I do not want to hear another dull, lifeless reading of Holy Scripture in worship. If it is another mumbled reading from someone who obviously hasn’t practiced the reading, I find myself thinking: Oh, please! Not so fast. Please breathe!
What most do not know is that Paul’s letters were performed. The gospels were memorized and performed long before some scribe wrote them down. Consider this reading for the third Sunday in Epiphany—Luke 4:14-21:
When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
I hope a deacon or priest knows the power of this story—that she is looking at those gathered there, maybe thinking that this is just like Jesus on that day in Nazareth. She takes her time. She breathes. She’s not rushing the words. Those standing with her are there to hear this story. Chances are that she smiles after “he has anointed me.” There’s another smile with “good news to the poor.”
As she comes near the end of the reading, there is a telling pause. All of us caught up in this story can wonder as she says, “The eyes of all were fixed on him.” It came out so slowly. She wasn’t reading, but looking—taking in all the eyes fixed on her to hear the Gospel. Maybe she emphasizes the word fixed as if it were in bold type. Remember: this is about hearing God’s Word. Maybe parishioners know that with this reading of the Gospel they have heard Scripture fulfilled in their hearing.
These are lingering questions for all who accept the honor and responsibility of reading Scripture in worship: “What are you offering? Have you read these words out loud so only you could hear at your home or office? Is your hope and prayer that all who will be hearing these words will be looking at you? Did you take time to read it and maybe try different speeds and pauses as you read? Did you practice looking up from the text frequently and at some critical moments?” These are the kinds of questions I ask myself in preparing to read a biblical passage publicly.
I attend St. Stephen’s Church in Edina, Minnesota, where the lessons are not printed in the Sunday bulletin. There are Bibles in the pews and every now and then someone opens the Bible as a lesson is read. To be sure, some people believe they hear better if they can follow along with a public reading of Scripture. But we also hear with our eyes, and that is why those trained in public speaking use an arsenal of gestures, breathing, pauses, and even appropriate facial expressions to enhance a reading.
Where do we begin to improve the public reading of Scripture? I think it can begin with the deacons. One of the significant changes in our worship occurred with the clear and meaningful rubrics regarding diaconal ministry. At ordination, a deacon hears this: “Receive this Bible as a sign of your authority to proclaim God’s Word and to assist in the ministration of his holy Sacraments.”
With that authority they should read the Gospel at each Eucharist with the intention that God’s Word would be heard. We even have a special Sunday collect about public reading of Holy Scriptures: “Grant us to hear them, read, mark and inwardly digest them, so that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life” (BCP, Sunday closest to November 16).
I fondly remember the ministry of one deacon who was blind. She would walk down the aisle as an acolyte carried the Gospel Book. The Gospel Book was open for the reading, but she could not see it. She memorized the gospel story each week. She did not need to see the words as printed. She offered the most dramatic readings possible.
I also attend a Lutheran church in the summer. Nearly all look at their bulletin for each of the readings. But there is one person who volunteers frequently to read the lessons. With her commanding voice and carefully prepared attention to the words, her reading is clear. She barely glances at the text before her. We are simply blessed to watch her and listen with our ears. She helps us embrace and hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life.
The Rev. George H. Martin is a retired priest of the Diocese of Minnesota.
