Guest Blogger Series: Part 8

The Bible is a heavy book. Unless you carry a pocket-sized Bible (and have incredible vision), pretty much any Bible will be heavy-heavy to hold, heavy to carry, heavy so that it makes a satisfying thump when you set it on a desk. The Bible is so heavy that it must have tissue-thin pages in order to fit them all in without breaking human limbs. These tissue pages rattle loudly in a hushed sanctuary, especially to a restless child. How clearly I remember the cold seeping dread that suffused me each time my careless page-flipping tore one of those pages, just a little, near the spine.

When I think of the Bible, I imagine it as a weary book. Its weariness comes in part, of course, from its heaviness. A shelved Bible must support its whole weight on the bottom edges of its cover, hopefully one of the hardback variety. An opened Bible must support the weight of the reader’s prayers. I can imagine that the most terrified of Bibles are those that lie open on lecterns at the fronts of churches. What an immense weight-the collective pressure of an entire congregation listening, of that grouped dependence. Probably only the really big, ancient Bibles feel comfortable with that position, the ones illuminated by monks.

I imagine that Bibles are jealous of other books. The Bible has just as much beautiful imagery and just as many fascinating stories as a reasonable selection of classic fiction, but nobody ever just reads the Bible. They always read the Bible. It seems to me akin to how Ryan Giggs must feel* if he ever wants a pint: the people from whom he orders the pint will never think of him as just a bloke who wants a pint. He’s Ryan Giggs. I would think that might start to wear after a time.
But I do think the Bible must enjoy being analyzed, being pulled apart and interpreted and argued over. It just must be tickled to death to see students wound into a corner over what made Abraham a true believer, or over what indeed it was the St. Paul meant in this epistle as opposed to that other one. If Bibles ever rejoice, I imagine they do it when people look for more than the face value of their words, or when they remember that the Bible they’re reading might come in as many versions as there are scholars who translate it.

Heaviest of all to the Bible must be the knowledge of all the wars fought, all the evils done, all the crimes committed in its name. The Bible and the Koran must sit around commiserating with each other every so often, just to let each other know they’re not alone. After all, pretty much the worst that happens to other books is censorship or burning, not so much war.

But then, after all, pretty much the best that happens to other books is a brief rush of fame on the bestseller list-fleeting. But the Bible’s heavy weight inspires reverence, conversion, devotion, and simple kindness. I imagine the Bible might like that.

Elin Ljung is Communications Coordinator for the Mono Lake Committee in Lee Vining, California.