Commentary History
How the Bible's most contested passages have been read — from the first century through today. Understanding the history of interpretation shows that the interpretive questions you find difficult are usually questions that brilliant people have wrestled with for centuries, and that the range of serious Christian positions is often wider than any one tradition admits.
"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth... And God said, Let there be light: and there was light... And the evening and the morning were the first day."
The interpretive question: What do the "days" of creation mean? Are they literal 24-hour days, long geological epochs, a literary framework, or something else entirely? The debate is not merely modern — it has occupied every major interpreter in Christian history.
Irenaeus argued for literal days but held that each creation day represented a millennium — based on Psalm 90:4 ("a thousand years in your sight are as a day"). He was not the first or last to combine literalism with a typological reading of the days.
Origen argued that the literal reading of creation days was impossible since the sun, moon, and stars (by which days are measured) were not created until day four. He read the days as a pedagogical structure — God communicating truth in a form humans could grasp — not a chronological sequence. He was the first major theologian to insist the text demands non-literal interpretation.
Augustine, the most influential theologian in Western Christianity, argued in The Literal Meaning of Genesis that God created everything simultaneously and the "days" represent the order of angelic knowledge, not chronological sequence. He explicitly warned against reading Genesis in ways that contradict what natural philosophy had established — and condemned Christians who embarrassed the faith by making scientifically absurd claims about the text.
Aquinas followed Augustine in allowing that the "days" need not be solar days, while maintaining a genuine historical creation. He introduced the idea that the six days represent the "forming" of what was initially created formless — the same view later called the "Analogical Days" position.
Calvin argued for six literal days, not because the text demands it philosophically, but because Moses wrote for ordinary people, not philosophers. God "accommodated" the account to human comprehension. Calvin's commentary is still widely read and his literalism became the default Reformed and eventually Protestant evangelical position.
As geology revealed an ancient earth, conservative scholars sought to reconcile Genesis with the evidence. Day-age theory proposed that the Hebrew yom (day) could mean an extended period — supported by its use in Genesis 2:4 ("in the day that the Lord God made heaven and earth"). Notably, B.B. Warfield — the father of modern inerrancy theory — was an evolutionist who saw no conflict between his high view of Scripture and Darwin's biology.
The Framework Hypothesis observes that days 1–3 form triads with days 4–6: day 1 (light) corresponds to day 4 (lights); day 2 (sky and sea) to day 5 (birds and fish); day 3 (land and plants) to day 6 (animals and humans). The structure is literary — the "days" present creation topically rather than chronologically. This view has become popular in Reformed and Anglican circles as a way of taking both the text and natural science seriously.
Young-earth creationism as a systematic position is largely a 20th-century development, popularized by the 1961 book The Genesis Flood. It is widely held in conservative Baptist and independent fundamentalist circles. It reads Genesis 1 as straightforwardly historical and argues that apparent scientific evidence for an old earth reflects the effects of Noah's flood on the geological record. The position that literal 24-hour days are the only orthodox reading is historically untenable — Augustine, Aquinas, and Calvin all allowed otherwise — but the position itself is widely and sincerely held.
What TELL's position is
TELL doesn't have one. This is a genuine interpretive dispute among serious scholars who take Scripture seriously and have for two thousand years. The evidence tier system on TELL's annotation markers distinguishes between what archaeology and history can settle (Ur is a real place; the Enuma Elish is a real text) and what it cannot (what the creation days mean theologically). The interpretation of Genesis 1 is in the second category.
"And I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." (KJV)
The interpretive question: Is this a direct messianic prophecy? Is the "seed" of the woman a collective (humanity) or an individual (a specific person)? The serpent crushing and heel bruising — which is decisive? And is "bruise" (KJV/ASV) even the right translation?
Justin Martyr was among the first to call Genesis 3:15 the protoevangelium — the first gospel. The "seed of the woman" is Christ; the serpent is Satan; the crushing of the head is the decisive defeat of evil at the cross and resurrection. This reading became standard in Christian interpretation for nearly two millennia.
Jerome translated the Hebrew masculine pronoun (he/it shall bruise) as Latin ipsa — "she" — either by accident or deliberately. This translation made Genesis 3:15 read as Mary crushing the serpent's head, not her offspring. The image of Mary standing on a serpent in Catholic art derives from this single translation decision. Most modern scholars agree the Hebrew pronoun is masculine or neuter, referring to the "seed," not the woman herself.
Luther called this verse "the foundation of the entire Scripture." Both Luther and Calvin read the "seed" as pointing ultimately to Christ while including a broader conflict between human beings and evil. The Reformed tradition has generally maintained the messianic reading while being careful not to limit "seed" to a single individual.
Most modern OT scholars argue that in its original literary context, Genesis 3:15 speaks of an ongoing enmity between humans (seed of the woman) and snakes (seed of the serpent) — humanity will crush snakes' heads; snakes will bite human heels. The identification of the serpent as Satan and the seed as the Messiah is a developed reading, progressively confirmed by the NT's use of the text (Revelation 12:17; Romans 16:20). The question is whether "messianic by trajectory" is meaningfully different from "originally messianic."
"Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel." (KJV)
The interpretive question: The Hebrew word translated "virgin" is almah — which means "young woman" and does not specifically denote virginity (the Hebrew word for virgin is betulah). The Greek Septuagint translated almah as parthenos (virgin), which is what Matthew quotes (1:23). Does the Isaiah text predict a virgin birth, or does Matthew see a "double fulfillment"?
