Yesterday I argued for a hefty Bible at the lectern. Weighty truths, its seems to me, are fittingly stored in weighty tomes. That doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to pocket Bibles or bible verses that you can call up on your cell phone—or for that matter to any form of scripture. Sometimes convenience speaks in favor of various media.
But as one reader observed: Catholics place the blessed sacrament in a prized place within the Church, and we ought to do something analogous with the Word of God, which after all makes Christ present to us in the ancient scriptures of Israel and in the apostolic witness of the New Testament.
But another reader, the Assistant Village Idiot (it’s a tough job, I’m sure, and requires assistance), pointed out that recitation of scripture from memory is also a very powerful symbol. To which I say: Quite right!
On a couple of occasions I have attended churches where the lectors did not read but instead recited scripture from memory, and it was indeed a powerful experience. Once, in fact, the lector (who apparently had a stage sense), began the reading (Genesis 22, as I recall) at the lectern, but then, after the first verse or two, stepped away and toward the congregation to complete it from memory. It sent chills down my spine.
Actually, reciting from memory and reading from a big Bible share in a common symbolism. Both remind us of the powerful permanence of God’s truth. Memory fixes God’s word in our minds, giving it weight within, while the bulky big bible does the same outwardly.
So by all means memorize. I think it’s an excellent idea for youth ministries to invest a good bit of time in preparing kids to recite memorized passages as lectors in the regular liturgy of the church. Memory is the storehouse of the soul, and it’s very good to have life-giving provisions ready at hand.
December 28th, 2010 | 2:09 pm
I admit to strongly mixed opinions. I am more or less opposed to dramatic readings of Scripture because it adds another interpretive layer between us and the Word of God. What the reader thinks is important might not be what is in fact important, or it might be one among the many ways to find meaning in what is being read.
I am not quite traditionalist enough to think that all the readings ought to be chanted, but it is interesting to note that the Good Friday Passion Gospel traditionally is chanted to fixed melodies. The only changes are in vocal range for the characters and in questions versus statements.
December 28th, 2010 | 2:24 pm
As a Lutheran pastor for almost 38 years now, I have not succumbed to the recent trend of some pastors to memorize the Gospel reading for the day. I readily admit that such a practice would add to my anxiety: could I remember it well?
Actually, my practice, in fact, is purposely to not look up from the text as I am reading. I do try to read clearly and expressively, but my point in keeping my face fixed on the page is so that the focus is upon the text and not upon me, the speaker of the text.
Theologically, I believe that the meaning is in the text. The meaning does not lie behind the text, as some radical historical critics might assume. Nor does the meaning lie in me, the speaker.
December 28th, 2010 | 4:07 pm
Well, this does lead to interesting further thoughts, doesn’t it?
BTW, I originally wanted some handle that expressed a person who points out the obvious things that wise people overlook, as does the boy in “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” Village Idiot isn’t quite that, but is related. I added “Assistant” because as a liberal-arts trained thinker, I slip and miss the obvious myself a fair bit. “Apprentice” might have been better.
I agree with Tom that we should let the text do the work. However, much of scripture is already cast in story form. I am not sure it does justice to read poetry as prose, or stories as laundry lists, as if the words alone were magic. (That idea began to grow in the church when the printing press was invented, and is related to spell-book and grammarye thinking. Worrisome.) I recall from having been a Lutheran decades ago that Luther described the scriptures as the manger containing the Word of God, so it is not a strictly new idea to think that. (Unless I was told wrongly. I didn’t read it.)
There is no neutral reading aloud. We strive to minimise ourselves and our background in reading scripture, but there is no asymptotic approach to ideal in this. A minimalist approach to expression is itself a powerful statement about seemliness, reserve, and avoidance of show – virtues prized in New England and the Upper midwest, or in Northern Europe, especially Scandinavia, and thus in the related Christian denominations of those areas. (I belong to several of those groups. I share the distaste for avoidance of show. But that is taste, easily rationalised as something deeper.)
I will state again, as in the last thread’s comments, that books are also not eternal – they are just old, which suggests continuity but smuggles in other unwanted ideas as well. If we like that vibe, wouldn’t scrolls be even better? Poets, writers, & artists will tell you that symbols have a way of going off on their own, and have to be watched closely. People like the idea that weighty volumes suggest weighty ideas. I get it. That is largely the effect they have on me as well. But many other effects, some quite common, come from prominence in worship of weighty books as well. Symbols should always be handled as if they are live and somewhat dangerous creatures. That is what gives them their power. If they weren’t live and dangerous creatures, there would be no point in having them except as minor decoration.
