Reflection on Part I (Eat this Book) and Part II (Lectio Divina) of "Eat This Book" by Eugene Peterson (written for Professor Dean Flemming for my Biblical Interpretation course):
I have been an avid reader most of my life. It was around fifth grade when my teacher, Ms. Weis, a wonderful woman who remained curiously unmarried—in my opinion—scraped her zest against the flint of literature, kindling something inside of me. Looking back on this, I realize that what she had ignited was a love for the written word. The way it lived and breathed, the way in which I could use it to give voice to the previously mute feelings that swelled in my chest, brought me satisfaction. She taught me how to write poems, and I realized that a poem was the vessel by which my emotions became incarnate, clothed in the flesh of paper and ink. Words, I found, were “never mere words—they convey[ed] spirit, meaning, energy, and truth” (50). Shortly thereafter, I began to realize that words were not just my personal discovery. There were authors of all types who found them equally as compelling, and soon enough, I was consuming their novels; their stories raptured my imagination.
I would daily, innumerable times a day, gorge myself on fantasy books and adventure stories, hiding from bandits in the trees, gasping for air in the ocean waves, feeling the long–awaited kiss of a beautiful girl—why does it always take until the last chapter?—but life began to get in the way of my reading. When I did have time, I read non-fiction for, increasingly, knowledge gave me more capital in my education than did fiction. Imagination had little value alongside intellect. That is the narrative (lo and behold, I was still being moved by a story!) which shaped my thinking throughout high school. I give that background to say this: Peterson brushed aside the cobwebs and, with a heave, thrust his weight against rusty doors of my imagination, and—sputtering, I’m sure, in the musty air that wafted out—tossed his torch onto the neglected pile of tinder which lay inside. For so long, I have been reading scripture as dead words which necessitate my dissection and comprehension. I have been a scientist. I have “know[n] much and taste[d] nothing” from its pages (14). Instead of the scriptures being a garden “constantly changing with [the] growth of both flowers and weeds” (65), they had become a series of problems to solve, to diagram, to control, a jardin à la française as opposed to the garden of my elderly neighbor in Nebraska of which the question always was, “Are you sure you planted cucumbers in here?” I am terrified of losing control.
In compelling me to “eat this book,” (18) Peterson reawakened in me, or awakened for the first time, the belief that scripture can—and more importantly should—be “gnawed, enjoyed, and savored” as a dog with a bone (2). Just as the novels read in my younger days brought me delight so should “low throaty rumbles of pleasure” (2) escape my throat as I let the scriptures “into [my] nerve endings, [my] reflexes, [my] imagination” (9). I realized, as I followed Peterson’s reflections, that I wanted what he was speaking of. I want to “become what [I] read” (20), to internalize the Holy Scriptures and by that process be shaped “into [my] true being” (24).
Being raised in church culture, particularly in a church which valued the “authority of God’s Word,” the concept of reading scripture was not foreign to me. It has been stamped into my beliefs that scripture can transform lives. “If we could just get people reading the Bible every day,” I thought, “then they would begin to live like Christ.” My experience, however, leads me to agree with Peterson that placing a Bible in a person’s hands and saying, “Read it” is as foolish as putting a set of car keys in an adolescent’s hands and saying, “Drive it” (81). If we do that, those who are wielding the scriptures may soon end up “dead or maimed” for “an enormous amount of damage is done in the name of Christian living by bad Bible reading”—caveat lector indeed (82). After capturing my imagination by his description of how I should eat the Bible—thank you John, Ezekiel, and Jeremiah—and after receiving his several cautions, I was ready to receive Peterson’s words about lectio divina, divine reading, a process of consuming the Word by lectio (reading), meditatio (meditating), oratio (praying), and contemplatio (living). I am grateful for the opportunity to have engaged with Peterson’s book and thrilled by the newfound attitude with which to approach and read scripture. I hope, and believe, that "Eat This Book" will aid me immensely as I eat the Book itself.
*The final paragraph below, over Part III of the book (The Company of Translators), was not in my reflection for class*
Peterson concludes the book with a discussion of the translation process. He gives an overview of how the Hebrew Old Testament was translated into Greek and how the New Testament was written, largely, in Koine Greek, the common language of the time, rather than Classical Greek, the language of literature. He explains the implications of this reality for the translation of the Bible into the common language today and makes a compelling case for the necessity of paraphrased translations which are in the tongue of common people as opposed to literal translations. He argues that, while more literal English translations may be useful for some study, careful study of the original Biblical languages should be used to create good paraphrase translations of the text into the common tongue so that the majority of people (who aren't clergy or Biblical scholars) can "eat" and live out the Bible in their daily, contextualized lives.