Under the Gaze of the Bible by Jean-Louis Chrétien (review)

Some one hundred pages invite the reader to read the Bible and, by it, to read oneself in relation to it. But not only that, for these eight essays, some previously published in journals, record the efforts of its writer to come to terms with the very possibility of opening the Bible to hear what it says. And, we must ask ourselves, as we leave one sentence for the following, as we pursue one paragraph to the next, whether we should say that the Bible says. In the account that he gives of his readings, Jean-Louis Chrétien sets before his readers the problematic of reading, and then that of reading this collection of books we name the Bible. In the Preface, Chrétien mentions that, were it not too long, the title of his book would have been Allowing Oneself to be Read with Authority by the Holy Scriptures. He reminds us, in this, of Proust’s observation that each reader is, while reading, the reader of his own self. The essays that follow show a remarkable, and enjoyable, encounter and exchange with the biblical texts that is always characterized by the respect, a certain regard, indeed, by the distance and duration that a gaze provides. A moment of contemplation, thoughtfulness, and even a prayerful one.

The first essay, “Reading the Bible Today,” confronts the reader with the very meaning of time. Chrétien refers to the Letter to the Hebrews: “On two occasions, it indeed cites the words of a psalm, attributing them to the Holy Spirit: ‘Today, if you hear his voice’, the voice of God drawing from it the following lesson: ‘Exhort one another daily, while it is called today’ (3:13), as long as there is what is called today“ (1–2). And of course Chrétien notes that one may not be so receptive to the lesson; it may fall on deaf ears, a personal letter that does not receive the expected welcome. This would be a refusal to enter into the sacred story, into its dimension of time. Chrétien reminds his readers that to read the Bible cannot be just an individual act, that it involves the history of reading itself that comes to us through interpretations, through translations. “This polyphony, here again, is inscribed in the Bible itself, since the Good News, the Gospel, does not reach us only in a single narrative but according to four versions, thus calling by nature for confrontation, comparison, interrogation, interpretation” (4). Reading the Bible is not an act of solitude, and while it is in some fashion an appropriation, it does not give exclusive rights to the reader, as though one owned the texts. However, the margins of the pages allow one to note “the nativity of the meaning,” the newness of the words, their birth of life for each reader.

The second essay is a response to the question, “What is it to read the biblical Scriptures as inspired?” Chrétien reminds his readers that God does not speak to us only in the Bible. Yet its Word is unique because in reading we encounter the Spirit, that is, we seek not to master it but to be “mastered by it ... to allow oneself to be read by the gaze that it directs toward us” (10). And here Chrétien states rather clearly that we do not so much appropriate the Bible as we let ourselves be read by it. For this to happen, the individual reader, or the group, has to take leave of self, step aside, not place oneself at the center of concern, in order to be transformed, nourished by it. Reading the Bible is always a misappropriation, but for this to come about, there must be prayer, an exchange. That is, if Scripture is in some fashion a deposit, it does not make us...