40 Questions-Discussion-Part 3C - Genres Primarily in the New Testatement

Kelly Ann Marino

Hey friends, welcome back to the FC Residency Channel—Hermeneutics for You. I'm Kelly Ann Marino, and as always, I'm sitting across from the patient, the wise, the birdhouse-crafting Paul Sheffield. Today, we're diving into one of the most recognizable—and honestly, misunderstood—parts of the New Testament: Jesus’s parables. Paul, it's almost funny—people who’ve never set foot in a church know what a “Good Samaritan” is, right?

Paul Sheffield

Yeah, that's true, Kelly. I remember hearing someone use “prodigal son” at a high school football game back home in Kansas—had nothing to do with the Bible, just meant someone wandered off and then showed up again. Parables surround us, but their interpretation has really taken a journey through history. If you look at the big picture, there are five major eras in how people have read Jesus’s parables. At first, you’ve got Jesus and his audience—these stories were vivid, familiar, and pretty direct. Then after the Gospels, early Christians started seeing secret codes or making everything into an allegory. Like, the Good Samaritan? For centuries, it wasn’t just about helping your neighbor—the Samaritan was Jesus, the inn was the church, the oil and wine were sacraments. Every single thing had to “mean” something deeper.

Kelly Ann Marino

It’s wild how much those interpretations stuck for so long. Actually, Paul, it almost feels like a game of telephone; the message just keeps morphing as it gets passed down. But then the Reformation comes along, and folks like Martin Luther and John Calvin—well, maybe with varying consistency—start calling out that allegory overload. They wanted to get back to the intention, to what Jesus actually meant. It’s like Calvin couldn’t stand the idea of disguising the natural meaning of scripture.

Paul Sheffield

Exactly. But old habits die hard! Even some Reformers still dabbled in allegory, but John Calvin, he really tried to resist it. Fast-forward to the late 1800s, you get scholars like Adolf Jülicher saying, "Enough with the secret codes—let's get to the point!” And then in the twentieth century, newer approaches tried to hear these stories like Jesus’s original audience would’ve heard them. Remember, the literary context and what’s happening in history really matter. But, of course, lately there’s even been a bit of a return to looking for multiple meanings—people sometimes want parables to mean whatever feels right to them. That has its risks.

Kelly Ann Marino

Paul, that reminds me—didn’t you once share about a sermon, maybe back in Kansas, where the Prodigal Son got turned into an elaborate coded message?

Paul Sheffield

Oh, yeah. I’ll never forget it. I was sitting with my dad in the third pew, and the preacher started mapping out every item—the robe, the ring, the fatted calf—as representing obscure spiritual concepts, and it was, uh, complicated. Eventually, what struck our church more than “hidden codes” was just...well, the simple force of the story. For us, the point was a father’s embrace that brought the feuding halves of the church together. That sort of plain reading did wonders when our community was divided—it brought real healing. You know, sometimes the straightforward message packs a bigger punch than a world of speculation. But that push and pull between allegory and plain meaning, it’s shaped how we read parables right up to today.

Kelly Ann Marino

So, let’s get practical. After all this history—what should we actually do today when we’re trying to read and understand parables? There are a few key guidelines. First, take the time to figure out: what’s the main point? Is there one big idea, or does the story make several points, maybe tied to its main characters?

Paul Sheffield

Yeah, and there’s a bit of a debate there. Some folks say each parable has just one central point—others, like Craig Blomberg, say if a story has three main characters, there might be three main lessons. Take the Prodigal Son, for example. You’ve got the father, the older brother, and the younger brother. If you trace their story arcs, you see, one, God is extravagantly forgiving (that’s the father), two, the older brother sort of embodies jealousy or begrudging attitudes, and three, the younger brother is about repentance and being welcomed back.

Kelly Ann Marino

You know, Paul, sometimes when I write letters to friends who are living far away—and I’m thinking of one friend in particular who struggled with her sister moving across the world—I'll use parables like that one. I remember copying down the father’s words from the Prodigal Son story, and including: “He was lost and is found.” It led to this beautiful conversation about what forgiveness can look like, even from continents apart. But you don’t always need to hunt for secret messages in every detail, right?

Paul Sheffield

That’s exactly it. Not everything is a code. Jesus used cultural images everyone would get—sheep, coins, vineyard workers. And remember, if something jumps out as really surprising, like an older man running to embrace his son, or a widow pestering a judge, that’s a clue: tune in, because those details matter. Direct speech and how much space a character gets? Also big clues. But don’t, for the love of all things good, try to wring meaning out of every single robe or ring or loaf of bread.

Kelly Ann Marino

And, let’s not forget context. Why did Jesus tell that story? Who was in the crowd? If Luke points out that Jesus was responding to religious folks who were grumbling about “those sinners”, that’s a huge interpretive hint. Understanding the background makes all the difference.

