Dale Martin and the Myth of Total Textual Indeterminacy

by Robert A. J. Gagnon, Ph.D.

[The following is the beginning of my response to Dale Martin. Because I have received many
inquiries about his recent book I thought it best to put out what I have now, however incomplete,
and add installments as time and duties permit.RG (3/7/07)]
Dale Martin, professor of New Testament at Yale University, has just come out with a book
entitled Sex and the Single Savior: Gender and Sexuality in Biblical Interpretation (Westminster
John Knox, 2006; released around Oct. 1, 2006). Since Martin has made a special point of
critiquing my work in this publication, my intention here is to get at his main arguments through
a careful response to his critique.
The Shape of the Book and a Convenient Omission
Readers may be disappointed that Martins book is not a sustained, comprehensive argument
about gender and sexuality in the Bible but rather a series of discrete essays, most of which were
previously published. Six of the eleven chapters consist of previously published essays (one of
which, though, had been published previously only in Norwegian: The Queer History of
Galatians 3:28). The two and only two essays in his book closely directed at the Bible and
homosexual practice, an issue to which I have given significant attentionArsenokoits and
Malakos: Meanings and Consequences and Heterosexism and the Interpretation of Romans
1:18-32were first published a decade or so ago (1995-96). They are republished in the book
as if no substantive critique had been offered in the intervening years to these articles in
particular and to the general pro-homosex reading of Rom 1:24-27 and 1 Cor 6:9 that they
represent. We will come back to why this is omission is significant. Two other chapters consist of
papers that had been previously delivered as talks at a university seminar in 2001 (The
Hermeneutics of Divorce and Community-shaped Scripture).
Only three of the chapters were written specially for this book:
Ch. 1, Introduction: The Myth of Textual Agency (pp. 1-16, notes on pp. 187-93)
Ch. 2, The Rhetoric of Biblical Scholarship: A Primer for Critical Reading of Historical
Criticism (pp. 17-35, notes on pp. 193-201)
Ch. 11, Conclusion: The Space of Scripture, the Risk of Faith (pp. 161-85, notes on pp. 23740)
The Shape of Martins Critique of My First Book
It is in the second chapter, and only in the second chapter, that Martin deals with my work
(primarily pp. 25-28 but also a brief reference on pp. 22-23, with the notes on pp. 196-98). In all
Martin devotes six full pages to criticizing me. I suppose that in some perverse sense I should be
honored for this attention; indeed, for being the first in a series of four persons to receive a
critique. Of course, the honor is dubious since he says that he selects me first because he
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considers my first book, The Bible and Homosexual Practice (Abingdon, 2001; 520 pgs.), to be a
textbook example of foundationalism in the study of the Bible and sexuality. The other three
persons critiqued are given three full pages or less each: Richard Hays (pp. 29-31, notes on pp.
198-99; with a smattering of discussion elsewhere in the new essays), Francis Watson (pp. 31-32,
notes on pp. 199-201), and William Countryman (pp. 32-34, notes on p. 201).
Rather than read my book fairlyand, incidentally, Martin completely ignores my many
publications on the Bible and homosexual practice since that first bookMartin creates a
caricature by cutting and pasting texts taken out of context and misrepresented. This procedure is
not too dissimilar from his treatment of biblical texts in matters of sexuality, particularly
homosexuality.
My Alleged Crime
For Martin, my main crime appears to be twofold.
First, I believe that there are some texts in Scripture (and in the ancient world generally and in
our own times), not all, whose interpretation is relatively secure. Stated slightly differently, I
believe that there are some texts in the Bible, not all, whose meaningmore specifically, the
meaning that the writer(s) intended readers to pick up from the communication symbols in the
textis clear in its basic contours to reasonable persons interpreting reasonably and
contextually.
Secondly, I believe that, on the whole, fidelity to God is more likely and more often to be
attained by conformity to such meaning, especially as regards core values, than it is by radical
deviance from such meaning.
I might add as regards these two accusations that I am guilty as charged, except that the
manner in which Martin charges them is distorted by a rhetoric that misrepresents the case.
Why Does Martin Lie By Saying That I Flatly Reject Any Notion of Textual Uncertainty?
According to Martins lead-off charge, Gagnon flatly rejects any notion that textual
interpretation is an uncertain endeavor (p. 25; emphases added). To be blunt, this claim by
Martin is flatly a lie. In my fifth and longest chapter of my first book, The Hermeneutical
Relevance of the Biblical Witness (pp. 341-486), I begin by setting out some basic principles
for guiding application of the message about homosexual practice. (This message was not
presumed but rather discussed and argued in the first 340 pages of my book.) I ask (pp. 341-42):
1. Is the issue a matter of significant concern in the Bible?
(a) Is there a consistent perspective in the Bible?
(b) Is it a serious moral issue for biblical writers?

