 1—a poisoning of the well that only invites confusion, as demonstrated by Proud’s response on that point. Statham had to skip past all the exegetical information Walton provides from chapters 1 through 11 for making his case in order to reach the objections and concerns Walton anticipates and addresses at the end of the book from pages 108 to 173, where we find Walton addressing such questions as where dinosaurs and hominid fossils fit in with his thesis (chapter 20). Is Walton a theistic evolutionist? I do not know, but neither do I care since that simply has no bearing on the merits of the exegesis he performs on the text of Genesis 1. To suppose that his being a theistic evolutionist invalidates his exegetical analysis of the text commits the argumentum ad hominem fallacy. But as Walton candidly explains, if the text of Genesis 1 regards a function-oriented ontology describing the creation of the cosmos as temple,

then the seven days and Genesis 1 as a whole have nothing to contribute to the discussion of the age of the earth. This is not a conclusion designed to accommodate science—it was drawn from an analysis and interpretation of the biblical text of Genesis in its ancient environment. The point is not that the biblical text therefore supports an old earth, but simply that there is no biblical position on the age of the earth. If it were to turn out that the earth is young, so be it. [24]

(And thus Walton here answers Proud in the affirmative: indeed this view would comport with a “scientific hypothesis that supports a recent material creation only thousands of years ago.”)

Walton’s exegetical analysis regards what took place during the creation account in Genesis 1, which he argues is the initiation of redemptive history that begins with the inauguration of the cosmic temple, which culminates with God coming to rest in it on day seven. What took place prior to this beginning of redemptive history or during the material phase of construction is an interesting question that is outside the purview of Genesis 1; that is to say, this text as an account of the cosmic temple inauguration event “does not in any way suggest or imply that God was uninvolved in material origins—it only contends that Genesis 1 is not that story.” [25] Scripture is clear that God brought everything into existence as we understand ontology, but this exegesis demonstrates that Genesis is not an account of that. To find out what took place during the material phase of construction, as it were, we must look outside Genesis 1 since it regards the inauguration phase of creating the cosmic temple.

Although it seems that Proud is incredulous that death and suffering could somehow provide insights into the creative works of God, it actually should not be surprising at all, for did not the suffering of Joseph at the hands of his brothers, the suffering of Job, the death and suffering of Jesus Christ and so forth provide insights into the just and sovereign providence of God? Such accounts as those, and many more besides, give us theological insights into God’s divine purpose and nature as our sovereign Father, insights we grapple with under principled theodicy.

And it was very good.

But what about the occurrences throughout Genesis 1 of the expression that such and such was good? Does that not contradict any notion of death and suffering occurring prior to the entrance of sin into the world? Statham posits that “a view of the pre-fallen world full of bloodshed, disease, desperate competition and death hardly squares with God’s assertion that his creation, in every respect, was very good (Gen 1:31).” In an article elsewhere, Proud notes, Philip Bell also describes the tension of God having “created a ‘very good’ world over millions of years through an evolutionary process involving suffering, death and extinction.” [26]

But notice once again the error being committed here by Statham (and Bell too): this criticism regards the text of Genesis 1, which Statham even cites from, but the exegesis performed by Walton—that Statham is supposed to be reviewing—plainly demonstrates that it does not address the material phase of the cosmic temple’s construction, where all the competition of predator and prey and extinction of various species occurred over several million years. In other words, the pronouncements of God that such and such was good were made in the context of the inauguration phase of the cosmos as a temple, not in the material phase of its construction. Statham apparently fails to recognize this distinction in his critique, begging the question against Walton’s view by holding that the text regards creation in the material sense. This will not do. The merits of Walton’s exegesis must be considered under its own terms of the function-oriented ontology that the Genesis creation account speaks to, not by whether it is coherent or not under the material-oriented ontology of young-earth creationist interpretation. When in the text God says such and such is good, it is in the context of the inauguration phase of the creation of the cosmic temple; that is, the context has nothing to do with the material phase of construction that preceded it. Genesis 1 does not address that phase.

But what are we to make of God’s pronouncements that “it was good”? This formula repeated throughout the account adds further support for the historico-grammatical exegesis proposed by Walton, who begins by admitting there have been a number of possible meanings proposed for this expression:

In the history of interpretation it has often been understood in moral/ethical terms or as a reference to the quality of the workmanship. While the Hebrew term could be used in any of those ways, the context indicates a different direction. We can find out what the author means when saying all of these things are “good” by inquiring what it would mean for something to be not good. Fortunately the near context offers us just such an opportunity: “It is not good for the man to be alone” (Gen. 2:18). This verse has nothing to do with moral perfection or quality of workmanship—it is a comment concerning function. The human condition is not functionally complete without the woman. [27]

Thus, as Walton proceeds to argue, throughout Genesis 1 the refrain “it was good” expressed the functional readiness of the cosmic temple for mankind, the bearers of God’s image tasked with functioning as his stewards in the cosmic temple and who are the object of redemptive history which Scripture proceeds to reveal. Therefore, this exegesis harmoniously coheres with the rest of Scripture, particularly the importance of the temple motif central to the Israelites and found throughout Scripture, which finds its fulfillment now in Christ theologically and eschatologically at the close of redemptive history, while at the same time taking seriously the Israelite’s ancient Near Eastern culture and language by entering it authentically in order to properly understand what God revealed to the Israelites when he spoke into it.

