How To and Not To Read the Bible

Here at the beginning of the Lenten season, many of us resolve to undertake some extra spiritual practice like praying the Rosary or going to Eucharistic adoration. I've heard some consider taking up reading some Scripture daily, but often they are daunted by the prospect. The Bible can seem so big and foreign and heady and, well, in some places, weird. What's with all the battle statistics in Numbers? Or those oddball visions in Daniel? Why does Jesus wither a fig tree? What on earth is going on in the Book of Revelation?

To repeat the most oft-given exhortation in the whole of Scripture: "Do not be afraid." Allow me to give a few tips for getting you started engaging the Word of God.

First, where to begin. I would suggest, as it was suggested to me, to start with one of the Gospels. As Christians, we believe that Scripture is the Word of God, and Jesus is the Word of God, so that, in some sense, Jesus must be on every page of the Bible, but it's simplest to begin with those pages that talk about him directly, his life, his ministry, his death and resurrection. Which Gospel you choose is your call: John is very spiritual, but can be a bit abstract; reading Matthew is aided by a bit more knowledge of the Old Testament; Mark is more simple and straightforward; and Luke provides lots of helpful historical context, and includes the narratives of Christ's birth which so many of us love so dearly. So, I'd suggest Mark or Luke for your first crack at it.

You know what? Let's leave it there for now. Read one of the Gospels. Do it in one sitting, or spread out over several days, however you like. A good place to start.

Yes, there will still be things in there that are confusing or references you may not get, which is why it's helpful to use a Bible with good footnotes. The Ignatius Study Bible is a solid choice.

One important note: bumper stickers and holy cards can give the impression that the Bible is a collection of inspirational quotes, but that is not the case. The Bible as a whole sets out the long story of God's search for fallen humanity. Yes, it contains many pithy inspirational passages that fit neatly on the back of your car or as a Facebook status, but the Bible is not meant to be a Twitter feed; sections and books (and in some sense the totality of Scripture) are meant to be taken as a whole, the whole providing context for the parts. Some may be shocked to find that one of their favorite Bible verses, "Be still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:11), is not set in the same bucolic and peaceful place as Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd"), but rather is set in the midst of battle:

9Come and see the works of the Lord,

who has done fearsome deeds on earth;

10Who stops wars to the ends of the earth,

breaks the bow, splinters the spear,

and burns the shields with fire;

11“Be still and know that I am God!

I am exalted among the nations,

exalted on the earth.”

12The Lord of hosts is with us;

our stronghold is the God of Jacob.

Yes, the phrase itself is beautiful in itself, but its context puts it in a different light.

Or consider Micah 6:8--"You know, o man, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: to do the right, to love the good, and to walk humbly with your God." A beautiful sentiment, though it's set in the middle of God putting Israel on trial and pointing out their shortcomings. Actually, though, this setting improves its inspirational power: when do we most need to be reminded of what is required of us but when we have fallen short? How much more comforting is it to know that when we have failed in a given instance, God will most readily call us back? See! Context helps!

This is merely to caution you against flipping open the Bible, placing your finger randomly on the page, and expecting spiritual fulfillment. That can happen in extraordinary circumstances, such as in St. Augustine's "tolle, lege" story, but it's not the norm.

I echo the voice of the child in that story of St. Augustine's: "Take up! Read!" Get to know Our Lord this Lent through the Word He has revealed to us. It's not so scary once you get started.

The Week in Review: Evagriating

Patristic Spirituality: The subject of this week's class was Evagrios Pontikos, an ascetical writer from the late 4th century AD. Each week a student or two gives a presentation on the readings assigned, and I chose this week. The presentation could have gone better, but wasn't awful. I've learned I'm not a great extemporaneous speaker, and do much better when I have a prepared text before me. I tried to speak from an outline during this presentation, and I think it showed. Nevermind that, though. Evagrios wrote several works on the spiritual life and the path of progression to greater union with the Holy Trinity through focusing the intellect, calming the passions, and battling demonic temptations. Lots of your typical "deny the body to free the mind for contemplation" stuff--BUT the only reason it seems "typical" to us today is because Evagrios had HUGE influence on the history of Christian thought via his student John Cassian, who went into the Western Roman Empire and started founding monasteries; he, in turn, was a big influence on some guy named St. Benedict (you may have heard of him), whose rule for monastic life became an early standard for others to follow. We'll talk more about Evagrios this week in class.

