Contextual Approaches in Biblical Exegesis—An Exploration and Exemplification

Abstract

The article is focused on the recent exegetical trend of “contextual” readings of the Bible, or context-sensitive exegesis in global Biblical scholarship. It is written by three authors from different ethnic and cultural contexts (German, Korean, Ethiopian) in order to emphasize the diversity to be considered. In the first part, the aims, history and relevant factors of contextual reading are described. The second part makes clear that also the traditional historical-critical exegesis is strongly contextual, drawing on Enlightenment thought and Western views of life. Therefore, any claims of “objectivity” or universality are problematic. In the third and fourth section of the article, two different contexts from global Christianity or the Majority World are introduced. first the African, especially Ethiopian context under the label of “vulnerability”, and then an Asian, precisely South Korean context with regard to the understanding of spirits and demons. The Ethiopian author describes how vulnerability has generally shaped the African cultural experience and specifically common language in Ethiopia, including religious attitudes which are characterized by a general openness for the divine. She also shows, that in such a culture, with the danger of naivete and acceptance of many problematic interpretations critical discernment is needed, as has already been stated by an Ethiopian philosopher of the 17th century. The part on Korean interpretation discusses the various views on spirits and demons in Korean Bible translations and the influence of Confucian thought and Shamanism on readings of the Bible. Using the example of the Gerasene demoniac, the author shows readers aware of shamanic ritual including pigs and intended to pacify the restless souls can impact the reading of this particular Biblical text even among modern Koreans. A brief concluding section draws some conclusions. Both examples demonstrate the diversity of contexts and their resonances with the Biblical texts when they are read in these different contexts. It is also obvious that there is not a single clear-cut dualism between Western and “postcolonial” readings. Neither the historical readings nor the contextual are “right” as such. Rather, there should be an open dialogue, on equal footing, that considers the context and also allows for critical interaction in order to prevent abuse of biblical texts, not only in colonial relations, but also within a given context by traditionalists, political powers, and spiritual authorities, so that the liberating power of the gospel can come into effect, for the benefit its readers.

1. Introduction

“Contextual exegesis” of the Bible is an ambiguous term. While this label is often understood as reading a text within its original textual, historical, or cultural context1—thus stating the obvious in modern critical Bible studies—more recent approaches inspired by ecumenical and postcolonial hermeneutics use the term “contextual interpretation” to refer to sensitivity to the contexts of readers or interpreters as well as to the interplay between their spiritual, ethnic, and social contexts and their respective readings. The Amsterdam research group “Contextual Biblical Interpretation and Theologies”2 specifically aims to bring together readers of the Bible “from different contexts”,3 bridging the gaps between “various communities of interpretation” and also between “professional and intuitive approaches.” It also aims to integrate “the perspective of ‘majority’ (or ‘ordinary’) readers” and to develop “insight into the contextual ‘lived hermeneutics’ of communities of readers.” The question is which contexts can lead to what kind of interpretation, and also which interpretations are made possible or impossible by certain contexts.

Clearly, such questions are suitable not only for describing and evaluating present-day interpretations from various ethnic, social, and spiritual contexts, but also for analyzing readings from the past. The fundamental insight, however, is that all readings, including our own interpretations, are culturally influenced to varying degrees. This observation does not invalidate these interpretations. Rather, it necessitates that every interpreter—especially the most sophisticated scholars—possess a self-critical awareness of the cultural preconditions and limitations of their perceptions and judgments. They must also be willing to acknowledge their culturally conditioned blind spots and engage in open dialogue with differing views.

While not connected with the research group quoted above, this article aims to provide a methodologically oriented and exemplary presentation and discussion of “contextual approaches” in New Testament exegesis, in line with some of the objectives mentioned. Jointly written by three scholars from different cultural contexts, Europe, Africa, and Asia, it discusses how their interpretations are inspired from their cultural and religious contexts and how the dialogue on these perspectives can contribute to a broader discourse on biblical texts and their interpretation within global Christianity.

1.1. Historical Aspects

The rise of cultural awareness in Biblical studies is the result of the significant broadening of critical biblical scholarship since World-War II. This expansion can be seen in various dimensions:

(a)

The shift from a primarily Protestant enterprise to interdenominational and interreligious discourse;

(b)

The transition from the dominance of Central European, primarily German scholarship to English as the new international scholarly language and the predominance of Anglo-American perspectives, and;

(c)

The evolution from the dominant European and North American perspectives to the growing inclusion of perspectives from the Global South or Majority Christianity.

This last development is going on at present, although the participation of scholars from the Global South is still hindered by economic inequality, travel restrictions, and language barriers. However, in light of the growth of Christianity around the world, it is becoming more urgent to move beyond the traditional Eurocentric or America-centric focus and include a wide variety of perspectives from different ethnic, cultural, ecclesial, and spiritual contexts. There is not a one-way road from Western scholarship to ‘underdeveloped’ countries. Instead, a mutual exchange is necessary through which social and religious experiences from various regions of the world can inspire an understanding of the biblical texts and their cultural implications, as well as an understanding of the practice of reading and its social and religious implications. Such kind of awareness is still underdeveloped in Western exegesis.

We cannot present a history of contextual approaches here. However, several factors deserve mention.

