Why Read the Bible

I am reading a book right now about faith practices, and it is making me think about my faith practices.  The book is about deepening faith commitment, and it makes the case for 'stepping up' with greater resolve in several areas of our lives, including, prayer, Bible reading, worship and witness.

But even though I believe in deepening our faith commitments, and even though I think it is positive to resolve to spend more time in the prayer, Bible reading, worship and witness, I do, on occasion, find myself talking back to this book.

Take, for example, reading the Bible.  I am all for reading the Bible more often, just as the the author of this book commends.  There is a wonderful opening story in this book about a successful mountain climber who happens to be blind.  He is successful because he has learn to listen.

So, listening.  Reading the Bible is listening to God.  So far, so good.

But, when we listen to the Bible, what do we hear?  What do we expect to hear?  That's my question.

The writer of the book sounds as if he believes that by reading the Bible, he will find wisdom to help him live a Better Life.  He will find commandments to obey, he will find Good Advice.  And it's true, he will find these things.  He can read the Ten Commandments and the Book of Proverbs and James, and find what he is looking for.

But I have to say:  that's not the main reason that I read the Bible.

Why read the Bible?  I mean, really:  it's a huge book with small print, and many kinds of writing.  There are stories and laws and advice and genealogies.  There is history and there is prophecy.  Some of it is exciting and some of it is puzzling and some of it is downright troubling, if you are honest.  Reading the Bible is all kinds of comforting sometimes, but it also opens you up to all kinds of questions.

I have heard the Bible in church since I was a little girl.  I also learned wonderful stories in Sunday School:  David and Goliath, Abraham and Sarah, Noah's ark.  I learned how Jesus fed 5,000 people, how Moses led the people out of slavery, how Jesus healed those who were blind or deaf or lame.  I heard the stories of the prodigal son and the good shepherd.

The first time I tried to read the Bible without help, I was in high school.  Church camp had made of me an enthusiastic believer, so I cracked open my Bible and resolved to read the whole thing, starting with Genesis.  By the middle of Leviticus I had given up, disappointed in myself.

Why read the Bible?  It's a huge book with small print, and if you are honest at all, it is going to raise as many questions as it answers.  You are going to find out about the Walls of Jericho, and how they came tumbling down, but you are also going to find out about how the armies went in and killed every single person after that.  You are going to learn about how Jesus fed 5,000 people, but somewhere along the line you might wonder about all of the people who are hungry now.  You are going to hear words like:  "For God so loved the world that he gave his only son," (John 3:16), and you are going to hear words like "Love your enemy, and do good to those who persecute you."

Why read the Bible?  Why listen to these words, these stories, even this advice?

It's not a self-improvement project, at least not for me.

The Bible is this great big book, and it's about God, and it's about us.   It's about a God so in love with us, God's people, that he is willing to do anything -- including, in the end, to come and be among us.

Inside the Word, this complicated, messy, confusing book -- is the Word, Jesus.  The heart of God.   The one who tells us who we are.

Today

Today I took my pad of paper and some big books to a place where I could get a breakfast sandwich and some coffee.  I read and ate and took notes with the big books spread out in front of me.  I read the two parts of Jesus' sermon to his hometown in Nazareth, about how he was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, and picked up the scroll to read.

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, for he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor," I read.  I underlined the part about Jesus being filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, and thought about it.

"Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."

Today.  That's what he said.

Maybe it was just for emphasis.  Today.  Right now.  That is what is most important.  What you do, or don't do today.  Where you are today.

Today I studied and thought about the power of the Holy Spirit, in Jesus, and in us.  I thought about the power of the Holy Spirit that pushes out into the world, that Jesus' mission is now our mission.  I also did laundry. Two loads.  It was time.  I called a couple of people, but, to be honest, there were a couple of people I should have called, but I didn't.  I got a little farther in planning my theme for Lent.  I got an appointment for my car.