December 28th, 2010 | 4:49 pm
I say let the Word live, not just in the mouth of the lector but in the ears and mind of the congregation. As a lector, I consider it my job to get out of the way. Hence, I read Paul’s letters as if they just arrived in the post — slowly, clearly, and with some volume — for the whole family to hear. The stories, both Old and New Testament, I read as stories. There is drama but I need to make sure it is not my drama. When I am done, I have done my best, if the congregation can make sense of the words and remembers their gist as well as a particularly striking turn of phrase or two. That turn may be different for each hearer. If they remember me instead, I have failed. If they remember that the words were sacred, to be approached from afar, then I have also failed. The scriptures teach and do not lie dormant, neither should the lector.
I prefer a big book. Certainly, there is the visual symbol for those in the back pews. More importantly to the lector, more words fit on a single page in larger type. There can be complete thoughts in a single line and fewer pages to be turned.
Reciting from memory can be a great thing, but first I have to capture the congregation. I’m with Pastor Renquist, I fear I would render the words badly. What I have memorized, I tended to speak flatly making sure I’m getting it right more than letting the Word speak. I know I’ve gotten out of the way of the Word, when the congregation goes utterly silent.
I’ve read for 44 years, being the first lector in my home town parish. I hope to read for more.
December 28th, 2010 | 5:59 pm
Here I offer my experience as an occasional lay reader in the Greek Catholic Church. As I noted, the reader chants the Epistle (at the Divine Liturgy) and the Old Testament readings (at other services) from a position standing in the center of the church facing the altar. The following is the process I use to prepare.
The first and most important rule of all: Read the reading before you read the reading. That is, familiarize yourself thoroughly with the text, in a prayerful and contemplative manner. What does it mean, both in itself and in the context of the other readings of the day?
Second, transcribe the periscope precisely as you intend to read it, with line breaks where you intend to take breaths, marking where you will go up and where you will go down, and, at the end, where the terminal coda starts (each Church has its own unique chant tradition, so if you read for more than one church, it’s very important to know and understand the rules.
Third–practice, practice, practice. Stand in front of a mirror, and chant the reading as you would in church. Pay attention to cadence and rhythm, remembering that chant should follow the cadences of normal speech, and that the reading should neither be hurried nor excessively slow (some people think holiness is proportional to how slowly one chants). Enunciate clearly. Try to listen to yourself. Does the reading work the way you have laid it out? If not, go back and make changes until it does. This is especially true of long or complex readings, where one is apt to loose one’s place or stumble over words.
Finally, when one is comes forward to read, begin by praying silently the words of Psalm 50, “Lord, you will open my lips and my mouth will declare your praise”; then turning your heart and mind totally to God, stand aright and do the best that you can. God will commend the effort as much as the execution, and an imperfect reading delivered in a heartfelt and prayerful manner will be received by Him more readily than one delivered perfectly, but coldly and without commitment.
December 28th, 2010 | 6:07 pm
By the way, the same rules would apply to a deacon or presbyter reading the Gospel at liturgy. Here, the value of a fixed lectionary becomes apparent: the same readings are done on the same day every year–only the timing of the variable feasts changes. After one has been attending liturgy faithfully for several years, the readings become old, old friends.
Monastics in the Byzantine rite are required to memorize the entire Psalter, and can indeed chant all the Kathismata of the Psalms by heart. Many know entire services by heart (at my parish, there aren’t even pew books–not that we have pews). But humility and the recognition of human frailty compel us to use our service books when we are reading in the service of the Lord, for what we offer is the sacrifice of praise, and we want our offering to be without blemish, as much as is humanly possible.
December 28th, 2010 | 8:20 pm
Stuart, I would like to challenge – not to disagree so much (for I have some agreement) as to push your assumptions. What is superior about chanting? Can it not be regarded as a mere accident of history that the Bible moved out into Mediterranean cultures that preferred this, and has no advantage in other cultures? Once the scriptures “escaped” (poor word choice, but I can’t think of a better offhand) from Jewish tradition, are not all the others on even footing? If God chose the time and place for the early Church, then He chose the time and place for later churches as well, and their traditions should be equally valid.