2. Does the biblical witness remain valid in a contemporary setting?

(a) Is the situation to which the Bible responds comparable to the contemporary situation?
(b) Are the arguments made by biblical writers still convincing?
(c) Do new socio-scientific insights or cultural changes invalidate the biblical witness?
(d) Has the church adopted a consistent and strong witness on the issue over the centuries?
(e) Does a new work of the Holy Spirit in the church justify changing the biblical position?
To note that such guidelines exist and then to address each of them systematically, as I have
done, surely makes clear that textual interpretation often is an uncertain endeavor. Moreover, I
note textual ambiguities throughout my book. For example, I state on p. 201 n. 21 that the
decision is difficult as to whether Matthew forbade remarriage even for men who divorced
adulterous wives and conclude by saying, I am not sure what the solution is. What Martin
apparently doesnt like is that I do not consider all texts to be ambiguous as to intent or meaning.
When one thinks of Martins comment, it really is kind of ludicrous. The idea that I, or anyone of
any intelligence, could argue that no text in Scripture (or anywhere else) on any issue at any time
is ever uncertain is such a flatly erroneous charge as to call in question Martins entire
credibility. If Martin sincerely believes that this is what I think, then he is obviously a poor
reader of texts, certainly of anything that I have written. But I dont believe that he is a poor
reader of texts generally, not at least of that magnitude. This leads me to question whether he had
any intent to portray me fairly and charitably.
Consequently, for Martin to characterize my interpretative stance before unsuspecting readers as
Gagnon flatly rejects any notion that textual interpretation is an uncertain endeavor is to
engage in a blatant, and probably deliberate, distortion of the truth. Of course, it wouldnt look as
effective for Martin to critique a position that holds that some readings of ancient texts are, for
all intents and purposes, secure and reliable. The reason is simple; namely, most persons
reasonably subscribe to just such a position. That Martin evidently feels the need to produce a
caricature of meindeed, to lie about mein order to score points with readers suggests that
he is aware of how weak his overall position is. He knows that he cannot be persuasive to others
unless he is successful in portraying me falsely as a one-dimensional cardboard character.
Lacking a strong argument, Martin resorts to a rhetoric of caricature.
Martins Texts dont speak Argument and His Claim of Textual Indeterminacy
There are two main prongs to Martins general argument:
1) The meaning of a text in its historical context cannot be recovered with a reasonable degree
of certitude.
2) Such meaning should not be recovered as a normally controlling influence on hermeneutical
application for a contemporary context.
As we shall see he also uses both arguments in his specific critique of my work. For now I shall
focus more generally on the first point.
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Central to the first contention is his insistence that the Bible (or any text) does not speak. This
is a point that he repeats so often and so stridently as to leave readers with the impression that he
believes he has made a brilliant point. The very first sentence of his first chapter underscores this
point: One of the central goals of much of my writing . . . has been to undermine a common
assumption . . . that the Bible speaks and our job is just to listen (p. 1). So enamored is he
with this theme that
I sometimes illustrate my point when asked to speak about what the Bible says about
homosexuality. I put the Bible in the middle of the room or on the speakers podium, step back,
and say, Okay, lets see what it says. Listen! After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence and
some snickers, I say, Apparently, the Bible cant talk. (p. 5)
Such is the current state of the discipline that this passes for profundity among many.
When criticizing me, Martin alleges that Gagnon constantly, and with no hint that he is using a
metaphor, portrays the Bible as speaking, or condemning, or performing some kind of action
(p. 25; emphasis added). The silliness of this allegation should be readily apparent: If I didnt
think I was using a metaphor then I would have to believe that texts really do speak in audible
voices or really do write themselves. Does Martin really believe that I think this? Texts are a
medium, not an agent. Everywhere in my work I operate with the notion that specific, cultureembedded persons and communities speak through texts. Anyone with a minimal ability of
comprehension can see this in page after page of what I have written on the issue of the Bible
and homosexuality. Assuming the intelligence of my critics, only someone determined to put
