THE BIBLE AND STATISTICS
[T]he Bible shows little interest in the quantitative aspects of things. . . .
It is disconcerting to notice how often numbers given in the Bible do not mean just the same as numbers mean for us. It happens quite often that, in parallel accounts, the figures given in one do not agree with those given in the other. . . . Biblical exegetes have a ready answer: they tell us that there were several different sources and editors. But the difficulty remains; for the final editor or whoever gathered the sources, who was no more stupid than we are, must have noticed that the figures were different, and yet he left them. They cannot then have had the same importance or exactly the same meaning for him as for us. In many other passages numbers have a symbolical signification . . . Or again, sometimes numbers are arranged according to a certain idea, to convey some meaning, or even for the sake of symmetry and balance in the context: a good example is the genealogy of Jesus as set out by St Matthew, who groups the generations in three series of fourteen. There is another example in the figures of the members of Jacob's family who came into Egypt, the total of whom has been so arranged as to make seventy, a mystic number.
THE FEW WHO REPRESENT THE WHOLE
The fundamental biblical category is not quantity but rather the idea of representative elements having a universal dynamic value; these features are found in the typically biblical notion of first-fruits. 'Biblical thought is all-embracing, it includes the particular in the whole, whether as seed, root or fruit of a tree' (W. Vischer). We must look at this more closely. First of all, the Bible is not concerned with numbers as such, but with the fact that a number of individuals actualize the characteristics of the real type that governs and precedes them: we have only to consider what the Old Testament says of Edom and Israel respectively. The New Testament is interested in the totalities which are deemed to be present in a representative part of each. . . . St Paul often speaks in this way. He refers to 'the gospel which has been preached to all creation under heaven' (Col. i. 23); the Jerusalem Bible suggests that this is only an hyperbole, but surely there is something else in it as well. Paul also writes 'the gospel which has reached you, which now bears fruit and thrives in you, as it does all the world over' (Col. i. 5-6) . . . These pointers might seem insignificant were it not for the fact that they form part of a whole context, well known to specialists, in which the idea of totality is very strongly marked.
But this totality is considered as represented in a part of itself, which is the bearer, according to God's 'plan', of the destiny of the whole. Such biblical studies as those of Wilhelm Vischer show that this dynamic and continuous plan is characterized by the idea of Pars pro toto, a part for the whole. Mankind is chosen to represent the world, to give God the praise of all creation; Israel is chosen for mankind, to be God's witness and priest amongst men, and at bottom the Jewish people has maintained its consciousness of this vocation and ideal as the indelible mark of its chosenness, even when it has fallen short of its call : 'A minority in the service of a majority." But for us Israel is now the Church, and it is to Christians that we have to apply the idea of being the dynamic representative minority that is spiritually responsible for the final destiny of all.
Even within Israel a part often stood for the whole. When the more fervent Jews were gathered at Jerusalem for the great feasts, it was all Israel that was, mystically, assembled there. When, from the eighth century B. C., the prophets began to foretell the destruction of the Holy City and its Temple, they spoke prophetically of 'the remnant', whose size was of little importance and was not made clear, but which would represent the whole of the new Israel. Finally, the new Israel is represented and has its points of departure, not in a collective remnant, but in one person, the Son of Man, who bears in himself all the Holy People of the Most High. Fundamentally, the Christian doctrine of the Redemption cannot be understood apart from the biblical idea of representative inclusion of which a few examples have just been given. It is indeed constantly 'a part for the whole': God looked at a great multitude and brought them into his design, seeing them in a little group or in a single person who providentially was bearer of the good that was meant for all.
