I’ve posted two “Repetitions” here, and it occurs to me that some of you may be wondering just what I’m doing.
Well, it all began back in college, when Dr. Meadors had us read Soren Kierkegaard, including Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing and Fear and Trembling/Repetition.
I have to admit, some of Kierkegaard’s writing went right over my head. Other parts of it challenged me (the knight of faith, the teleological suspension of the ethical as seen in the story of Abraham and Isaac). But one part slipped, almost unnoticed, into a little empty space in my mind, and hid, almost unnoticed, for many years.
In the beginning of Repetition/Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaard re-tells the story of Abraham and Isaac several times. And each time it’s different. One time, it focuses on Isaac’s broken trust in his father. Anther time, it focuses more on Abraham’s pain and dread of what he has to do.
But what struck me was this: the Bible gives us an outline, a story in a form much shorter than what we are currently used to. It tells us what happened, but we must infer or imagine the feelings, the reasons, the details.
And so we do.
There’s a huge sub-genre of Christian fiction retelling Bible stories in novel form, but even those of us without literary agents rewrite the stories into modern-style narratives within our minds. And that’s good, because it makes it more than just a brief passage, an efficient chronicle of something that happened long ago. It helps us make the story real to ourselves.
But it’s important to remember that we don’t know how Jacob or Ruth or Abraham felt (at least I don’t). It’ s important to know that those details (the ones that didn’t make the canon) could go any number of ways.
And so, when I retell stories from the Bible, as I will sometimes do here, I never just tell them once. That would be an “answer,” and an answer I am surely not qualified to give. But by writing the story again and again, using different possibilities, different approaches, I can keep myself engaged with the questions, with the Bible itself.
How did Jacob feel when he wrestled the angel? Why did he stay behind at the Jabbok ford? Who started the fight? If Jacob hoped to live, what did he base that hope on: his gifts and plans, God’s protection, or Esau’s mercy? Did he ever fear the angel would kill him? Did he even know what he was wrestling?
I don’t know. But it helps me, sometimes, to imagine.