December 28th, 2010 | 11:34 pm
Aaahhhhh. Where to begin?!
Of course, in this particular venue, we are overweighted with representatives of liturgical traditions. I, on the other hand, would be simply thrilled to see evangelical congregations actually reading any scripture. I find myself in a position right now to be visiting churches. So far in 6 evangelical churches not one has offered any kind of formal reading of a scripture passage as part of the service. In one service, a Psalm was read. The irony is rich. Evangelicalism has always made much of the primacy of scripture, and now they seem to be abandoning it in practice. I cannot express how disheartened I have been by this.
Regarding AVI’s take on symbols: AVI and I have had much discussion on this matter over the years as we worked together planning worship. I was the big book proponent. Never got any traction with it. Mostly blank looks.
I take AVI’s point and offer this solution. Change the symbol with the season. During Advent, read the scripture in a symbolic manner evoking His Coming. Christmastide: his incarnation. Epiphany: his presence with us. and so on. I’m not sure what these symbols would be precisely. I haven’t thought it through that far.
Chanting vs. Reading: I understand the purpose of chanting but suspect it might be an impossible errand. Chanting is still a filter of it’s own kind. It cannot be avoided. More important, there seems to be this idea that by chanting we remove the messy fleshiness of the reader’s passions. It seems a rather gnostic conceit — an attempt to purge the sinful matter from the reading, leaving only the spiritual behind. Cannot the Word of Jesus be incarnated in us and to us through a direct and personal reading?
December 29th, 2010 | 4:27 am
David,
I fully agree with you, and it’s not an American problem, either — it’s a problem in evangelical churches here in Austria as well. When challenged, one church leader said, “But we all read our Bibles at home, anyway” — I wonder, if he looks at his congregation with open eyes, whether he really believes this to be true to any significant extent.
And when the Scriptures are read publicly, not enough preparation goes into it, and readers are picked for reasons other than their ability to read well (which I can sometimes understand and appreciate). That is a problem I also observe in Catholic and Lutheran parishes here in Austria (I get around quite a bit).
But we DO need much more emphasis on public reading, and on doing it in a way that honors God’s Word.
December 29th, 2010 | 4:34 am
Rusty: What a great couple of posts, thanks! I’m all for big Bibles at the lectern, but you’d expect that from a Protestant like me (we, at least officially, are supposed to be big on the big Book).
But two personal points about Bible reading, and memorization.
Luke Timothy Johnson and Carl Holladay team-taught the general New Testament course at Yale Divinity School when I was there. It was nothing less than a spectacular class, which surprises no one, seeing who the teachers were, but what might be a surprise is the goal Johnson and Holladay had for their teaching. They wanted us to learn how to exegete the Scriptures so that we might read them aloud. For them, the purpose of scholarly Bible study–at least as far as their teaching was concerned—was the appropriate reading of the passages in worship. The passages needed to be read in a way that their meaning was clearly presented. Now the course actually didn’t focus on that as much as they would have liked because none of us read the Scriptures aloud, instead we wrote the usual papers and took the typical exams, but the idea was there and that idea had a tremendous impact upon my composing as well as my understanding of Scripture. But it also had an impact on scholarship. Richard Hays was at YDS at the same time and was taking the same courses. Twenty-five years after we had left Yale, I heard Richard preach at Nashville’s First Presbyterian Church. He read the passage he was going to preach on (it was John 21) and then preached on it.
Richard’s reading of the passage, his pacing and emphasis, perfectly interpreted it and the sermon that followed, wonderful that it was, was largely superfluous to his reading. The reading said it all (which shouldn’t surprise anybody, it is the Bible after all, right?). Greeting Richard at the door after the service, I reminded him of our classes together and of Johnson’s and Holladay’s teaching. Yep, he said, he hadn’t forgotten that teaching either, and that was why he did what he did.
But about Scripture memorization, since you and some others have mentioned it. I have a bone to pick with a generation of translators and publishers, and some of those types might be reading this. It’s probably impossible today for a church-going Christian to memorize significant passages of Scripture, and it’s their fault. Memorization of texts is dependent upon rhythm and continual reinforcement of that rhythm. How did y’all memorize your A B C’s? You probably sang them to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”, right? Yeah, quick—say, “L M N O P.” Said it much faster than you said “A B C” right? Yep (actually you recited them as sixteenth notes.). And you said those letters faster because you remember them in the rhythm of the song to which you memorized it (now try to say “L M N O P” slowly, bet you can’t. Yeah, right again).
