Krista Mournet

As a burgeoning scholar, now a couple of years into a doctoral program, I have experienced a certain creative energy in the tension between belief and knowledge; between the pursuit of broadening my mind and stretching my heart as I wrestle within this tension. I’ve often identified with Jacob, who struggled with the angel at the Jabbok ford (Genesis 32:21-30). I find it motivating and energizing. But to many it seems a threat.

How can we dare to question the Bible; isn’t that the same as questioning God? I emphatically answer in the negative. I value and hold the Bible in high regard as the sacred scriptures of my faith. But I do not worship the Bible. I worship the God to whom it bears witness.

I just came across this article, in which Dr. Richard T. Hughes grapples with the tension between belief and skepticism in the Christian scholar. What most resonated with me out of it was this quote, by Miguel de Unamuno:

[T]hose who believe they believe in God, but without passion in the heart, without anguish of mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, and even at times without despair, believe only in the idea of God, and not in God himself.

I have often said; without doubt faith would be unnecessary. Spiritual health lives, I think, right smack in the middle between faith and doubt, where we recognize moment by moment that we would never survive without God. That’s why I believe my scholarship is not a threat to my faith–it is one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.

Catherine Crouch

I am the furthest thing from a scientist. I am quite happy in the humanities. That’s why I was surprised to find myself identifying deeply with some of the sentiments in this article, written by Andy Crouch. In it, Crouch describes his wife Catherine, an experimental physicist (that means about as much to me as “Hebrew Bible scholar” means to most people); not only her work, but her personhood, her vocation, her struggles and joys. Crouch sensitively portrays her journey in the academic and scientific spheres. And I was surprised at how much commonality I found between her journey and my own.

Additionally, I was struck by Crouch’s gentle yet pointed critique of the apparent inability of most of the sermons or church activities they attend to minister deeply to his wife particularly–to speak into the unique challenges she faces on a day-to-day basis. And Crouch suggests that it’s not because of her esoteric line of work; this is true of most people:

“Does the gospel really have nothing to say to our sense of wonder and delight in the world? Is it silent on how to manage competition and risk? Does it give us no guidance on the qualities that make for real, fruitful collaboration? To the contrary, all these are the soil where discipleship can grow, where grace can be discovered, and where real faith can be nourished. What other opportunities are we missing to name the ways that every vocation in our congregation points us toward, and indeed requires, the death to self and trust in God that are the essence of trust in Jesus?”

I can imagine that it must be very difficult for pastors, who are under constant pressure to deliver relevant, impactful messages every week to people with very different day-to-day challenges and situations. There must be the constant temptation to stay in the safe, bland territory of generalities; the mushy, easily digestible self-help sermon diet that so often becomes the default position. But is there a danger in becoming too abstract; too metaphorical? Crouch goes on to say:

Many people who end up in academic vocations are comfortable with abstraction. There is real intellectual leverage that can be gained by abstracting away from particular persons to talk about, for example, “personality”; to abstract away from a set of methods, practices, discoveries, and theories to talk about “science”; to abstract away from a set of beliefs and rituals to talk about “religion.” Yet ministry is one human vocation that dare not be abstract. The most fruitful ministry always is engaged with very concrete communities and persons.

Have a look at the article yourself. Think about the amount of time we Christians tend to spend defending abstract arguments, staking out turf, battling with competing ideologies. How many opportunities are we missing; opportunities to discover the infinite mysteries in one another? How much time are we wasting? It’s something to think about.

If there is one critique I have of this article, it is that Crouch perhaps too quickly sets the academic worlds of science and theology at odds with one another–in fact, I found myself surprised at how much the world he describes and the world I inhabit are not altogether that different. And perhaps in a way, that supports his ultimate point…

I got a really great hug today. I mean, a fantastic hug. You know, the kind of hug your grandma gave you after you had been away too long, and it was Christmas and the smell of pine needles and cinnamon was in the air and you just couldn’t wait to see your grandma? Yeah, it was that kind of hug. And you know what is even better? It came as a complete surprise; unexpected and unanticipated.

Juan Mann gives out free hugs at Pitt Street Mall

This hug came from someone I had just met…literally, I saw her coming down the aisle after church and almost before I had a chance to say hello I was hugged; no time to attempt a handshake or a cordial “nice to meet you.” It was great. I should say she wasn’t unknown to me; she knows my husband and my story and was expecting to see me at some point, because we have common connections…but still, she was in no way obligated by social convention to give me more than a handshake. And in a moment, I was overcome by the joy that just came spilling out of her. And she didn’t just give me a quick hug either–she held on for a while, as if to say by her actions; “I am really, really happy you are here. Welcome!”

What a great moment. I won’t forget that. As I’ve been thinking about that moment, and the warm conversation that followed, I’m reminded of a quote I read recently from a little book of quotes by Mother Teresa;

“The password of the early Christians was joy, so let us still serve the Lord with joy. Joy is love, joy is prayer, joy is strength. God loves a person who gives joyfully, and if you give joyfully you always give more. A joyful heart is the result of a heart burning with love.

Works of love are always works of joy. We don’t need to look for happiness: if we have love for others we’ll be given it. It is the gift of God.”

Mother Teresa; from Meditations from A Simple Path (Ballantine Books, 1996), p. 65

This morning after church, I was taken up in joy. Enveloped, really. Generously and extravagantly. I am very grateful. I needed a hug.

“If you want to be a better exegete, you must become a deeper person.” I read this quote from Brevard S. Childs a few days ago, and it has been rattling around in my heart and mind ever since. I can’t get it out of my head. What’s ‘exegesis,’ you may ask (because chances are if you’ve never been to Bible college or seminary, you’ve never heard this word)? ‘Exegesis’ is really a fancy-pants Bible college way of saying “interpretation.”

The word comes from the Greek language and means, literally “to lead out.” When someone exegetes something, be it a word, a text, a culture, their dog, whatever, they are interpreting that thing or person; trying to figure out what it means, turning it over to look at it from other angles and perspectives–getting outside themselves long enough to get inside of whatever is being interpreted.

So does this practice require depth of character? This is what I’ve been thinking about. And this is what has occurred to me. In order to interpret something, anything, you have to be able to understand that something first. And you can’t understand something well until you know the language. I remember before I had my son I could listen to a toddler babble on and have no idea what the kid was saying–it all sounded like slobbery gobbledy-gook to me; and I was always awed to see the kid’s mom walk over, listen to a few nonsense syllables and say; “Oh, you would like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole grain bread with milk? Okay, honey, let me get it for you!”

Now that I have a little one, I understand it. You see, I live with my son. I observe him, watch him, listen to every little sound that comes out of his mouth. I know what he likes and doesn’t like. I know what he is afraid of and what makes him happy. I know his language. So even though probably most people couldn’t catch a word he was saying a year ago or so, when he was two and just learning to speak, I could. Because I knew him so well.

I think it’s the same thing with exegeting (interpreting) something; be it a text, a person, a culture, whatever. You need to live with it; observe, learn the language, watch, pay attention, get over yourself…and maybe that’s where the depth comes in. It takes patience, time, and enough self-confidence to put your own perspectives, biases, assumptions, needs, desires down on the table, for a while, so that you can clearly listen to what or whoever it is that you are trying to understand. Because in reality, interpretation is conversation. You bring all of yourself, your experiences, intellect, interests, passions, biases and assumptions, and lay it out on the table, expecting the person or text across from you to do the same. You respect the other; listen, learn, observe, question, probe, and eventually you are able to interpret.

So maybe it is true that “to be a better exegete you must become a deeper person.” Maybe the world needs better exegetes…