Lenten stories, part I: Involuntary disciplines

Since we took down our Christmas tree today, it must be almost time for a Lenten blog post.

Thanks to Jessica's Lenten Blog Carnival, I've been reflecting lately on Lenten stories. Mostly my own, of course, because those are the ones I know best. As I reflect, I am realising that my stories are mostly about involuntary Lents. The voluntary ones are there every year. But the involuntary fasts are sometimes far more memorable. Perhaps that simply reinforces our dependence on grace... our desire to grow closer to our Saviour is fulfilled by him, with or without our feeble attempts. We are dependent even for our disciplines!

With that in mind, there was that memorable Lent where I gave up reading the Bible.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly for Lent. And I didn't do it on my own; it was a class assignment. The class just happened to be during the spring semester of my senior year in college... right over Lent.

Lent is, of course, about giving up good and lawful things in order to imitate Christ and know Him better. But reading the Bible? That's supposed to be one of those things I take on, right? Because I haven't been doing it enough? Reading is simply a crucial part of both private and public worship in our society. Then, too, as a university student, I sometimes went to the level of the ultra-literate: I brought my Greek and Hebrew Scriptures to church and tried to follow as the English text was read. Perhaps I was a good candidate for a "literacy fast"...

Our class assignment was simple: for each of twelve weeks, replace Bible reading with some kind of devotional method used in oral cultures. Our assigned meditations varied. Nature and what it reveals about its Creator. An early Christian symbol, the dolphin (representing the two natures of Christ). A stained glass window. An icon of the Resurrection. Rembrandt's The Prodigal Son. Listening to Scripture being read. But-- no reading.

Lent reminds us that we are dependent, that grace sustains our lives. The stark simplicity of humbly and hungrily listening as the Scripture was read aloud in church-- without even the ability to follow along in English-- stripped away my illusion of being in control of my interaction with God’s Word. I was helpless, needy, unable to feed myself. I couldn't even look up simple questions during the week-- “What was the context of that verse?” “How did that story end?” Never have I so craved hearing the Scriptures read at church, as when they formed the entire Scriptural “input” into my life each week.

At the same time, I learned (over again) the beauty of worship originally designed for oral cultures. I prayed differently while walking through the park. Liturgical services sprang to life for me... the repetition, the words of the service set to music, the visual "memory aids," the whole-body participation. I saw The Passion of the Christ during this Lent, and its breathtaking iconic imagery overwhelmed me. The timeless truths of Christianity suddenly appeared in new perspectives and in new lights, simply because the veil of my literate interaction with Scripture had been stripped away from the rich world of orality it concealed.

I did go back to reading my Bible, with great relief (and you can breathe a sigh of relief, too... I'm not a heretic after all!). But I didn't forget. The knowledge of my dependence on the written word was humbling. Then, too, there was my dependence on those God called to translate the Bible into English. I suppose you could say the urgency of translation came home to me in a new way... the people who don’t have Scripture in their language can’t read and absorb the Bible even if they are literate. But I also realised the importance of finding and using and preserving the rich oral tradition in such cultures.

"Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen." ~The Book of Common Prayer