forward a false caricature of me could say otherwise and then it could only be done out of deceit.
Does Martin Practice What He Preaches about Textual Indeterminacy? A Look at His Chapters
on 1 Corinthians 6:9 and Romans 1:24-27
The sheer silliness of the allegation turns into hypocrisy when Martin does the very thing that he
castigates me for doing. Now I make no claims to having gone through Martins writings with a
fine-tooth comb to uncover all such instances. That would be a waste of my time. A few
examples will suffice. In ch. 2, just two pages (!) before lambasting me for portray[ing] the
Bible as speaking, or condemning, or performing some kind of action, he states that Romans
1 does not explicitly condemn same-sex activity (p. 23). Moreover, in his very opening line in
Arsenokoites and Malakos: Meanings and Consequences (ch. 3), he states: The New
Testament provides little ammunition to those wishing to condemn modern homosexuality (p.
37). But texts cannot provide ammunition insofar as they are lifeless, inanimate script, right?
If even a person who has told himself, Dont ever say that the Bible performs some kind of
action lest he be accused of inconsistency and hypocrisy cant help but occasionally speak in
such terms, why, then, should the rest of us be held to a strict standard of avoiding such
metaphorical language? For neither do we think that texts can speak audibly or write themselves,
divorced from real historical personages and communities. Both Martin and I prefer, when
referring to Pauline texts, to write Paul says (thinks, believes) rather than to say the text does
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so. But shouldnt this be even more of a metaphor from Martins perspective? After all, we dont
have direct access to Paul. We only have relatively direct access to the medium of his text (albeit
transmitted over centuries by scribes). Is it not, then, truer in some respects to say that the text
says? It is Martin himself who insists that we can never actually go to the authors intention
(p. 6). Yet throughout his writings, page after page, Martin makes reference to what Paul said,
believed, and thought, without so much as batting a literary eye (oops, another metaphor).
In the same chapter on Arsenokoites and Malakos Martin states that we possess many
occurrences of malakos [the term for soft men in 1 Cor 6:9] and can be fairly confident about
its meaning and about the hatred of women inherent in the ancient use of the term (pp. 43).
This reference to words meaning something is carried throughout the chapter. But I thought,
based on what Martin claimed, meaning wasnt inherent in the text but resided in the
interpreter? And that we couldnt be fairly confident about what a given writer might have
meant?
Indeed, Martin goes on to say that malakos is easy to define and that to say that malakos
meant a man who was penetrated is simply wrong.
There is no question, then, about what malakos referred to in the ancient world. . . . The meaning
of the word is clear. . . . Malakos means effeminate. Why has this obvious translation been
universally rejected in recent English versions? . . . Do we condemn what Paul and his readers
are likely to have considered effeminate . . . ? . . . Some scholars and Christians have wanted to
make arsenokoites and malakos mean both more and less than the words actually mean. . . .
Rather than admitting the obvious, that malakos is a blanket condemnation of all effeminacy,
they explain that it refers quite particularly to the penetrated man in homosexual sex. . . . It
should be clear that this exercise is driven more by heterosexist ideology than historical
criticism. (pp. 43-44, 47-49; emphases added)
Note the one occurrence of likely and the hardly waffling fairly confident in a sea of
unequivocal adverbs, adjectives, and descriptive phrases: easy to define, no question,
clear, obvious, actually. Anyone who disagrees with Martin is simply wrong.
Now I certainly do not agree that, in the context of 1 Cor 6:9, malakoi means what Martin claims
it must mean. In fact, I have critiqued his argument and similar arguments about 1 Cor 6:9 in my
first book and works thereafter.
Cf. The Bible and Homosexual Practice (Nashville: Abingdon, 2001), esp. pp. 303-36;
Homosexuality and the Bible: Two Views (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 81-88, with online
notes 96-111 at http://robgagnon.net/TwoViews.htm; and A Comprehensive and Critical
Review Essay of Homosexuality, Science, and the Plain Sense of Scripture, Part 2, Horizons
in Biblical Theology 25 (December 2003): 226-39, online here.
Essentially I argue that the meaning of malakoi (lit., soft men) in context is not the broad sense
of merely effeminate men but rather has the more restrictive sense of men who feminize
themselves to attract male sex partners (incidentally, this is similar to the meaning given to the

