Skip to main content

Why Not Create Your Own Bible?

Emerson, the brilliant essayist, philosopher, and poet, started his long and productive career initially as an ordained minister. When his young wife died of tuberculosis he was devastated. He questioned his faith and the simple beliefs he thought as a minister should be accepted unconditionally and believed by everyone. He left the ministry, went to Europe, met with towering people in literature like William Wordsworth, Thomas Carlyle, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. When he returned to America he was transformed and began a series of lectures on spirituality and ethical living. 

In one of his many books, he wrote, “Make your own Bible. Select and collect all the words and sentences that in all your readings have been to you like the blast of a trumpet.”

It is a beautiful and profound statement and one I fully embrace. And it is a part of a personal religious search I started years ago. As a young minister I struggled with biblical texts that I could not make sense of, things about God’s vengeance and wrath, his fickleness with his followers, choosing some over others for seemingly petty reasons, the ordering of the destruction of whole villages wiping out entire groups of people including women and children, telling Abraham to sacrifice his son, to kill him as a sign of his faithfulness, things like that.

I was taught not to question anything, to accept the Bible as the word of God without error or contradiction. This would have worked if I lived only inside my small country church, cloistered in the tiny office behind the sanctuary. But of course, there was real life to live in out there in the big world where things were messy and absolutes dissolved in the face of human suffering and pain.

All of those simple truths I held to be sacrosanct did not hold up under the weight of real people in trouble, in despair, in living complicated lives that involved affairs, addictions, sexual abuse, abortion, dark disturbing secrets, spousal abuse, the death of a child, being gay, the loss of income, feelings of hopelessness, suicide, and so much more.

I didn’t seem to have an answer for most of the human conflicts I faced in my community. Telling people to go pray about it and give it to God, let Jesus heal you, and all of that felt inauthentic to me. What good did it do anyone? People needed to be loved and helped in tangible ways. I wanted the church to be there for them, and for me.

Some of the sweetest, most decent, most loving people I know I met in my years in the church. I served four congregations over 20 plus years and they were all filled with beautiful souls. My greatest critics, those who needed consistently to call me on the carpet, to vehemently disagree with my theology and my style of ministry, were not the lost souls, the doubters, the people caught in horrible personal dilemmas. No, they were my allies, my support. The church can attract mean people, arrogant, indifferent to real heartache, completely resistant to change, absorbed in their own righteousness, and those, though they were few, were the ones who scolded and hounded me. Some of them held places of position in the church. Some of them were prominent in the community. Some of them had money and influence that they thought allowed them power over others and over me.

But I learned in seminary to trust my own religious instincts, to not be afraid of critical study of scripture, to seek out the best minds not just in religion but in philosophy, history, and the sciences, to develop my own path, to be myself. And somewhere along the way I followed Emerson’s advice, though at the time, I had never read what he had said about making your own Bible.

Today, my religious life is still in flux. I try to live by a variety of truths and ideas and experiences I have discovered, often in the most unlikely places. I have found so much comfort in music, poetry, novels, plays and movies. These can be sources of such spiritual lift that leave you alive, strengthened, wiser and more human.

The words of poets Mary Oliver, Pablo Neruda, Rumi, and Stanley Kunitz; the novels of Pat Conroy, Barbara Kingsolver, and Roland Merullo; the lyrics of Leonard Cohen, U2, James Taylor, Lady Antebellum, and Pearl Jam; the books of John Shelby Spong, Anne Lamott, Kate DiCamillo, Carl Rogers, and C.G.Jung; and the lines out of countless films, all make up the Bible I live by.

Leaving the old religious beliefs that no longer work for us, that have lost their meaning, and inventing our own system of values and truths, guidelines we can actually live by, is one of the hardest tasks we face in life. But it can be so rewarding. Find the ones that feed your soul, that elevate your spirit, that help heal your inner wounds, and like a trumpet, wake you to life and love.


Copyright © 2017 Timothy Moody

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

If I had five minutes to evacuate--what would I take with me?

If I was told there was a bomb in my building and I had five minutes to evacuate my apartment I’d grab a grocery bag and quickly toss these items into it: 1. A photo of my grandparents, Mom and Pop and me, when I was 15 years old. I learned what love is made of from them. I learned what it is to be kissed on and hugged in arms so tender they felt like God’s arms. I discovered self worth from those two angels in human flesh. Of all the people in my life, they were the ones who made me feel I counted. Honestly, whatever capacity I have to love others came from them. 2. A sentimental, dog-eared, stars in the margin copy of Pat Conroy’s, “The Prince of Tides.” It is a book I have read three times and often return to for its wisdom. It is a harsh, profoundly tragic novel, the story of a family so broken and tortured by such flawed and wounded people that it is sometimes difficult to turn the next page. And yet it is the story of such Herculean courage and endurance that you want...

I Saw the Delicacy of Life

I was flying Across the deep And I saw the delicacy Of life Wrinkles on the faces Of the old So pure they glistened Like awards The joy of children Running with abandon Their laughter ringing Like chimes in the wind I saw the soft moving waves Across the sea And the trees releasing Their rainbow leaves Birds joined me on my flight And I saw the surface of their wings Adorned with patterns Glorious and unfurled I saw the tears of the sad And the smiles of the glad The suffering in mourning And the celebration of birth As I descended toward the ground Slowly, slowly, softly I saw the gentle grass of the field And smelled the fresh earth It was a perfect landing © 2018 Timothy Moody

Actions Make a Difference

“We make progress in society only if we stop cursing and complaining about its shortcomings and have the courage to do something about them.” ~ Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, Physician/Author Pictured here is Kikuko Shinjo, 89 years old, a survivor of the Hiroshima atomic bomb blast. As a 17-year old nursing student she helped nurse victims of the carnage back to health. Many of them died in her care. She says she holds no grudge against America and encourages interaction between the Japanese and Americans. She has devoted her life to peace, saying, “I want all the people around the world to be friends, and I want to make my country peaceful without fighting.” Today she makes colorful paper cranes and donates them to the Children’s Peace Monument at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.