Seeing More (Part Two): The Word and Images

I got my first Bible midway through the second grade. One of the advantages of growing up in a small-town Baptist church is that you wind up with respect for and knowledge of the Word, whether you're aware of it or not. Our church had an admirable commitment to giving each student two bibles: a children's bible midway through second grade and a leatherbound study bible for graduation.

When my number first came up, it was 1978. McDonald's had recently introduced the Happy Meal, Debby Boone's star was in the ascendant, and the world was thrilled to shift its attention from the cold war to incredible things that supposedly happened a long long time ago in a galaxy far far away. Rumor had it they were making a Star Trek movie, and everyone knew it could never match Star Wars. The idea of Leia being Luke's sister would have been met with derisive laughter -- I mean, she kissed him, for crying out loud! Gross! And if someone had posited Darth Vader as Luke's father, I suspect I would have reached for the nearest bludgeoning tool. Like everyone else, I wanted nothing more than my own lightsaber and made every effort to let my parents know that depriving me of one constituted child abuse. My jungle gym became the gunner's turret of the Millenium Falcon and the schoolbus became a Star Wars Trading card swap meet.

In the midst of all this, our Sunday School teacher offered us a choice: The Illustrated Bible for Children or the Children’s Living Bible. We got to look over a copy of each before making our decision. The former was Bible-as-comic-book. All the major stories and parables, very little in terms of the law or genealogies or epistles, just page after page of images conveying What God Did. The latter was your standard Bible. It contained both testaments in an easy-to-read paraphrase, words of Christ in red, and a few color plates.

I turned out to be the only one who went with Option B. As I said, I was more into “real” books anyway, and this felt like the more "adult" thing to do. Besides, after watching the Death Star blow, six-color comic images just seemed lame. On the following Sunday, I unwrapped my new Bible and just petted it for a few minutes. The cover was ivory-colored faux-leather over cardboard, with the title etched in gold foil and a picture of Jesus holding a young boy on his lap, pointing out a part of the Word. I thumbed the pages, feeling superior to the other kids who were saying things like “That’s not a very good whale…” or “So that’s what Mary looked like!”

The only thing I remember about that Bible today is the picture on the cover. When I open the Word to study, I sometimes think of that little boy and clamber up into Jesus’ lap in my head. It’s comfy there.

This all came back to me several weeks ago, when I joined some dear friends in visiting the Art Institute to see sections of the St. John’s Bible. This is an incredible project, amazing in its detail, artistry, scope, and beauty. We wandered through the cases, looking at these rich images next to the text of divine revelation.

Most of the pictures were a bit abstract, the artists’ manifest bow before mystery. I think I was most moved by the frontispiece to the Gospel of John. The rich colors held the depth of the universe,and symbols blended with the Word to deepen my encounter with God. I began to catch a glimpse of the Bible as art, to experience the Jesus-Word as Beauty, to see all human history and the life of the Church as God’s magnificent tapestry of Who He IS. For a moment, I wished I could page through that other Bible – the one I didn’t choose all those years ago. I wanted to experience the stories, child-like, in basic line and color and form.

And then I looked around. This is the story, I realized. This is the painting, the tapestry, the sculpture of God’s love and glory. These trees. These clouds. These friends. It’s all right here, and it’s been going on forever. I thought of the scene in Postcards From the Edge where Meryl Streep tells Gene Hackman: “That’s my problem. I don’t want life to imitate art, I want life to BE art.”

I’m with ya, Meryl, but I don’t think it’s a problem. I think it’s precisely what God had in mind. Painting and Symphony and Dance and Tapestry and Gourmet Feast all at the same time.

Lord, make it so in me. Help me see with those eyes more and more, and in all the works of Your hands display your artistry to Your neverending glory. Deo Gratias.