THE SEED OF LIFE
That is why we said above that the ideas of totality and of representative value are joined in the typically biblical notion of first-fruits. The apostolic writings are full of it. According to St James' epistle, Christians, to whom birth is given by the Father through his true word, are the first-fruits of all his creation (i. 18). For St Paul, Christ is the first-fruits of resurrection (1 Cor. xv. 20, 23) ; and Stephanas and his fellows are the first-fruits of Achaia (I Cor. xvi. 15), Epaenetus of Asia (Rom. xvi. 5). Clearly Paul saw in the first of a group or a country an example of the divine pattern according to which that first contains all that is to follow. The idea can be applied to the founder of some group, e.g. of a church or a religious order . . . We are now such rabid individualists that ideas of this sort no longer occur to us; and yet, even humanly speaking, we should not be what we are, or rather, we should not be at all, had there not been a First in whom the future was contained. In one of his sermons, Newman has a fine passage on the bond that unites us with our forerunners, of whom we often know nothing but to whom we nevertheless owe things that are very dear and precious to us.* Who built the house in which we were born and grew up? Who began the society in which we have found opportunity and happiness, human or specifically Christian? In biblical language all these things would be 'first-fruits'; but here we have to go beyond the purely human point of view.
We all know that for Christians, there is a real history of salvation: that is, a chain of events and divine dealings in accordance with a design seen by God in its wholeness from all eternity, but which is unfolded bit by bit during the course of time. To the eyes of God, its continuation was in its beginning, he saw the whole in the first-fruits. For God, Abraham, alone in a world that was already populous, was already the people that would make up the company of believers; the promises and blessings given to the patriarch were given for this people. Thus Abraham in his solitude was as it were a seed that was able to fertilize the field of the world, a kind of sacrament of universal faith and salvation.
And do we not see there a sort of general law, a 'constant' of all creation? With deep penetration did Gustave Thibon write that 'Any order that transcends another can insert itself into that other only under a form that is infinitely small'; he gives as examples the insertion of life into the inorganic world and of the power of thought into simply biological life; to which may be added, of the Church's supernatural life into the world of conscious life. And indeed, what is life, quantitatively considered, in face of the enormous mass of lifeless matter? It is so small in relation to the mass as to be hardly perceptible, and yet it is the promise and the riches and the future.
The same can be said of conscious life in relation to life in general. Pascal's reed is a well-known symbol,† but it does not speak so persuasively as figures, and here are the figures: It has been calculated that if the whole population of the world were put into the Lake of Geneva, which is not all that large, the level of the water would rise by only 11¼ inches. That is a matter of bodies. But consciousness has neither density nor volume nor weight, and yet it is the greatest thing in the world. And then what shall we say of grace, of which the Church is as it were the shrine? Here we may recall that fine piece, No 792, of Pascal's Pensees, on the three orders: the bodily order, the order of mind, and the order of charity or holiness.
The infinite distance between body and mind is a figure of the infinitely more infinite distance between mind and charity—for charity is supernatural.
The glory of greatness shines in vain for people who are in search of understanding.
Kings, the rich, public leaders, none of the great ones of the world see the glory of men of intellect.
The greatness of wisdom, which is nothing if not of God, is invisible to worldlings and intellectuals. These are three orders that differ in kind.
Great geniuses have their power, their glory, their greatness, their triumphs, their lustre, and have no need of worldly greatness, it is no concern of theirs. They are seen by the mind, not with the eyes; and that is enough.
The saints have their power, their glory, their triumphs, their lustre, and have no need of wordly [sic] or intellectual greatness, with which they have no concern, for these neither add to nor take away anything from them. They are seen by God and the angels, not by the body or by inquisitive minds; God is enough for them.
Archimedes would be equally revered whatever his place in the world. He fought no eye-filling battles, but he gave his discoveries to every man's mind. How glorious he was to the mind!
Jesus Christ, without wordly [sic] goods and without any outward show of learning, belongs to his own order of holiness. He did not invent anything, he did not govern; but he was humble, patient, holy, holy to God, terrifying to evil spirits, without sin. With how much state, with what unutterable splendour, he comes to the eyes of the heart that perceives wisdom!
It would have been useless for Archimedes to play the prince in his geometry books, though he was a prince.
It would have been useless for our Lord Jesus Christ to come like a king to dazzle us in his kingdom of holiness; he came indeed with the glory of his own order !
.. All bodies together, and all minds together, and all their works, cannot equal the least movement of charity—that is of an infinitely higher order.
* Parochial Sermons, vol. iii (London, 1836), Sermon 17.
† 'Man is only a reed, the weakest thing in nature; but he is a thinking reed' (Penses, vi, 347).
Yves Congar, The Wide World My Parish: Salvation and its Problems (1962) p. 9-16