Reasons Quakers Don’t Read the Bible

By Paul Buckley

Originally published as the introduction in Buckley, Paul, ed., The Quaker Bible Reader (Richmond: Earlham School of Religion Publications), 2006.  Used with permission of the author and publisher.

Modern Quakers do not neglect books in general.  Professionally, Friends are found in academic and other intellectual professions well out of proportion to their numbers in the population.  In any moderately sized collection of Quakers, there is likely to be at least one librarian.  Nor are Friends uninterested in spiritual matters.  A quick review of the materials offered in the various Quaker bookstores reveals long lists of books on spirituality, Quaker biography, other religious biographies, devotionals, guides to spiritually-based social action, and a variety of religious study materials for all ages.  But listening to conversations, especially among more liberal Friends, might give the impression that more copies are sold of the Gnostic gospels than those of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

While the Bible used to enjoy a privileged position in the English-speaking world, today’s world is vastly different.  Even beyond the constant and unavoidable impingements of non-print media in our lives, the competition for a reader’s attention is enormous.  Our lives are flooded with books, newspapers, magazines, catalogs, mail, email, text-messages, and more.  In modern America, discarded print material is the single largest source of consumer garbage.  As a spiritual resource, the Bible competes with abundant other sources, from traditional writings to the products of self-help gurus.  Within the category of sacred works, the Bible now shares shelf space with the scriptures of other religions.  This diminished role makes itself apparent in everyday life.  While in the seventeenth century, scriptural quotes and allusions were the commonplace of daily conversation and literary works, today’s popular culture recycles lines from songs, jingles, slogans, and advertising.

Competition with other resources aside, however, I believe one of the principal reasons many Friends do not read the Bible is they do not have any idea how to approach the Bible as Quakers.  Some have never been introduced to it.  Other may have learned at an earlier time in their lives to read the Bible in a particular way.  For various reasons, they have come to reject that way of reading and, in rejecting the interpretation, they have thrown the text out with it.

Many people had their first encounter with the Bible in a Sunday School (or, as Quakers call it, a First Day School) class.  In this setting, the stories are reformulated to present a simple lesson for a young mind.  Complexity is rooted out, and a single, simple message—appropriate to a child’s understanding—is emphasized.  Only a small sampling of the whole is presented: Adam and Eve, the flood, Moses parting the sea, and Jesus feeding thousands with a few loaves and fishes are popular; Joshua conquering the Canaanites and the vivid images of the Apocalypse are not.  There are implicit or explicit theological assumptions underlying the selection and rewording of the Bible stories, but these are invisible to a child.  In fact, a young child hearing a Bible story is not likely to be taught that there is any interpretation involved.  Children do not interpret stories, they just listen to them.  It would never occur to them to deconstruct Dr. Suess, so why should they treat Bible stories any differently?  As he or she grows, such hidden assumptions may or may not become more apparent.  In any case, they are often very different from the theological assumptions and beliefs that an older child or adult holds.  For some, it is easy to believe that, just as they no longer read picture books, they have likewise outgrown the Bible.

Other Friends learned to read scripture within another faith community before coming into our Society.  This may mean reading the Bible as literally and infallibly true or as a book to be understood only in the light of church traditions and teachings.  (Being brought up Catholic, I fall into the latter category.)  The distinction between the words of scripture and the meanings ascribed to those words is often lost.  Leaving ones spiritual community for another entails giving up certain beliefs, perhaps including those about how to read scripture.  Where text and interpretation have been thoroughly entwined, it may seem to a newly-convinced Quaker that the Bible can no longer speak to his or her spiritual condition.  The God who directed the flood (at least as they were previously taught) cannot be the God who leads them to embrace the Peace Testimony.