On the seventh day God rested.

As for Statham’s curious allegation that this exegesis “hardly fits” the revelation that God rested on day seven, I hardly know where to begin. It almost seems to prove that Statham did not genuinely interact with Walton’s exegesis laid out in the first eleven chapters of the book, for Walton addresses this issue directly in chapter 7. (I cannot help but notice that Walton examines exegetically the divine rest on day seven in chapter 7 of his book, and chalk it up to delightful irony.) I would have to reproduce almost the entire chapter to correct Statham’s gross misunderstanding, which I am sure copyright law would rule against. When the text describes God resting on day seven, “a reader from the ancient world would know immediately what was going on and recognize the role of day seven,” Walton argues. An audience of that period and culture would conclude, without hesitation, that this is a temple text “and that day seven is the most important of the seven days.” Explaining the role and significance of day seven under a material-oriented ontology lacks the scriptural coherence that an exegesis under a function-oriented ontology possesses; that is, “in a functional account, as we will see, it is the true climax without which nothing else would make any sense or have any meaning.” [28] Walton then proceeds to invest the next five pages with exegetical warrant demonstrating precisely how day seven fits this interpretation far more authentically and coherently, examining the Hebrew words grammatically and historically and cross-referencing through Scripture—and even explains precisely how this makes better sense of Exodus 20:8-11. Thus Statham’s allegation is baffling and leaves one to wonder if he even read chapter 7 at all. (N.B. It should also be noted that Walton explains the role, significance, and relevance of day seven in various places throughout the book; however, it is in chapter 7 that he devotes special attention to the subject of what it means for God to rest on day seven.)

To create (bara’) concerns functions.

Statham suggests that, despite understanding that for the ancient Israelites the word bara’ would have emphasized a function-oriented ontology, it is “hardly a reason to reject the view that it also refers to a material creation.” We are once again left to wonder if Statham truly read the book that he purports to review, as Walton plainly addresses this point too, directly in chapters 3 (pp. 38-46) and 10 (pp. 93-101). As a matter of fact, Walton begins chapter 10 by addressing the issue of “why can’t it be both,” one of the most common questions of those struggling with the worldview shift from an ontology that is material-oriented to one that is function-oriented. As Walton acknowledges, “It is easy to see the functional orientation of the account, but does the material aspect have to be eliminated altogether?” [29] In other words, he anticipated Statham’s question long before he even asked it. Walton answers by observing that if we want to say that the text includes the material element alongside the functional then “this view has to be demonstrated, not just retained because it is the perspective most familiar to us.” Writing further he says,

The comfort of our traditional worldview is an insufficient basis for such a conclusion. We must be led by the text. A material interest cannot be assumed by default; it must be demonstrated, and we must ask ourselves why we are so interested in seeing the account in material terms. [30]

In chapter 3 Walton carefully notes,

“Create” is the English word for bringing something into existence. If existence is defined in material terms, creating is a material activity. If existence is defined in functional terms, creating is a function-giving activity. We cannot assume that creating is a material activity just because our ontology happens to be material. We must let the word and its usage speak for itself. [31]

Scripture is clear that whatever exists, be it material or functional, God made it. “But from there our task as interpreters is to evaluate individual texts to see what aspect of God’s creation they discuss,” whether material or functional or both. [32] As for the text of Genesis 1, Walton argues, it is a function-oriented ontology that governs the seven-day inauguration of the cosmos as a temple, where everything in the account would indicate to the Israelites of the ancient Near East that it is a temple text, made nowhere more clear than God resting on day seven.

Was eisegesis possible prior to archeology?

After acknowledging that it is due to the study of archeology that we are now enabled to more properly and accurately enter into how the original audience would have understood the Genesis creation account, thus interpreting the text with a more informed and disciplined historico-grammatical exegesis, Proud questions if it is fair or right to characterize as eisegetical the material-oriented interpretation of previous generations within the church, for they did not have the insights afforded by such archeological discoveries. It would thus follow, Proud reasons, that this label would properly apply only to modern readers of Scripture. I think there are two things that should be pointed out in response to Proud’s concern.

First, I would think that eisegesis is an unethical practice only if it is done knowingly. Someone who engages in it unconsciously or without realizing it should not be thought of as having committed an egregious error. What I mean by this is that to identify an interpretation as eisegetical is not necessarily to disparage someone’s character; they might not have realized that they were doing so in the first place. However, if that person is shown his eisegesis and he persists in it anyway, then and only then I would think he is guilty of an egregious error. What this means for prior generations of the church should be obvious: they have passed on to the next life and cannot be shown their eisegesis, quite likely never having known. Thus their moral character and fidelity to God’s word is by no means impugned by identifying their eisegesis. I am unwilling to believe that God would hold someone morally accountable for knowledge that they never had; thus I adopt the same attitude in my dealings with people. Let me assert the point once more: identifying an approach as eisegetical is not necessarily a negative characterization. It is a bare matter of fact. The moral component depends on the person having done so knowingly.

