If I may paraphrase Mark Twain: Suppose you grew up in a mainline Protestant church in the United States near the close of the 20th century, and suppose you were poorly formed in anything approaching biblical literacy; but I repeat myself.
In the church in which I was raised, there was not an expectation or even an opportunity for deep biblical reading and interpretation among any age group. We heard Scripture read in the liturgy, and I remember learning the parables of Jesus in Sunday School, but reading the Bible was not something we talked about. Because I spent my whole life in the same church, I didn’t realize anything was missing anything until I landed at an evangelical university. I met students who not only knew the Bible but had whole passages memorized. They could rattle off the books of the Bible, in order, faster than I could read them off a list. It was a brave new world.
Because I was 18, and because I was a fool (but I repeat myself), I didn’t learn to love the Bible during college. It took many more years before Scripture became central to my life of faith and my practices of personal devotion. Now, as a priest in the Episcopal Church, teaching the Bible — and helping others come to love the Bible — is probably the single most crucial part of my vocation. Just as there is no such thing as a solitary Christian, there is no such thing as a Christian who is not steeped, formed, and shaped by the Word of God. Holy Scripture must be the air we breathe and the water in which we swim. It is the soil out of which our liturgy, theology, and mission need to grow. It is the primary way that we who desire to be disciples of Jesus Christ come to encounter him, not as an artifact of history, but as the risen, living, and reigning Son of God.
But as I know firsthand, loving Scripture isn’t something that just happens, and it doesn’t always come easily. We have a Bible-reading problem in American Christianity. Too many mainline churches, preachers, and teachers ignore the Bible at best, or treat it as something awkward, embarrassing, or as a “text of terror.” Other Christian traditions are adamant about the importance of the Bible, but too often demonstrate this devotion by using it as a cudgel to beat those who do not conform to an agreed-upon doctrine.
Neither you nor I can solve all these problems; this kind can be driven out only through prayer. But I can describe my experience. In this first essay, I’ll describe the ways in which patient mentors taught me, as an adult laywoman, not only to read and interpret, but genuinely to love the Bible, and will attempt to provide some guidance for those who want to know God better through his Word, but do not know how to start. In a second essay, I’ll describe the ways in which I attempt to pass this gift on to my congregation, and ideas for clergy who want to deepen the biblical culture in their parish.
Take Up and Read
This should be obvious, but it is impossible to love the Bible without reading it. This applies to clergy and laity alike: to any person who desires to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. Many Christians simply are not in the habit of reading the Bible. Some would love to cultivate this habit, but don’t know how to start. I find this is often not from lack of interest, but from a fear of doing it wrong. I am often approached by parishioners who say, “I want to get into reading the Bible. Which commentary should I get?” or “Do you have a good study Bible you recommend?” There seems to me be an unspoken fear among many Episcopal laypersons that they cannot hope to read the Bible without some expert guidance. Often this comes from a healthy desire not to misinterpret, misuse, or abuse God’s Word. But it also seems somewhat gnostic, as though there is secret key to unlocking the truth of Scripture that is withheld from the regular person in the pews.
My first piece of advice, then, is always the same: just start reading, without the anxiety of whether you are reading “right.” Skip the commentaries (especially anything online, which is almost certain to do more harm than good), and if possible, read a Bible without study or translator notes. A Bible laid out in single column, like a regular book, is ideal, but any Bible you have will do.
Pick a story that is a page-turner: something like the Exodus from Egypt, the sweeping love story in Ruth, Paul’s seafaring journey in Acts, or the striking poetry of the love hymn in Philippians. Read slowly and turn the words over in your mind. While you’re at it, become comfortable underlining and making notes in the margin. Create a record of your journey in Scripture. Underline phrases that strike you and write down questions that occur to you. Engage with the text in writing while you engage with it in your mind and heart. Journaling and wide-margin Bibles are great for this, but with the right pen or pencil you can take notes in any Bible. As you read and annotate, don’t worry about “what it means” or what the “right” interpretation is or how to “apply it to your life.” Simply listen to what it says and how. Then do the same thing the next day, and the next, until you are living a life steeped in the sounds and syllables of the Logos.
Read Personally, but Not Individually
Scripture is God’s gift of self-revelation, and it’s given not just to you or to me, but to his Church; it is meant to be read and interpreted in community. The best way to handle the anxiety of misinterpreting Scripture is not to read the study notes by a scholar and translator (though there is a time and place for that) but to sit with a group of fellow disciples and exchange ideas, interpretations, and stories. Only by gathering with other people who are also seeking God can we come to realize that nobody is an expert, no matter how many commentaries we’ve read. It is humbling to rattle off some seminary insight, only to have a decorous 75-year-old grandmother in a small-group Bible study say, “Well, I don’t know much about biblical languages, but I was thinking…” and then share a connection between her life and the passage at hand that is so beautiful, so full of the living Spirit of God, and so self-evidently true that it leaves everyone at the table gobsmacked. Group Bible study is where our pride in our abilities goes to die, and our pride must die if we are to grow into the full stature of Christ. Reading in communion with other believers keeps us from turning the Bible into an individual encounter that affirms everything we are already doing, and never challenges us to grow or change or repent.
So, if there isn’t a regular Bible study at your parish, ask your priest to start one. True, your priest is likely harried and overworked already, but any good priest should long to be approached by someone who wants more chances to encounter God in Scripture. If you do not have full-time clergy, or your clergy cannot start a Bible study, ask for resources so you can start one yourself. Ask another parish in your diocese to partner with you. There are many good resources available to help laypeople start and lead Bible studies. Gather a group, make a pot of coffee, open in prayer, and spend time coming to know one another as you come to know God in his Word.
God knows each of us better than we know ourselves, and it is the greatest joy and privilege of our lives to come to know him even a little bit. Nobody is expected to do it alone. This touches on the economy of salvation. The Holy Spirit uses the Word of Scripture, along with the sacraments, to give us Christ, who reconciles us to the Father. And the Spirit does this instrumental work in the context of real relationships in Christ’s body, the Church.
Consider a Truly Beautiful Bible
Finally, consider a gratuitously beautiful Bible. When I was made a postulant for ordination had a hardback Oxford study Bible rebound in a gorgeous saddle-colored goatskin as a present to myself. The leather is soft in the hand but will stand up to years of reading, notetaking, schlepping in a backpack, spilled coffee, and less-than-reverent toddlers. I’ve used it for personal devotion for the last 10 years, and it remains my favorite Bible and one of my most prized possessions.
Of course, it is better to read a poorly bound Bible than to have ten premium Bibles on your shelf that you never open. No one should feel the need for something more high-end before reading. The Bible is God’s Word regardless of the cover or how much it costs. Nevertheless, there is something about holding a book that is truly a work of art — a book with smooth pages for annotating, ribbons to hold your place, and a supple cover that molds to the warmth of your hand day after day — that is different than reading from a cheap paperback (or, God forbid, an iPad). It is like drinking coffee from your favorite mug: a paper cup gets the job done, but loving an object for its form and not just its function can draw us more deeply into the mystery it reveals: the God who is not just good, but beautiful.
In the second part of this essay, I aim to give some encouragement for clergy and Bible-reading.
Barbara White serves as Associate Rector for Worship, Formation, and Communications at St. Francis in the Fields Episcopal Church in Louisville, Kentucky.