(a)

The ecumenical turn in biblical studies after the Second Vatican Council, when the Roman Catholic Church began to embrace critical biblical studies, led to the mutual recognition of the influence of different denominational perspectives on exegetical views, and to a hermeneutical awareness of the relevance of the respective denominational traditions and the spiritual contexts of interpretation.4

(b)

Liberation theology of the 1970s and 1980s, primarily within the context of Roman Catholicism, began to include and reflect Bible readings by marginalized Latin American peasants.5 Attention was drawn not only to the social conditions of the biblical authors and figures, but also to the social context of the readers which was considered a hermeneutical tool to make the reading meaningful and to uncover the liberating power of Biblical texts. Developing a ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’, liberation theologians contended that there is no ‘neutral’ reading, but everything involving ideas, including theology, is closely linked with the respective social situation, at least in an unconscious manner. An important development toward contextual theologies, directly drawing on liberation theology but also on the North American theologian Paul Tillich, was James Cone’s North American Black Theology (Cone 1969, 1984).

(c)

In close connection to liberation theological approaches, feminist approaches aimed at uncovering the hidden reality of women in or behind the texts, in order to challenge the social reality and ecclesial status of women. Critical potentials of certain Biblical traditions were elaborated, and the antifeminist tendencies of many texts as well of traditional readings in the church and majority exegesis, including the androcentrism of scholarship were criticized.6 Again, the context and perspective of reading appeared to be relevant, while false claims of ‘neutrality’ had to be rejected.

(d)

In the line of liberationist and feminist approaches but also drawing on postcolonial theory, other authors more strongly turned against traditional Eurocentrism and Western exegesis.7 Exegetically, the focus is now on the critical analysis of biblical narratives of power and domination, or strategies of othering in the texts, but also on a perspective of reading from the margins, taking into consideration the concrete situation of readers that has been ignored by traditional exegesis. While postcolonial studies within the Western, especially North American context led to a rise of “anti-imperial” readings reading Roman imperialism through the lens of modern colonialism or American imperialism, other voices, more from the Global South focus on new perceptions of the concrete cultural contexts8 and the hermeneutics of interculturality (cf. Loba-Mkole 2022) in Biblical and Theological studies. In their criticism of problematic texts, translations, and reading structures, postcolonial critics also aim at theologically and politically overcoming repressive structures and uncovering new, relevant, and liberating readings in sensitivity for the respective reading contexts.

1.2. Aspects of Method and Guiding Questions

Of course, there are many ways of doing contextual or context sensitive reading and interpretation, and the challenges are manifold and diverse, given the different contexts. What we can give here is only a brief and incomplete list of questions to be considered regarding the contexts of the readers or interpreters. Several factors that shape their identity, reading, and agency can be mentioned:

(a)

The ethnic or cultural context of the interpreters and the readers or their community: How does their identity or cultural experience (socially or individually) impact the reading and understanding of texts?

(b)

The social context of the interpreters and readers or their community. How do the political, economic, and historical circumstances impact the perception of texts?

(c)

The ecclesial or spiritual context of the interpreters and their community? How do spiritual traditions and experiences impact the reading of texts? Are there authority structures or dogmatic, social, or psychological constraints that limit the freedom of perception and expression?

(d)

The institutional context of the reading processes or the interpreters. Is it scholarly debate, at a public university, or in a denominational seminar, is it a discourse, teaching or preaching in a particular ecclesial context. How does this context impact the reading and its results, how does it stabilize authority structures or even prevent critical questions or provide constraints, e.g., against some kind of criticism?

Such sensitivity for reading contexts is also a step of developing similar sensitivity for the contexts of the writers of the texts and/or the figures within the textual narratives. This is, of course, an important part of any historical or philological interpretation. But in contrast with former claims of objectivity, more recent interpretations have shown that context sensitivity can also open the eyes and widen the hermeneutical awareness for aspects of the texts that were often ignored otherwise. In an ideal interpretation process, the two levels of the readers and of the text come to a fruitful encounter, into a dialogue on equal footing, and thus produce new insights and possibly also new freedom and agency. But what is important is the dialogue: Neither the unquestioned authority of the texts nor the uncritical adoption of the cultural experiences of readers should dominate the reading in a one-sided manner. Practiced in a cautious, non-ideological manner, gender-sensitive, liberationist or postcolonial approaches can be an eye-opener for new perceptions of the cultural, social, or gender reality within or behind Biblical texts and for the influence of the readers’ context on their respective reading.

2. The Often-Ignored Contextuality of Historical Critical Exegesis

Before we can shed light on this from two exemplary perspectives from Global Christianity, we should be aware that the ‘classical’ Western paradigm of historical exegesis is also a contextually determined reading. Therefore, any claims of universality or ‘objectivity’ of exegetical methods are questionable.

The emergence of the historical and critical reading of the Bible in the 18th and 19th centuries was strongly shaped by the intellectual context of its promoters (Kümmel 1970; Baird 1992): the Reformers’ focus on the Bible vs. tradition, the scientific understanding of nature (e.g., by Isaac Newton), as a machine able to be understood by humans (Baird 1992, pp. 3–5) and, in particular, the ideas of European Enlightenment with its opposition to clericalism and dogmatism. These ideas were embraced by Protestant theologians who were part of a social elite: male, highly educated and—with few exceptions—in a safe position as clergymen, public servants, or university professors. Enlightenment thought claimed universal validity, therefore religious ideas could be considered valid only if they were universal and in accord with reason.

