Old friends
22/01/14 02:23
As I begin the journey through the seventh decade of life, I have discovered that my books have become my friends. In a way that wasn’t the case a few decades ago, I run my hands along the shelves, feeling the spines and pulling out volumes that I have previously read, sometimes pausing to read sections, other times re-reading a book that I had once thought was familiar. Perhaps it is a test of my memory. More likely, it is the desire to recover a feeling that I had known discovering the book in a previous phase of my life.
I know that paper books are rapidly becoming a thing of the past. I am aware that libraries are now the places for the distribution of electronic records and e-books. I have a copy of the brochure on e-readers that comes from our local library.
I belong to another era to be sure. When I graduated from seminary, every seminary student was wondering how to become the owner of a set of The Interpreter’s Bible. The 12-volume set of hardback books, together with the four-volume Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible filled up an entire library shelf in most pastors’ offices. They were pulled down and consulted weekly in the process of sermon preparation,even if the text of the week was one for which the pastor had prepared an exegesis for a seminary class. Reading the scholarly commentaries and refreshing one’s memory of the translation notes gave the impression that you knew something that was not general knowledge. Just having the books in one’s study lent an air of intellectual superiority, or at least a sense of having access to information that wasn’t commonly available to lay persons.
These days a seminary graduate has access to more commentaries, translation notes and various versions of the Bible on their cell phone and those who possess iPads use them for sermon preparation and delivery as naturally as we used our typewriter back in the day. Those who do not have tablet devices are busy saving for the item from their paychecks, whenever the stiff student loan payments don’t consume the last penny.
Mind you I am not complaining. I love the technology toys as much as the next person. I am impressed by the quality of education that is available in today’s graduate theological seminaries. I love to discuss the books read and the titles recommended by recent graduates of seminary.
Actually, I think that part of my love of books comes from the very fact that I know that they, in some ways, belong to the past. Bonhoeffer, Tillich, and Barth all died before I began reading their books. Even the Niebuhr brothers were both gone by the time I made it to Seminary. Reading their books was a window on the past. Having their books is a reminder of how much the past is a part of the present - how much the present belongs to the past. Even my seminary teachers are now gone. Their books in my library remind me of those who have gone before: Ross Snyder, Phil Anderson, and Perry LeFevre have all died. Andre LaCocque has been retired since 1996. His commentary on the Book of Daniel is now completed - it was a work that at one time he deemed “worthy of a lifetime,” and unlikely to be finished. But since he finished that book, he has produced excellent commentaries on Ruth and the Song of Songs. He was the teacher who ignited the book of Ruth in my mind. We spend an entire semester in the first two chapters of Genesis once, translating word by word, and I remember his lectures as if he were still speaking. But I haven’t had a conversation with him since 1978, the year before the commentary on Daniel was published.
It is not only my bookshelves that are filled with friends from the past. So, too is my brain.
The truth is that I should be thinking about how to give away some of my books. Now on my 12th trip through the three-year cycle of the lectionary, the commentaries and translation notes of The Interpreter’s Bible are no longer fresh. I don’t pull the books off of the shelf every week like I once did, and when I do so these days, I am deeply aware that there are fresher and more educated commentaries available. Like preachers who are much younger than I, I check out the online commentaries available from theological seminaries and other resources far more often than I consult books to inform my preaching.
I still read a lot of books. I like the heft and feel of a paper book in my hands and I begin and end each day with my book-based disciplines. I have the entire Bible in a half dozen translations on my cell phone, but I prefer the old, tattered Oxford Edition of the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible with the covers held on with duct tape and the pages worn and tattered. It seems to fall open to the right places and it feels at home in my hands. I know how to read the footnotes and my pencil scratches in the margins provide a sort of history of the development of my ideas and my theology.
But what preacher worth his salt could be content with just one Bible? I have my grandfather’s Bible in its cedar box. I think that the Bible came from the time when he was counsel for the Methodist Church and attended a national convention. The box came later, I’m sure. I have my father’s burgundy RSV bible with the taped up spine. I even have a brand-new, leather-bound bible that was a gift. It seems like it might be just right for a preacher, but it sits mostly unused on my shelf while I have another, with the pages worn and the spine torn that seems to fit the bill much better.
