In writing this brief post about CAD (Context Attention Disorder), I returned to familiar theme: the contextual treatment of our scriptures. Yet there is more than context to be considered. The piece that follows here deals with attentive listening in “conversation,” and I’m afraid it meanders too much. It’s undergone much editing, and I’m not sure it’s improved enough yet, but here goes!
Pretty much every time I’m in a church gathering, I have cause to think about responsible, contextual reading and interpretation of scriptural texts. Typically, it’s not so much full consideration as a passing, disappointed thought that makes me wish the speaker had done his homework.
Metaphorically considering ourselves hikers, could we imagine coming through a clearing and finding a trailhead where this sign stands?Looks daunting! What to do? No turning around. This is why we’re here—to hike this scripture-reading trail! So we take a few steps into the wooded area just past the trailhead . . . and we are reminded that, in a real sense, Bible reading and interpretation are all about listening attentively while hiking the sometimes-rugged trail. How will we surmount the challenges of this trail? How will we walk and listen along the way?
As Greg Fay has put it, we need to stop “interrupting God.” Another chief metaphor for Fay is the “infection” that results when Rorschack-like inkblots constitute our mode of looking at the scriptures. Each little “verse” can actually become an isolated thing that has an imagined shape and identity of its own! But there is another way.
The treatment for inkblotitis is to quit turning verses into inkblots and learn to read them in their book-level contexts. More broadly: to read the books of the Bible as books—as connected pieces of various types of literature. The treatment is to quit using the Bible as if it were a pile of disconnected sayings or aphorisms or proverbs or prophecies or analogies or . . . spiritual fortune cookies. . . . to sit down with God and listen as he spoke with and to us. . . . to stop interrupting him when he’s speaking . . . . – Greg Fay, PhD, “The Treatment,” in Inkblotitis Book 2, Rediscovering the Books of God, p. 10
Many careless readers think or even say, “This ‘verse’ means _____ to me.” Isolating a “verse,” they interrupt God’s “flow,” ripping the verbal thing from its context, considering it while it dangles there, all alone, begging to be reattached to its source. The verse or phrase might sound cool all by itself, but it wasn’t intended to be isolated. It doesn’t stand alone! Snippets of scriptural material start to mean unintended things when they are extracted from their contexts. They seem take on their own “shapes,” but such non-contextual reading can be as fanciful as thinking a cloud or a Rorschach blot is actually a Poodle or a porpoise or a Porsche.
It’s here that we may draw a line to human conversational styles and habits. In some instances, conversation seems natural, with a pleasant sort of give-and-take and a reasonable number of interruptions that show mutual attentiveness. In other cases, the interruptions seem to exhibit thoughtlessness or carelessness, rudeness, and even conversational disease. Personally, I struggle with conversation at times. When I’m devotedly talking with someone, I want to show my attention, but I don’t always succeed. My eyes dart, or my body language shows that I’m otherwise engaged or distracted. When I work hard at paying good attention, I worry, too, that even that effort comes off poorly. Conversation can be difficult, but it can also be rewarding.
Do you have a friend with whom conversations seem to flow effortlessly, and who listens as well to you as you try to listen to him/her? Do you enjoy richly shared understandings and entwined spirits? Special friends are blessings. I don’t think I’ve ever had a “soul mate,” but someone I knew two decades ago referred to a friend of hers in just that way. I suspected at the time that “soul mate” meant, in that case, that two women took evening walks together and bemoaned certain things about, e.g., their husbands and their jobs and the church. I say that because one of those women’s answer to a serious problem was, and I quote, “I’m always at the ready for dinner and a movie.” Really? If soulful, connected conversation is summarized by food and a flick—or, in the case of the stereotypical male, by staring into a clearing with a buddy in a deer stand—I’m neither impressed nor drawn in. Maybe my standards are too high.
At least in my world, most days, deep, extended conversation is elusive. There are light-or-compulsory greetings, brief interchanges, etc., but little interaction seems to rise to the level of conversation. One of the factors that seems to be degrading human conversation is “social media.” On this point, hear Gary Collier:
There is little doubt that what passes as “social media” today is more often anti-social. Short quips pass for genuine interaction, and the art of conversation dies a little more every day. When we are genuinely interested in other people, and they in us, there is a give and take that blooms and thrives, color ablaze, in a context of patient time and of attentive listening. – Gary D. Collier, PhD, “Conversations with God,” via Biblical Conversation Blog, accessed 3/26/22
When truly attentive conversation does actually occur, it is like air in the lungs. Any substantive, meaningful interaction can be salve for the soul. Collier’s ultimate thrust, though, was to spotlight conversational Bible reading:
“The more I read the scriptures conversationally, the more my conversational praying will be enhanced, filled, and energized. And vice versa.”
I fully support the emphasis there. Conversation as attentive give-and-take might be an apt phrase, too. Yet my own practices fall far short of my desires—in conversations with humans who live in skin like I do, and also in conversations with God. Listening attentively may just be the key to “success” in both areas. Whether I’m walking on a trail while praying, reading scriptural texts with a sense of dialogue and attentive conversation, or just navigating the complexities of day-to-day life and human conversation, I ought to listen. Really listen, without interrupting.