Special attention is due to those you tell you that they have “wounded by scripture.”  I have frequently heard women, people of color, poor people, gay men, and lesbians refer to instances when various passages have been used to attack, demean, and belittle them.  Over the years, the Bible’s words have been used to justify verbal, spiritual, emotional, and physical violence.  These attacks do not always issue from the mouths of bigots or intransigent reactionaries, but may come from loving, kind people who were taught “the right way to read the Bible.”  In response, many of those who have felts so assaulted have denied the validity of the claims made in the name of the Bible.  Others, however, accept their attackers’ interpretation as a true reflection of the scriptures themselves.  They then see themselves as faced with a stark choice: to deny themselves or to deny the validity of the book.  It is no surprise that many of these people have chosen to turn away from the scripture.

Others see the Bible as no more than a set of legends and fables, offering insight into the minds of an ancient people and a foreign culture—much like Beowulf or Aesop’s Fables.  The Bible presents western civilization’s myths, but for truth about the world we live in, they turn to science.  Or they may look at the rich variety of other spiritual books and question the special status accorded to the Bible.  Why, they ask, grant it pride of place instead of reading the Koran or the Upanishads or the sacred works of the Druids?

The Goal of This Book*

It may be useful at this point to introduce one technical term: hermeneutics.  Every time someone tells a Bible story, they are engaged—consciously or not—in interpretation.  There is a set of rules that they use to ferret out the meaning of a text.  For example, while “serpent” may just be a fancy name for a snake, to many people the serpent that tempted Eve into eating forbidden fruit is more than a common snake—but what?  Some will tell you the serpent is a devil in disguise.  This interpretation contributes to and supports a particular meaning for the story.  Others consider the role of the serpent as minor and come to different conclusions.  Each set of rules—implicit or explicit, known of subconscious—constitutes what Bible scholars call hermeneutics.

There is no one set of Quaker hermeneutics.  As well be seen in the chapters that follow, there are a number of techniques and approaches to understanding scripture that are consistent with Quaker beliefs and practices.  I hope that this book will provide readers with a sense of the varieties of Quaker hermeneutics—assorted, Friendly ways to read and understand scripture.  But this isn’t the goal of the book.  As Manuel Guzman-Martinez says, “Unfortunately, no one learns in someone else’s shoes.”  Our goal is to help you find your own shoes and put them on.

Find the “Quaker Hermeneutics” that speak to your spiritual condition may allow you to engage the Bible in an honest conversation.  Then you, too, can do “Quaker exegesis”—not passively accepting someone else’s interpretation; not looking for “the good parts” and skipping the rest; not contorting scripture to support predetermined ideas—but entering into a dialogue with this ancient book, exploring your own assumptions about God, and deepening your relationship with the divine.  In the process, I believe you will also come to have a more grounded understanding of who Quakers are and why we believe what we believe.

*(A note from the bloggers--this piece was originally the introduction to an anthology of essays on different ways modern Quakers read the Bible, a purpose clearly referenced in this section.  We have left references to this larger context because keeping the original words and intent seemed better than extensive editing.)

Paul Buckley is a writer and translator of Quaker thought. His book Twenty-First Century William Penn has made Penn accessible to many, and he is the editor of the recently re-published Journal of Elias Hicks.

The Bible Among Friends

By Paul Buckley

Originally published as the introduction in Buckley, Paul, ed., The Quaker Bible Reader (Richmond: Earlham School of Religion Publications), 2006.  Used with permission of the author and publisher.

For many Friends, the Bible is a lost resource.  They don’t read it, and they don’t miss it.  This is not a new situation—complaints that too few Friends read or know scripture have been heard consistently for at least the last two-hundred years.  For example, more then fifty years ago, Henry Cadbury, a Quaker and one of the twentieth century’s great biblical scholars, decried this condition in an address at Guilford College.