My library and my mind are populated with many characters from the past. They are not gone - indeed they are present in my life and in my preaching.
It is good to have friends.
I know that paper books are rapidly becoming a thing of the past. I am aware that libraries are now the places for the distribution of electronic records and e-books. I have a copy of the brochure on e-readers that comes from our local library.
I belong to another era to be sure. When I graduated from seminary, every seminary student was wondering how to become the owner of a set of The Interpreter’s Bible. The 12-volume set of hardback books, together with the four-volume Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible filled up an entire library shelf in most pastors’ offices. They were pulled down and consulted weekly in the process of sermon preparation,even if the text of the week was one for which the pastor had prepared an exegesis for a seminary class. Reading the scholarly commentaries and refreshing one’s memory of the translation notes gave the impression that you knew something that was not general knowledge. Just having the books in one’s study lent an air of intellectual superiority, or at least a sense of having access to information that wasn’t commonly available to lay persons.
These days a seminary graduate has access to more commentaries, translation notes and various versions of the Bible on their cell phone and those who possess iPads use them for sermon preparation and delivery as naturally as we used our typewriter back in the day. Those who do not have tablet devices are busy saving for the item from their paychecks, whenever the stiff student loan payments don’t consume the last penny.
Mind you I am not complaining. I love the technology toys as much as the next person. I am impressed by the quality of education that is available in today’s graduate theological seminaries. I love to discuss the books read and the titles recommended by recent graduates of seminary.
Actually, I think that part of my love of books comes from the very fact that I know that they, in some ways, belong to the past. Bonhoeffer, Tillich, and Barth all died before I began reading their books. Even the Niebuhr brothers were both gone by the time I made it to Seminary. Reading their books was a window on the past. Having their books is a reminder of how much the past is a part of the present - how much the present belongs to the past. Even my seminary teachers are now gone. Their books in my library remind me of those who have gone before: Ross Snyder, Phil Anderson, and Perry LeFevre have all died. Andre LaCocque has been retired since 1996. His commentary on the Book of Daniel is now completed - it was a work that at one time he deemed “worthy of a lifetime,” and unlikely to be finished. But since he finished that book, he has produced excellent commentaries on Ruth and the Song of Songs. He was the teacher who ignited the book of Ruth in my mind. We spend an entire semester in the first two chapters of Genesis once, translating word by word, and I remember his lectures as if he were still speaking. But I haven’t had a conversation with him since 1978, the year before the commentary on Daniel was published.
It is not only my bookshelves that are filled with friends from the past. So, too is my brain.
The truth is that I should be thinking about how to give away some of my books. Now on my 12th trip through the three-year cycle of the lectionary, the commentaries and translation notes of The Interpreter’s Bible are no longer fresh. I don’t pull the books off of the shelf every week like I once did, and when I do so these days, I am deeply aware that there are fresher and more educated commentaries available. Like preachers who are much younger than I, I check out the online commentaries available from theological seminaries and other resources far more often than I consult books to inform my preaching.
I still read a lot of books. I like the heft and feel of a paper book in my hands and I begin and end each day with my book-based disciplines. I have the entire Bible in a half dozen translations on my cell phone, but I prefer the old, tattered Oxford Edition of the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible with the covers held on with duct tape and the pages worn and tattered. It seems to fall open to the right places and it feels at home in my hands. I know how to read the footnotes and my pencil scratches in the margins provide a sort of history of the development of my ideas and my theology.
But what preacher worth his salt could be content with just one Bible? I have my grandfather’s Bible in its cedar box. I think that the Bible came from the time when he was counsel for the Methodist Church and attended a national convention. The box came later, I’m sure. I have my father’s burgundy RSV bible with the taped up spine. I even have a brand-new, leather-bound bible that was a gift. It seems like it might be just right for a preacher, but it sits mostly unused on my shelf while I have another, with the pages worn and the spine torn that seems to fit the bill much better.
My library and my mind are populated with many characters from the past. They are not gone - indeed they are present in my life and in my preaching.
It is good to have friends.