Today I went over to the pre--school for a little while.  I saw some of the very little ones out on the playground.  It was a beautiful sunny day.  So I went out to watch them play and to talk to them.  They wanted to show me their jackets, tennis shoes and cowboy boots.  They were sliding down the slide with glee.  Again and again.

The best moment was when a little girl saw me and recognized me.  She started running to me, and threw her arms around my legs.  Today.

Today I put in a casserole for supper, and made some steamed broccoli.  I ate a Cara Cara Orange for the first time.  I talked to a friend on the phone.  I frittered away some time, not paying attention.

Today I studied, and I played and I stood in the sun, and Jesus spoke to me.

I didn't understand what he said, but somehow he gave me hope.

For the Fun of It

Tuesday night, I held the second of a short series of Lectio Divina meetings at church.  I pulled the chairs into a circle, put the small candle out and prepared for whoever might show up.

There were four of us in total, practicing silence and listening and imagination.  We read Sunday's gospel reading.

I knew I was the preacher on Sunday, and one thing I didn't want to do is use the time to do sermon preparation.  I wanted this to be listening for its own sake, not with an end in mind.

But it's harder than it looks.  It's hard to put down the schedule that says I need this many insights for my preaching on Sunday.  I caught myself arguing with myself, a little about a word or a phrase:  why are you listening to that? one of the voices in my ear said.  That's not what you are going to preach about on Sunday.

But I couldn't help it, I kept staring at the word 'love' in Jesus' question to Simon, about the creditor who forgave two of his debtors.  "Which of them will love him more?" Jesus asked.

And I thought:  "What's love got to do with it?  I don't associate the word 'love' with relationships that have to do with money and owing."  For the first time it struck me as an odd question.  "Which of them will love him more?"

You are not going to preach about that, the voice in my head told me.

I thought it was interesting anyway.  As we prayed and listened along, the images I saw were of oil, of an unwelcome guest crashing a party, a man with his arms crossed, his lips pursed.  And what's love got to do with it?  Even if our mortgage company tore up all of our bills, and declared us free and clear, I'm not sure what I would call what I would feel 'love.'

So the next morning I was doing some of my sermon preparation, re-reading the story, taking down notes, examining the scripture and myself.  And, I'll admit it:  I digressed.  It wasn't the direction I was heading for my sermon, but I just had to look up some words in my Greek New Testament.  First the word Love.  What kind of love was it, anyway?  I looked up the word love, and then, just for the fun of it, I looked up the word that meant the creditor 'forgave' or 'cancelled' the debts.  Because, as it turned out, it's a different word than the one normally used for forgiveness.  It has the word 'gift' in it.

Later on, I checked the end of the story, when Jesus said to the woman, "Your sins are forgiven", and discovered that we were back to the more common word for forgiveness, which has to do with release, being set free.  I didn't look it up because I needed to know for my sermon, but just for the fun of it.

For the fun of it.

It's a pragmatic world, and in that world, we think of Scripture often as a tool, a means to an end, whether the end is writing a sermon or 'help in living your life.'

But maybe we're not supposed to use the Holy Scripture so much as be in relationship:  argue, ask questions, wonder, imagine, dig in.

For the fun of it.

I realize that many people don't experience reading the Bible as in any way 'fun.'  Maybe it's all of those thin pages, big words, sort of disturbing stories, or proof texts.  Maybe the burden of understanding it, or even trying to make use of it, makes it even harder.  Maybe we need to invent better tools to get at the fun of it, or just to talk more about the fun of reading the scriptures 'just because.' For the joy of it.

For  the joy of discovering more about the uninvited guests who crash parties, the widows who weep after funeral biers, children who share loaves and fish, Pharisees who stand around with pursed lips and meet with Jesus in the dark.  For the fun of discovering more about the one who comes to parties at Pharisees' houses and lets fallen women blubber all over his feet, and says "Your sins are forgiven."

So no, none of this is getting into my sermon on Sunday, at least not on purpose.  Listening for its own sake:  not with an end in mind.  Like spending a lazy afternoon with my husband, or visiting my dad in the nursing home and singing songs with him, memorizing his face.

For the love of it.