Censoring the Bible
(Apologies for more of a church nerd post, but it does speak to broader issues.)
The second reading from the Revised Common Lectionary (the Bible readings for worship used by churches around the world) for this Sunday comes from the book of Revelation. For a few weeks now, we’ve been working our way through Revelation and have now arrived at chapter 22. The assigned reading, though, is Rev. 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21. On first glance, it sure looks to me like we’re censoring the Bible.
The assigned reading picks the lovely-dovey smooth feeling sections of chapter 22, and skips of the darker passages.
Included in this Sunday’s passage:
See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone’s work. 13 I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” 14 Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life and may enter the city by the gates….And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift….
Excluded from this Sunday’s passage:
Outside are the dogs and sorcerers and fornicators and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves and practices falsehood….I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to that person the plagues described in this book; if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away that person’s share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book.
Yes, Revelation is a really difficult book and comes with a lot of cultural baggage. Yes, most people in mainline churches these days don’t know the Bible like they used to. Yes, it’s difficult to read passages like that in worship.
But, really, isn’t this censorship plain and simple? And isn’t it ironic we censor the exact verse that says, “ if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away that person’s share in the tree of life”? What are the implications here? Seems to me like we’re dumbing down worship, the faith, and the Bible for reasons of comfort and convenience.
Suicide and Pastoral Care
Last week I mentioned our discussion of suicidality in my introduction to pastoral care course. A curious commenter, Joe Stewart to be exact, asked for some specifics. Borrowing heavily from a class handout, here they are:
Overall Notes and Helps:
- Main take away: If you suspect that someone is thinking of suicide, ASK. Don’t be afraid that your question will give the person the idea. Usually they are relieved to be asked.
- Don’t panic.
- Don’t promise anything that you do not want or cannot deliver.
- Prevent isolation.
- Follow-up is important. Call them back the next day, continue to helpthem workout some of the problems presented.
- Listen, listen, listen.
Clues to Suicidal Intention:
Verbal: “I just wanted to say goodbye.” “I’ve had it, I can’t stand it any more.” “I won’t be around much longer for you…”
Behavioral: The clearest behavioral clue is a “practice run” – a prior attempt of whatever seriousness. Putting affairs in order. Giving away prized possessions.
Situational: Just learned about a terminal diagnosis. Recent traumatic loss. Extreme pressure.
Syndromatic: Depressed. Disoriented. Defiant. Dependent-dissatisfied.
Role Play we did in class:
We then broke up into small groups and carried out a role play using a script about like this…
Helpee: Express pain and despair
Pastor: Mirror and probe
It sounds like you’re feeing very ___ lately
Does it every get so bad that you feel like hurting yourself?
Helpee: Acknowledge such feelings
Pastor: Validate and explore risk
I’m glad you feel you can share that with me.
Can you tell me more about those feelings/thoughts….Do you have a particular way in mind that you would do it?
P: Have you felt this way before?
P: How close are you, do you think, to carrying out a plan? Do you have the pills/gun/knife, etc?
P: Concern + we need to get support + contract
I’m very concerned about the pain you are in, and that you have a pretty firm idea about how you might end your life. It sounds like we need to get some support for you. I would like us to work together to find you the help that you need. I would really like you to make a promise/commitment to me that you won’t act on your plan to hurt yourself until we can get you connected with a good counselor today. Are you willing to do that?
P: I would like you to put that in writing for me. Here, would you write a promise on paper that you will not hurt yourself, and sign it, so we know this is a solemn promise?
So, Joe, that was our main takeaway and practice. Your original question wondered to what extend our response might be theological or biblical. Well, honestly, we discussed that very little. Basically, going down that road might be very dangerous and it sort of gets away from the issue at hand. That’s not to say there aren’t biblical/theological ideas that help with suicide considerers, but as lowly pastors with very basic pastoral care training, there’s definitely people more qualified to delve into such questions. We’re about connecting, and seeing the signals, and having that initial conversation with the contract.
Thoughts?
If you or someone you know is considering suicide, seek help now: SAVE or the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.
Great Children's Sermon Resource
In my current context we don’t really have Children’s Sermons, but for the shorter Family Service we do have 5-7 minute sermonette type things. I’ve struggled with the approach to these for the entire year. They should be children-friendly, but since 98% of the congregation is adult (and well into adulthood for that matter) and since that’s they’re only sermon for the day, it’s a bit of a tricky balance.Every week I prepare the Family Service sermon, I remember this story.
