About once every semester a student will ask me why I chose English as a major. I guess they’re wondering why someone as brilliant and accessible as I am chose a major that barely pays the bills.
I tell them that I became an English major for religious reasons. This statement normally draws a few eyebrows up, as you can imagine. Since when did choosing a college major become a religious decision (except, of course, for those “called” to a real Christian major like theology or pastoral ministry).
But my decision was a religious one, too. I explain that I believe that the world is created through words, through language and speech. The poem that is Genesis chapter 1, after all, tells us that God created the world, not with complex physics calculations and bio-chemical thingies, but with his word. He spoke, and there it was.
I tell them I believe God was the first English major.
Our world—our histories, sciences, cultures, behaviors, and so one—then, can be traced back to language. And it’s that quest to understand the world on those terms that fascinates me as a person, gentleman, and scholar.
Knowing that the world was created and sustained through language helps me read. By trying to understand the origins of our human-ness and the cosmos, I believe I achieve a more satisfying reading.
Jesus spoke about himself as words, too, so maybe reading Christ will help us understand him. Yes, we have God speaking the cosmos into existence in Gen. 1, and John 1 tells us that “(i)n the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” And in Revelation, Jesus speaks about himself as letters: the Alpha and the Omega, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty” (Rev. 1:8). Many Christians know this statement as Jesus reclaiming what is his—the cosmos. He is the Beginning and the End, not just of the Greek alphabet, but of the entire universe. A playful metaphor.
But this statement isn’t quite as heavy to us in the English-speaking world whose alphabet was more influenced by the Roman ordering of letters than the Greek one. I suppose Christ’s proclamation of himself as “the Alpha and the Omega” is equivalent to our “A to Z,” but there’s something somewhat childish about saying it that latter way. Our alphabet’s sing-songy melody infantilizes our lettering system, I think, and maybe takes away some of that meaningful “meat”. I think if Jesus were to tell us that he was the A and the Z, we wouldn’t take that quite as seriously as we do the ethos-infused “Alpha and Omega.”
Why is that?
It has to do with what Alpha and Omega mean, not what they stand for. For our contemporary alphabet, A is for apple or aardvark or avocado, and Z is usually only for zebra. Lucky zebras. If your last name begins with A, that usually means you’re first, and other kids despise you for it; the closer to Z your name is, the less likely you’ll get what you (and others) want. The United States used to have a AAA credit rating, and we’ve been downgraded; the further we are from A, the worse we perceive ourselves. That’s about it. For us, A and Z don’t mean anything positive, really. It’s just a way for us to judge ourselves and each other.
The word “alpha” originates, as far as we know, with the Phoenicians (whose civilization peaked between 1200 and 800 B.C., and were located around the area of what is today known as Turkey, Iraq, and Syria). The Greek word “alpha” comes from the Phoenician word “aleph,” means “ox.”
If you look at it, it’s a sketch of an ox: a triangular head with two horns.
As the first letter of the Phoenician alphabet, aleph makes sense: the ox was likely the most important part of a Phoenician’s life, a cornerstone of their agriculture, their commerce, their survival.
God forbid a civilization be accused of plagiarism.
Because of Greece’s regional dominance, the Phoenicians soon adopted the sideways aleph.
Not to be outdone 100 years later, the Romans took the Greek alpha around, turned it some more (again, to avoid being explicit plagiarists), and being proud of their bureaucratic efficiency, called it, simply, “A”. You know, just to make themselves different and special. (Am I right, Virgil?)
Omega, on the other hand, seems to be a Greek invention. Like alpha, omega is a vowel (representing the “aw” sound), and has a somewhat similar connotation. Omega means “great O,” (“mega” in Greek meaning “great”, and “o” meaning, well, “o”).
That’s it. It’s a great big “o”. The greatest of the “o”s, I guess. Not nearly as interesting as the all-important aleph/alpha.
So if it’s so great, then why is it last in their alphabet and why didn’t the Romans adopt it into their alphabet? We do know that when letters are added to the alphabet, they are usually just tagged onto the end. So, omega is last because, well, it’s the last one. But that’s not to diminish its place. It’s also the “greatest o,” too, for what it’s worth.
The last place in an alphabet seems to be an arbitrary place for letters, but one that also represents newness. Case in point, the Latin alphabet ends with “Z,” which they, again, stole from the Greek’s “zeta,” the sixth letter in the Greek alphabet. When the Romans adapted the Greek alphabet, they didn’t see any use for that sixth letter, zeta, so they dropped it.
A few years later, the Romans experienced letter-regret and realized that they needed that sound after all. But it was too late to add it back in to its original spot, so they just threw it on the end.
Again, no special reasoning. It just happened to be the newest sound re-added to the alphabet, so that’s where the Romans stuck it.
We’ll just put it at the end. Sorry, z.
So, when Jesus says that he’s the Alpha and the Omega in Revelation, he’s not only saying that he’s “the first and the last, the beginning and the end,” he’s also saying that
· he’s the oldest (alpha) and the newest (omega/zeta), which means he’s the origin of all things, he’s historical, and he’s relevant, even today.
· he’s the most important thing and the most unimportant thing, which means everything revolves around him, from the most important things like getting married, to the mundane, everyday things like brushing your teeth. He’s there.
· he’s the cornerstone of our life and the greatest “aw”. He’s full of “aw”. He makes us open our mouths all the way.
So, to think of Christ as letters, then, that’s how we can read him.
