Wallerin' Around

We have two dogs - an older beagle-basset named Alero and a young beagle-coonhound named Harley. Lately, they've taken to escaping the confines of our fencing to go on unapproved runs around town. Alero, the elder, has developed a strange habit - at some point either before, during, or after her travels, she will find standing water and, well...

Waller around in it for a while.

(I know that the word is "wallow". However, I think it's undeniable that the more informal version - "waller" - does a much better job of evoking the image here.)

Sure, she drinks some. You can tell that it's partly a functionary thing - trying to cool off. But partly, she wallers for the sheer enjoyment of it. Of being surrounded by the water, submerged in it. Even when she can't get completely immersed - as when she dips in the little plastic kiddie pool we bought for this purpose - she twists and turns and writhes around, trying to get as covered as she possibly can. Only when she is soaked, nose to tail, does she trot out to air-dry (on the hardwood floors!).

I have long felt this way about Scripture. We often go to Scripture for the purpose of stripping it to its essentials, of pruning away the discomfort and the internal conflicts so that we are left with a clear, concise message, unmuddled by complexity and history. Just as the younger dog, Harley, refuses to touch water except to drink, so we refuse to hear the bits of Scripture that indict us or make us feel uncomfortable. Just as he must be dragged kicking and barking into a bath, we often must be pulled by something (a teacher, a pastor, a parent, or simple persistent curiosity) into the depths of the ancient text that we call Bible.

But there is another way to experience Scripture. Not to search the dusty pages for a quote to use in spiritual battle, or a line from a story that distills our faith into a sound-bite, but to waller around in the text. To get it all over us, and let it soak us to the bone in history and tradition. Get to know the stories of the Bible, get to know the characters in them. As much as we can, get to know the people who wrote them and the people who read them and the world they lived in. Hear the words the way they heard the words. Care about the things that they care about. Ask the questions that they ask. See what came before, and what came after. Try to taste hidden meanings and forbidden meanings and plain old everyday meanings. Roll around in the dirt and the water of Scripture's world, and make yourself a part of it. That's how we make it a part of us.

As I write this description, of wallering in the pages of Bible, I recognize that they make another demand upon us. To waller as well in the world where we have been placed, in the lives of other people. To waller in the dust of poverty, to roll around in the fears of pain and loss, to cover ourselves in the shame of humiliation and degradation. It is our calling to get all muddied up with the dirt of this world - the hard stuff, the painful stuff, the sorrowful stuff. It is our calling to forsake all ivory towers and places of clean rest, to live in real community with those around us. To see people who suffer, to feel the pain of hunger and the grief of loss alongside them.

It is our calling, as followers of Christ, to waller around in this life. To cover ourselves in the rich history and tradition of Scripture, and to be covered in the real tangible joys and pains of other people.

Just as my dog wallers in the water.

Just as God became flesh and wallered among us.

Amen.