Faith Works 8-18-18
Jeff Gill
Readings from a sacred library
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While I use many translations of the Bible in my preaching, my own mental fallback is the Revised Standard Version (RSV), which is probably why I like using the newer English Standard Version (ESV) so much, built on that earlier translation family.
Our pew Bibles at church are New Revised Standard Version (NRSV), which likes to challenge readers on many levels by overturning assumptions and familiar readings for more contemporary interpretations, but has a skeptical approach to illumination. The New International Version is common in the pews in people's hands, though less than it once was; multiple special editions of it have almost hurt the brand, though it's a very workable translation.
There are still a few King James Versions out there among the membership, I know, and at Christmas I'm likely to return there at times myself. As I grew up, the Today's English Version (TEV), also known as the "Good News Bible," gave me motivation to dig deeper through more accessible language, and the line illustrations in the original editions are, to me, part of the translation; today, I think the New Living Translation 2nd edition is a commonly available reader-friendly version that does much the same . . . but it doesn't have those line illustrations.
There are many who talk about how the Bible speaks to them in the out-of-doors, and I recall some theologian talking about the Bible and the Book of Nature as parallel, complementary volumes. What God says in one is often explained more fully in the other, and the seeker after God's Word can fruitfully turn back and forth from one volume to the other for illumination, or so that interpretation would argue. Sunrises in the outdoors turns us to Mary Magdalene in the garden, our gardening takes us to Luke 13, the 23rd Psalm is brought to mind as we drive past flocks in the field or hike mountain paths, and so on.
I have much the same sort of collection developing in my head, or perhaps I should say in my heart, since logic and reason have little to do with it. There is the Book of Parenting, which echoes and reinforces much of my Bible reading and understanding, a volume that gets longer every year, even if still shorter than the sixty-six books of the ESV. They do stand together.
And there is a Book of Preaching, and a Book of Worship, which like the pairs of Kings and Chronicles have a great deal of overlap, but are distinctly two narratives. How I've preached, how I've learned from what I've preached, and what people tell me they heard after I finished a sermon – all that informs my interpretation of scripture. Likewise services, especially the special services, Christmas and Easter and Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, outdoor worship and camp consecration and national park vespers: they all go into, and bring things out of my reading of the Word.
The Book of Weddings makes a small supplemental volume in my interpretive library, with an impact on my sense of the divine at work in the world, but also stemming from how often I have to work hard to keep the Bible engaged with the "event" – always a learning experience.
But the biggest addition to my interpretive library is the Book of Funerals. Each time I go to be with a family, large or small, and prepare to conduct services for someone old or young, I learn more about what the Bible means, what it says, and how it teaches. Sometimes intentionally, often as I drive away, sometimes days later.
And I know this. One thing I've learned from the Book of Funerals for my reading and teaching and preaching from the Holy Bible itself: never, at any time, say anything about God and the world at work together that cannot be credibly said at the graveside of a small child. If it makes no sense there, it makes no sense anywhere else. But if you can say it, through tears perhaps, but say it with hope and faith and strength and confidence at that moment, you can safely preach it anywhere, from a mountaintop to a statehouse chamber. You might even be able to say it in church.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's thankful for illumination from the Holy Spirit in reading what God puts before him every day. Tell him where you read for inspiration at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
