The Scriptures are the inspired Word of God, the written testimony left to man of the nature of God's being, and of His providence in the governance of the world. In the Old Testament we have the record of His dealings with the human race, more particularly of His action towards the Hebrew people, and of His gradual unfolding to them, by successive revelations, of His unity, power, wisdom, love. By details of historic fact, which in some instances are absolutely intermixed with doctrinal meaning, we learn the story of Creation, of the Fall, of the chastisements that in consequence hardened men's lot on earth, of the Deluge, of the call of Abraham, and of the prophetic announcement of the Messias to come, the expected of the nations. Now it is possible that the knowledge of some of those historic facts may have been learnt by the sacred authors from con temporary documents, the baked-clay cylinders or inscriptions of which the last generations made such wonderful discovery. Cer tainly at times we have definite references given by the writers in the Scriptures to court chronicles, on which, obviously, their own accounts are based; and one such writer describes his volume as the laborious abbreviation of the records of his time. There is, then, nothing at all harmful in saying that Biblical inspiration does not mean that the ideas or materials for the construction of the works were infused directly by God. They may or may not have been. But at any rate it would be quite sufficient if God simply illumined the judgement of the inspired writer as to which facts he was to single out for record, and which particular version of them he was in the main to follow. He may at times have been really little else than an editor of another's work; as Baruch may be the inspired writer of the Lamentations of Jeremias. The inspired writer is moved in his intelligence to judge, and in his will to cause to be set down, the exact wording that God desired.
In the New Testament God made a full and new revelation of Himself. It was no longer the gradual process which had been a real addition in revelation, but an immediate and full revelation which should yet contain seeds of truth whose development might take centuries for their full growth. The shrine of this revelation was twofold, the living tradition of the Church and the New Testament. Between them every fragment of the teaching of Christ has been preserved for the race. Neither alone suffice, but they need to be supplemented by each other. And here, again, it is necessary to notice that Scriptural inspiration does not necessitate the infusion of fresh knowledge into the mind of the writer solely by the direct intervention of God. Much of the Gospels was known personally to the writers; and they may even have made some use of a primitive record, written or orally preserved among the Christians: at any rate there is much in the Scriptures which while being inspired need not be revealed. Thus when Saint Paul says that he left his cloak at Troas, did God reveal this to him while he sat and composed or dictated his Epistle? We do not know whether it was revealed or no; of this only are we certain, that it need not have been. It would certainly have sufficed had Saint Paul remembered merely by natural memory, perhaps even at the prompting of a fellow-labourer, where he had last had his cloak. There would have come a light into his judgement illuminating him as to what to set down, and an impulse in the will causing him to set it down in writing: and that is all that is meant by inspiration. So, again, the rising or setting of the sun is not taught as a revealed dogma, but the writer was inspired by God to use that particular expression.
But for our purposes it is necessary only to realize that the Bible is intended as a literature of moral and doctrinal teaching. It is a literature and not a single book: that is to say, it is made up of parts which, to be understood, must be interpreted in the sense in which they were written. It would be foolish to take poetry as literally as prose, nor should I be surprised if, in a professed abridgement, statements should occur seemingly contradictory, since the space was not sufficiently ample to allow of a full explanation. Therefore it is of the first importance I should find the purpose that lay behind the author's mind and his object in composing, or the circumstances which inclined him to insert this and omit that. Secondly, not only have I to realize the intention of the human author, but I have also to bear in mind that the Divine Author had His own vaster designs in the composition of the work. He saw before Him all those people and occasions whence comfort, or help, or perplexity were to arise; and for them, for me, the whole was issued. Just as I can say that God died for me, so as truly can I say that for me, too, for my instruction, were the whole Scriptures composed; for my moral and doctrinal enlightenment were these several books inspired; in them am I to find the teaching my soul needs. Particularly is this true of the New Testament, wherein I can see the record of that Perfect Life which is to be the model of my own. In language simple and full of force, that has formed the meditation and consolation of number less souls, this life has made men and women devoted to their fellows. Above all, it should lift me up to a union with Himself where I can be buried in His love.
- text taken from Meditations for Layfolk by Father Bede Jarrett, O.P.