Paul Sheffield

Absolutely, Kelly. And sometimes, even just pausing and asking, “What would have shocked or surprised the first people hearing this?” can get you closer to the heart of the message. It can move you from being a code-breaker to being a thoughtful listener.

Paul Sheffield

Now, moving over from parables to something a bit more...well, I was about to say less story-like, but honestly, these are real conversations—the New Testament letters, or epistles. They make up twenty-one out of twenty-seven New Testament books. Imagine them like ancient emails, but usually more spiritual and, uh, less spelling mistakes.

Kelly Ann Marino

Ha, definitely. But they totally followed a pattern—greetings, prayers or thanksgiving, then the main message, and they’d wrap up with blessings and personal notes. But there’s something unique here: these letters were “occasional.” They were written to address real situations happening in actual communities, sometimes even individuals, not just abstract theology.

Paul Sheffield

That’s right. And because we’re basically listening in on one half of the conversation, we need to use what’s called “mirror reading”—trying to piece together what’s going on in that church or for that person. For example, in 1 Corinthians, there’s all this talk about eating meat offered to idols. On the face of it, it feels totally distant from what we decide at our local supermarket now, but what’s vital is that Paul is giving principles: think about others’ consciences, don’t lord your freedoms over people, and prioritize community health over personal liberty. Those ethics reach way beyond the marketplace.

Kelly Ann Marino

That’s so good. And the point isn’t to get bogged down in every historical nuance, but to ask, “How do these instructions still matter today?” Oh, and a quick tip—sometimes the little intros or conclusions in these letters have big clues about the main themes. It’s not filler. If Paul skips a “thank you” in Galatians, you know something intense is going on!

Paul Sheffield

And I’d say, if you’re digging in for yourself or with a study group, break the letter apart into its main sections. Look for where the topic shifts, or a new paragraph starts, or even where Paul suddenly starts arguing with an imaginary opponent—those are all signs you’re moving into a new thought. And don’t be afraid to write it out, draw connections, underline the big theological words. Sometimes, you’ll discover how much is packed into just a handful of verses.

Kelly Ann Marino

So, now the big question: How do we take all this—the parables, the letters, everything we just talked about—and actually use it in our lives today? I’m guessing a lot of folks wonder, “What does this mean for me on a Thursday afternoon, right?” First, start with reflection. “What’s the core message here?” And not just what does it say, but, “What does it show me about God?” “How does it comfort or even challenge me?”

Paul Sheffield

I love that, Kelly. And I’d add—bring your community in. We’ve talked before about how faith is never a solo project. Parables get richer when you discuss them with others—someone might spot a detail or ask a question you never thought of. The same goes for the letters: sometimes you need the perspective of folks from different backgrounds and ages.

Kelly Ann Marino

Exactly. Plus, context always matters. What’s going on in your life, or the world around you, that echoes what you’re reading? When you hear the parable of the Good Samaritan, maybe it’s about who on your street—literal or digital!—needs your attention today. When Paul talks about sacrificing personal freedoms for others’ sake, maybe it’s about being mindful of your choices at work, or even just online.

Paul Sheffield

It all comes down to asking good, honest questions. If you’re not sure where to start, try, “Is there a promise to trust here?” or “What fear or resistance does this touch in me?” Praying through those questions can reveal new layers—it’s not about crossing all your T’s, but letting Scripture nudge your heart and mind. And don’t forget to check your interpretations in conversation—just in case you might be, you know, stretching things a bit.

Paul Sheffield

So as we wrap up, I think there’s a real beauty in letting these ancient words shape the decisions and dilemmas you face every day. It starts with context—understanding what’s happening in the text and what’s happening in your own little corner of the world. Sometimes the challenge is in connecting those dots, but it’s worth the effort. Like, when you’re stuck in an ethical gray area—what story or letter from the New Testament speaks into that, even if the original situation was worlds apart?

Kelly Ann Marino

Totally. I find that journaling helps—it slows me down enough to ask, “What’s sticking with me from this passage?” Or maybe try a group conversation, where you all bring one modern-day scenario and explore how a parable or a letter might reframe it. Even asking, “If I lived in the world of this passage, how would I respond?” can open up personal insights you might miss otherwise.

Paul Sheffield

That’s great advice. I’ll even jot down one question to ponder for a week—something simple, like: “What’s the hardest part of Jesus’s teaching for me to live out today?” And Kelly, you’ve always been good at writing thoughtful letters—so even sending one to a friend, with a few lines from a parable, can spark those deeper conversations.

Kelly Ann Marino

Well, thanks, Paul. And thank you all for joining us as we wrestle with these stories and letters. Next time, we’ll dig even deeper into another genre or tackle some more practical tools. In the meantime, keep those questions coming, keep reading, and—most importantly—keep connecting what you read to the life you’re actually living.

Paul Sheffield

Take care, everyone. Kelly, always a pleasure to chat with you.

Kelly Ann Marino

Thanks, Paul. Goodbye, everyone—see you next episode!