Okay. Now look at this. It’s John 14.12.
In my Father’s house are many mansions
In my Father’s house there are many abodes
My Father’s house has many rooms
In My Father’s house are many dwelling places
In my Father’s house are many rooms
There is plenty of room for you in my Father’s home.
In the house of my Father are many mansions
The first one is the old King James (for the sake of decency, I’ll let the rest be unidentified). Besides being bizarre (have you ever in your life heard someone actually say “dwelling place”?) and pathetic (right, it really fills me with joy to think of going to Heaven and being in an abode—reminds me far too much of another noun that it rhymes with but starts with a “ca. . .”), there are seven different rhythms here. If you try to memorize a passage, you need to have that passage’s rhythm reinforced whenever possible. But when we go to church, or are in a Bible study, and hear a Scripture, we find our memory assaulted by a weird rhythm, a rhythm different from the one we memorized, and to attend to the version of the Scripture that we’re hearing we have to unremember the form of the scripture that we’re trying to learn by heart (wonderful phrase, isn’t that, “to learn by heart”, it means that it’s sunk in, it’s become part of us). Simply put, the multiplicity of versions of Scripture that has been produced and marked within my own life time has destroyed our culture’s ability to memorize it.
This is really pretty terrible. When we are in distress we need the Scriptures to help us (and hymns too, but that’s different matter), the words need to roll off our tongues. But if we can’t remember them, if we can’t pull them up, if we can’t get the rhythm going, then the holy words almost might as well not exist for us. We’re condemned to be pre-linguistic Christians, people of general feelings and appetites but no words. We’re dumb.
Yeah, terrible. Dumb. People like me like to complain about our post-Christian culture yet I suspect that the multitude of translations has done far more to remove the Bible from American life than any decision of the Supreme Court or the acts of the most aggressively secular member of any school board. The Bible is no longer memorized because it can’t be memorable.
Which brings us back to the translators and publishers. With the exception of the King James, all of the versions I have above are copyrighted and for sale. Bibles are profit items for publishers and a “new” version of the Bible, hawked with all the blather of modern marketing (it will make the text easier to understand, it’s better for evangelization, closer to the original texts, it reflects the latest theological insights—blah, blah, blah) is produced to service a particular consumer. That the new translation will make it, at least in one way, more difficult for that consumer to be a thoughtful Christian, a Christian who has memorized the text and remembers it both in the context of private study and public worship and allows that text to steer his life, hearing it in his own mouth and in the mouths of his brothers and sisters for three-score ten, well that isn’t a concern of the publisher and I doubt if things like that come up at the luncheon of the board of directors after the annual meeting. They just want the guy’s VISA card number.
I love the rhythm of the King James, but this isn’t a plea for its use to the exclusion of other translations (Okay, I just lied. It kinda is, but I’ll go with the RSV too). But if we want the words of the Bible to be remembered by our culture we have to make a structure where that is at least possible. Right now, with “mansions,” “abodes”, “rooms”, “dwelling places” and “home” that just can’t happen. Instead, we make certain that the Bible is forgettable. And so it is. Dumb us.
December 29th, 2010 | 5:31 am
I do not think that the memorization of Word would be the best route to take when it comes to the Liturgy of the Word. Liturgy of the Word. Who is the Word? God incarnate. When the Word is read, we who receive the Word, receive the Divine. The focus is on the Word that is read and not on the Lector. The Word is to be read, since it is written, not as a play with parts recited, but as the story of God interacting with his people. True, drama and effect can add to the Word memorized and recited by the lector, however, what now happens is that the focus is now on the lector and not the Word.
If a Eucharistic Minister was allowed to distribute the Body of Christ in what ever manner he or she desired, then those that might hold the Host high aloft in dramatic fashion while saying, “The Body of Christ” might SEEM to make the Eucharist more alive, if that were possible, but it would take the focus off the Body of Christ and inject the focus onto the Eucharistic Minister. That is why there are rules in place on now the Host should be distributed to the people.
Are we then to seek only those capable of memorizing and then reciting the Word in the most “alive” manner, with flair and drama, where competing lectors try to out do each others performance? Reciting the Word from memorization makes the Word seem to come from the Lectors themselves and not from God.
Keep the focus on the Word by reading the Word and the focus on the Eurcharist by standardizing how each Eucharistic Minister distributes the Host, with as little attention on themselves and all attention on Christ.