Crucially, the Septuagint's choice of parthenos was made by Jewish translators two centuries before Christ — not by Christians retrofitting a prophecy. Why they chose this word is debated: they may have understood almah to imply virginity (young unmarried women were presumed virgins), or they may have already read the passage as pointing to an extraordinary future birth.
In its immediate context, Isaiah 7:14 is addressed to King Ahaz of Judah as a sign about the imminent Assyrian crisis — "before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land whose two kings you dread will be deserted" (Isaiah 7:16). A sign that would be fulfilled 700 years later offers cold comfort to a king facing immediate military threat. Many scholars argue there was a near-term fulfillment in Isaiah's time — perhaps the birth of his own son (Isaiah 8) — and the Matthew text applies the passage typologically to Jesus as a greater fulfillment.
Matthew 1:23 quotes the LXX directly: "Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel." Matthew uses his characteristic phrase "this was to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet" — which he uses for events that recapitulate OT patterns as well as direct predictions. Whether he sees this as predictive prophecy fulfilled literally, or typological fulfillment of a historical pattern, is a live scholarly question.
Conservative scholarship maintains that almah in Isaiah 7:14 means virgin and that Matthew records a literal predictive fulfillment. Critical scholarship argues that Matthew applied a passage about Ahaz's time to Jesus through a typological pattern where Israel's history repeats. The virgin birth itself — as a historical claim — does not logically depend on Isaiah 7:14; Luke 1:26–38 describes it without quoting Isaiah. The question is what kind of prophecy Isaiah 7:14 is, not whether Jesus was born of a virgin.
"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?... I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men, and despised of the people... they pierced my hands and my feet... They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture." (KJV, selected verses)
The interpretive question: Was Psalm 22 a messianic prophecy when David wrote it, or did Jesus appropriate the psalm to interpret his own experience? And does verse 16 ("they pierced my hands and my feet") predict crucifixion, or is the Hebrew word ka'ari better translated "like a lion" (as some manuscripts read)?
Psalm 22 follows the standard lament psalm structure: address to God, complaint, expression of trust, petition, and vow of praise. David is describing real suffering — enemies mocking, physical distress, a sense of divine abandonment — that ends with confident praise. At the level of original composition, this is a personal prayer, not a description of a future crucifixion.
Jesus's cry — "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" — is the opening of Psalm 22, in Aramaic. Jewish listeners would have known the full psalm, including its confident ending. Whether Jesus was expressing despair, performing a liturgical act, or providing his bystanders with a hermeneutical key to interpret his death is debated. The coincidences between the psalm's imagery and the crucifixion (lots cast for garments; surrounded by enemies; hands and feet; "he trusted in the LORD, let him deliver him") are extensive.
The Hebrew of Psalm 22:16 (MT) reads ka'ari yadai v'raglai — "like a lion, my hands and my feet." "Like a lion my hands and feet" is grammatically awkward. The Septuagint, some Dead Sea Scroll fragments, and the Syriac Peshitta read ka'aru — "they have pierced/dug." The difference is one letter (yod vs. vav). Most modern translations follow the "pierced" reading, but it is a genuine textual dispute, not a settled matter.
Justin Martyr's Dialogue with Trypho (c. 160 AD) uses Psalm 22 extensively as proof that the crucifixion was prophesied — the lots cast for garments, the mockery, the hands and feet. He argued to his Jewish interlocutor that the psalm could not refer to David (who was not crucified) and must therefore predict Christ. This typological approach became standard.
"Seventy weeks are determined upon thy people and upon thy holy city, to finish the transgression... Know therefore and understand, that from the going forth of the commandment to restore and to build Jerusalem unto the Messiah the Prince shall be seven weeks, and threescore and two weeks..." (KJV)
The interpretive question: What are the "seventy weeks"? Are they literally 490 years (70 × 7)? When does the clock start? Who is the "Messiah" and the "prince who is to come"? This passage has generated more interpretive systems than almost any other in Scripture.
Early Christian interpreters calculated from Artaxerxes I's decree to rebuild Jerusalem (445 BC, Nehemiah 2) to the time of Christ — arriving at approximately 490 years by various methods. This became the dominant patristic reading: the 69 "weeks" (483 years) end at the triumphal entry or crucifixion; the 70th week is the period of the church.
The pagan philosopher Porphyry argued (c. 270 AD) that Daniel 9's timeline fits the period from the Babylonian exile to Antiochus IV's desecration of the Temple (167 BC) — the "abomination of desolation." This is now the majority view among critical scholars and a significant minority among evangelical scholars. Jerome wrote an entire commentary refuting Porphyry; the refutation testifies to how seriously the challenge was taken.
Darby's dispensationalism inserted a "parenthesis" — the entire church age — between the 69th and 70th week. The 70th week is yet future: a seven-year Tribulation period at the end of history. This reading produced the modern Left Behind-style eschatology that dominates popular evangelical prophecy culture. The "gap" has no exegetical basis in the text itself but is widely held and has generated a massive interpretive tradition.
Modern scholarship divides into: (1) Historical-critical: Daniel 9 describes the Maccabean period in symbolic chronology; (2) Traditional messianic: 490 years end at Christ's first coming; (3) Dispensational: 69 weeks are past, 70th is future. All three positions have serious scholars defending them with careful textual and historical arguments. Daniel 9 remains one of the most contested passages in all of Scripture.