The B*I*B*L*E

Today I am at St. Mark's in Leominster. The day's readings can be found here. My sermon is on the Epistle for the day, which is pretty rare for me. Rarer still is that this is a kind of "teaching sermon" about the Bible and a kind of theological reflection on how to read Scripture which I've had some fun with, and which I hope is helpful to both hearers at St. Mark's and readers here. 

What does it mean to say that “all scripture is inspired by God,” as we heard today in our reading from Second Timothy? (3:16) A long time ago, in a galaxy far away, I learned a song in Vacation Bible School that perhaps some of you learned as well. I won’t sing it for you. But the words go like this:

                   The B*I*B*L*E

                   Yes, that’s the book for me.

                   I stand alone on the Word of God,

                   The B*I*B*L*E

I stand alone on the Word of God.  It seems obvious to me (at least in hindsight) that this was intended as a double-entendre. Not only was the song claiming “Scripture alone” as the sole authority in matters of faith, but I think it also means to convey a sense that in a hostile world, where Biblical truth must be defended at every turn, the true believer stands alone in this world. Or at least is very lonely a lot of the time.

All scripture is inspired by God. Notice that it does it say that “scripture alone” settles every matter as the sole authority for Christians. It’s not like the bumper sticker that says: God said it. I believe it. That settles it. Nor does it say that all scripture is literally true. Rather, it says that all scripture is inspired. The Greek word used here is theo-pneustos; “God-breathed.” In the Gentile culture in which this text was written, that word could be used to describe what happened at the Delphic oracles, where messages were given by the gods. In other words, it is not an exclusively Christian or Jewish word. Nevertheless, for those early hearers of this verse (raised in the Jewish tradition) you couldn’t hear this word without thinking back to Genesis 2: about how God had made the mud-creature, the adam, from Mother Earth and then breathed life into that creature to make it live. I think that is how Scripture is inspired: even here, even now, as we gather together at the Table: God is breathing life into these ancient texts. So they become not just an interesting history lesson but a living, inspired, Word for us.

The Catechism found in The Book of Common Prayer (one of our least utilized treasures) says that we call scripture “the Word of God because God inspired their human authors and because God still speaks to us through the Bible.” It’s practically a mini-sermon on Second Timothy!

Then, notice those two big words in the rest of that sixteenth verse: so that. Why do we look to the inspired Word of God? So that “everyone who belongs to God may be proficient, equipped for every good work.” 

I continue to believe that Karl Barth got it right when he reminded us that the Word of God is not just the collection of texts in the Bible, however. The Word of God is Jesus Christ, the Word-made-flesh.  The Bible is always pointing beyond the words to that living Word, the person of Jesus. To say that another way, we worship Jesus Christ; not the Bible. We stand, together, with Jesus, traveling on the way of love. 

The Bible is most definitely authoritative for us as Episcopalians. Along with tradition and reason it points us to Jesus, our Savior—the One who calls us to be his disciples and to follow him. But it needs to be read and learned and marked and inwardly digested for that to happen, for it to show us the face of Jesus. And it needs to be read in community. I think that if I had to say one thing about the Bible it would be this: that along with the Sacraments it forms and shapes a people after God’s own heart, an Easter people who, as today’s gospel reading from Luke puts it, “are praying constantly and not losing heart.”

This fall we’ve been reading from both letters to Timothy: in September from 1 Timothy and in October from 2 Timothy. Taken together, these two epistles (along with Titus) are sometimes called “the Pastoral Epistles.” They are not written by Timothy but addressed to him, from an old, wise pastor named “Paul” who is nearing the end of his life. Scholars are pretty much in agreement that Paul himself didn’t actually write these epistles. Rather, they were penned by another inspired writer, probably one of Paul’s disciples trying to apply Pauline thought to a new context. The pastoral epistles are a depository for the traditions of the early decades of the church’s life; a “sound teaching” that can be handed on to the next generation of Christians. In the verses we heard today, the writer is encouraging Timothy to continue to grow in faith, “to continue in what you have learned and firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it.”

It’s a little ambiguous when it comes to the word “whom” in that last sentence: “knowing from whom you learned it.” Some manuscripts have the masculine-singular pronoun in Greek, which seems to point to St. Paul as Timothy’s teacher. In other words, apostolic faith is being passed along from Paul to Timothy; that is how and why it can be trusted. But other early manuscripts are plural. What might that mean? You may recall the reading two weeks ago where we heard some lovely reminiscences about how Timothy’s faith first lived in his grandmother, Lois, and then in his mother, Eunice. (See 2 Timothy 1:5) Those who argue that these are the better manuscripts argue that this “whom” refers back and reminds Timothy that faith is learned in community—not just one-on-one—and that Lois and Eunice are as important to Timothy’s journey of faith as Paul was.