Second, the very definition of eisegesis implies that the label could apply to previous generations of the church. If the interpreter imposes an idea onto the text that is not drawn from it, that is eisegesis. Thus anyone (including earlier generations) who thinks that creation in Genesis is governed by a material-oriented ontology but is unable to make that case from the text itself is therefore justifying that assumption from without and bringing it to the text—this is eisegesis. Insofar as exegesis is such that the Bible informs our belief, eisegesis is such that our belief informs the Bible. Probably most everyone is or has been guilty of that at some point; for us I think the issue of concern should be whether or not we do it knowingly. Unto those who do it unknowingly we should demonstrate loving instruction, while unto those who do it willfully we should demonstrate loving reproof. But in every case we dare not shy away from pointing out eisegesis, if we are serious about God and his word being the authoritative rule of everything, particularly our Christian faith and practice.

Footnotes:

  1. Proud (2011, April 28).
  2. Statham (2010, December).
  3. Walton (2009).
  4. Proud (2010, November 28).
  5. Hubner (2010, September 17).
  6. Proud, op. cit. (2011), para. 3.
  7. Kulikovsky (n.d.), para. 3.
  8. Kulikovsky (2004), paras. 3-5.
  9. Kulikovsky (2005), pp. 17.
  10. Walton (2009), p. 9.
  11. Ibid.
  12. Ibid., p. 11.
  13. Ibid.
  14. Kulikovsky (1994), para. 2.
  15. Kulikovsky, op. cit. (2004), para. 4.
  16. Unfortunately I am unable to provide either page or paragraph references until Statham’s article is in my possession; Proud’s article did not include them.
  17. Walton, op. cit., p. 88.
  18. Ibid.
  19. Ibid., p. 81. Walton cites here from Josephus, F. (1957). The Jewish War, Book 3 (Loeb Classical Library). John Thackery (ed.). Cambridge: Harvard University Press, p. 403.
  20. Ibid., p. 89 (emphasis mine).
  21. Ibid., p. 92.
  22. Walton notes (p. 49) that at the beginning of the creation process there already exists the primeval cosmic waters of the deep, which is the classic form that nonexistence takes in the function-oriented ontology of the ancient world.
  23. Ibid., pp. 84-85.
  24. Ibid., p. 95 (emphasis mine).
  25. Ibid., p. 94.
  26. Bell (2010, October 12), para. 5.
  27. Walton, op. cit., p. 51.
  28. Ibid., p. 72.
  29. Ibid., p. 93.
  30. Ibid., pp. 93-94 (emphasis mine).
  31. Ibid., p. 39 (emphasis mine).
  32. Ibid., p. 97.

References:

  • Bell, P. (2010, October 12). “The ‘problem’ of evil and the supremacy of Scripture: Theological gymnastics result in placing ‘science’ as an authority over Scripture.” [Book review]. Creation Ministries International. http://creation.com, 30/Apr/2011. (Bell is here reviewing The End of Christianity: Finding a Good God in an Evil World by William Dembski.)
  • Hubner, J. (2010, September 17). “Apologetics and the age of the Earth.” RealApologetics [blog]. http://www.realapologetics.org, 30/Apr/2011.
  • Kulikovsky, A. (n.d.). Introduction to his web site Biblical Hermeneutics: The science of interpreting the Bible. http://hermeneutics.kulikovskyonline.net, 30/Apr/2011.
  • Kulikovsky, A. (1994, February 10). “The relevance of archaeology to the study of Scripture.” Biblical Hermeneutics: The science of interpreting the Bible. http://hermeneutics.kulikovskyonline.net, 30/Apr/2011.
  • Kulikovsky, A. (2004, December 2). “A short guide to biblical interpretation.” Biblical Hermeneutics: The science of interpreting the Bible. http://hermeneutics.kulikovskyonline.net, 30/Apr/2011.
  • Kulikovsky, A. (2005, December). “The Bible and hermeneutics.” Journal of Creation 19(3). http://creation.com [PDF], 30/Apr/2011.
  • Proud, D. (2010, November 28). “More questions for you.” Personal email. (He was replying to my answer to a question I received by email from a gentleman named Rob Hill about Walton’s thesis; I had copied both Hill’s question and my answer to every member of the Aristophrenium.)
  • Proud, D. (2011, April 28). “A novel interpretation of Genesis 1.” Aristophrenium [blog]. http://aristophrenium.com, 30/Apr/2011.
  • Statham, D. (2010, December). “Dubious and dangerous exposition” [Book review]. Journal of Creation (24)3, pp. 24-25.
  • Walton, J. (2009). The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient cosmology and the origins debate. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press. (See the bookstore of the Westminster Theological Seminary, http://www.wtsbooks.com, to purchase a copy of this book.

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