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| "Piecing together the Puzzle" - Photo by Trista Wynne |
This morning I find myself pondering the joys (and pains) of
exegesis, that is, the searching of Scripture in its original language in an attempt to discern the intent or meaning of the original author. In many ways, it is as though we have been given a puzzle in a box without the lid that would have the full picture on it. We, however, are not completely lost, for those who have received this same box of pieces we now find before us have passed down their representations of how they have fit the pieces together in their lifetimes. The problem there lies in perhaps choosing one representation over another simply because we were taught to do so as children (or perhaps later, if we came to faith later on in life). If we want to simply take someone else’s word for it and stay with one vision of what the puzzle looks like in the end, we might just end up forcing pieces to fit where they weren’t intended by the One who designed, painted, cut and passed out the pieces in the first place.
Recently my husband and I endeavored to piece a puzzle of a thousand pieces together. We had purchased it on our honeymoon in San Francisco a year after we were married. The puzzle portrayed a three-hundred-sixty-five degree view of the inside of Alcatraz. Now, even though we had the box in front of us, it was an incredibly daunting task. There are a lot of bars of similar shade to be found in that picture. Not only that, but the pieces were cut in very similar shapes so that pieces would fit together whose pattern did not match each other at all. After only a few hours on the first day I stood up and walked away from the table deciding that I was done. I glared at it from across the living room and then leaned back on the couch, closed my eyes and promptly fell asleep; my husband continued to labor for another hour over the tedious work.
Now, we had accomplished a good deal right at the start. We noticed patterns and sorted the pieces into piles of like coloring, placing the yellowish ones here, the grayish ones there and the dark brown ones in another pile, and gathering the straight edges into one area. My first task was to fit the frame together. My husband focused on a section in the middle. When I had come to the end of all of the straight-edged pieces, some appeared to be missing. That couldn’t be; we had just opened the box! Searching high and low to find the presumably missing pieces, I scoured the piles until my eyes hurt and then some. That was when I had given up that evening. At the end of the night, we covered the work area with a couple of large flattened boxes to protect our work from the paws of our kitties.
A few weeks went by before we sat down to work on the puzzle again. With renewed vigor we plunged into our work, this time having a larger portion of visual satisfaction in the tangible results of our labors. We pieced small portions of the picture together on opposite ends of the table and then slid them together and found where they interlocked with the frame I had worked so hard on the first night. I would send a dark piece his way and he a light piece in my direction. This goes there, or that goes here, and the pieces would stay just long enough to be fit together with another and then sent to the other end of the table once again.
At one point into the third full day of working on our puzzle, my husband wondered about a couple of pieces on the sides. He pulled one from the left and one from the right side and placed them in the space where the supposedly missing pieces should be. He was right. They fit perfectly and still matched the pattern of light and shadow. The frame was now complete; I had simply placed a couple of pieces in the wrong place and assumed it was right because they fit. I was much encouraged by his discovery, and found that I had a renewed energy to continue on our endeavor together. On the third day the work was finished.
Exegesis is a bit like that puzzle work. We organize the pieces (stories, or fragments of stories called pericopes) into piles, sorting them by genre, attributing them to certain authors, observing themes and pondering the big pictures we each have received through our various traditions. This, like the gigantic puzzle which my husband and I worked on, is not a task to be done alone. It is created in such a way that the whole community of God needs to be involved. Sometimes we need someone else to ask what might happen if we rotate this piece, or to tap us on the shoulder and suggest that that piece might be better placed on the other end of the puzzle.
We are greatly blessed to have at our fingertips, or only a short drive away, access to material from some of the most thoughtful, soulful people throughout the history of our faith. I am a student working on the puzzle of interpreting the Scriptures for the community of God, practicing my work so that in time to come I will give others the tools they need to join me in this delicate, delightful, fulfilling work that has been set before us by the Great Artisan – our Lord, Creator of the world through the Holy Spirit in Jesus Christ, one God throughout all time.
I am not alone. My work is in
community. We support one another and bring to the table our own understandings based on the work of those who have gone before us and have left us pictures, poetry, songs and sermons giving us their unique perspectives regarding the work that we now have in our hands. I was raised in the tradition of
Martin Luther, and I am grateful for such a deep structure of grace-filled roots. I also am delighted to be at the table with others who share their traditions drawing their inspiration from the herritage of people like
John Wesley,
John Calvin, and
William Seymour. Together we tap into the deep, rich wells of the desert mothers and fathers like Anthony and Amma Syncletica, the sixteenth century mystics like Julian of Norwich and John of the Cross, the Eastern Orthodox saints like Catherine of Sienna and Basil the Great, the heritage of the Roman Catholic spiritualists like Henri Nouwen and Thomas Merton and the charismatic lineage of Francis of Assisi and Aimee Semple McPherson.
Life is also a bit like this. Not one of us is alone. We were not born into or raised in a social vacuum. Each of us has the blessing of the interactions that have shaped us from before we were born. And I
do mean blessing, for even the most difficult circumstances, when shared within a loving, prayerful, discerning community, can become the seedbed for the re-shaping of the families, neighborhoods and government entities around us for the benefit of the world. We each have been given a unique piece, something to add to, the puzzle of life. Through prayer, community interaction, introspection, reading of Scripture and involvement with the people and world around us, we can find our place in the multi-dimensional puzzle of life to the delight of our Great Love.
Here is what I hear the Lord speaking to me, and through me, today:
Beloved, do not be discouraged if you have been told to put your piece here or there, only to find that you are later picked up and placed in a completely new arena. Most of your inner-turmoil arises when you misinterpret My direction as a message to glue your piece down on the table rather than for the message of temporary placement that it was originally intended to be. Throughout your entire life here on the earth, you are in temporary placement. Only in the completion of My plan will you truly understand your placement.
Dear beloved, trust Me. Listen for My voice. I speak through the Scriptures. I speak through those who truly love you. I speak through My creation. I speak through your intuition. I speak logically. I speak creatively. I speak in parables, poetry, song and dance. I speak through your body. I speak to others through you. Listen to Me. Act as I did in Christ. Follow my lead in the dance of life. Only then, when you have learned what it means to be My companion, will I call you to speak.
Come, beloved, draw near to Me, and I will show you what I created you to be.
Beloved,