In some ways, this is a surprising situation.  Friends in the seventeenth century were devoted to their Bibles.  Early Quaker writings seem at times to consist of little more than stringing together selected bits of scripture.  George Fox, founder of the Religious Society of Friends, knew scripture so well that Gerard Croese, in his 1696 book, The General History of the Quakers, makes the claim that “though the Bible were lost, it might be found in the Mouth of George Fox.”  Early Friends, of course, were not unique in their love of the scriptures.  Three hundred and fifty years ago, the Bible was the pre-eminent book in the English-speaking world.  For many people, it was the only readily accessible book and it profoundly influenced views of life, society, history, politics, and the world.  George Fox was far from unique in committing it to memory.
Despite this intimate familiarity with the Bible, the tension between roles of immediate revelation and of the scripture had been present from the very earliest beginning of the Quaker movement.  In the section of his Journal devoted to 1648, George Fox wrote:

I was to direct people to the Spirit that gave forth the Scriptures, by which they might be led into all Truth, and so up to Christ and God, as they had been who gave them forth.  … I saw that the grace of God, which brings salvation, had appeared to all men, and that the manifestation of the Spirit of God was given to every man to profit withal.  These things I did not see by the help of man, nor by the letter, though they are written in the letter, but I saw them in the light of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by his immediate Spirit and power… for I was in that Spirit by which they [the scriptures] were given forth, and what the Lord opened to me I afterwards found was agreeable to them.  I could speak much of these things and many volumes might be written but all would prove too short … (p. 34)

Fox is claiming immediate revelation for himself and declaring his mission to be directing all people to know it in themselves.  The final sentence makes it clear that these revelations are more than a mere reiteration of the recorded scriptures.  At the same time, he acknowledges that afterward he found that what had been revealed to him was “agreeable” with scripture.  This formulation—continuing revelation that does not contradict (but may go beyond) the Bible became the Quaker norm and appears in the writings of many other early Friends.  The evolving structures of gospel order did little to provide precise definitions of what was agreeable and what contradicted scripture.  In general, it was left to subgroups within the Society—monthly, quarterly, and yearly meetings—to deal with individual cases.  This process led to a degree of local conformity, but no Society-wide standard.

This tension remained unresolved at the beginning of the nineteenth century.  If anything, the cracks were widening as ideas were absorbed from both the Enlightenment and from other Protestant sects.  The events leading up to painful separations in the Society in 1827-28 prominently featured charges and countercharges over how the Bible was read, how it should be read, and how it was properly interpreted—although not over its ultimate status among Friends.  Of course, each side claimed proper use for themselves and charged serious error on the part of their opponents.

Nor are the 1820s unique in this respect.  Today’s structures, organizations, and practices within the Religious Society of Friends are the product of our history.  It is only a slight exaggeration to say that it is impossible to understand Quaker history without having some understanding of Quaker theology and impossible to understand Quaker theology without knowing something of the Bible.  The peace testimony, the practice of simplicity, both silent workship and the elements of programmed worship, and the other hallmarks of twenty-first century Quaker faith and practice were firmly established on biblical foundations.
Even understanding the ways we speak of ourselves depends on scripture. 

Many contemporary Friends take pleasure in referring to themselves as belonging to a “peculiar people.”  But to say we are “peculiar” is not to claim that we are odd.  The phrase is found in both the Hebrew (Old Testament) and Greek (New Testament) scriptures.  As a Quaker, my favorite example is from the first epistle of Peter, “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Peter 2:9).  We Quakers are well acquainted with that “marvellous light.”  This is, of course, the translation in the King James Version of the Bible.  In modern English versions, “peculiar people” is rendered as “a people belonging to God” or “God’s own people.”  To say we are a peculiar people is to claim that the Religious Society of Friends is the chosen people.

Early Friends indeed made this claim, but we shouldn’t think it was a point of pride.  They knew the implications of being God’s people—it may be an honor, but it is much more a responsibility.  To know the elements of that responsibility, you need look no further than the historic Quaker testimonies.  Early Friends described the testimonies as “peculiarities,” but not to suggest these were mere idiosyncrasies.  These are the obligations that God’s people carry.  A person adopted Quaker dress, speech, and practices as an outward sign of submission to God in all things.

