The Bemicturated Translation

I was raised to read the bible every day.  I was supposed to read a chapter each morning, from quite a young age, and for the most part, I did.  I was paid $20 when I was twelve to read the bible cover to cover.  (One thing to know: it had to be the 16th Century King James Bible, and not a modern translation, as those were thought to be not the "real" bible, but mere paraphrases or translations by people without the proper respect for the book.)   I did read it, with every begat, every thee and thou and hast, and though I was reading quickly (more so that I could say I'd done it, than for the $20, though I wanted $20 too) for the most part I understood what the words meant.  

    I say "I understood what the words meant" in the same way that, nowadays, I can claim to know what the words in the bible say.  Very different from "knowing what the author intended by saying this" or stuff like that. 

     That reminds me of how Bill always used to complain about, object to and otherwise comment upon things in the bible, yet every single time he did, he'd mention something that wasn't in there at all:  Three wise men and their names, "God helps them that helps themselves," "Neither a borrower nor a lender be," people in heaven wearing white robes and playing harps and singing, a choir of angels singing at Christ's birth, people becoming angels after they'd died, purgatory, Peter manning the gates of Heaven, Heaven having gates, the gates of heaven being pearly, Jonah being swallowed specifically by a whale, Adam eating an apple, and on and on and on.  He'd always insist that stuff was in there somewhere, though he hadn't read it, and he'd want to comment on it or object to it as if it was.  And he wouldn't believe me when I said it wasn't.  

     Hearing one of these stupid arguments, Dave said to Bill "Look.  The bible is a book.  Mike read it. He knows what's in there."   

     Knowing what's in there.  Very different from knowing what's meant by everything, knowing how to make sense of or how to benefit from anything.  (Bill actually tried to fight that one on "Well, there are an unlimited number of ways to interpret..." but Dave pointed out that this was a matter literally of "is it in there or not?" and it was therefore not a matter of interpretation.) 

    The specific attitude with which I was to read the bible as a child was one of those things that wasn't quite stated explicitly by anyone, but the message was sent and I picked it up loud and clear.  In light of assertions that the bible had "all the answers to life," more specifically and conveyed quite wordlessly was the belief that the bible was to be read so you'd know what to do, and what not to do.  In other words, you were to read the bible as if it were an instruction manual, set of rules or how-to book.  For life, of course, but an instruction manual nonetheless.  

     The bible says the Christian life isn't about rules and laws so much, so when that was pointed out, the "rules" were called "guidelines that it is very, very important to follow, or it's very dangerous." Some institutions of higher learning, I found out, taught that the bible was literature, that it was beautiful, and a unique example of something, with emotional and life content shared across the ages by people long dead.  The idea was also wordlessly conveyed to me by my spiritual keepers that to elevate the bible from how-to manual to piece of world literature would...debase it, somehow.   The book wasn't meant to be treated like one, and certainly not like pretty words that touched the hearts of anyone who read them, even if they didn't believe the stories really happened.  It needed to be stories that really happened.  

     In such a literature course, they'd no doubt only cast doubt on those awkward beliefs we insisted upon, like that Isaiah wrote the entire book of Isaiah all by himself, and that at the end, where it tells us that he died, he must have foreseen this and wrote it, through divine inspiration.    (No one wanted to say "Oh, Steve wrote that last bit."  Because that would bring down the whole house of cards, somehow. )  Same thing with Moses.  Wrote a bunch of books, including the parts that happened before man was created, and what happened in heaven when no men were present, and what happened after he died. 

      I have many cherished books.  I have books that I have often used to divert my mind into wonder when my life was grey and empty.  I have books that made me laugh out loud with delight at their unconventional and ruggedly individualistic cleverness.  I have books which are just really good examples of something or other.  My life bears the imprint of these works, and my walls are thickened and edified by their sentry-like presence in every place I have ever lived. 

