Nonetheless, I recoil with horror from the idea that, just because Scripture is “living and functioning,” it is therefore not “semantically fixed.” Unless Scripture is semantically fixed, “words mean what we say they mean,” to paraphrase Humpty-Dumpty. It becomes a power game.

You, we, cannot do what St. Paul did. How to defend apostolic exegesis, I don’t know. I certainly embrace every word they wrote as the inspired Word of God. But if any modern exegete picks details of the OT’s narrative — like the rock that gave water in the desert, or the characters of Sarah and Hagar — and allegorizes them, I will not buy it. And I don’t think you would either, Al.

Perhaps C.S. Lewis’ distinction between “receiving” and “using” is relevant here. Paul uses Scripture in the course of writing Scripture. And of course, we may use it too, in writing fiction or poetry or whatever. And in such instances, we may depart from the original and primary sense of Scripture. But when we’re receiving it, we can’t do these things, because they will distract from, or distort, or obscure the original meaning, which is the only one on which we can legitimately base authoritative theology and ethics for today.

In practice, we all operate this way, don’t we? Nobody argues a point of theology or halakha by saying, “My opponents are correct about the primary meaning of the relevant passages of Scripture, but allegory, or anagogy, or _______, is on my side.”