Megan’s internship church last year had weekly children’s sermons, and as she had very little discussion of such sermons in seminary, Megan asked me to ask youth and children ministry extra-ordinate Rodger Nishioka if he might suggest a book or two to help her preparation.
So one day before class, Rodger walked into our classroom to speak to a student. Getting his attention, I quickly explained Megan’s situation and asked if he might suggest a resource or two.
“Sure” he said, “Do you have a pen ready?”
“Got one” I said, happy to be helpful to Megan.
“Ok” Rodger said, “I know of a really great one that should be just what she needs. It’s a book called the Bible, that’s B-I-B-L-E.”
The whole class laughed out loud. And I realized I had walked straight into that one.
Rodger’s right. Children don’t need gimmicks or ridiculous moralistic stories only distantly related to the Bible. Sure, the stories from the Bible should be told in age-appropriate ways, but if the goal is entertainment, making the adults laugh, or singling out children for haze or praise (and…making the adults laugh) then we’ve taken our proverbial eye of the ball.
Call me crazy, but I think Rodger is on to something.
Guest Blogger Series: Mark Douglas and the BIBLE
Guest Blogger Series: Part 10 
by Mark Douglas
During a busy academic conference, I sit in on one of my favorite AAR groups, the Society for Scriptural Reasoning. The main idea of the group is that Jews, Christians, and Muslims gather together and read each other’s texts, having them interpreted for us by those who profess that faith’s text but open to the inquiries and thoughts of those from other faiths. It’s a provocative way to do inter-religious dialogue-a way that simultaneously honors the integrity of each tradition and opens the traditions to each other. Many of the folks in SSR are friends; a couple are mentors. And one of the great things about SSR is that it’s a chance to do some heavy intellectual lifting without quite as much self-promotion as you find in some other academic groups. Anyway, we’re sitting in small groups doing our thing when a Jewish friend makes a comment about a passage from 2 Timothy that we’ve been looking at. Pow! The text becomes scripture as my Bible surprises me. Next thing I know, I’m eye-deep in a fresh vision of the practicality of 2 Timothy 3:16.
I’m sitting in worship (which, between teaching in a seminary and having a wife who is a pastor, I tend to do a lot of), kind of half-attending to what’s going on (which I also tend to do a lot of for the same reasons) when something odd strikes me about the text, which is out of 1 Chronicles, of all places! Bam! A Bible-whack to the side of the head and a sudden stream-of-consciousness project forms in my mind about how I’ll teach an ethics class that next hour-and now I’ve got ½ hour to re-prepare the already nicely-prepared-but-clearly-no-longer-adequate class.
I’m reading one of my favorite theologians writing on one of his favorite topics when that theologian says something almost tangential to the topic. Whap! All of a sudden, I’ve got the last two verses of the last book of the Bible to deal with again-and the tension between an original ending that isn’t an ending (“Come, Lord Jesus!”) and a second ending that is one (“Amen.”) becomes a trope for investigating how Christians understand their place in time.
That’s more than enough. You get the picture: my Bible on a bungee and me with various bruises of the absolute best kind. And here are three observations about these contusion-causing events: First, and rather unsurprisingly, the farther I get from it, the more it shocks me when it comes whipping at me. Second, the more these Bible-slaps happen, the more provocative and illuminating their results. I’m always a slightly different (and hopefully richer) reader after such an event than I was before. And third, the most surprising things happen when I don’t enter the situation thinking I’m supposed to read the Bible in a certain way (devotionally, via historical-critical lenses, for pastoral care content, as an ethicist, etc.). So now I make fewer assumptions about how I’m supposed to read it or what its benefits will be. Which is, I suppose, the way a Christian opposition to works-righteousness applies to reading the Christian text. I imagine those three observations are related-and that they have to do with the always shocking quality of a revelation that is always about more than texts but never entirely disconnected from texts. And I guess that’s what you get when there’s a bungee on your Bible.
Mark Douglas is the Associate Professor of Christian Ethics at Columbia Theological Seminary. Mark’s interests include ethics in neo-orthodox theologies, medical and business ethics, the American philosophical tradition of pragmatism, and the role of religion in political philosophy. He’s also pretty good at frisbee golf. Mark co-edits an online journal for congregations on theology, church, and culture found called At This Point.
Guest Blogger Series: Elin Ljung and the BIBLE
Guest Blogger Series: Part 8
or
An exercise in anthropomorphism
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.
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