Paul Buckley is a writer and translator of Quaker thought. His book Twenty-First Century William Penn has made Penn accessible to many, and he is the editor of the recently re-published Journal of Elias Hicks.

Context is Everything

I have 4 signs that I've made that I hang in the classroom where the residential BS101 class meets. These signs are some of my key interpretive principles when it comes to reading the Bible. I hope they become yours as well.

OK, well maybe not everything, but pretty close. The following contexts are all factors in reading the biblical text.

    •historical context. This itself is complicated. There is the historical context stated by the biblical text (such as “In the days when the judges ruled...” Ruth 1:1), the historical context of when the text was written (such as Ruth may have been composed during David's reign [or not]), and the historical context of when the text was canonized (for Ruth probably the post-exilic period).
    •literary context. Verses occur in within chapters, which are within books, which are within larger collections (e.g., Torah, Former Prophets, Wisdom), which are within the canon
    •personal context. This has to do with who you are as a reader. Some of my contexts are: female, single, white, heterosexual, middle class, US citizen, Christian, United Methodist.
    •other contexts. These include various other contexts than the ones listed above including, but not limited to: later historical contexts, other religious contexts, other geographical contexts, or any context other than one's own. I would also add in here popular culture and the history of biblical interpretation.

All of these context are factors in interpretation. In other words, there is no such thing as a completely objective intepretation. The meaning of a text will be different depending upon which of these contexts one considers since different contexts raise different issues and concerns. One of the things I hope you become aware of is these various contexts and how they matter in interpretation. Just so you know, in general I think it is a good thing to read a text first in its historical context and its meaning for ancient Israel before considering its meaning for today.

Often our theological disagreements arise from the differences in our various contexts and the questions and concerns we are bringing to the text.

This also means that there's not a right reading and a wrong reading. An historical critical and a literary and a postcolonial reading of the same text might look very different, but they are all “correct” readings of the text. In summary, because context is everything, multiple meanings of the text are possible.

This issue is related to what I left off with in “context is everything.” If multiple meanings are possible, then how do we adjudicate between competing interpretations? The traditional answer has been to declare only one type of method (such as historical criticism) or one social location (such as white, male) to be normative. But if one wants to value mutliple methods and social contexts, such an approach is itself unethical.

My approach is to consider ethical interpretation. That is, what matters is how an interpretation functions. Does it function to liberate or to oppress? Interpretations that liberate and give new life to individuals and communities should be viewed as more authoritative than interpretations that oppress or cause harm to individuals and communities – even those interpretations that correctly use a particular methodology or may have been what the author originally meant (even if we could figure out what that was).

We all know how the text can used to harm. Here are some examples from Genesis.

    •Gen 1:28—subduing the earth has been taken to mean that it is OK to use (exploit) the earth in whatever way is good for us. (Anyone seen Avatar?)
    •Gen 2-3—Those who forbid the ordination of women base that in part on their interpretation of Eve's alleged subordination to Adam (2:18, 21-24) and her alleged role in the “fall” (3:1-7, 13, 16).
    •Gen 8:21—The promise that God will never again destroy the earth by water/flood has been interpreted by some that this implies it is OK to increase nuclear weapons. God never promised that the earth would not be destroyed by "fire."
    •Gen 9:25-27—the curse of "Ham" (really Canaan) was used in the US in support of black slavery
    •Gen 10-11—The table of nations in chap. 10 and the confusion of languages at Babel in chap. 11 was interpreted by the Dutch Reformed Church in South Africa to show that race differences are included in the Bible and that separation is God's will and therefore apartheid is biblically based.

In other words, what we are doing is not merely an interesting intellectual exercise, nor is it solely about what it means to me. Our interpretations have real impact on the lives of real people.