I want to linger on this point for a few minutes in the days leading up to All Saints Day, because I think it illustrates how it is that Scripture may be “inspired.” I think of my own grandmother, Esther, who loved the Bible. And Katharine, my Sunday School teacher in what was essentially a one-room school house at the Hawley United Methodist Church when I was growing up. And many, many others along the way from whom I learned to love the Bible and get hooked by it in ways that have been life changing and life giving. Our work is both to receive and learn the faith from others and to give thanks for their witness. But also to pass it on and to teach it to the next generation. For me, at least, it was not agreeing with their interpretation that mattered most but falling in love with the Bible.

There is a tendency in our time to want to have Scripture settle big questions. God said it. I believe it. That settles it. There are versions of this on both the right and on the left, by the way. One puts all its faith in a literalistic interpretation of the text while the other side believes that higher criticism will lead us to discover “what really happened.”  But both are forms of idolatry. In a complex world, what if the best response to a good question is a better question, not a simplistic answer? And what it the Bible isn’t intended to “settle” arguments at all, but to invite us into holy conversations? You might even say, to inspire us into holy arguments.  

The authority issue is not settled just because we say that God speaks through scripture, tradition, and reason. We still have to sift through all of that. We still need to pray and discern. And since my life-experiences and your life-experiences are not identical we will always hear and see texts differently. As we engage it, as we mark it and learn it, we are changed for good. That process is in-spiring. God breathes through it all!

Just as we could all go to see a film or a play together and see it differently, so also with Scripture. One example: it makes a difference when you hear the story of the Prodigal Son how you find your way into the story. Maybe you see yourself as more like the older brother, feeling over-burdened with responsibilities and maybe a tad self-righteous. Or maybe you feel lost like the younger brother, trying to muster up the courage to get up and go home again. Or maybe, like the father in that story, you are trying to faithfully love two kids who are so very different. The goal isn’t to flatten it all down into one moralistic single meaning. Rather, that powerful story is ever-new and has many layers of meaning. As God breathes meaning into it and into us, it has the power to change our lives. What happens when we learn to celebrate the fact that Biblical interpretation is more like reading poetry than going on an archeological dig?

We don’t get the “definitive biography of Jesus” or one doctrine of the atonement from Scripture. We get four gospels, four witnesses, four portraits of the One we call “the Christ” seen in slightly different ways, from different angles. Why is that? Which of those four portraits is true? Is it Mark’s “rebel” or John’s “mystic” who is one with the Father?” Well if all Scripture is inspired—if God breathes through all four gospels—then a faithful reading of the Scriptures needs to deal with that pluralism and diversity of perspectives. We don’t put it all into a blender and homogenize in search of the historical Jesus. Rather, we allow each to speak the truth that they bring to the table.

God-breathed words are endlessly new. God is in the mix, and especially in the conversation that ensues when two or three gather around a text and Christ is present, and community is formed. Over the years, in countless Bible studies, I have found people turning to me with their questions, in search of the “right” answer. I am constantly trying, with God’s help, to give that work back to the group and to discover what others see that I may not see. Of course I have some skills developed by theological training and some knowledge of Biblical languages. But that doesn’t lead to a monopoly on the truth of what any text is saying. Each of us has both insights and blind spots.  

I think the great challenge for the Church is to let Scripture form a community that can not only live with, but one that celebrates ambiguity and paradox. Scripture invites us into the holy mess of the real world, where Jesus is still present. Scripture invites us into a community of faith that is meant to be a little contentious. But in all of that we are called, by name, into a loving relationship with God and with one another. We are called to follow Jesus on the way of love.

I want to teach the next generation of kids a new song about the Bible, but I’ll need your help. I’ve only got a first draft and I know it isn’t catchy yet. It needs music and a poetic editor. But the theology of it goes something like this:

                  

The B*I*B*L*E…yes, that is the book for us.

We stand together, servants of Jesus, the Word-made-flesh.

We are seekers of truth, committed to reading, marking, learning and inwardly digesting Holy Scripture until, by the grace of God we become the people of God. Until we become witnesses of the Stories that reflect our own stories – mirrors that tell us who we are. And whose we are.