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The Preacher’s Corner By Rev. Dr. Milton Winter To read, you must stop being afraid of your books It was Mortimer J. Adler who with Charles Lincoln Van Doren,
famously wrote many years ago a small volume called “How to Read a
Book.” It is the standard bestselling guide on how to read books and
access information. Most people, it seems, even if they read
books, do not know how to read one properly. Now, lest you think I am
about to pen a tribute to some sort of rarified literary snobbery, let
me hasten to say that I believe most people are too timid with their
books and their reading! What I call for is a more “muscular” kind of
reading. To do this, you must stop being afraid of your books.
You have to put your hands on your book and master it. This may mean
“dogearing” pages, tearing out sections, marking it up with different
colored pens and markers, writing all over the margins, even ripping
the volume in half if it is too bulky to hold comfortably. I have given
up more than one book because its weight pressed down uncomfortably
while reading in bed. In short, you have to do whatever it is you
have to do to get the book to divulge its hidden treasures. You can’t
tip-toe around it. Who is the boss, you or the book? Now, I
realize this advice could get me into trouble with the library -- so
let me hasten to state that I am advocating this treatment only for
books that are your own personal private property. And, let me say
that, as a corollary, if you can possibly own a book rather than borrow
it, then labor, mortgage or sell, whatever you have to, short of your
wife and children, to possess books, that you can devour and digest as
you please. One of Archbishop Cranmer’s great achievements in the
Prayer Book is a collect for the occasion known as Bible Sunday, in
which God is asked to grant that “we may read, mark, learn, and
inwardly digest” the truths of holy Scripture, “that by patience and
comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace, and ever hold fast, the
blessed hope of everlasting life.” The good archbishop
understood, as few moderns do, the necessity of “active reading.” The
very effort of marking or underlining in a book helps fix the content
upon the memory, as well as noting for you the important places you
might come back to for future reference. Working through a mystery? It
helps to mark the clues! The advent of school-owned textbooks was
a great boon to the education of a wider population of students, but
the unwitting byproduct of that policy was to make passive readers out
of several generations of the American public. Those notices on the
flyleaf of every public school textbook were engraved on my little
mind, as if beaten into my flesh with a hickory stick: “THIS BOOK IS
THE PROPERTY OF THE STATE OF MISSISSIPPI. PUPILS MUST NOT WRITE ON OR
MARK ANY PAGE OF THIS TEXTBOOK.” It is like those stickers affixed to
pillows and mattresses “Do not remove this tag under penalty of law.” My
grandmother, who attended a one-room school, used hand-me-down
textbooks from her older siblings. She used to remark that their
markings helped her identify the essential parts of the lessons. But of
course such activities must be “verboten” if the book is not your own
or owned within a family circle. So if at all possible, children ought
to possess their own books and learn how to read and mark them
helpfully. This has its cost, of course. If a shelf of pretty
volumes is your goal, you cannot treat books this way. But people will
also realize that all your pretty books are just for show, and that you
probably have not read them anyway. In that case, why not go for
artificial flowers or pottery instead of books upon your curio shelf? Recently,
I gathered up a few armloads of books I have “read, marked, and
inwardly digested” and which I was confident I would use no more, and
put them up for sale on eBay. I was amused but not offended that some
potential buyers were put off by the fact that I advertised that the
books had been read and marked. My honesty resulted in some lost sales
and certainly in lower bids. But what is the point of having a book if
you are not going to empty its contents into your head? Some
depreciation of the book’s value is of necessity to be expected. For
my part, I have enjoyed getting a book that some intelligent reader has
previously possessed. The markings they left behind are clues to how
the book was appreciated and taken into that person’s mind and heart.
Especially when I have known the previous reader, it helps me feel I
know that person’s mind more intimately. This is even and
especially true with Bibles. I enjoy leafing through my grandmother’s
Bible, seeing what verses were meaningful to her, and the little notes
she penciled into the margins. Some people (recalling the warnings of
their school books) think it irreverent to mark up a Bible, but my
grandmother’s Bible (from which I read at church every Christmas Eve)
would mean much less to me without these visible signs of her ownership
and appreciation of the sacred text. Paging through some of my
own Bibles tells me how my own faith has (hopefully) deepened and
matured. Certain verses that I thought central to correct doctrine and
practice have receded as I have lived and ministered among
congregations for upwards of 30 years. At one time I would have “gone
to the mat” over predestination. Now, this Presbyterian is content to
believe that if it is so, we shall find out in eternity, when as Ben
Franklin said, he expected he could get the answer with a lot less
trouble. I hated to part with the books I sold, for books are like old friends to one who enjoys reading. However,
I am hopeful that the young minister in St. Louis who purchased the
bulk of those I had to sell, will “read, mark, and inwardly digest” and
form friendships also for himself with those good comrades in reading
that had so long graced my homiletical shelf. For a good book, like an
old friend, cannot really be loved, unless you embrace it, hold it
fast, and take it into your mind and heart.
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