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Essay 85 (8-7-05)

READING THE BIBLE TOGETHER AS A COMMUNITY OF FAITH

Those of us in churches that are more informal in their assemblies – sometimes called "low church" -- are less exposed to Bible reading as part of worship than those in more formal, "high church" traditions. If there is the "reading of the text" for three or more minutes in a Baptist Church or a Church of Christ prefatory to 30 or 40 minutes of preaching, it would be something of the reverse of that in an Episcopal service.

If the "low" service draws upon but one portion of Scripture, determined by the sermon, the "high" service will have readings from the gospels, the epistles, and the Old Testament. If one appears to be randomly selected – as random as the sermon – the other is part of readings planned for the year, which cover in that time a considerable portion of the Bible.

One service appears to emphasize what God is saying, speaking through Scripture. The other seems to accentuate what man is saying, or what God might say through the preacher. The "low" service is vulnerable to the criticism that the church assembles "to hear the preacher," and not to read (and hear) the Bible together.

This problem is compounded by the fact that it is often the case that there is no necessary connection between the textual reading and what the preacher says. He may make some reference to the text and then go "everywhere" preaching. He may tell stories and give illustrations, but there is little delving into the text itself. This is what Alexander Campbell criticized as "textuary preaching." He called for "expository teaching."

This occurs when the church reads a portion of Scripture together – listens to the voice of God together – and then someone will give an "exposition" or commentary on what is read. This might be a verse by verse study, or it might be general comments. Whatever method, the point is to apply what is read to the heart and mind of the hearers.

This distinction was so important to Campbell that he made it part of his "new reformation." He put it this way in one list of his goals: The reading and expounding of the sacred scriptures in public assemblies instead of text preaching, sermonizing and philosophizing.

The reformer had a point. The modern church has opted for "sermonizing" over reading the Bible together. It listens to sermons rather than to the Bible, and it is in sermons that dogmas are wrought and sects are made. If the church had simply read the Bible together it would not likely have ever come up with the five points of Calvinism (TULIP) or such theories as transubstantiation, the hypostatic union, or dispensationalism.

The great church councils may have had their place, but one wonders how different it might have been if the divines – who were assembled to save the church – had done what Campbell envisioned – read and expound the Scriptures to each other. And all those debates – which divided us all the more – would have had a different result if we had spent that time reading the Bible together.

It is a beautifully unifying concept – the community of faith gathered around an open Bible. They read together – either in unison or they all listen as one does the reading – such Scripture as:

Let no corrupt speech proceed out of your mouth, but what is good for necessary edification, that it may impart grace to the hearers. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and all evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another even as God in Christ forgave you. Therefore, be imitators of God as dear children (Eph. 4:29-5:1).

They will listen as if listening to the voice of God, and they will allow the words to touch both heart and mind. The words will not only inform but penetrate their conscience. Some may feel smitten and ask themselves "Has my tongue been unruly, my words unkind?" Others may search their hearts with "Do I harbor grudges, am I forgiving?"

After a time of pondering the text, it is time for sharing their impressions. One may observe how our speech defines who we are, and how God calls us to be gracious in what we say. Another points out that one function of the Holy Spirit is to prepare us for "the day of redemption" by making us like Christ. Someone else is impressed that God is naming the sins that really matter – bitterness, anger, malice, foul speech. Another is wowed by the charge to be an imitator of God, and concludes that this must mean to love like God loves.

Some of them are so touched by what the Spirit has said that they want to confess their sins – they have spoken bitter and unkind words, or they have been unforgiving, or they have been angry and impatient even with some in their circle.

This is reading the Bible together as a community of faith, and when this is done disagreements and differences – even annoyances – become less important. The Bible unites us when it becomes God’s presence in our midst. But this is our problem, that the Scriptures do not impact our lives in this way. While reading the Bible is something we all believe in, and it is something we do at church, and maybe sometimes at home. But it has little, if any redemptive value in our lives. It has little to do with what we do – or how we speak, think, and treat people – on Monday.

