The Hermeneutic of “Me”

It is not uncommon for the Bible to be used in churches as a handbook. It seems rather common practice for the Bible to be used for some wise jots that pertain to my life that I might live a better life and in some circles discover fire insurance free of charge. Not only is this egregious, but this is unfortunately common. It might then be little or even no surprise that the Bible finds its place on bookshelves not far from other self-help books.

Since beginning my stint in seminary, I have found myself to be a rather self-absorbed reader of the Bible, repeatedly identifying myself with the protagonist of a given story. Paralleling myself with kings and heroes is of course ridiculous, but it seems to be consistent with such American anthems as, “You are the hero of your own story.” Such has been inculcated on American consciousness that we bring it to the Bible and think little if anything is wrong. This is the hermeneutic of “me.” We are crafting our own stories of which we are the heroes, and the Bible comes along for the ride. But doing such leaves us homeless in the name of freedom.

We Christians, at least in America, need to have a Copernican Revolution in our reading of the Bible; we would do well to begin to realize that the Bible does not revolve around the individual “me.” We tend to milk the bible for all it’s worth that it might be immediately pertinent to my current needs and interests. We need, however, to discover that the Bible’s contents do not revolve around “me.” We need to discover that the Bible is cosmic in breadth and depth. The Bible does indeed pertain to the individual “me” in so far as I find my appropriate place within the cosmic purposes of God.

We would do well to do away with the hermeneutic of “me.” This is not restricting; doing away with the hermeneutic of “me” provides room for another hermeneutic, a hermeneutic of true liberation. It’s a hermeneutic that declares that I am not homeless hoping aimlessly to make something out of nothing. It’s a hermeneutic that declares that there is indeed a home to be had, if only we would accept the invitation to walk through the front door. It’s a hermeneutic that requires that we actually read the stories without immediately imposing ourselves in and on them. If we refrain from persistently crafting the stories that they might put “me” at the center (which thereby abolishes the stories), we might find that there is indeed a home to be had and it is quite robust and welcoming.

I suppose I should speak plainly. I am a slow learner, but I am learning to read the stories and read them again, thinking not of myself as I read them. I am learning to refrain from placing myself in the story and to simply read the story; I am learning to then consider how this particular story has a place in relation to the other stories. And finally, I am learning to consider how this story fits in the breadth and depth of the overarching narrative. This requires patient reading, and I am still learning patience. I am learning to see how the stories relate, to see how they weave a tapestry, to see how they make a home in which I may reside but which are not built merely by the capricious interests of “me.” This involves letting the Bible provide room for “me” but on the Bible’s own terms and ultimately according to God’s purposes, not mine. The Bible is not a handbook, and I am not the hero. The Bible’s stories and God’s purposes do not conform to me; I am to conform to them but only after reading them with patience and on their own terms.