S3 - E4: Theology and Mental Health
S3: A Theology of Mental Health
E4: Sean Connery, Reading, and a Teacher with a Rude Name
“I got my break – big break – when I was five years old. It has taken me more than 70 years to realize it. You see, at the age of five I learned how to read. It’s that simple. And, it’s that profound.”
These are the words of Sir Sean Connery from his acceptance speech in 2006 after receiving a lifetime achievement award from the American Film Institute. The prestigious award added to his numerous accomplishments that include an Academy Award, Oscar, two BAFT’s, and three Golden Globes in a career with more than 60 movies. And, who can forget his seven performances as James Bond! This fine Scottish actor from Edinburgh has amassed a personal net worth of $350 million over the years. And yet, Connery’s acceptance speech attributes all his success to learning how to read at the age of five.
“I did not have a formal education, and I believe I would be standing here tonight without the books, plays and scripts…though my feet are tired my heart is not” (Connery 2006). Apparently, reading keeps the heart young. According to Berkeley Research Professor Anne Cunningham, reading not only increases knowledge, it also reduces stress, creates tranquility, broadens vocabulary, enhances analytical thinking, improves memory and writing skills, and even helps in setting goals.[1] Therefore, the act of reading must be a significant dimension in a theology of mental health.
Reading is simple and profound. Connery was right, and he was not the only one.
French philosopher Renee Descartes said, “The reading of all good books is like conversation with the finest (people) of the past centuries.”[2] Don’t you just love how the French say things? Think about it, we can walk into a good public library and talk with the famous triad of ancient Greek philosophers – Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. A few shelves over and we converse with Leo Tolstoy, William Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Edgar Allen Poe, J. R. R. Tolkien, George MacDonald, George Orwell, Lord Byron, Hans Christian Anderson, Jules Vern, Mark Twain, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, John Keats, Virginia Wolf, and of course – C. S. Lewis!
Imagine a young man walking into a library asking himself about the relentless pursuit of a young lady. George MacDonald would unashamedly respond (Phantastes 1858 or Lilith 1895). Imagine a young lady in the same library asking herself about a young man relentlessly pursuing her. Jane Austen will politely reply, more than likely with a blush (Pride and Prejudice 1813). If a question of loyalty and devotion was asked, Charles Dickens would describe and explain it (The Old Curiosity Shop 1840). George Orwell would gladly counsel anyone who asks questions about the use of power (Animal Farm 1945); as would Leo Tolstoy (War and Peace 1865).
Think about the Librarian movies (2004-2008) or the spin-off television series (2014-18). That is what I am attempting to say. Libraries come alive! When we read, we are exploring, delving, scrutinizing, traveling, examining and investigating until we discover, unearth, observe, and ascertain a glimpse of the past or future, of this world or the next. “It’s that simple. And, it’s that profound” (Connery 2006).
Nevertheless, we can take the act of reading for granted; more so, we can take those who taught us to read for granted. I remember the lady that taught me to read in Carlton Central Primary School in Nottingham England. Her name was Mrs. Sidebottom. This long-established Anglo-Saxon name gave many children – including myself – more than a few giggles. The meaning of her name means a broad, spacious, wide, and voluptuous posterior! However, meanings actually mean nothing to a young boy. What matters is what immediately comes to mind. Her name meant her bottom was somehow on her side and not behind her. Oh, for the chance to apologize to this devoted lady who taught us how to read (and I’m still giggling).
Posterior aside (excuse the pun), learning to read at the age of five has led me to where I am today. I’m not an actor and I don’t have $350 million, but I am at a place that feels right to me. Now, I can enter conversation with the finest authors of past centuries. In this sense, I have talked with Plato and Socrates about the Socratic method of learning (The republic), Shakespeare about the humorous aspects of marriage (Midsummer Night’s Dream), Lord Byron about liberty (Don Juan), Hans Christian Anderson about ugliness and beauty (The Ugly Duckling), and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle about the evidence before my very eyes (Sherlock Holmes).
I remember gripping conversations in the most elaborate libraries. For example, in the Bodleian Library in Oxford (1602) I engaged in conversation with Shakespeare about his First Folio (1632), with over 40 authors about The Guttenberg Bible from the sixteenth century, and with King John about the Magna Carta (1217). In the Long Room of the Old Library at Trinity College in Dublin (1732) I conversed with Matthew, Mark, Luke and John about The Kells from the ninth century.[3] I could have lingered for weeks at the Central Library in Edinburgh Scotland (1890) in conversation with Robert Burns about his poems and songs that roused the blood of men and stole the hearts of women (1700’s). I’ve engaged with Isaac Newton about the Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy (1687) at the Wren Library in Cambridge (1695), and in another part of the same library, discussed Winnie the Pooh (1924) with A. A. Milne.
