a twentysomething’s love/hate relationship with the bible April 16, 2008
In 1818, an 18-year-old named Mary Shelley wrote a novel called Frankenstein. I have never read it, but have picked up the basic plot from movies and such. A brilliant doctor decides that he will create the perfect man, using pieces of dead people. The man he creates will be of surpassing good-looks, and the doctor will teach him kindness, compassion, love – all that’s best in humanity will be embodied in this perfect person. But once the creature is brought to life, the doctor becomes frightened and runs away. His creation follows him across Europe, demanding “you created me to be the best that humanity has to offer. You built me from scraps of the past, and promised to fill me with compassion and love, to bring about a better future. You have not kept your promise.” We’re all familiar with the story – the creature keeps following him, and hurting the people he loves. The creature that was meant to be beautiful, wise, caring, intelligent…is feared and dreaded, chased away, and becomes a murderer. A monster.
This novel was probably written to caution people entering the industrial age – be careful what you design to aid in human life, there will be consequences. But when I think of this story, I see another parallel, that I do not believe the author intended. Some of us may be aware of a book…called The Bible. Written over the course of more than a thousand years, assembled in its final form some seventeen hundred years ago. Built from scraps of the past, to represent all that’s best about humanity. Designed to bring a message of hope and compassion for the future. And it keeps on asking us, “when are you going to fulfill the promises made on these pages?” And in fear and dread we run from it. And it follows us. And sometimes it hurts us, and the ones we love.