Backing Through a Door
Today, I’m carrying on from parables to examine miracles, again
with a nod to Zen attitudes—this is the story in Mark about the storm on the
lake, when the disciples had to wake Jesus because he was sleeping right
through all the wind and rain.
I kept thinking in terms of “nots”.
I don’t believe the story is intended to be literal, or
metaphorical, or allegorical, or even symbolic. I think the sense of it might be
imagined as “backing through a door.”
Here are some words that might connect with our understanding
of the story in a pragmatic, non-theoretical way:
v Referential
v Denotational
v Polylateral
o
I invented this word, then looked it up
afterward. It’s not in the dictionary, but it is in current use in the context
of international diplomacy. (From an article in Public Diplomacy Magazine: “The
conduct of relations….in which there is a reasonable expectation of systematic
relationships, involving some form of reporting, communication, negotiation,
and representation, but not involving mutual recognition as sovereign,
equivalent entities.” It reminds me of a word that the author Maggie Ross uses
quite often— “Polyvalent.”)
v Inferential
v Figurative
v Connotational
v Metaphrastic
o
As opposed to ‘metaphorical’, in that ‘metaphor’
is relative to the meaning of language, and ‘metaphrastic’ is relative to the function
of words and phrases within language.
It occurred to me that the important thing is to read the
Bible in a relational context. A context that involves “reporting,
communication, negotiation, and representation, but does not involve mutual
recognition as sovereign, equivalent entities.”
To play with an extended not-metaphor, lets experiment with encountering
the Bible as an entity which engages in reporting, communication, negotiation,
and representation; all of which are activities that lead to some sort of mutual
recognition, just not recognition as sovereign, equivalent entities.
If you are
shaking your head at this point, and starting to get a headache, let’s change
the parameters.
When it comes to the accounts of miracles, don’t rush to read
them as if you already know the end of the story. When I read today’s story,
what reached out its hand to me were the phrases, “They took him just as he was”
and “Who can this be?”
The story itself ‘took me just as I was’, and asked me that
very same question— “Who can this be?” I’m not going to tell you what my answer
was, or if I even answered at all.
Let the
Bible read you.
Open
yourself to it
as if you are
a well-loved storybook
with
dog-eared pages and sticky stuff on the color plates.
Give it
time to look at the pictures;
turn the
pages when it pleases;
fold down the
corners at its favorite places.
Accept its
nomination.
Negotiate
with it
as mutual envoys;
ambassadors; attachés
of far away
lands with unusual and interesting customs.
Let it draw
its own inferences from you;
make its
own motions after it’s ready;
recognize
you when it’s time to hear your report.
Agree to
its terms; stand and deliver—
Give it everything
you own, if that’s what it wants.
Take
whatever it offers, if that’s what you want.
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