term by both Victor Furnish and Bernadette Brooten, two scholars supportive of homosexual
unions). What is the evidence for the more restrictive sense?

1. Its place in the vice list amidst other participants in illicit sexual intercourse. Since it is
sandwiched in between the terms pornoi (a generic term for sexually immoral persons but, in the
immediate context of 1 Cor 5, applied specifically to the incestuous man in nearly identical vice
lists; cf. 5:9-11) and moichoi (adulterers) on the one side and arsenokoitai (men who lie with a
male) on the other side, it is probable that malakoi too has to do with immoral sexual relations.
2. Its pairing with the immediately following word arsenokoitai. Since arsenokoitai means men
who lie with a male as a reference to the active, insertive partners in male-male intercourse, it is
likely that malakoi refers to the passive, receptive partner in such intercourse. Indeed, the two
preceding terms eidololatrai (idolaters) and moichoi (adulterers) form a natural pair in the Old
Testament, making more probable the pairing of the next two terms, malakoi and arsenokoitai.
3. Philo of Alexandrias use of cognate words. Philo (a first-century Jewish philosophy) uses
cognate terms to malakos to refer to men who actively feminize themselves for the purpose of
attracting other men: malakia and malakots, softness; also: anandria, unmanliness, hoi
paschontes, those who are done [as opposed to the doers, hoi drntes], and androgynoi,
men-women (cf. Special Laws 3.37-42; On Abraham 135-36; Contemplative Life 59-61;
translated in Gagnon 2001a, 172-75).
4. Greco-Roman usage of malakoi and the parallel Latin word molles (soft men). The terms
malakoi and molles could be used broadly to refer to effeminate or unmanly men. But in specific
contexts it could be used in ways similar to the more specific terms cinaedi (lit., butt-shakers)
and pathici (those who undergo [penetration]) to denote effeminate adult males who are
biologically and/or psychologically disposed to desire penetration by men. For example, in
Soranuss work On Chronic Diseases (early 2nd century A.D.) the section on men who desire to
be penetrated (4.9.131-37) is entitled On the molles or subacti (subjugated or penetrated
partners, pathics) whom the Greeks call malthakoi. An Aristotelian text similarly refers to those
who are anatomically inclined toward the receptive role as malakoi (Pseudo-Aristotle, Problems
4.26). Astrological texts that speak of males desirous of playing the penetrated female role also
use the term malakoi (Ptolemy, Four Books 3.14 172; Vettius Valens, Anthologies 2.37.54;
2.38.82; cf. Brooten, 126 n. 41, 260 n. 132). The complaint about such figures in the ancient
world generally, and certainly by Philo, centers around their attempted erasure of the masculine
stamp given them by God/nature, not their exploitation of others, age difference, or acts of
prostitution.
Regarding the meaning of arsenokoitai in 1 Cor 6:9, men who lie with a male, Martin is less
certain. He is not certain enough to claim to know what [it] meant, though he thinks it
probable that arsenokoites referred to a particular role of exploiting others by means of sex,
perhaps but not necessarily by homosexual sex and he adamantly denies that anyone can say
with reasonable certainty what it meant. Martins supposition here appears to be that if Martin
6

