Reading the Bible Badly. Karl Allen Kuhn

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      Relatedly, our attempts to understand are also commonly selective. We tend to cast our gaze on aspects of an object or circumstance we most readily relate to or understand. We look for the familiar. We start with what we know. When dealing with complex matters or situations, we often use what we know to help us make sense of the rest.

      For example, if I am fishing a lake for the first time, I will start by focusing on techniques and patterns that have proven productive elsewhere. Or, if I am encountering the work of a philosopher that is new to me, I will often use parts of her discussion that make sense to me in order to help me figure out the parts that are unclear.

      These two tendencies—the perspectival and selective—are natural and really unavoidable. In order for us to know anything, it has to mesh or intersect with the thought patterns and belief systems we already hold. Even if new information radically transforms our belief systems, it still has to gain a foothold in our psyches by connecting with at least some of the stuff that is already there. Our minds are not empty vessels. Zero times anything always equals zero. Raw materials are needed for any reaction to occur. And all of us have plenty of raw materials—plenty of perspective—lodged in our minds and hearts.

      The selectivity with which we engage new objects or experiences in order to make sense of them can also be quite useful. Starting with what we know enables us to begin the process of feeling or thinking our way through a problem or situation. Gravitating to the familiar can give us the confidence we need to keep moving into uncharted territory. Conversely, when we lack any clear connection to an object or situation, it is easy to become overwhelmed or cognitively paralyzed: “I don’t know where to begin!”

      Being perspectival and selective interpreters can be a good thing! And that’s good to know, because we really don’t have any other choice.

      Seeing Differently and Reading Badly

      But being perspectival and selective interpreters also presents challenges. The fact we Christians read the Bible very differently from one another can be somewhat troubling, especially when those differences are about essential elements of our tradition. And if our understandings of Scripture and how to read it and the interpretations we take from it are so variable, what does it mean for us to claim these writings as the “inspired Word of God”?

      This is not a trivial query. It is one we will return to in the pages to follow (see chapter 2). However, I would argue that our use of Scripture in the church is even more problematic than this. Not only do we as American Christians often read Scripture very differently than one another. We also tend it read it very badly.

      The lenses we have crafted, consciously or not, often distort what Scripture seeks to show us about the will and ways of God. Some distortions are more severe than others. Some, as we noted above in the cases of slavery, Manifest Destiny, patriarchy, racism, Islamophobia, and homophobia, are downright tragic. Others are less extreme but still lead to the serious consequence of muting or misshaping the Bible’s witness.

      When paired with uncritical, biased, or unfaithful thinking, our perspectival and selective natures can lead to uncritical, biased, and unfaithful interpretations. The perspectival and selective character of our reading glasses are unavoidable and even valuable assets, but only if we are willing to recognize when our prescription needs to change, when the lenses we use are actually distorting rather than illuminating what it is we are trying to see.

      Let’s return to the example of me fishing a new lake. Suppose I fish that lake all day using the methods I found useful elsewhere but only catch a few fish. I return to the lake several more times, using the same methods, and end up with the same meager results. I conclude that problem must be with the lake—if there were fish here I (masterful fisherman that I am) would surely catch them! Or, to expand the analogy, I catch a bunch of fish but only of one species, and a species I really don’t like. So, I conclude that there must not be many fish of more desirable species in the lake and decide to move on to the next.

      Well, of course, you readily see the problem in my thinking. It is biased and irrational (and a bit arrogant). It assumes that I already possess all of the skills and knowledge I would need in order to catch any kind of fish I want in any lake. Sadly, I admit to falling victim to such silly thinking more than once, only to be corrected (and humbled) by the reports of other fisherfolk back at the dock.

      But I think many of us fall into these patterns of thinking quite commonly. We think we know all that there is to know, or at least all that is worth knowing, about something. We fail to see the potential limitations in our perspectives, our ingrained modes of thought, our gravitation towards and preference for the familiar. Such biased, uncritical thinking is quite human of us. Yet in moments such as these we are at risk of living up to the title “duh-ciples.”

      It is just this mode of thinking, though here with more serious consequences than no fish for dinner, that Jesus is getting at when he tells the crowds “You have heard it was said in ancient times . . . but I say to you . . . !” and calls them to build their houses of faith on rock, not sand. This is what Paul is saying when he exhorts the believers in Rome “Do not conform any longer to the patterns of this world, but be transformed in the renewing of your minds!” This is what Isaiah cried out in his lament over Israel, and what Jesus proclaimed as taking place in his day:

      14 With them indeed is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah that says:

      “You will indeed listen, but never understand,

       and you will indeed look, but never perceive.

      15 For this people’s heart has grown dull,

      and their ears are hard of hearing,

      and they have shut their eyes;

      so that they might not look with their eyes,

       and listen with their ears,

      and understand with their heart and turn—

       and I would heal them. (Matt 13:14–15; citing Isa 6:9–10)

      The faith announced by the prophets, Jesus, and Paul is a faith rightly attuned to the perspectives of God. Unfortunately, it is a faith that does not (yet) come easily to us human creatures. Even Paul, years after his mind-transforming encounter with the risen Jesus, will admit to still seeing as if in a mirror, “dimly” (1 Cor 13:12) and not yet having attained full knowledge of Christ (Phil 3:7–16). Even the Spirit-filled followers of Jesus will disagree (see Acts 6:1, 15:1–21) and get it wrong (Gal 2:11–14) at times. We all struggle with the cost of duh-cipleship.

      Adjusting our Lenses

      So how do we do better?

      The first step, I think, in becoming thoughtful and faithful interpreters of anything, including Scripture, is to recognize we view everything through a set of reading glasses. We have to get to the point where we can boldly proclaim:

      “I don’t just read Scripture, doggone it, I interpret it (fist pound)!”

      The second, and perhaps more difficult step, is to acknowledge like Paul and many others that our reading glasses may need an adjustment from time to time.

      It can be unsettling to recognize that we have not been seeing things clearly. We prefer when all is in order, when we are in command of our faculties, and confident in our views of reality. No one wants to hear that he or she has been mistaken. This is especially so when the things we have not been seeing clearly are very important to us, and when they СКАЧАТЬ