Contrast this with the way a faithful Muslim views the Koran. Addressing scholars at Princeton a Muslim educator gave this testimony: "As a Muslim, I am certain that the Quran is the very speech of Allah, and I strive to live the full implications of this certitude. I strive, all the days of my life, to bear the Quran in my heart. And to allow it to transform me from the inside so as to become my very character."

We may have something to learn from the Muslims. Transformed – or continually transformed -- from the inside out by reading Scripture together! We may not be in a position to judge the Koran, but as Christians we are suppose to believe that the Bible, inspired, by the Holy Spirit, has this power to change our lives – to keep on changing our lives – as we read it together as a community of faith.

There is of course a place for private and personal reading of the Bible, even when it is a modern accommodation. In the ancient world the typical family would not have had a book of any kind. Most people were too poor to own such rarities, and, being illiterate, could not have read it if they had had one. They learned by listening to readings, usually in some gathering. They developed good memories, and told their stories from generation to generation. It is only in recent centuries – and mostly in the Western world – that Christians have had a Bible of their own.

Even when we read Scripture alone we are not really alone, or should not allow ourselves to be. Even in our most private moments we are part of the community of faith. Perhaps we should always pray – as our Lord taught us – "Our Father" rather than "My Father." And certainly one should not pray a personal prayer when leading a congregation in prayer.

When reading and praying privately we can see ourselves – as Heb. 12:22-24 informs us – as in the company of innumerable angels, and in the presence of the church of the firstborn both in heaven and on earth, and with the spirits of sisters and brothers made perfect in heaven. We are still near those who have gone on, with only a veil separating us.

Even when we enter our closet to pray it is a "We" environment. We see this in the way Paul felt when he prayed: "For this reason I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, from whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named . . ." (Eph. 3:14-15).

So, we don’t read the Bible alone even when alone, but as part of the community of faith. And our concern for suffering humanity and our trust in God’s abounding mercy becomes our worldview.

An example of this are those moving words in Jer. 31:15-17, which I was recently reading:

Thus says the Lord: "A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentations and bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children, because they are not."

Thus says the Lord: "Keep your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears, for your work shall be rewarded, and they shall come back from the land of the enemy. There is hope for the future," says the Lord.

This is heavy drama. God has sentenced his wayward people to 70 years of captivity in Babylon. The prophet Jeremiah is in Jerusalem writing words of both judgment and comfort to those in captivity. A few miles away is Ramah, the traditional site of the tomb of Rachel, the ancestress of Israel.

The prophet hears cries of anguish from Ramah. Rachel is crying out from her tomb, weeping for her children in captivity, as those in captivity are also weeping for themselves – "By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion" (Ps. 137:1).

God hears Rachel’s lament, and tells her to weep no more, for her children will be brought back home "There is hope for the future," he assures her.

The impassioned reader finds himself caught up in this story. He feels the desperation of the captives who "hang their harps upon the willows, for they can not sing the songs of Zion in a foreign land." He identifies with the weeping prophet – as if there with him –when he sees the justice of his people’s punishment, and yet holds out hope for their deliverance. The reader feels the heart of God, who, while he must punish his people so as to preserve them, is moved to show mercy when he hears the lament of Rachel.

The reader especially identifies with Rachel, as if he were beside her tomb. Her weeping is both a dirge and a love song, not unlike a ewe crying for its wandering lamb. But that God hears Rachel’s weeping, one who had trials enough herself. What grace!

But the believer – reading with the community of faith – hears laments from Ramahs of his own world. Some are as far away as Africa – women weeping for the starving, emaciated children, dying in their arms. Another "voice from Ramah" comes from the war-torn, terrorized countries where thousands of children are orphaned and left to wander in the streets. Other weeping can be heard from mothers caught in the sunami -- not only their children but all that they had washed out to sea.

And he might hear Rachel weeping from abortion clinics, thousand of them around the world -- millions of mothers aborting their children when caught up in the cruel dilemmas of life.

And the believer, reading together with the community of faith – prays that God will hear the desperate voices from the Ramahs of our time.