THE BOOK THAT UNDERSTANDS ME
Weddings can be such fun, can’t they? And they come in all shapes and sizes from huge to intimate, from casual to formal. The last wedding I attended was a classic Southern one where the bride had eleven bridesmaids. The setting was on a mountain and the feast afterwards was by a mountain lake. My wife especially appreciated the occasion. She is a fashion designer and for a time ran her own bridal business. One dress she sold was to a couple with an Armenian heritage and we were invited to the wedding in their Armenian Orthodox Church. What a spectacle! Robes, incense, color and pageantry. What struck me in particular was how the priest handled the Bible. It was handled with silk cloth. Human hands were not to touch the sacred book. What made this book so precious to him? Personal conviction? Tradition? That experience of the Armenian wedding raises for me the question of why value this ancient book.
Let’s begin our exploration of this last question by considering the stories of two very different people who found that transforming value in the pages of this famous book, a book that understood them—at least that is the claim.1
Two Stories: One French, One American
Emile Cailliet was raised in a naturalistic environment in France. In fact, he first saw a Bible at the age of 23. He had a longing though for self-understanding. He expresses that longing in powerful terms when he writes: “During long night watches in the foxholes [in WWI] I had in a strange way been longing—I must say it, however queer it may sound—for a book that would understand me. But I knew of no such book.”2 So what did Cailliet do? He set out to construct one himself: “Now I would in secret prepare one for my own private use.”3 Over time he constructed his book made up of quotations drawn from literature and philosophy. In the end, however, when he read his compilation he found only disappointment: “It carried no strength of persuasion.”4 Instead of insight he found emptiness.
Around that same time his wife happened on a Protestant church, went in and met the elderly pastor. As Cailliet relates the story: “She walked to his desk and heard herself say. Have you a Bible in French?”5 Indeed he did. And Cailliet’s wife upon his return home gave him the copy of the Bible. (How she found this church is an interesting story in itself.) He vividly describes what happened next:
I literally grabbed the book and rushed to my study with it. I opened it and chanced upon the Beatitudes [Matthew 6]: I read, and read …. I could not find words to express my awe and wonder. And suddenly the realization dawned upon me: This was the Book that would understand me! I needed it so much, yet, unaware I had attempted to write my own—in vain. …. I continued to read deeply into the night, mostly from the gospels. … A decisive insight flashed through my whole being the following morning as I probed the opening chapters of the gospel according to John. The very clue to the secret of human life was disclosed right there, not stated in the foreboding language of philosophy, but in the common everyday language of human circumstances.6
Cailliet went on to become a noted philosopher and Christian thinker.