December 29th, 2010 | 5:54 am
“Stuart, I would like to challenge – not to disagree so much (for I have some agreement) as to push your assumptions. What is superior about chanting?”
First, I will note in passing that even in the Roman rite, the Mass is envisaged as a sung dialogue between the celebrant and the people; chanting is normative for the entire Church, and if you attended a Eucharistic liturgy in the early middle ages, anywhere from Ireland to Antioch, you would have found everybody singing. Those who have had the opportunity to hear a fully sung Mass (by which I mean one using Gregorian and plainchant, not a composed piece by Palestrina or Mozart) know how eye-opening it can be.
Why chant fell out of use is a complex subject, which would involve everything from the rise of the private Mass to Catholic responses to the Reformation. It would require a book in itself to come up with a definitive answer.
As to why chant is superior to recitation, the first thing that comes to mind is the old aphorism, “He who sings, prays twice”. The liturgy of the Church is an offering of praise unto the Lord, and only the living human voice is worthy to praise the living God. A voice raised in song makes a worthy offering to the Lord.
Going into more prosaic detail:
Chant depersonalizes the reading. When one recites, the reader is confronted with all sorts of choices: What do I stress? What tone of voice do I use? Every actor knows that it is possible to convey diametrically opposed meanings to the same text, depending on delivery. When chanting, the only issue is how to make the text fit the type of chant being used.
Second, chanting is mnemonic. With its simple rhythms and cadences, a chanted text is assimilated into memory more easily–which is why the early Church continued a practice that first arose in the Jewish synagogue (go to an orthodox Jewish synagogue today, and you will hear the readings still chanted in Hebrew). I know that for me, the easiest way to recall something from the Liturgy is to sing it in my head, and that I can easily chant something from memory I would have a difficult time just reciting to you.
Third, many of the texts in the lectionary were written as poetry, and ancient poetry was chanted, not recited. Before anything of Scripture was written down by the Church, and at a time when few people had access to books, this was how the Church passed on the Tradition from generation to generation.
December 29th, 2010 | 6:05 am
“More important, there seems to be this idea that by chanting we remove the messy fleshiness of the reader’s passions. It seems a rather gnostic conceit — an attempt to purge the sinful matter from the reading, leaving only the spiritual behind.”
If it is a gnostic conceit, it is one the Church inherited from the Jews, and which was maintained by the Fathers and the undivided Church well into the latter Middle Ages and Renaissance. See my previous post.
“Cannot the Word of Jesus be incarnated in us and to us through a direct and personal reading?”
It can, but when one reads in church, as part of a liturgical service, one is not speaking for one’s self, but for the entire Church. How does one know that a direct and personal reading is in fact at one with the mind of the Church? How does the man separate himself from those passions and preconceptions that shape a personal reading?
Perhaps this is a fundamental East and West thing: whereas the West gradually developed (rather recently) the notion that the words of an individual invoke a sacramental action, in the Christian East everything is accomplished by the descent and action of the Holy Spirit.
Thus, in the ancient liturgical commentaries, it is said that the priest does nothing except lend his mouth and his hands, whereas in the Western Church we find the concept of the priest in persona Christi, bringing about the transformation of the elements through his recitation of the Words of Institution (this simplifies a lot, I know). Similarly, in the other sacraments, the Eastern Churches tend to push the person of the ordinary minister into the background through use of the passive voice. Thus, in the sacrament of baptism, the priest uses the formula “The servant of God, N.___ is baptized in the name of the Father and of the Sn and of the Holy Spirit”, whereas in the West the formula begins, “I baptize you. . . “. Similarly, in confession, the East says, “The servant of God, N.___ is forgiven. . . “, while the West says “Ego te absolvo”, I forgive you. Neither is right nor wrong, just basically different. The same difference in approach might lead to a different conception of the role of the reader.
December 29th, 2010 | 7:15 am
[...] (R.R. Reno, am 28. Dezember 2010, in First Thoughts, dem Redaktions-Blog von First Things) [...]
December 29th, 2010 | 11:30 am
Before recommending that “youth ministries” invest good amounts of time in memorization, you might want to talk to a few first.
Most spend good amounts of time just trying to get participation. The dream of having parents that care enough to follow through on any type of memorization program is unintentionally funny.
December 29th, 2010 | 4:21 pm
Stuart – excellent answers.
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