However, this is complicated (see below). For example, a text that I find liberating, my neighbor might find oppressive and vice versa. This means that I also believe that interpretation is best done in community so that I know how my interpretation affects another.

One the one hand, reading the Bible isn't rocket science and often the message is self evident. On the other hand, it is a mystery to me why anyone should think reading the Bible is easy or that the meaning of a text is intuitively obvious. Often when I'm asked a question about the text my answer usually is prefaced with, “Well, it's complicated.” Often the answer is complicated because of issues in the text (such as determining the meaning of a word) or there is insufficient or contradictory evidence (such as trying to determine when the exodus would have happened). Sometimes it's complicated because the world of the 21st century is so different from that of the Iron Age (especially in matters of science and knowledge of how the world and human beings work).

My next most frequent response is to questions is, “Well, it is, except when it isn't.” That is, the Bible itself is complicated and full of tensions and contradictions. I follow the wisdom of my mentor James Sanders. One of his favorite sayings is, “For every absolute you will find in the Bible, you will find it's opposite somewhere else.” For example, compare the following:       

        Ps 44:23      Rouse yourself! Why do you sleep, O Lord?
                           Awake, do not cast us off forever!
        Ps 121:4     He who keeps Israel
                            will neither slumber nor sleep.
        Isa 43:18     Do not remember the former things,
                            or consider the things of old.
        Isa 46:9      remember the former things of old;
                          for I am God, and there is no other;

His second favorite saying is, “No controversial issue has ever been resolved by appeal to the Bible.” Think about it. Both slave holders and emancipators quoted the Bible, as did those who advocated for women's ordination and women's subordination. Which makes me think that we're not going to solve the debates about issues of homosexuality or abortion or global warming or any other issue by appeal to the Bible.

Keep in mind that one of the reasons there is such theological diversity is because “it's complicated.”

On the London Tube (underground subway) when the doors open and close this very pleasant British voice says, “Mind the gap, please,” asking you to be mindful of the space between the train and the platform. This sign is about being mindful of the spaces or gaps that are present in the biblical text. These are places in the story where the reader feels the need to supply "missing" information. A couple of examples:

        -Where did the women come from that Cain and Abel married? (Gen 4:17)
        -Why did God have regard for Abel's offering but not Cain? (Gen 4:4)
        -Who were the "sons of the gods" or the "sons of God" in Gen 6:2?

The point is that the text does not supply this information. Our inclination is to fill those gaps.  That's fine to do. But be aware that although you might want to ask the question, you will never be able to answer it by appeal to the text. Sometimes "gaps" can be filled with reasonable and intelligent speculation based upon a variety of other types of evidence, such as appeal to elsewhere in the biblical text, appeal to other Western Asian texts, or appeal to archeological evidence from antiquity. Gaps can also be filled with anything that springs forth from the human imagination. I'm not trying to forbid gap filling, but what I do want is for you to recognize when you're doing it! And when you become aware that you are "gap filling," ask yourself with what you are filling it and why.

This is a way of encouraging you to be aware of what is said and not said in the text.  The absence of something that we might feel is vital may also be a clue as to the concerns of the biblical writers. However we might be concerned with where those wives came from (and that gap has led to all sorts of speculation), it's not a concern of the Bible. And maybe we should take a hint from that.

Another main "gap" in biblical narrative is with characterization. Generally the text does not give information regarding the thoughts, feelings, or emotions of folk in the Bible. People are known by what they do, not what they feel. So we'll be wondering, what was going through Abraham's or Sarah's or Isaac's mind in Gen 22? Note that the text doesn't tell us! In terms of characters, the tendency is to fill the gap by asking ourselves what we might think or feel in such circumstances.

In summary, when it comes to gaps we can make some (un)educated guesses but ultimately we don't know. It's important to come to terms with what we know and what we don't know.

Nancy Bowen is Associate Professor of Old Testament at Earlham School of Religion. She has recently published a commentary on the book of Ezekiel.