I find it helpful to lean on others to help me determine what scriptures to read when, and what to make of what the scriptures mean, and in distilling lessons from the scriptures generally for life application. I’m busy, so why reinvent the wheel right? I can always do a deep dive on a book or a topic, etc. as time permits, but I like having something to keep me on track day-by-day. That’s why I read the lectionary. Also it’s nice to have others help me with thinking through the significance of what I just read. Again, I can always do more of this on my own, but if time is short, why not get some help?
What about the people who I am leaning on? Are they re-inventing the wheel? What is their motive for making their scripture selections and their commentary on the scriptures? Who are they leaning on for their selections and for their interpretations and applications? Certainly there is always room for new interpretations. Jesus himself showed that, but also there is value in leaning on the lessons that those who have gone before have learned in terms of selecting scripture to read daily and then applying the lessons therein to our lives.
This is particularly important given that the scriptures were written in vastly different time periods and cultural contexts and languages than our own. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a source to gather and synthesize all these different factors—language, culture, prior interpretations, appropriate selections—all in one place?
Well, I found that one place, that one authority, in the Catholic Church—and even long before I concluded that I needed to become Catholic, I found it helpful to use the Catholic lectionary, Catholic writing that had been reviewed and approved by the church (i.e. an impimatur), and also a history of interpretation of various scriptures (also known as tradition—accessible for busy laity in commentaries, etc.) helpful to use as a starting place which I could then pivot from as I felt appropriate, but it seemed to me like a better place to start than with a solo even well-meaning contemporary writer who may or may not have been working with all these factors when making their interpretations, selections and applications of scripture. Moreover, as a vain hypocrite, I find that this approach insulates me from various passing fads in contemporary American Christianity, which helps me to maintain my prideful sense of superiority and my facade of depth and learning.
So there you go. That’s my take on why the notion of having a (seemingly constraining and confining) “authority” guiding what I study and how I interpret and apply it to be rather liberating, empowering, and confidence-building. And again, as a vain hypocrite, I find this to be very helpful in my frequent uninvited soliloquies.
Happy trails.
P.S. I’m told that this “constraining liberation” also applies to life, not just study…(Cf. the way of the cross, the lives of the saints, etc.)
This phrase resonates with my experience of being in an adoration chapel. It is ancient AND *alive*. It is an infinite source of energetic love AND contained in a Person (Jesus) with a locus of beginning in the same temporal/historical world that I live in.
I don’t have to center myself with meditation, and I certainly don’t have to think deep philosophical/theological thoughts. I just show up and sit by the fire of Christ’s physical presence and soak in His love.
And maybe that’s why it has made my faith simpler AND deeper *at the same time*—and rather quickly.
I worked out an entire existentialist framework to live my faith in the chaos & madness of the world that I felt thrown into without resorting to closed systems or tribalism or a leap of faith—hoping that there was more than the material world—clinging to evidence of a fuller Reality.
But in an adoration chapel—I just sit there and bask in the fire of Christ’s presence of total aliveness and love and light and warmth.
How can anyone comment on the existential implications of Angelman syndrome when those with first person experience of it can’t talk?
I would like to make a clever theological statement like–it is a simultaneous & living crucifixion and resurrection. But how the hell do I know?
Even Jesus had his farewell discourse.
The Beggar of Bethesda in John 5 also couldn’t walk, but at least he had a voice to cry for help.
How often–by humans of all persuasions–are we counseled to talk about our problems, our goals, whether we’d like fries with that–anything and everything. Holding one’s tongue, entering into the heights and depths of apophatic silence and luminous darkness–presumes an ability to speak.
I am tempted to say: “I have no words.” But I do have words and my daughter doesn’t and that’s the goddamn point!
Boyd Camak 