Galatians 4:21-31

The Apostle resumes his argument for the superiority of the gospel over the law, and illustrates the difference of the two by an allegorical interpretation of the history of Sarah and Hagar, and their sons.

Excursus on Allegorical and Typical Interpretation.

We have here an ingenious specimen of a typical allegory. Paul represents Hagar (the slave and concubine) and Sarah (the mistress and lawful wife), with their sons, Ishmael and Isaac, as the types of two covenants, a covenant of law or bondage, and a covenant of promise or freedom. The contrast of the two mothers is reproduced in their two sons, and on a larger scale in two religions, the Jewish and the Christian. It is again repeated in the antagonism between the legalistic Jewish, and the evangelical Gentile Christianity. The points of contrast are as follows:

HAGAR AND ISHMAEL = JUDAISM. SARAH AND ISAAC = CHRISTIANITY. The Old Covenant The New Covenant. The Law. The Gospel (the Promise). Natural Birth. Spiritual Birth. Mount Sinai in Arabia. (Mount Sion in the Land of Promise?) Earthly Jerusalem. Heavenly Jerusalem. Bondage. Freedom. Persecuting. Persecuted. Expulsion. Inheritance. Paul accommodates himself here, as in two other instances (Galatians 3:6; 1 Corinthians 10:4), in some measure, but within the bounds of sobriety and legitimate application, to the prevailing rabbinical exegesis in which he was trained. He does so exceptionally and incidentally. He does not rest the truth or the argument on an allegorical interpretation, but uses it as an accessory illustration of a truth previously established by solid argument. Luther compares it to a painting which decorates a house already built.

Paul regards the patriarchal family with good reason as a miniature picture of the future history of the church, which it represented and anticipated. He does not in the least deny the historical character of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar; but he ascribes to it, at the same time, a wider typical import, and sees in Abraham the father of the faithful, in Sarah and Hagar the mothers of two races and two covenants, in which their personal character and condition is reflected and carried out on a largerscale. This is all sound and true. The chief difficulty is in the identification of Hagar with Sinai, and this is much relieved by the shorter reading. In point of fact the law was given to the descendants of Sarah and Isaac, not to those of Hagar and Ishmael, who stood outside of the covenant. But Sarah and Isaac represented first and last the covenant of promise which overruled the interimistic covenant of law which was given in the desert borderland of the Ishmaelites, as a tutor to prepare the Israelites for the fulfilment of the promise.

Now let us compare with this Scripture passage the allegorical interpretation of the same history by the celebrated Philo of Alexandria (about A.D. 40), the master of the art of allegorizing. According to his view, Abraham represents the human soul progressing towards the knowledge of God. His first wife, Sarah, ‘the princess,' represents divine wisdom. His second wife, Hagar, ‘the sojourner,' the Egyptian handmaid of Sarah, means preparatory scholastic training or secular learning, which is transient and unsatisfying. His marriage with Sarah is at first premature and unfruitful; hence she directs him to cohabit with her handmaid, that is to study the lower wisdom of the schools; and the alliance proves fruitful at once. Afterwards he again unites himself to Sarah, who bears him a son with a countless offspring; thus the barren woman becomes ‘most fruitful.' Moreover, Isaac likewise represents true wisdom, Ishmael sophistry, which in the end must give place to wisdom, and be ‘cast out'

The difference is very characteristic. As Lightfoot (p. 195) happily expresses it, ‘the Christian Apostle and the philosophic Jew move in parallel lines, keeping side by side, and yet never once crossing each other's path.' Their allegorical explanations of the same history are ‘most like and yet most unlike.' There is a similar relation of similitude and contrast between Philo's and St. John's doctrine of the divine Logos. It is the difference between a shadowy abstraction and a substantial reality. Philo sacrificed the obvious grammatical and historical sense to the spiritual and mystic; the Apostles never invalidate the historical sense. Philo put his Platonic ideas and fancies into the Old Testament; the Apostles drew out the deeper meaning of the same. Philo idealized the Mosaic religion till it evaporated into philosophical abstractions and mythical shadows; the Apostles spiritualized the Mosaic religion, and saw in it the type of the truth and reality of the gospel.

We add a few general remarks on typical and allegorical interpretation.

1. The sacred authors used language, like other writers, in order to be understood by the people whom they addressed. They intended one definite meaning, not two or three. This meaning can only be ascertained by grammatical and historical interpretation, according to the acknowledged laws of thought and speech, and in view of the conditions and surroundings of the author. This is the only sound and firm basis of all true exegesis.