cant figure it out, no one else can. In this, too, I believe that he is mistaken. The evidence is, in
fact, overwhelming for taking the term, in context, as an absolute indictment of men who serve
as the active partners in male homosexual practice of any kind (see my resources cited above).
My main point here, though, is that as regards Martins handling of the term malakoi texts
mean something and only an idiot or a dissembler could argue otherwise since, according to
Martin, the meaning is clear, obvious, and simple.

Martins Textual Determinacy Manifested in His Shaming Rhetoric

Martin is so sure of himself that he can even, in facile and flat manner, charge those who think
otherwise with being motivated by prejudices akin to racism and sexism. In just this one 14-page
article alone we read:
By analyzing ancient meanings of the terms . . . we discover that interpretations of arsenokoites
and malakos as condemning modern homosexuality have been driven more by ideological
interests in marginalizing gay and lesbian people than by the general structures of historical
criticism. (p. 38; similarly, p. 43)

Why has this obvious translation been universally rejected in recent English versions? Doubtless
because contemporary scholars have been loath to consider effeminacy a moral category but
have been less hesitant in condemning gay and lesbian people. (p. 47; emphasis mine)

People who retain Pauls condemnation of effeminacy as ethical grounding for a condemnation
of contemporary gay sex must face the fact that they thereby participate in the hatred of women
inherent in the ancient use of the term. . . . To mask such problems and tell our fellow Christians
that the word really refers just to boy prostitutes or, worse, passive homosexuals is by this
time just willful ignorance or dishonesty. (p. 48; emphasis mine)

It should be clear that this exercise is driven more by heterosexist ideology than historical
criticism. (p. 49; emphasis mine)
The hypocrisy here is underscored by his criticism of me for allegedly resort[ing] to shaming
rhetoric (p. 28). The examples that he cites are all taken out of context or in other ways
misrepresented, as we shall see later. But there is no mistaking the context for Martins remarks
above since the accusation that everyone who comes to different conclusions from him is a
heterosexist is the centerpiece and conclusion of his articleand not only this article but of his
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work generally. For example, this shaming rhetoric and attribution of foul motive appears also
throughout ch. 4, his article Heterosexism and the Interpretation of Romans 1:18-32, where his
thesis is:
I will demonstrate . . . that modern scholars are being disingenuous or self-deluding when they
claim that their positionthe heterosexist positionis simply an appropriation of the biblical
view. Their reading of Paul is prompted not by the constraints of historical criticism or their
passive perception of the clear meaning of the text, as they claim, but by their inclination (not
necessarily intentional) to reinforce modern heterosexist constructions of human sexuality. (pp.
52-53; emphasis mine; note here he says not necessarily intentional while holding open a
disingenuous motive; compare his attribution to willful ignorance or dishonesty above)
It is certain . . . that heterosexism has led [scholars] to introject their own modern conceptions of
sexual desire and its relation to nature into the biblical text. (p. 60)
Having denied that heterosexist scholars interpret Paul they way they do because they are
simply reading the text, I wished to propose other reasons to explain why they have
misconstrued Pauls writings. . . . I suggest that a specifically modern form of homophobiaan
irrational and exaggerated loathing and fear of homosexualityhas motivated many such
interpretations. (p. 63)
Ironically, Martin says of me that
Recourse to shaming rhetoric is often the final recourse of one who truly believes that nature
or the text itself provides a clear, self-interpreting foundation for ethics. If other people cannot
see it, there must be something wrong with them. (ibid.)
Hasnt Martin demonstrated clearly by his own actions that recourse to shaming rhetoric is
much more of a staple of his own work and views? That it is precisely the person who seeks to
deny the clear witness of Scripture on matters that is likely to resort to shaming rhetoric and to be
absolutist about what texts can and cannot mean? For, whatever Martin says to the contrary, he
certainly writes as someone who is absolutely certain what malakoi in 1 Cor 6:9 means and
cannot mean and how Paul in Rom 1:24-27 certainly does not have in mind creation and the fall,
someone who applies a nature argument that homosexual orientation is a benign condition like
race or sex, and someone who knowsas his main point, mind youthat there must be
something wrong with those who think otherwise. It is surely ironic when he alleges of me,
that the sense of security provided by foundationalism makes self-critical awareness unlikely
(p. 198 n. 36). To this I would respond to Martin: Whats your excuse?
Doubtless Martin would respond (as he has in email correspondence to me) that he is just
playing the game of normal, modern historical criticism, artificially adopting certain
assumptions about the social location of the interpretation and entering the discursive realm
and persona of the historical critic. But can anyone seriously believe, after reading the material
above, that Martin himself does not really think that people who interpret 1 Cor 6:9 and Rom
1:24-27 in ways that indict homosexual practice absolutely do so because there is something
8

