Sunday, April 29, 2012

Bible Class: The Bible's Undoing

It was the first class I ever took in college—Monday morning, 8:30 a.m.—New Testament class with Dr. Bratcher. He was an adjunct in the religion department that year, looked to be in his late fifties to early sixties, average height and build, wire-rimmed glasses, pretty much everything you'd expect of a Bible professor. While I did spend a modest amount of time in that class making paper footballs and flicking them at the row of tables in front of me (*sigh* freshmen...), I also kept my ears and mind open, and paid attention. And that, my friends, was the Bible's undoing.

I should say, that was the undoing of what I had always been taught about the Bible. Interestingly, there was no divinely-appointed photojournalist standing around when the world was created to make sure every detail was taken down with absolute accuracy. Interestingly, the gospels weren't four separate accounts of the same story that agreed with one another in every way, but heavily borrowed from each other and contained some glaring contradictions. Interestingly, the books of the Bible were not written with the express purpose of being included in a collection of scriptures that would tell 21st century Americans exactly how to live their lives. Interestingly, much more was written about Jesus and about the Jews than was included between the covers of my own Bible, and people had decided what would be in and what would be out. I had always heard that Catholics had the wrong version of the Bible, but it had never occurred to me that the heresy they included might actually sound a lot like the words that I had read so often in my own Bible that they had lost their meaning.

Slowly, as my darkly-veiled and murky idea of the origins of the Bible was exposed to the sunlight for the first time, my questions started to bloom. If the people who wrote these things were more or less people like me, wouldn't it have seemed strange to them to have some divine voice whispering in their ear exactly what to write? It would have at least been notable enough to record it in a preface. So were the words that I was reading not really directly from God at all, but just the writer's understanding of truth in accordance with their own culture and worldview? If, as the original thoughts were in different and ancient languages, they had to be translated before I could read them, wasn't that adding another layer to the interpretation of scripture, that of the translator? So now, instead of the words in front of me being directly from God, there were at least two people's worldviews filtering "God's word" into my hands...probably countless others that I wasn't even aware of. So really, in the end, this Bible wasn't some divine portal of absolute truth that I didn't have to be responsible for (e.g., "It's not my opinion, it's what the Bible says."); rather, my only access to truth, ever, was always going to be my own brain. That meant that, no matter what the Bible said, was ultimately the one responsible for my own opinions and actions and beliefs. Even if I decided to believe that every word in the Bible was inerrant, that decision was ultimately my responsibility; not the Bible's, not God's. Mine.

Suddenly, it made a lot more sense to step back and examine things for myself. Not just the Bible, but everything that I had been taught was based on the Bible. Why, exactly, was the Republican party the only acceptable choice for a Christian? Why, exactly, was wearing a spaghetti-strap cami immoral? Why, exactly, was war a good and honorable thing? Why, exactly, was the "sinner's prayer" the only prayer of a non-Christian that God can hear? Why, exactly, was the idea of evolution so odious?

Why, exactly, was I twisting my mind and heart into pretzels trying to believe something that had never given me any real peace or fulfillment?

Slowly, steadily, my own questions and my experience of the world and of people has worn down the layers of Christendom I had been wrapped in, and had wrapped myself in, my whole life. No longer am I on the outside looking in, always "set apart," always "chosen," always different, always separated. Now I'm in the thick of it. Life, real life, is all around me—and it's messy, it's real, it's beautiful. I am a living, breathing, contributing part of my world. No longer do I have to be "in the world but not of it." I care more about the world and the people in it, because their fate is my fate too. I trust people now, because I know most of them aren't out to destroy me, but simply to live their lives to the best of their knowledge and ability, just like me. I am a more compassionate and understanding person.  My world is beautiful and hopeful now.

I don't hate the Bible. I haven't read it in a long time, but if and when I do, I'm going to appreciate it for what it is. It is a record of the way that certain people and cultures understood reality and truth and the divine, and it has been a catalyst for many people and communities to experience the divine themselves. That, and that alone, is what makes it important. The reverence I have for the Bible does not come from fear of judgment or a craving for law and order, but from a deep appreciation of the divinity of our fully human experience.

2 comments:

  1. It amazes me how much we are on the same wave length... but then again, there are probably a lot of people in our situation- especially those that came out of being a student of a religious institution.

    I've always wondered why people seem to check their brain at the door when it comes to religion- and in this case- Christianity. Seriously. Look at our religion professors in college. They're all so intelligent and wise!... but they also happen to believe in something I consider... fairytale. It's like, when it comes to the matter of their faith, common sense doesn't have a role. It makes me sad. Maybe it's because I'm still young. Maybe they know something I don't (which may very well be the case, you know). Yet, I don't want to be one of those people that grew up in Christianity, then went through a non-practicing "phase", and then go back to the faith because it's comfortable.

    Cheri, you and I both know that what we're going through isn't temporary. It's as if, studying what we studied, opened our eyes FOREVER... and it would be foolish to close them again. I think you're on the right track, and I'll be walking it with you. I love what you wrote about being part of this world; it's the only life we have. I'd like to think that I want to live well and do good, for the sake of being human- not for some reward when I die. Humanity is what we should live for.

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  2. Yes Eunice, I totally agree about living and doing the best we can because that's really all we can do. But you know it's exactly BECAUSE of those highly intelligent, compassionate people who are committed to religion that I don't close the door on religion entirely. Right now, where I'm at is the best place for me. But I'm not going to say that I'll never be religious again, because I still have a lot of growing and changing to do and maybe, like you said, they know something I don't know yet. I'm open to that if it is the case. Who knows...chick flicks are beginning to make sense again, maybe religion will someday too! Lol. Love you. :)

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