I have lost count of how many times I have been in conversation with C. S. Lewis about The Chronicles of Narnia (1950-1956) while sitting at his desk in his Oxford home, walking outside in his garden, standing in his college, sitting in his church pew, and kneeling by his grave at the Holy Trinity Church. Please do not misunderstand my sentiment here, I am simply agreeing with Descartes that reading a good book is like a conversation with the finest authors. However, it does help if I am reading where the author lived, worked, worshipped, studied, and died.
“No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally – and often far more – worth reading at the age of fifty and beyond” (C. S. Lewis).
You see, we all got our break – our big break – when we were very young. It may have taken some time to realize it, but at that young age we learned how to read. It really is that simple and profound, and it is healthy for the mind and heart.
Can the same thing be said for reading Scripture? Well, an intelligent answer would be yes, and yes!
I am not attempting to be enthusiastic in my answer by repeating myself, but I am making an intellectual observation. You see, in every book in the canon of Scripture there are two authors. The first is the person who literally wrote the text. The second is the Holy Spirit who inspired the author in the first place.
We can see this double authorship regarding the Old and New Testament. Paul writes, “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work” (1 Timothy 3:16-17). Though this passage of Scripture is found in the New Testament, Paul is talking to Timothy about the Old Testament. The New Testament was not compiled until 367AD. The same thing can be said for Peter when he wrote, “For prophecy never had its origin in the human will, but prophets, though human, spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit” (2 Peter 1:21). Also, when we read quotations of the Old Testament in the Gospels, we can say that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John were doing the same thing as Paul and Peter.
So, when we read Scripture we are in conversation with the Holy Spirit and the human author! While we converse with the Holy Spirit as the consistent and dominant inspiration of all the biblical authors, we also chat with the authors themselves: Moses, Joshua, Samuel, Ezra, Jeremiah, Nehemiah, Mordecai, Job, Sons of Korah, Asaph, Heman, Ethan, Hezekiah, David, Solomon, Agur, Lemuel, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi, Matthew, John, Mark, Luke, Paul, James, Peter, and Jude.
So how do we have a conversation with the human authors? I would suggest ten points of conversation. (Once we know the answer all other questions are personal):
1. Who wrote this?
2. What language did you understand in order to write?
3. How does that language differ from my English language?
4. In what genre did you write?
5. Who were you writing to or for?
6. Why did you write?
7. What cultural, social, political, and religious influences shaped your worldview?
8. Did the you write anything else that was not included in the Bible?
9. Were you married with children or single?
10. What role or job did you have when you wrote?
In the same way, we can be in conversation with the Holy Spirit as the primary author. Unlike the human author, we can be personal from the first question.
1. What truth is contained in the narrative?
2. What meaning is contained in that truth?
3. Is it the same meaning as the human author intended?
4. What universal truth emerges?[4]
5. What particular truth emerges?[5]
6. In what way can I apply meaning and truth to my own life?
7. Can I find the same meaning and truth in other narratives in Scripture written by different authors?
8. Is this something I should pray through for other, myself, or both?
9. In what ways can I share truth with others that does not contradict the meaning?
10. Is there a personal word of inspiration in the narrative for me today?
One of the most universal and particular passages of Scripture that acts like an underpinning support and an overarching canopy to all the Bible is found in Psalm 119:105, “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” Truth and meaning in the Bible acts like a light for today and for all our tomorrows.
The observation of Sir Sean Connery is quite accurate, “Though my feet are tired my heart is not”. If the heart and the mind are to remain healthy in conversation with God about Scripture as it relates to our daily lives – or life, the universe and everything (sorry Douglas Adams) – perhaps we should let it light the way.
Mrs. Sidebottom would be so proud!
[1] Anne E. Cunningham. “What Reading Does for the Mind.” Journal of Direct Instruction, Vol. 1, No. 2, pp. 137–149.
[2] Michael H. McDonald. Europe: A Tantalizing Romance: Past and Present Europe for Students and Serious Travelers. (New York, NY: University Press of America) 1996, 297.
[3] Book of Kells is an illuminated manuscript Gospel book in Latin, containing the four Gospels of the New Testament.
[4] Something that has always been true and will always be true. For example, there is one God who sent His Son Jesus Christ to redeem the world back to Himself.
[5] Something that is true for some but not relevant for others. For example, I am a married man. Truth about single men and widowers are not immediately relevant in my life.