The program of “freely” investigating the canonical Scriptures (Semler 1771–1775) was meant to check their claims of (historical) truthfulness. The search for historical contexts of the biblical ideas was intended to arrive at a better understanding of their origins and developments, but in the History-of-Religions school around 1900, the identification of foreign or ‘syncretistic’ elements in the New Testament was also used as a tool for discerning between core and shell and reconstructing a ‘pure’ form of faith, void of mysterious or irrational elements (Lehmkühler 1996). Rudolf Bultmann’s call for the demythologization of New Testament texts was intended to spare ‘modern’, enlightened Central Europeans the imposition of miraculous narratives or apocalyptic expectations. The “introspective conscience of the West” (Stendahl 1963), that is, the individualistic view of the relationship between God and the soul or the human being, has shaped the tradition of Pauline interpretation in which faith and salvation were understood as internal phenomena, located in the human’s self-understanding, rather than in social practice. All these theological concerns of primarily German, Protestant, exegesis are closely embedded in the tradition of the Enlightenment.

The more strictly methodological tools of historical-critical exegesis are also contextually determined. This can be seen in the fact that the focus is primarily on the origin of the texts, their making, rather than their meaning, further in the analytical practice of decomposition into small units or sources rather than the perception of overarching narratives and their social function. Most significant is the claim that an appropriate interpretation of the texts is independent of the religious, social and economic situation of the interpreters. It is precisely the attempt to deny the reference to one’s own context that demonstrates the contextuality of the traditions of historical-critical exegesis.

Of course, what has been described here as an ideal type has already been modified considerably in recent methodological classroom books (Finnern et al. 2025; Nägele 2022) as well as in the practice of interpretation. Nevertheless, the general profile of this approach is clear.

Despite their undisputed value in approaching the meaning of texts in context and addressing the misconception and abuse of biblical texts by religious or political authorities (Frey, 2026), historical methods are limited or even misleading in their failure to consider the context of readers. In fact, context independence does not exist. At best, we can facilitate an open dialogue among readers with different knowledge and cultural backgrounds. Exegetical methods can enable such a dialogue by tying it back to the texts’ data. Thus, the aim of context-sensitive interpretation should be to recognize various influences and bring different understandings of the text into conversation.

In what follows, the impact of different contexts within Global Christianity will be illustrated from two perspectives, one African, specifically Ethiopian, and one Asian, specifically South Korean.

3. Vulnerability as a Unifying Interpretive Context in Africa

One of us recently had the opportunity to attend a presentation delivered from an “African perspective” at the Society of Biblical Literature. As an African herself, she found the experience disorienting, prompting reflective questions such as: Why does this presentation not resonate with the context I regard as “African”? Am I not “African”? What is “African,”? To avoid making the same mistake in this contribution, it is necessary to begin by clearly stating that the term “African” is too broad a category to accommodate the diverse and sometimes conflicting cultures of the continent. Nevertheless, this does not imply the absence of unifying themes in Africa. Instead, it shows the importance of acknowledging the multifaceted nature of the African continent with diversity and interconnectedness. Therefore, it is imperative to nuance what is being referred to when the term “African” is employed in biblical interpretation.

In this section, the term “African” is used to refer to a specific interconnective context that resonates with the general African population: vulnerability. In fact, the notion of vulnerability is one with which all human beings across the globe can equally identify. However, it is particularly salient in contexts characterized by structural, economic, social and political limitations for long time—a context like Africa. Hence, we will assess how such a context has shaped interpretation by particularly discussing the rhetorical imagination of the Ethiopian oral literature. This is done in order to (1) highlight the contribution of contextual interpretation to the broader discourse of biblical interpretation while at the same time (2) reflecting on its weak points.

3.1. Vulnerability as Embedded in Ethiopian Rhetoric

Africa is the second most populous continent, yet it is also the least developed (Bhattacharya et al. 2021, pp. 469–70). The prevalence of vulnerability in Africa is attributable to a multitude of factors, including but not limited to: poverty, famine, conflict, inequality, instability, war, violence, environmental issues, colonialism, and corruption (Schneider et al. 2007; Collier and Gunning 1999). Such a context cannot be bracketed out of interpretation since its limitation is existential. Rather, it has provided an open space where people resort to religious comfort amidst distressful existential challenges and life adversities. It has created a subconscious dependency on external powerful figures (such as: God, or Satan) since lived experiences are recognized and interpreted through the mediation of these figures and their interference in human affairs. Ola Sigurdson posits that one of the ways in which suffering or vulnerability is given and studied as “a particular mode of being in the world” is as “historical and linguistic phenomena” (Sigurdson 2019, p. 87). Hence, in this section, we will analyze how vulnerability has shaped interpretation by way of studying the rhetorical imagination of Ethiopian oral tradition.

