Attitudes to the Bible

August/September newsletter

Recently at church we were talking about attitudes to the Bible in today's culture. I'd made the comment that, in the view of the pervasive culture around us, “either you are rational and reject the Bible or you are irrational”. The church's track record of expecting blind, naïve acceptance of the Bible is part of the reason for the level of rejection in the western part of our NZ culture. Over generations past the church has promulgated what is called a grand narrative – a story to explain everything and not open to question. It has done harm – exclusion and violence – which has been motivation enough for recent generations to turn away from it altogether.

I put the case for a third alternative, which in fact is what we all seem to be working with, even if we're not aware of it. We're not naïve about the Bible in the sense of never questioning it, never challenging all too human events and behaviour which these stories of old contain. We don't go with face value, but weigh it up relation to other knowledge and with the character of Jesus. The Jesus we meet in the Bible shows us what I call Christ-shaped living, and in turn we read the stories of the Bible through that lens of Christ. And through that lens we see treasure in the midst of very human – and messy – stories.

A comment was made: the church is not doing very well at presenting this third option – remaining rational and reading the Bible to find insight into God's truth for living.

My thought: the “church” that is going to do this is us, the people who are the church.

It's up to us to introduce this other option, of reading the Bible, brain well engaged, and uncovering real food for living well. One reason for this is there's no theory for how this is done, no instructions to publish and promote. Because it's in the practice that it happens. The Bible's narratives speak to us: it's in the listening that the discoveries happen. As we're listening our brains are ticking over with their questions, what we know already adds its bit, and our hearts are asking too – what we long for, hope for, struggle with. And to our surprise maybe the stories make a connection, and we have a response, an insight, a new direction.

We realise that the Bible contains narratives and not pronouncements, stories carrying truth not dogma pinning it down. When we read it on those terms, something happens in our souls. Like an experience that moves us, a conversation that energises us, something in us is touched and changed.

The hard part is to speak about this to others. It's much easier to fall back on standard religious words – or say nothing. How do we express the real experience that the original basis for religious language? How do we tell another person what it is that the word “God” points to for us?

We can only do it by trying. Starting with trying to put it into words for ourselves.

Ask yourself: what keeps bringing me back to Bible stories? What would I be missing if I didn't, if I didn't ever gather with others who share experiences and chewed them over alongside Bible texts?

What will be missing if we don't find ways to share these stories with children?

Let's keep talking about this together. Sundays at church are definitely a time and place for doing that, being church together.

Church as I know it hasn't thrown out the baby with the bath-water. The bath-water was “the Church” of years past, the institution with its doctrines and its laws that the Scribes and Pharisees would have been impressed with. In that bath-water the Bible got submerged with the real story of freedom in Christ out of reach. The baby is that story of freedom. We access it whenever we read the Bible with open minds and eyes on Christ.

Rangimarie Peace Shalom, Robyn