Books Don't Go to Hell, People Do.

I guess.

When I was young, our family had this code of conduct as it pertained to the condition in which we maintained our Bible’s around our home. This rule, meticulously drilled into our heads, later became an unspoken ritual. We were never, absolutely never, allowed to place any objects on top of our Bible’s. When I use the word objects, I mean anything that would cover the inscription of those 5 bold, capital letters B-I-B-L-E and confuse anyone as to what was lying underneath. Everyone had to know we had one. An accidental offense such as slightly placing a piece of paper down momentarily on top of this book, would usually result in a verbal warning. Larger objects, such as cups or regretfully, other books would cause greater reproach. Spilling any liquids within the pages was the most idiotic of all offenses, and almost the equivalent of breaking a law of the Commandments itself.

The irony in all of this is that, growing up, we were never a family that attended church regularly, actually, not at all. I have no memories of sitting in a church and listening to a pastor belt out his Sunday sermon with my mother next to me, except for the occasional funerals we would attend. Oddly enough, those very same funeral obituaries found their final resting place in the large family Bible. This “good book” was a sacred holding ground for family items such as pictures, birth certificates and insurance policies. Nonetheless, I knew it was a powerful relic which held immense meaningful information within it, or at least I was trained to believe so.

Rev. Terry Jones recently made his stance on so-called “radical Islam” and proclaimed his “National burn the Koran day”. As I pondered the significance of the protest for those who practice Islam faithfully, I was conflicted. It wasn’t until I had begun my journey into life alone as an adult, that I truly began to “unlock the scroll” or simply put: understand the Bible. My superficial respect for that book turned into faith solidified. Instead of worshipping the book and idolizing it, I grew to understand myself and also grew closer to that source we call our Creator; that not only is omnipresent within the universe but also resides within us all. Then I began to find “God” everywhere and no longer needed to place so much precedence upon one book.

Rev. Terry Jones has instilled within me a great level of intrigue. I wonder if he is on to something. Sure, I could write a lengthy dissertation on the history of theology and book burnings, which in and of itself could be seen as a radical event; but, maybe his attempt at using the illogical to make a greater logical expression is accidental divine intervention. Perhaps he is testing out a seemingly insane hypothesis which leads us to wonder how often he has placed a book on top of his Bible or spilled a drink within its pages. Which begs the question: Is his book placed on a pedestal high above all others preventing any chance of blemish?