wrong with them? And does he not manifestly base this observation on the obvious and
clear meaning of texts? Which, then, is the pretend hat and which the real persona? Dale
Martin the radical poststructuralist or Dale Martin the historical critic?
It needs to be said as well that Martin, in making his arguments, is absolutely convinced not only
of what the text of Scripture says or doesnt say at certain points convenient to his ideology but
also of what the scholars with whom he disagrees write and even sometimes what their
motivations are behind what they write. He does this even with scholars whom he has never met
but encountered only through text. How can he both maintain the texts dont speak contention
of total or virtual textual indeterminacy and then express himself with such certainty and, indeed,
with such obvious emotion in his criticisms of scholars whom he knows only through text?
There is a jarring inconsistency here that once again confirms that Dale Martin the radical
poststructuralist is more of a pretend hat or persona than Dale Martin the textual absolutist or
Dale Martin the historical critic. In caustically berating scholars whom he knows only through
text, he unknowingly betrays that not even he lives like a poststructuralist.
Martins Textual Determinacy in His Interaction with Textual Gagnon
An obvious case in point is Martins reaction toward me. Martin knows only a textual Gagnon.
We have never met. What he knows of me he knows only through my writings (and, so far as I
can tell, only through my first book, The Bible and Homosexual Practice) and through limited email correspondence that occurred a month or so after the publication of his book Sex and the
Single Savior. After just three exchanges, Martin knew with all the certitude that anyone could
muster that:
Gagnon really [really?] doesnt understand literary theory
Gagnon simply [simply?] doesnt understand the notion of contextual meaning
Gagnon does not, in fact [in fact?], . . . present other peoples work accurately and fairly
Gagnon has inadequate understandings of scripture . . . and of interpretation in general
Gagnons rhetoric is not at all [at all?] Christian and kind
There is a tremendous amount of textual certitude here. Note Martins persistent use of adverbial
expressions denoting certitude and the categorical/absolute nature of his assertions: really,
simply, in fact, and not at all. And yet all that he had to go on was text.
I honestly dont understand how this works in Martins head. When he takes off his textualabsolutist hat and reassumes his real poststructuralist self, does he cease to be so certain about
what I believe, know, and say, on the basis of reading text? If so, how does this happen? Does he
suffer memory loss? Or does he just will himself to remember that texts dont speak and then
disavow everything he had presumed to be true about the textual Gagnon? It really is
confusing to me. How is it that text does not have determinate meaning and yet he has in my case
only text and comes to a series of strongly held, even offensive, determinate meanings? If he
were only adopting the persona here of a textual absolutist and did not really believe in his heart
these determinate claims about me, why does the real depth of his emotion come out when he
9