Medieval Philosophy: There was no class on Monday due to the holiday. (Presidents' Day is a slap in the face, by the way; it used to be we had two separate federal holidays for the birthdays of Washington and Lincoln, and now we only get one with the ambiguous name "Presidents' Day." Is that supposed to include all the presidents? Really, are we taking time to commemorate the likes of William Henry Harrison, Franklin Pierce, and Chester A. Arthur?) Anyway... on Thursday we had a "discussion day" in which we compared various aspects of St. Augustine's De Magistro (On the Teacher) and Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy. There was a divide in the class as to who we thought had the more tightly constructed argument; it seems an unfair comparison, though, since Augustine was making one long argument, while Boethius made several short ones. Still, there was something about Boethius' I liked better. It had the clarity of the scholastic method about it. *Note: I will soon make a post describing the scholastic method in greater detail, so you'll know what the heck I'm talking about. (Actually, I wrote in my book "proto-Scholastic" as I read it, only to have our professor use that very phrase the next day in class!) This week we'll be discussing St. Anselm of Canterbury and Peter Abelard... or Peter Lombard... one of those Peters... it sometimes seems like the Middle Ages only had, like, eight names. Everyone's named Hugh or Peter or Thomas or John or something.

Philosophical Anthropology: Aristotle had a very helpful concept for relating the functions of the various powers of the soul. Sense knowledge gathers data from the outside world. The "common sense" (not meant as "practical know-how") relates the senses together and distinguishes them. The imagination acts as a storehouse for sense data. The cogitative or estimative sense allows us to intuit whether those things we sense are beneficial or harmful to us. And the memory allows us to store perceptions or conclusions of the estimative sense and retrieve particular ones. See how they all work together?

Metaphysics: "Quiddity" is one of my new favorite words. Especially because it's defined as "the thing-ness of a thing." Come on, that's just plain fun. Who said you can't have fun doing philosophy? Next week's post on this class will be more detailed, as I'll explain the principle of non-contradiction. Unless I forget to.

Four Ways of Speaking

Philosophy and theology deal with thick, heavy, dense subjects. It’s hard enough half the time to understand the question being asked, let alone the answer you get: “What is being? What is nature? What is the nature of being? What is essence of nature? What is the essence of God’s nature? Is existence itself God’s nature?” I’m guessing some of you went cross-eyed and passed out briefly mid-way through that series of questions. Hope you didn’t hit your head on anything. Point is: this stuff is hard.

Some people have a talent for engaging these topics in an easy and sensible way… and some do not. In reading different thinkers over the years, I’ve developed a theory:

There are four ways of communicating:

1. Speaking simply on simple matters. This is what most of our speech is like most of the time. Simple declarative statements: “She pushed me,” “God is good,” “That’s my coat,” or “Daniel Tosh isn’t funny.” No brain-busting concepts or unintelligible jargon.

2. Speaking complexly on simple matters. Here, though, we move to a level where we’re still not dealing with brain-busting concepts, but people for some reason feel the need to gussy it up; it’s the linguistic equivalent of wearing a tuxedo to a tailgate party. You’d find this exemplified by college sophomores:

Student: “Professor, can you elucidate for those of us currently present what precisely was the major precipitating factor for the conflict in question?”
Professor: “Do you mean, ‘How did the war start?’”

A more amusing example is found in this video, where Stephen Fry plays a bombastic barber.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J691coIfFvs

3. Speaking complexly on complex matters. Now we reach the level I was initially talking about. We’re dealing with brain-busting concepts, and for many it takes a boatload of special terms, words borrowed from other languages, and circumlocutions (i.e. “my father’s parents’ other son” instead of “my uncle”) to try to get the point across. For example:

“For the very early ancient Israelites, their Weltanschauung entailed a monolatric cosmology in which other deities were recognized while only one was honored with cultic worship.”

Now, there are simpler ways to say this (“The Israelites at first believed in a world where many gods existed, but they worshipped only one”), but they wouldn’t quite capture the content in the same way. It’s no crime to write or speak this way; most of us don’t have the ability to go beyond it. But some do….

4. Speaking simply on complex matters. This level is reserved for those true geniuses who are able to speak about difficult topics in a way that’s easy to understand without leaving out anything essential. Here are some of my favorite examples:
“Our hearts were made for you, O Lord, and they are restless until they rest in thee.” St. Augustine captures the essence of human desire and God as the fulfillment of that desire in one simple and beautiful sentence.

“We all want progress, but if you're on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive.” C.S. Lewis here deftly points to a truth our politicians would do well to consider.

(I can’t leave out this example from Lewis, since it’s apropos to our subject: “Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say "infinitely" when you mean "very"; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.”)

"When a man ceases to believe in God, he doesn't believe in nothing. He believes in anything." There are about 10 billion G.K. Chesterton quotes I could have chosen… so, yeah, I think we need a few more:

“To say that everybody is responsible means that nobody is responsible.”

“To have a right to do a thing is not at all the same as to be right in doing it.”

"Why be something to everybody when you can be everything to somebody?" (on motherhood)

Anyway, you get the point, I hope. Be thankful when you come across those gifted people who are able to be so clear. They sure can make life easier.