      I also have some how-to books.  I have one on the art of sensual massage, and a few about photography.  I have ones about how to play the guitar.  I have one which promises to teach me to read New Testament Greek in just 20 minutes per day.  I have some about how to use computers which have now been obsolete for ten or twenty years.  The thing is, I haven't even finished reading most of those.  Even the ones with the occasional picture of a partly nude woman. (those 80s computer manuals and New Testament Greek primers got pretty racy) These expensive, colourfully illustrated books were bought with the best of intentions, filling me with the enticing notion that, by reading this book, I was going to become a more well-rounded, skilled, interesting person.  No doubt one who could be performing a sensual massage on a Greek woman I'd been photographing while the strains of my new classical guitar CD filled the air, playing from my TRS-80 4K computer.  

     Despite the best of intentions, to a man these books have sat upon my shelf, pouting, brooding, textually unfulfilled. Now, to this very day, which category is my upbringing going to predispose me to put my bibles into?  That's easy.  How-to books.  Nonliterature.  Reading them is supposed to make me a more well-rounded, skilled, interesting, spiritual, peaceful, happy, enlightened person.  I plan to read them with the best of intentions.  Yet they sit near my bed and beside the futon buried under murder mysteries, westerns, science fiction and short story compilations. 

     The bible is insane.  It has a musical about two lovers having sex until they need to order in some apples to regain their strength, professing melodramatic love, taking an inventory of each other's bodies, then separating, then waking each other up at weird hours of the night, then running around the city and surrounding countryside in the middle  of the night looking for one another, and so on.  

     Don Miller wants to teach this book of erotic poetry in a "how-to" approach, just for laughs:  

"Breasts like towers.  Like clusters of grapes.  THOSE are the qualities the Word of God instructs you to look for in a godly wife, young men.  Go out and find those breasts, described for your learning, here in the Song of Solomon.  I'll be praying that you do.  And have sex until you need to phone room service for apples." 

    (there are apples mentioned in the bible.  Adam didn't eat one, but Solomon wanted some after a lot of lovemaking) 

     So yesterday I read part of the bible (using the little, leather-bound 19th Century J.N. Darby translation that my dearly departed cat once most spitefully urinated upon for reasons known only to himself, and which has not entirely lost that odour, despite my best efforts) and tried for the emotional, life connection approach, rather than reading the bible to see what it said I should do.  

    So, rather than getting some advice and instructions about oxen, husbandry and the treatment of slaves (which no part of the book has any ethical problems with) I read the book of Lamentations.  I like to lament (complain) and usually feel regretful most of the time.  

    It fit me like a glove, and it was itself, and I wasn't trying to make it serve me and my predilections and needs.   The overall feeling of the book called to a responsive space inside myself.  And the book seemed to be Jeremiah bemoaning what God had done to Israel, and feeling a little bit hard done by and maybe even resentful of God.  

   Religious people get very scared and angry with me whenever I feel this way toward God myself.  There is really no message, straight from God, put into the lips of Jeremiah to pass on to the people of Israel that I could find in Lamentations.  It sounds like Jeremiah's own emotional response to the destruction of Jerusalem, as someone who lived there and loved it.   There weren't shoulds and should nots, for the most part, and though there was hope that God would one day stop allowing them to be oppressed, and bring them out of slavery and set them back on their feet, this certainly wasn't presented as a moral, a good example to follow or even as upright behaviour.  It wasn't prefaced or packaged or interpreted at all.  There was no moral or application.  It was just what he said.  

    It sounded like he was "off the clock" when it came to being a prophet.  The usual prophet's message "God feels this way, because you're fucking up, so repent or He'll blow your house of cards down to show how precarious your position truly is, and if you do repent, He'll forgive you" is entirely lacking. Because it's too late.  

   They didn't repent, they worshipped stupid made-up gods which suited them better than the real deal and His noted lack of cooperation and meeting of preconceptions, and now Jeremiah is bemoaning what happened and maybe even resenting it a bit.  And I could feel it. 

     So, I guess there's an important reading lesson in all of that, a method for reading the bible, and most of all, a wonderful moral that I can provide for everyone.  And I guess I won't tell you about any of it or do that.  You can pick up and chew your own food in your own way and at your own pace.