Before I converted to the faith, I was an English major in college. One of the things my wife and I did after I converted was reading the entire Bible together. I did so with an open but analytical mind, similar to how I approached other great works of literature.
One of the elements that led me logically to believe that the stories in the Bible are likely to be true is that they lack the satisfaction of most fiction. For example, in a fictional story like the first Star Wars film, the various elements all fit together neatly: A young hero finds a wizened mentor, they strike out against a greater evil, the mentor dies and the mantle is passed, a seemingly selfish scoundrel has a change of heart and saves the day . . . and so on. In good fiction, there aren’t any dangly bits; there are no moments where you go, “Well, wouldn’t it be more satisfying if—?”
On the other hand, real life is often messy. Sometimes what happens isn’t the most satisfying way that could happen. Sometimes people who were of minor importance before take on a central role in our lives. Sometimes things just happen.
Take a moment to consider the parables of Jesus. We know they’re fictional, intended by the Lord to teach a story. Even though they were revolutionary for what they were teaching, the elements of storytelling are solid. For example, the parable of the prodigal son introduces its characters, has one of them go through turmoil — brought about by his own poor choices — and then he returns home, where he’s greeted by his father and his begrudging brother. There’s a climax (the son returns home and is forgiven) and a conclusion (the father scolds the older brother and teaches the lesson of the parable).
In comparison, stories in the Bible are often less tidy, a fact I reflected upon as I read today’s readings. The first reading from Exodus details the story of the Lord’s delivery of manna. Look at the text: “In the evening quail came up and covered the camp. In the morning a dew lay all about the camp, and when the dew evaporated, there on the surface of the desert were fine flakes like hoarfrost on the ground.” So a huge number of quail were sitting around, and then there was dew, and then flakes of . . . something were everywhere. Elsewhere in the Bible it’s said to resemble bdellium, and its name — “manna” — supposedly comes from a translation of “What is it?!” Yummy!
If I were making up a story about how God’s wonderful providence can keep us alive in the harshest of conditions, I would not have written the story in Exodus. I would have made it sound like the most amazing substance ever, bestowed directly from heaven amid glittering finery. I would have written it like the magical tales of Aladdin and his lamp, summoning amazing wonders for all to feast upon. But the fact that the story isn’t “perfect” leads me to believe that it’s true . . . while the fact that it did keep the Israelites alive for so many years makes me believe that it was a miracle from God. The nomadic scribes recording this weren’t sophisticated enough to use reverse psychology: “Oh, let’s keep the story less than grandiose so that it seems more believable.” No, there’s a roughness to it, as if it were recorded from history.
Similarly, today’s selection from the Gospel of John tells the story of Mary Magdalene on Easter Sunday. The Gospel says that Mary Magdalene was the first person to see Jesus after his resurrection. Now, Mary Magdalene is not exactly a huge player in the New Testament; three of the Gospels don’t mention her before the crucifixion, and in John, she’s only mentioned once earlier (Luke 8:1-2). If you were reading any of the Gospels from beginning to end, I don’t think you’d ever go, “Gee, I bet she’s going to be important.” If you were going to fabricate the story of Christ’s resurrection — and make it as interesting/logical/self-referential as possible — I bet you could come up with a half-dozen people who would be “better” choices.
And, again, look at how casual Mary’s meeting with Jesus is. She goes there, she sees the tomb is removed, she goes to Simon Peter and John. She goes back and is weeping. She meets two angels, but they’re not obviously angelic. And then she meets Jesus, but she doesn’t recognize him. Then he makes himself known to her, and she runs off and tells the others. (And no one sees Jesus again until a bit later.)
Again, this isn’t how I would craft a tale. Where’s the triumphant return? Where’s the angelic fanfare? Where’s Jesus’ immediate reunion with his beloved disciples? It’s all so quiet. But it’s that quiet that makes me believe it’s true. In real life, someone who wasn’t the center of attention suddenly becomes important. In real life, sometimes things just happen. I’m sure the Lord has His reasons for His story playing out as it does, but those reasons don’t follow the logic of storytelling. As the old saying goes, “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
If it’s helpful, see if this mindset helps you in unpacking and understanding other elements of the Bible. If you find something that seems challenging, or that doesn’t make immediate sense, or that is difficult to comprehend, maybe that should just be taken as evidence that it’s true. The truth is often less immediately satisfying than fiction, but — like the reality of God helping His people, or the truth of Jesus’ resurrection and our ultimate salvation — it has the advantage of being real and true.
