Musings: Notes From My Daybook

David Brooks' opinion piece today in the N. Y. Times seeks to get a sense of the current economic craziness.   See Money for Idiots.

Do you read the Bible?  I expect that you do.  But here is something new to consider  May I suggest that you begin reading the Bible—out loud!

When we think of the Bible we think of the book that sits on our shelf or that we carry to worship on Sundays.  However, when we think of the origins of the Bible we are swept into a world where books were rare and the many documents that make up our Bible were first texts that were either meant to be read out loud (e.g., Paul’s letters) or edited materials from oral traditions (e.g., the gospels).

The ancient world was one of orality.  Texts were created to guide the spoken word.  The common practice was to read out loud—even when you were by yourself.  One scholar, Walter Ong, puts it this way: “Writing served largely to recycle knowledge back into the oral world, as in medieval university disputations, in the reading of literary and other texts to groups, and in reading aloud even when reading to oneself. At least as late as the twelfth century in England, checking even written financial accounts was still done aurally, by having them read aloud. [hence, our word audit].”

Wow!  Can you imagine accountants doing audits out loud today!

But back to my point.  If we make the claim that the Word of God is alive and active, then one way in which the aliveness of the Word is embodied is with the voice.  And what the ancients believed was that the way to the heart was through the ear.  By hearing the word, we begin to internalize it.

So try reading out loud.  It was the way that Jesus and Paul would have read sacred Scripture in their day.  Perhaps that is why Jesus and Paul seemed to be able to quote at will from Scripture.  They had heard it so much that the Word was alive within them—within their heart.

And it is this idea of hearing the Word that is prompting the increased focus of Scripture reading in our assemblies. Dramatic readings, congregational readings, and multiple readings from the Bible are all designed to place the Word into our ears—and thus to our hearts.  Indeed, that is why Paul strongly encouraged Timothy in his congregational leadership to: “give attention to the public reading of scripture, to exhorting, to teaching” (1 Tim 4.13).

So I encourage you to give attention to Scripture as it is read in our assembly today and each week.  Use your ears!  And why not try it out at home.  It may sound novel and new to read out loud, but to do so is a movement to the ancient practices of the church.

Bono offers a wonderful essay to launch the year in the New York Times today.

Wonderful human interest story of Christmas in 1933 in the New York Times.

Every Christmas season Frank Capra’s classic It’s A Wonderful Life makes its appearance on cable and DVD.  Whether you love it (the devoted love of Mary Bailey) or find it full of unabashed sentimentality (really, clumsy angels trying to earn their wings!!), there is a deeper and in a real way, darker, reality of the film that sometimes may pass us up.

The fact is that we all are, in some way or another, George Bailey.  Hopes, dreams, aspirations, all go the way of the dodo bird and in the dust of our own desires emerges another reality—complete with deaf ears, leaky houses, drunk dim-witted uncles, and sick children.  And, of course, there is always Mr. Potter, who makes his grinding presence known.  Being bound to the limits of a wheelchair does not limit the power of negativity and ill-will as it spreads across the pages of George’s life.

It’s A Wonderful Life is really a parable about life—life with its darkness, bruising anger (ever notice how lousy George acts toward Mary through this film?), and economic hardship.  And George, kicking and screaming most all the way, surprisingly finds himself helping to construct an alternative world.  Unknowingly, and at times, in spite of himself, George is an agent of that which is good.  At stake in this film, and in life, is the question—what sort of world will we live in?  Will it be Bedford Falls?  Or, given the opportunity to pursue our selfish interests, would Pottersville be made manifest?

It takes George most of the film to figure out that that something larger than himself is at stake in his choices.  And, I have to confess, that is why I am always troubled by watching the film, because I realize that I still find rebellion in myself in the constant, pressing demand of working toward a fully realized “Bedford Falls.”

But Christmas offers us an alternative vision.  For as we draw near to the Christmas story we discover another Mary.  And not unlike Mary Bailey, there is a lot about her character that makes us wonder.  Who is she?  But Mary’s remarkable witness comes in the simple statement, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1.38)

She accepts the role that comes to her and practices obedience—a painful obedience that defines her whole life.  As we celebrate the coming of Jesus and the Bedford Falls he intends to establish, we might do well to consider Mary’s steadfast willingness to participate in that world.