expresses absolute certitude about what his perceived opponents believe, know, and write, even
beyond what is actually communicated in the text itself? I think that this is a legitimate question.
I also think the answer is clear, even if Martin doesnt want to admit it publicly. If he were only
playing a game when he becomes textually determinate I wouldnt expect him to get so
passionate over what he alleges that I have written, let alone write six pages about it in a book.
His emotive mode of expression betrays him.
So on one level, at least, Dale Martin himself is exhibit A against his own argument for textual
indeterminacy. I am tempted to argue that, on another level, he is also exhibit A in favor of his
own argument for textual indeterminacybut not in a manner he would find congenial. Martin at
so many places misrepresents me that maybe it really is true that the medium of writing cannot
effectively communicate an authors meaning. However, I must say that he ultimately does not
prove his case here, for two reasons: (1) that Martin gets so wrong what I have written is not
proof that no one can understand what I write (I have met many who do understand what I have
written); and (2) there is evidence that he deliberately misrepresents my work (I have already
noted his absurd allegations that I flatly reject any notion that textual interpretation is an
uncertain endeavor and that I am unaware that the expression the Bible says is a metaphor).
The truth is that I have rarely encountered someone who, in practice, operates with a greater
conviction of textual certitude than Martin. Apparently Martin does believe that texts control
interpretation (he has had nothing else on which to base his judgments about me) and he is
obviously convinced that his interpretation of textual Gagnon is the correct one (even in the
face of a mountain of evidence to the contrary). Martin is, in reality, the worst sort of textual
absolutist because he deceives himself and attempts to deceive others that it is otherwise with
him.
Martins Misguided Case for Dismissing the Primacy of Authorial Intention
Martin gives an example from everyday life to argue against authorial intention as establishing
the meaning of an utterance (that is, constrain[ing its] meaning or . . . control[ling] its
interpretation) and to point out that we actually do not . . . take the meaning to be equivalent
to the intentions of the author (p. 6).
Of course, there is an initial irony here. Martin wants his readers to understand his own
authorial intention and clearly thinks that he can communicate effectively to his readers what
his own point of view is, through the medium of text. I take Martin to be arguing that authorial
intention cannot provide the primary basis for establishing the meaning of texts. It certainly
would be misrepresenting Martin to contend that Martin believes we should limit the meaning of
texts to what can be discerned from authorial intention. If I argued the latter, Martin would be the
first to contend: You misunderstood me. Then he would chastise me further for willful
ignorance or dishonesty, for being disingenuous or self-deluding (to quote his written
chastisements of other scholars). Indeed, when Martin complained to me in e-mail
correspondence that I [Martin] do not, in fact, believe you [Gagnon] present other peoples
work accurately and fairly, what is he doing if not insisting by the use of the adverbs
accurately and fairly that his own authorial intention controls the meaning and
interpretation of his texts? In short: How can one take seriously the insistence that the authorial
10

intention communicated through the medium of text should not constrain meaning and
interpretation when this very insistence presupposes the textual constraint of ones own authorial
intention? One cant have it both ways, though Martin appears to want it to be so.
Martins example is this:
When my brother was young, he was briefly hospitalized due to a collapsed lung. The doctor told
my parents . . . that the condition was congenital. . . . My sister, a teenager at the time, overheard
this conversation and for days went around telling family friends that my brother was in the
hospital because of a genital disease. How do we decide about the meaning of my sisters
statement? Certainly not by simply attempting to ascertain what she meant. (p. 6)
The example, however, does not demonstrate Martins point that authorial intention cannot be
accessed through the medium of communication. Rather, it demonstrates the opposite. The
humor of the storyconfusing congenital condition with genital diseasedepends entirely
on an operating assumption that we know the true authorial intention of the doctor and,
through that knowledge, recognize the authorial confusion of the adolescent. Martin himself
believed that he had understood correctly the authorial intention of the doctors words, the
condition is congenital, and on that basis was able to recognize the mistake of his teenage sister.
Had the doctor been unable to communicate effectively the intention of his message or had
Martin been unable to understand that intention, he would not have been able to correct his
sisters misstatement.
Martin further contends (again, unknowingly presuming on the general reliability of text for
communicating his authorial intention) that
Theories about authorial intentions providing the meaning of texts must show that to be the case
not only in ideal or even most cases; they must show that authorial intention is the meaning of a
text in all cases. Otherwise, authorial intention becomes just one more act of the imagination we
employ when we interpret texts. (p. 7)
Neither Martins premise nor his corollary follows in the real world outside the ivory tower of
language games.
To refer approvingly to authorial intention as a constraining influence on the interpretation of
written or spoken word is not to assert that people always express themselves clearly or always
say precisely what they mean. Confusion can and does arise. (Communication between husband
and wife in marriage is a classic case in point.) Yet confusion can only be recognized as
confusion on the assumption that oral and written communication through language symbols is a
generally reliable method for ascertaining intention. That authorial intention is not always
communicated accurately in spoken word or written text does not lead inexorably to the
conclusion that authorial intention becomes just one more act of the imagination we employ
when we interpret texts. It may, and does, remain the operating premise for communication
until clear indications arise that there is some disconnect between the communication and the
authors actual intention.