However, before delving into this tradition, a brief note on the history of Christianity, biblical translation and interpretation of Ethiopia is necessary. The history of Christianity in Ethiopia goes back to the fourth century CE resulting in the conversion of king Ezana (Mennasemay 2021, p. 8). Its introduction and the heritage it has kept to this day go far beyond the “Western expansionism” of the 20th century (Holter and Jonker 2010, p. 86). This long tradition as preserved in the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahido Church (EOTC afterwards) is embedded in the social, cultural, artistic, linguistic, philosophical, and even in the political sphere of the country.9

The EOTC has a “‘manuscript culture’—writing, copying, interpreting, and translating” to classical Ethiopic/Gə’əz (EOTC’s liturgical language)—since arguably the 6th Century that helped Ethiopians to preserve their own interpretive traditions (Mennasemay 2021, p. 8). For example, the andəmta interpretive tradition offers not only a translation from the Gə’əz to Amharic language but also presents multiple and sometimes alternating interpretations of a text in dialogue with context. It uses typology, stories, examples and explanations to contextually understand the text. Textual variants are also considered (Lee 2018, pp. 268–69; Alehegne 2012, pp. 11–121; Belay 2022, pp. 41–49; Mennasemay 2014, p. 8). In accordance with maintaining alternative interpretations together, Maimire Mennasemay’s book, Qiné Hermeneutics and Ethiopian Critical Theory, presents how the Qiné tradition (a type of poetic expression) has kept alternating views intact. He says, “for qiné hermeneutics, knowledge and reality are always ‘incomplete,’ and misunderstanding is inherent to all understanding. Therefore, there is no end to zäräfa (to new interpretation) for no zäräfa could grasp all the polysemy of practices and discourses” (Mennasemay 2021, p. 41).

Different and sometimes conflicting interpretations are embraced not only in biblical interpretations but also in the everyday language of Ethiopians. The vulnerable context has helped people to navigate through complex lived experiences without dichotomizing the spiritual from the physical, the secular from the religious. Not knowing fully, not having enough resources, living under constant vulnerability, limitation, and uncertainty, is leveraged for cultivating dependency on the divine. Rescue, salvation, healing, miracles, etc., are sought and attributed to divine figures. The socio-religious fabric richly accommodates the active participation of the divine in the worldly. Growing out of such holism, the 17th century Ethiopian thinker, Za’ra Ya’aqob confesses the discrepancy he faced when he was studying biblical interpretation (Sumner 1976, 1986):

After this I left for another school to study the interpretation of the Holy Scriptures. I remained ten years in this type of study; I learned the interpretations both of the Frang [foreigners] and of our own scholars. Oftentimes their interpretations did not agree with my reason [better, conscience]; but I withheld my opinion and hid in my heart all the thoughts of my mind.

To this day, Ethiopians have maintained the active interference of divine beings in their lived experience. The challenge of applying Western interpretations to such holistic context is evident, as evidenced by the confession of Za’ra Ya’aqob. The Ethiopian mind, and by extension, the African mind, is not burdened by the need to prove the existence of God, angels, demons or the legitimacy of the Bible (An 2016, pp. 30–31; Mburu 2019, p. 34). Thus, rather than investing much time on historical investigations (such as form, source, redaction criticism, etc.), the interpretive horizon focuses on the contemporary implications of the text within the readers’ present context.

This interpretive context is preserved not only in EOTC’s written commentaries but also in the society’s oral rhetorical tradition. The interplay between vulnerable life circumstances and the holistic space that accommodates the divine in human affairs is reflected in everyday Ethiopian rhetoric. A recurrent theme is the language of dependency on God taken as an antidote to daily uncertainty. The popular expression “God knows—egziabher yawkal” often captures reflections on both the immediate and distant future, expressing humanity’s incomplete knowledge, acceptance of uncertainty, and trust in God’s omniscience.

Another popular expression that is characterized by gratitude towards God is identified in greetings. For the inquiry, “how are you?” The response is invariably “praise God—egziabher yimesgen”—even while the person is ill, the response remains the same, egziabher yimesgen. Related answers might be “in/according to his wisdom—be kinetibebu”, “according to his kindness—ende cherinetu”—the point being made is that one’s existence is predicated on the wisdom or kindness of God. Another common way of greeting a guest upon their arrival at one’s residence is to say “nor(in)—we are living or alive” and the person being greeted invariably responds “beegziar—because of God”. Taken together the point is “we are alive, the guest has found us at home and alive, because of God”. It is important to notice that this is merely a greeting in everyday language, not a religious confession.

Similar language of dependency is evidenced by the utterance of “bekegn awlegn—lead me in the right” when beginning a day or when confronted with difficulty in the beginning of the day. Here the point is embedded in the biblical thought that the days are evil (Eph. 5:16) which simply finds corroboration in the context of active vulnerability. Hence, people prayerfully utter so that God would choose the best route to their daily walk. The potential of evil, uncertain harm, uncontrolled future, basic vulnerability is met with supplication for divine guidance on the right, on the good path.

There is also strong link between divine and human agency in the Ethiopian oral tradition. Motives, actions, intentions are shaped by forces outside the acting agent, by God or Satan, making the person not autonomous. The self exists negotiating with or against other agencies, it is always in relation. To offer a few examples: if a person is in a terrible condition, people say, ‘ferdobet/ferdobat’ which literally means ‘s/he has been judged to receive this as her/his fate’. It is usually said with sympathy, as people relate to the person and show kindness, recognizing they are facing something beyond their control.