2. The Bible has throughout a profound spiritual meaning, and admits of endless application. To find it, requires spiritual insight and sympathy, which is a greater and rarer gift than knowledge of grammar and critical acumen. But this spiritual meaning is in the letter, as the kernel is in the shell, and as the soul is in the body, not outside of, and contrary to, the plain, natural meaning of the words and phrases. Nor is it a second meaning besides the natural.

3. The whole Jewish dispensation, including history, prophecy, worship, and ritual, is a type and shadow of the Christian dispensation (Colossians 2:17; Hebrews 8:5; Hebrews 9:23; Hebrews 10:1). Every person, event, and institution expresses an actual idea or fact which is more fully expressed or developed by a corresponding idea or fact in the Christian dispensation. The typical significance depends on the connection with the central idea of the theocracy and the preparation for Christianity. The nearer a person or event to the person of Christ and the history of redemption, the deeper is their typical import. In a wider sense all history is typical and prophetical, and every period is a higher fulfilment of the preceding period. Hence ‘there is nothing new under the sun;' and yet history never repeats itself. The New Testament is full of typical interpretation and application of the Old Testament; but there are no allegorical interpretations in the Gospels, and very few in the Epistles.

4. Allegorical interpretation, technically so-called, as distinct from typical illustration and verification, assumes a double or threefold sense of the Scriptures, an obvious literal sense and a hidden spiritual or mystic sense, both of which were intended by the sacred writer. It was introduced into the Christian church by the learned Origen, who in this respect was more a disciple of Philo than of Paul, and distinguished three senses of the Bible, corresponding to the three constituent elements in roan, body, soul, and spirit. It extensively prevailed with various modifications in the Christian church, especially during the Middle Ages, and again in the seventeenth century. It opened the door to the most arbitrary treatment of the Bible and turned it into a nose of wax. It is irreverently reverent. It assumes that the plain natural sense of the Bible is not deep enough and must be improved by human ingenuity. It substitutes subjective fancies for objective truths, and pious imposition for honest exposition. It is not dead yet, and falsely appeals to St. Paul; forgetting that he was inspired, while we are not, and that he allegorized only two or three times, for illustration, rather than argument. Calvin, one of the soundest commentators, strongly protests against this abuse of Scripture, and says: ‘As the Apostle declares that these things are allegorized, Origen and many others along with him, have seized the occasion of torturing Scripture, in every possible manner, away from the true sense. They concluded that the literal sense is too mean and poor, and that, under the outward bark of the letter, there lurk deeper mysteries which cannot be extracted but by beating out allegories. And this they had no difficulty in accomplishing; for speculations which appear to be ingenious have always been preferred, and always will be preferred by the world to sound doctrine. For many centuries no man was considered to be ingenious, who had not the skill and daring necessary for changing into a variety of curious shapes the sacred word of God. This was undoubtedly a contrivance of Satan to undermine the authority of Scripture, and to take away from the reading of it the true benefit. God visited this profanation by a just judgment, when He suffered the pure meaning of the Scripture to be buried under false interpretations. I acknowledge that Scripture is a most rich and inexhaustible fountain of all wisdom; but I deny that its fertility consists in the various meanings which any man, at his pleasure, may assign. Let us know, then, that the true meaning of Scripture is the natural and obvious meaning; and let us embrace and abide by it resolutely.'

5. But even if we admit that Paul's typical allegory in this passage borders on the rabbinical exegesis of his age, from which, however, it differs very materially as we have shown, it cannot weaken our confidence in his inspiration. I quote the judicious remarks of Bishop Lightfoot (p. 197): ‘ We need not fear to allow that St. Paul's mode of teaching here is colored by his early education in the rabbinical schools. It were as unreasonable to stake the Apostle's inspiration on the turn of a metaphor, or the character of an illustration, or the form of an argument, as on purity of diction. No one now thinks of maintaining that the language of the inspired writers reaches the classical standard of correctness and elegance, though at one time it was held almost a heresy to deny this. “A treasure contained in earthen vessels,” “strength made perfect in weakness,” “rudeness in speech, yet not in knowledge,” such is the far nobler conception of inspired teaching, which we may gather from the Apostle's own language. And this language we should do well to keep in mind. But on the other hand it were sheer dogmatism to set up the intellectual standard of our own age or country as an infallible rule. The power of allegory has been differently felt in different ages, as it is differently felt at any one time by diverse nations. Analogy, allegory, metaphor by what boundaries are these separated from each other? What is true or false, correct or incorrect, as an analogy, or an allegory? What argumentative force must be assigned to either? We should, at least, be prepared with an answer to these questions, before we venture to sit in judgment on any individual case.'