And, according to 2 Corinthians 3, Christ-followers are words, too. We are letters (in a different sense that alpha and omega, though) to be read. Christ is the Word, and we are his words. This message of Christ as Alpha and Omega is what we should have on our hearts, what we have to live up to. When others read us, Christ as Alpha and Omega is what they should be reading.
Do you feel, as a Christ-follower, that you are being read all the time by others?
I feel it. It may not be always true, but I do feel it. So I become very self-conscious about how others read me.
I feel this way because we read all the time. Maybe not books and essays and magazines and the Bible, but we read signs, and people, and clothing, and food, and our budget, and our friends. You’re reading me right now, just as I’m reading you. (“Get on with it, Jared!”) We read all the time, and we are read by others all the time.
Feel the pressure? I do.
So what does it mean to read?
Jesus talks about reading a few times in the Gospels—in Matthew mainly—as a way of reminding his followers of what they should know of Hebrew law and history, and of prophecy. He uses phrases like “Have you not read…?” to point out what he thinks should be obvious to his disciples.
For us in education, and even for us parents, we use this rhetorical strategy all of the time. When a student asks a simple question for is confused, we may retort:
“What do you mean you don’t know? Haven’t you read the readings for today’s class?”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Haven’t you done your homework?”
“What do you mean you haven’t cleaned your room? Haven’t you read the chore list?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention to anything your entire life?”
For Christ, reading is a way of reminding us about two things:
· what God has done (Matt. 12:3, 5; 19:4; Mark 12:26)
· and what he’s going to do (Matt. 22:8, 31)
Past and Future. Beginning and End. Alpha and Omega.
So what happens when we read?
“Read” is an interesting word itself. “Read” is actually an Old English word (with German and Norse roots) from about 700 a.d., and it means “to guess”. It doesn’t mean simply to recognize letters and words (like A, O, and Z), but to guess, to reason, what they mean.
Simply put, reading, as it’s meant to be done, is guessing. It means to think beyond the superficial or explicit definitions of these letters and words put in whatever particular order. It means to look beyond the words and create a connection to yourself, the reader.
Does this mean that we should always be reading between the lines?
In a manner of speaking, yes. Jesus actually tells us to do just that.
The word we’ve interpreted as “read” in the New Testament is “anagin”, which, in Jesus’ time, actually means “to read again, or to know again.” Taken literally, the word means “to be read aloud in public in order to know it again.” When Jesus questions his disciples’ reading habits in Matthew, he’s asking them if they’ve really looked and paid attention to what they saw on the page, to what they’ve heard in the synagogue. Did they read it once (which is the Greek word “diavzo”) or did they read again to get know it better “anagin”?
Reading something aloud again (anagin) helps us do a few things with a word or story: it helps us engage and absorb the meaning, and it helps us remember. Neuroscience tells us that vocalizing something after you’ve processed it one way, say through reading, moves that information further and further back into your long term memory. When we read something once (diavzo), it goes into our short term memory; reading something again in order to know it and say it aloud (anagin), moves it into our long term memory.
That’s why when Christ says “anaginesknone” (Have you not read…?) in Matthew 12, he is also saying:
“Do you not remember?”
“Have you not absorbed the meaning?”
“Can you not repeat in public what you have read and what it means?”
“When people read you, do they read what you know, what you’ve read?”
The early church took this to heart and developed a manner of public reading and study that was further developed and systematized by Benedictine monks in 600 A.D. This method is called “lectio divina”, which means “sacred reading.” We’ll be getting some practice with it today with Matthew 14.
Here’s one way that it’s been adapted today:
Reading 1
1. Knowing: Worship leader reads aloud a story from the Gospels or a parable slowly while the congregation listens.
2. Absorption: People reflect for a minute on one word only from the scripture passage just read. This word is one that really sticks out to you. At this point, you are guessing at what message God is sending to you.
3. Public reading: One at a time, members call out the word from scripture that stuck out to them. Only one word. No commentary needed.
Reading 2
1. Knowing: Leader reads aloud the story or parable again.
2. Absorption: Congregation reflects on a phrase (a few words or a sentence) that sticks out to them this time.
3. Public reading: Members call out the phrase from scripture they reflected on.
Reading 3
1. Knowing: Leaders reads aloud the story one last time.
2. Absorption: Congregation reflects on the whole story and what it means to them personally, in their everyday lives.
3. Public reading: Members call out in a sentence or two how what this story means to them, how it affects them.
Lectio Divina is an attempt for a person to not only read a portion of the Bible, but read themselves as a part of the story that God is writing for us.
· If Christ is the Alpha and Omega, then you are in between there somewhere, being written with him.
· If Christ is both old and new, then you are in between there somewhere, becoming new with him even as you get older.
· If Christ is both important and unimportant, then you are in between there somewhere, unworthy of his grace but remember this, you are also the most important person to him.
We heard a lot about journeys and transitions today in our prayer time. Part of being a Christ follower is recognizing that your story is part of Christ’s Alpha-Omega story. And the stories of others, even if they don’t know Christ like you may know him, are in there, too.
We know how our stories began and how it will end. And we can know that Jesus was there in the beginning and at the end. Our stories are indeed safe, as Peter was on the water.
Here’s a poem by Marilyn Nelson called “The Jesus Prayer”:
You ought not to ask,
but to understand
in silence.
Have mercy compels each cricket,
each pell-mell thought, the cosmos known
and imagined, to circle in yearning.
If I could go all the way,
beyond sobbing hunger, what might I hear?
Why can’t I shut up
that treeful of grackles,
the newsreels and coming attractions,
the camcorder clicking in memories, and just be still?
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