There is also another saying ‘tilobet/tilobat’, the wooden translation means when someone drops something on a person. This is usually used to denote that one’s feelings or actions are beside one’s control. It is commonly applied to someone who is in love with a person who does not return or deserve that love. In such cases, people say ‘tilobet he loves her’—not by choice, but because he is compelled to. The term can also describe someone facing hardship, as if adversity just “fell” on them. People often empathize, thinking, “I might have done the same in that situation.” After expressing sympathy, it is common to say, ‘aytalibih/ayitalibish’ meaning let it not be dropped on you. This phrase reflects a worldview in which the individual is not the sole actor in their life; rather, actions and experiences unfold in concert with an external agent who, so to say, drops things or situations onto people. This agent is often understood as divine or superhuman—sometimes God, sometimes Satan—depending on the speaker’s perspective and the context of speech.

Thus, people do not directly associate actions and their consequent results only to the acting subject acknowledging the influence of other forces. In these scenarios, it is quite interesting to notice how people identify with each other when other beings come into play. Moreover, the presence of another agents in their lives never robs them of their agency as they bear responsibility for their actions. The rhetorical imagination allows the human agent to be a liable agent even while other agents are in view. One could relate such tradition with the influence of the Enochic tradition in Ethiopian Christianity where sin is not only attributed to man but to demonic figures as well.10

The examples we have seen, though not exhaustive, illustrate how Ethiopian rhetorical imagination not only welcomes the divine into the human world but reckons ultimate power to God—both in present life crises and in the future. This includes tangible needs such as food, clothing, health, shelter, and protection, as well as salvation from external forces like sin and death. It creates a holistic pattern of dependency on God for every aspect of life.

In conclusion, we can say that a context of vulnerability functions as a grid in creating openness to external powerful agents. In times of uncertainty, scarcity and limitedness, it is inevitable to look for help from the external. The vulnerable condition in Africa, based on our analysis of the Ethiopian oral tradition, is characterized by an attitude of openness for the divine in the human realm, to judge and rescue, to show mercy and punish, to save or kill resulting in successful missionary work, new converts, and the growth of Christianity in Africa (Wild-Wood 2018, pp. xxv–xxvi). The advantage of such openness considers the reader’s context as active participant in interpretation.

3.2. Interpreting in the Ethiopian Context

The context of vulnerability is not bracketed out of interpretation, instead it is leveraged as a path for seeking and finding faith. This openness has allowed acknowledgment of the divine in the human world. Hence, there is no need to mythologize exorcism or miracle stories as the active presence of evil spirits, angels, or God in human affairs is unquestionably accepted in African context. Africa is not only aware but fully embraces its context in interpretation. This in turn allows vulnerability to be acknowledged and accepted even in the interpretation itself reflected in acknowledging misunderstandings, open gaps, in the acceptance of incomplete knowledge, etc.

Nonetheless, the vulnerability observed in the context and interpretations, despite its inevitable existence, necessitates meticulous handling. This is due to the potential for naivete or erroneous interpretations, which can be minimized. Za’ra Ya’aqob, the same philosopher who noticed discrepancy between his own interpretation and that of the West, criticizes the Ethiopian society for its naivety, for believing what is told to them at face value, and for receiving the Bible and its different interpretations without a critical reflection. He says (Sumner 1976, p. 235):

Hence people hastily accept what they have heard from their fathers and shy from any [critical] examination. […] To those people who do not want to search, this action seems to be true, and they believe in the liar’s strong faith. I ask [you,] in how may falsehoods do our people believe in? They believe wholeheartedly in astrology and other calculations, in the mumbling of secret words, in omens, in the conjuration of devils, and in all kinds of magical art and in the utterances of soothsayers. They believe in all these because they did not investigate the truth but listened to their predecessors.

We can see that Za’ra Ya’aqob (born in 1599) has recognized the openness of the Ethiopian society in having faith in different spiritual phenomena. He openly reflects on how such openness has fostered believe in “falsehoods,” which he lists as “astrology and other calculations, in the mumbling of secret words, in omens, in the conjuration of devils, and in all kinds of magical art and in the utterances of soothsayers.” Even today, beliefs in spirit possession, the evil eye, and various forms of sorcery continue to hold sway in Ethiopia—much as they do across many African contexts. Yet this very openness provides a helpful lens for understanding for example: the Gospels, where Jesus is often shown confronting and casting out demons in contexts where illness, madness, or social alienation were attributed to spiritual forces. Such accounts resonate strongly with African contexts, where the unseen realm is intertwined with everyday life. Just as the Gospels portray Jesus bringing deliverance from evil spirits, many African communities today interpret his authority in similar terms: as a liberating power that overcomes spirit possession and breaks the lingering hold of evil.11

Thus, acknowledging the openness of the society, Za’ra Ya’aqob criticizes the custom of naïve acceptance to be replaced with searching, examining and being critical to the traditions received and the interpretations offered in light of conscience. Critical thinking, therefore, must be meticulously nurtured especially in contexts where existential concerns often outweigh historical investigation. Openness to accept can indeed enrich spirituality, but it can also foster misinterpretations. Critics of contextual readings frequently warn against the dangers of overemphasizing context or deploying it to advance personal or political agendas. For instance, within the EOTC tradition, biblical figures are sometimes too closely identified with Ethiopian identity, such as the claim that Melchizedek was an Ethiopian king or that the wise men in Gospel traditions were Ethiopians (Belay 2022, p. 55). Such examples show how contextual reading, if not undertaken with care, can lead to speculative interpretations. Thus, the merits of contextual reading must be contemplated in conjunction with these kinds of misunderstandings or lacunae.

