Article November 16, 1981 Issue

The more we know, the more we learn

SYDNEY C. SWIRE

It was never a major theological query with me. My faith in Christian Science did not teeter precariously on whether or not I arrived at a soul-satisfying answer. But there was curiosity, an I-know-there-must-be-a-good-reason-for-it-but-I-just-don't-know-what-that-reason-is-yet question. Over the years of attending services in Churches of Christ, Scientist, and studying the Bible Lesson,^{In the Christian Science Quarterly .} I would periodically wonder why Mrs. Eddy had structured the Sunday service to include two people reading passages from the Bible and from the Christian Science textbook—passages that a majority of the congregation had perused every day for the past week.

Of course it's wonderful, I thought, for the newcomer to our churches to hear the Lesson-Sermon for the first time—wonderful to initially discover Mrs. Eddy's explanation and demonstration of the truths in the Bible. And it certainly doesn't hurt the church members to hear those passages one more time. But wouldn't it be more... well, more interesting if we had studied one group of citations during the week and then could hear different readings from the desk on Sunday, readings that expanded and expounded what we had been studying all week? After a while my answer came in an unexpected way, by the indirect route of comparing two performances of Much Ado About Nothing.

It was the first Shakespearean play I had ever seen. My father took me to a Broadway matinee when I was a stage-struck child of eleven. I had never had any prior exposure to Shakespearean language; the plot was completely confusing (how could those two people be in love when they spent most of the play insulting each other?); and I spent the afternoon in enchanted bewilderment.

Send a comment to the editors

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE

Editorial

Punching a hole through the ice