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Martins poststructuralist views unfortunately have real world implications. If neighbor Miss A
frantically knocked on Mr. Bs door, shouting, Your child is drowning in the pool next door,
and Mr. B didnt give primacy to Miss As authorial intention by running next door to check on
his childs safety, Mr. B would be subject to criminal prosecution if his child drowned (to say
nothing of lifelong psychological torment for neglect). Society would be rightly outraged if Mr.
Bs defense in court was: Authorial intention is just one of many acts of imagination that I
employ when I interpret peoples utterances. On matters even more significant, pertaining to
peoples eternal destiny, Martin would have us believe that when the authors of Scripture tell us
that engaging in certain behavior in a serial unrepentant manner could lead to our exclusion from
the kingdom of God, we should not give authorial intention any special weight in discerning
the meaning of their statements.
Obviously, the fact that an adolescent may confuse congenital condition with genital disease
is not a strong argument for why, for example, the authorial intention of Pauls remarks
concerning incest in 1 Cor 5 cannot be recovered or why it cannot constrain the meaning
given to such remarks or control its interpretation. If someone wants to argue that what Paul
means in 1 Cor 5 is that the Corinthians should tolerate, or even endorse, a consensual sexual
relationship between a Christian man and his stepmother (or, for that matter, his mother), that
person obviously doesnt have a clue about how to read Pauls communication. Authorial
intention is not just one more act of the imagination we employ when we interpret texts.
Understood in context, literary and socio-historical, the communication symbols contained in the
text of 1 Cor 5 certainly carry the normal agreed-upon sense. It would be nonsense to claim here,
as Martin does generally, that we can never actually go to the authors intention, that authorial
intention is not the answer to the vagaries of interpretation because it is part of interpretation
itself (p. 6). While some of the details of Pauls remarks in 1 Cor 5 may be subject to
interpretive debate, there is no reasonable interpretive debate about whether Paul might be
approving consensual adult incest. Martin and others may choose to reject Pauls views on incest,
arguing incest conducted in the context of mutual love and commitment should be accepted. But
they cannot justifiably ask reasonable persons to believe that the historical Paul himself would
have tolerated such a sexual bond or even to believe that such an interpretation is just as good
as one that posits Pauls absolute opposition.
It is interesting to note in connection with 1 Cor 5 that the Corinthians had misunderstood Pauls
textual communication in a previous letter (5:9-12). They thought that when Paul had earlier
written them not to get mixed up with (i.e., associate or have contact with) sexually immoral
persons he meant it in an absurd, absolute sense that included the sexually immoral of this
world (i.e. sexually immoral unbelievers). This apparently led some at Corinth to disregard
Pauls allegedly impractical command. Now what did Paul do? Did he take this instance of
confusion, throw up his hands, and say, Authorial intention apparently cannot be known
because texts dont speak! or, worse, Your interpretation of my authorial intention is every bit
as valid as an act of imagination!? No, he simply clarified his position, asserting that of course
he could not have meant that they cease all association with unbelievers because, had he intended
that, they would have had to come out of the world (5:10). Paul believed that by further
clarification he could make his authorial intention in the matter known. So does Dale Martin
when he writes his own books and articles.

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