It is with this tension in mind—that contextual readings can both illuminate and misdirect—that we now turn to the next section, where the Gerasene pericope is examined through the lens of Korean tradition.

4. A Korean Contextual Reading of the Gerasene Pericope: Gwishin in Translation and the Shamanistic Ritual of Gunung-geori

In the late 19th century, the earliest Korean translators of the Bible rendered the Greek terms δαιμόνιον, δαίμων, and πνεῦμα ἀκάθαρτον as “귀신 gwishin,” a Korean term which is a compound of two Chinese characters: 鬼 (gwi, “ghost”) and 神 (shin, “spirit” or “deity”). In a broader sense, it denotes “an entity believed to have superhuman and supernatural powers” (G. Hong 2003, p. 171). The two characters combined in the word carry contrasting meanings. The term gwi designates the soul of a deceased individual separated from the body, which Korean tradition often associates with malevolent behavior, while shin denotes a righteous and benevolent deity, thus, gwishin could mean a supernatural being that is at times evil and at other times good. However, in the evolution of Korean language usage, increasing emphasis has been placed on the gwi rather than on shin. Thus, the term gwishin has been generally understood in the narrower sense of gwi, a ghost or malevolent spirit (Cho 2003, p. 36). In other words, the term no longer refers primarily to benevolent spirits, but rather to supernatural entities with personal, often malicious intent. Since the 19th century, virtually all Korean Bible translations have consistently rendered δαιμόνιον, δαίμων, and πνεῦμα ἀκάθαρτον as gwishin.12

Luke 8:27 was rendered in the earliest Korean Bibles as follows.13

“As he came ashore, a man from the town came out to meet him. He had been possessed by a gwishin so he wore no clothes, did not live in a house, but dwelled among the tombs.”

Yesu Seonggyo Nuka Bogum Cheonseo, 1882

“When he went to ashore, there was someone who came out from the town, one man met him, who was had been for a long time, possessed by many gwishindle and did not wear clothes and did not live in a house, but lived among the tombs.”

Shinyak Seongseo Nogajeon, 1884

“When Jesus stepped ashore, a man who was possessed by evil gwishin and had been living in the town met him. He had not worn clothes for a long time, nor lived in a house, but had lived among the tombs.”

Sinyak Cheonseo, 1904

In the 1904 translation, the translators continued to use gwishin but added a modifying adjective with the meaning of “evil” to emphasize the malevolent nature of the demons in this pericope, even though the term gwishin already inherently conveys the meaning of “malevolent ghost.” This constitutes a form of semantic duplication, or redundancy.

The Korean term gwishin does not precisely correspond to the understanding of δαιμόνιον held by authors of the New Testament. While the term gwishin signifies spirits of the dead or restless spirits bearing resentment or unresolved grievances, the New Testament usage of δαιμόνιον has no connection to the souls of the dead (Förster 1964, pp. 1–18). However, the translation of δαιμόνιον as gwishin was nevertheless the most appropriate choice for Koreans at the end of the Joseon dynasty (1392–1910) to understand Jesus’s ministry and exorcisms. Since the majority of the population at the time was deeply immersed in shamanistic beliefs and interpreted virtually all events in the world as the workings of gwishin, they could not help but find the stories of Jesus’s exorcism deeply compelling and intimately connected to their lives.

Historically, there have been scholarly discussions regarding the existence of gwishin in Korea, and the majority of them regarded such spiritual beings as non-existent. The Joseon dynasty adopted Confucianism as its national religion, in particular, Neo-Confucianism as developed by Zhu Xi among the various branches of Confucian thought. Zhu Xi explained the world through the concepts of li (理) and qi (氣) to elucidate the organizing principles of the universe and the moral nature of humanity. While li refers the universal, metaphysical principle and essential law underlying all things, qi means the material, physical component that constitutes this phenomenal world. Zhu Xi argued that gwishin is manifestation of qi not an entity that transcends nature nor human soul after death, but rather beings inherent within the natural order of this world.

Confucian scholars in the Joseon dynasty have long discussed this issue. Gyeongdeok Seo (1489–1546) largely accepted Zhu Xi’s theory, but argued that “the subtle and bright qi constituting soul’s perception ultimately does not disperse but returns to the Great Void.” (Han 2009, p. 531). Hwang Lee (1502–1571) criticized Seo’s claim as tantamount to affirming the actual existence of gwishin, but he also acknowledged that human souls might exist temporarily after death due to the gradual dispersal of qi. Nevertheless, Lee denied the possibilities of immortal soul or reincarnation of Buddhism (Kim 2007, pp. 188–89). By contrast, scholars such as Mok Heo (1595–1682), and Hyu Yun (1617–1680) affirmed the existence of gwishin permeating nature, based on the teachings of ancient Confucian classics regarding ancestral rituals. For them, the balance of the cosmic principles demonstrates the presence of divine beings. (Kim 2007, p. 196). However, even their arguments approached a pantheistic understanding and did not represent belief in gwishin as tangible, material existences.

In contrast to the small intellectual elites of Confucian scholars, the majority of the common people in the Joseon dynasty firmly believed in the real existence of gwishin, and regarded them as objects to be revered and worshipped (Jin 2022, p. 206). This aspect becomes particularly evident in the records of missionaries who came to the Korean peninsula in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Many foreign observers wrote that the most decisive element in Koreans’ religious mentality was mu-sok (shamanistic beliefs), exemplified by the worship of gwishin (Yoon 2017, p. 87). They witnessed that most Koreans lived in fear of various gwishin that were omnipresent everywhere. Korean people attributed nearly all misfortunes such as illness, death, fire, and even the determination of auspicious and inauspicious days to the interventions of the ghosts (Yoon 2017, p. 108).

In particular, the belief that illness was intimately connected to gwishin was dominant among Korean people. The records from Mattie Barbara Ingold, who conducted both medical and missionary activities in the southwestern regions of the Korean peninsula, vividly illustrate this phenomenon. According to her diary entry from 14 November 1899, Koreans were reluctant to speak about their symptoms and illnesses during medical examinations. The reason was their belief that speaking about diseases would cause gwishin to hear and become greatly angered, thereby worsening the condition (Song 2021, p. 192). Disease treatment also relied primarily on shamanistic practices rather than medicine. Shamans were responsible not only for warding off diseases but also for healing them.

Interpreting the Gerasene Story in the Korean Context

Within this cultural context, the exorcism narratives that appear multiple times in the Synoptic Gospels would have sounded not only very familiar but also fascinating to Korean people of the Joseon Dynasty. In A History of the Church in Korea, missionary Allen D. Clark recounts an episode in which a Korean man came to him and showed interest in the Gospels, saying that he had heard stories about a person named Jesus who had the power to expel gwishin.14 Other missionaries also reported accounts of Koreans who came to churches to seek healing from diseases and to drive out demons. According to these accounts, “even those who were not Christians knew that Jesus cast osut evil ghosts.”15

The Gerasene demoniac pericope, in particular, would have been a very familiar story to Koreans from a shamanistic perspective. While a number of New Testament scholars interpret this narrative as an allusion to the Roman Empire’s military dominance and colonial rule (Burdon 2004, pp. 157–60; Garroway 2009, pp. 60–68; Klinghardt 2007, pp. 28–48), they offer little explanation for certain peculiar elements in the story, such as why the demons enter a herd of pigs after being cast out, or why the demon-possessed pigs jumped into the water and committed collective suicide.16 Some have proposed that these elements evoke the motif of the Red Sea in the book of Exodus (Burdon 2004, pp. 248–49). Others suggest that the narrative reflects scapegoat traditions in the Second Temple Judaism, comparing pigs to the goat for Azazel that sent into the wildness for atonement (Moscicke 2019, pp. 363–83). While these arguments may carry a degree of plausibility, they often leave unanswered questions. Why the chosen animal is specifically a pig? Why and how demons become active agents in reenacting Exodus or Azazel motifs.

Examining this narrative from the perspective of Korean shamanistic belief opens up a new interpretive possibility. The events in the Gerasene demoniac pericope bear striking resemblance to the ritual practices (gut) performed by shamans when exorcising gwishin. To explore the parallel more closely, let us turn to the text of the Sinyak Jeonseo (1904), one of the earliest Korean translations of the New Testament.

When Jesus stepped ashore, a man who was possessed by gwishin and had been living in the town met him. He had not worn clothes for a long time, nor lived in a house, but had lived among the tombs. Seeing Jesus, he cried out and fell down before Him with a loud voice, saying, “Jesus, the Son of the Most High God, what have I to do with you? I beg you, do not torment me.” For Jesus had commanded the evil demons to come out of the man. Since the evil demons seized him, though he was bound with chains and shackles and kept under guard, he would break the bonds and be driven by the evil demons into the wilderness. Jesus asked him “What is your name” and he said, “the military camp,” for many evil demons had entered him. And they begged Him not to commend them to go into the bottomless pit. Now a large herd of pigs was feeding on the hillside, and they pleaded with Him to let them enter those pigs. Thus, He gave them permission. Then the evil demons came out of the man and enter the pigs, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and drowned (Luke 8:27–33).

Both the Korean translators and readers of the time who encountered this passage, naturally understood it as the story of a man afflicted with a mental disease caused by gwishin. While the Greek original text describes the man as “τις ἐκ τῆς πόλεως ἔχων δαιμόνια”, the Korean translation depicts him as a person possessed by evil ghosts (샤귀shagwi). The depiction of a person dwelling not in a house but among tombs would have been immediately recognized as a clear sign of gwishin posession. In Korean shamanistic belief, which was rooted in the cosmology of yin and yang, the cemetery is the space of ghosts with the strongest yin energy which is a characteristic of gwishin.

The fact that the demons in the story are “군진gunjin” (the military camp), that they are driven out and transferred into pigs, and that the possessed pigs meet their death could all be meaningfully compared to a specific ritual sequence in Korean traditional shamanism, known as Gunung-geori (the military spirit rite). Gunung refers to one of the deities served by a shaman, and is believed to be ghosts of soldiers who ward off misfortunes and malicious forces from outside. The Gunnung-geori is a ritual performance that seeks to console and pacify the restless souls of soldiers who died on the battlefield (Im 2009, pp. 141–42). In this ritual, pigs are always used as the sacrificial offering, and the ceremony begins by slashing its carotid artery. The subsequent process of the ritual varies slightly depending on the shaman, but generally unfolds in the following flow.17 (1) The shaman dances violently while wielding a spear or ritual blade. (2) The shaman rushes at the slaughtered pigs and screams. (3) The shaman inserts military swords or tridents into the pigs. (4) The shaman approaches the bowl containing the entrails and eats the pigs’ raw liver. (5) The shaman touches the pigs’ blood with their mouth and smears it onto their own face. (6) The shaman rushes at the pigs and bites them with his mouth. (7) The Gunung gwishin enters into the shaman’s body, and they dance while violently shaking their body. The shaman then becomes possessed by the military ghosts, and releases their accumulated resentments through various words and actions. Afterwards, the shaman ends the ritual and concludes the Gunung-geori by shamanic songs.

The operative logic underlying the Gunung-geori ritual can be compared to the key elements of the Gerasene pericope. Just as the demons possessed the Gerasene man identify themselves as Legion, the Korean shamanistic ritual calls upon Gunung, the gwishin of soldiers. Just as Gerasene demons cast out by Jesus were transferred to pigs, the soldiers’ soul goes into the shaman through the medium of the pigs’ blood. In both cases, pigs serve as vessels of transference. Furthermore, similar to the possessed pigs in the Gerasene story rush into the lake and died en masse, the Gunung-geori ritual slaughters pigs whose blood is symbolically offered to the ghosts. Of course, there are clear differences between the process of shamanistic ritual and the exorcism by Jesus. In Gunung-geori, the souls of aggrieved ghosts are summoned, pigs are used as sacrificial offerings, and the shaman may become possessed by the ghosts. In contrast, in the Gerasene pericope, Jesus does not console the demons but casts them out. In addition, although the demons enter the pigs, the pigs do not function as offerings intended to appease the demons. Nevertheless, elements such as military-related supernatural beings (gwishin/daemon), the transference of the beings, and the death of pigs are common to both the ritual and the Gospel narrative. For Koreans in the late 19th and the early 20th who deeply immersed in shamanistic beliefs, such a story would have sounded quite familiar. And perhaps the worldview of the people in the New Testament era, who believed that all kinds of demons, devils, and Satan existed in their surroundings, was closer to that of Joseon-era Koreans steeped in shamanistic belief than to that of modern readers of the Bible.

Then, what does it mean for modern Koreans to read the story of the translation of gwishin and its shamanistic background? The image of Koreans deeply immersed in shamanism, as reported by missionaries in the early twentieth century, may seem somewhat distant from the modern Korean context. However, is that truly the case?18 Dongshik Yoo, who extensively studied the relationship between Korean religions and Christian theology, argued that the religious ethos of the modern Korean people was fundamentally shaped by mugyo (Korean shamanism), which was later intermingled with Confucianism, Buddhism, and Christianity (Yoo 1997). In line with his diagnosis, one must recognize that the religious temperament of modern Koreans is deeply rooted not only Christianity but also in Confucianism, Buddhism, and shamanistic traditions. It is important to acknowledge that every reader brings their backgrounds and presumptions with them when they read the Bible.

To be specific, modern Korean readers should be mindful that the demons appeared in the New Testament are not exact equivalent to gwishin as understood in Korean historical and cultural contexts. While the demons in the New Testament are indeed depicted as beings with certain supernatural powers, they have no connection to the souls of dead individuals, as is often presupposed by the term gwishin. It is also highly inappropriate to interpret all diseases as resulting from the influence from the demons. If one neglects such distinction and reads the Bible in a strictly literal manner, it results in extreme and sectarian Biblical interpretations, as Kidong Kim and his Berea Academy emphasized exorcism ministries based on his theory of gwishin.19 Such reading of the Bible is not only hermeneutically flawed but also profoundly dangerous in that it deprives of access to legitimate medical treatment.

5. Concluding Considerations

These two examples amply demonstrate how context impacts the reading of Scripture. The relevance of the texts and many aspects of their understanding are bound to or resonating with the respective contexts. The translation of biblical words and ideas into vernacular languages, the understanding of agency, the status of human beings, of suffering, health, and hope, etc., depend strongly on the worldview, daily life experience, linguistic and social conventions, religious attitudes, political history, socio-economic situation, and the history of Christianity in the given context. In a global world, reading the Bible cannot ignore the relevance and impact of these contexts. Indeed, it can only be relevant through interaction with the given context, via dialogue.

There is no dualistic opposition between a modern, “Western” reading on the one hand and a postmodern, post-colonial African, Asian, or Latin American reading on the other hand. Instead, the contextual and cultural influences within the framework of Global Christianity are much more diverse and depend on the respective countries’ histories, cultural and religious traditions, economic and political conditions, and other factors. What we could only demonstrate from two exemplary perspectives from two different continents, would be much more complicated—and rich—if other ethnic, cultural, and religious contexts could be included.

Considering these contexts does not automatically make a contextual reading better or more justified than readings from other contexts or those suggested by the historical approach. As the Ethiopian example from Za’ra Ya’aqob and also the example of the Korean Berea academy demonstrate, critical reflection is necessary, as there is also the danger of uncritical credulity or unjustified submission to religious or political authorities. Given the numerous examples of misinterpretation, manipulation and abuse of biblical texts, not only in colonial relations, but also within a given context by traditionalists, political powers, and spiritual authorities, there is a need for critical inferences and an open space for dialogue, so that the liberating power of the gospel can come into effect, for the benefit its readers.