My theological mentors are obvious. I write about them, even mention them in casual conversation. I’m transfixed by the likes of Walter Brueggemann, Frederick Buechner, and Barbara Brown Taylor. And I was privileged to attend a seminary—like other clergy—where “world class” professor/mentors shared insights.
But I think of all of them as amateurs when it comes to interpreting what the Bible may/could/might mean. Oh, I depend on them. My lively, trusted “mentors” probably read Greek or Hebrew better than I read English. They understand historical context when I’m mostly hysterical. Through study and practical experience they have explored the great faith traditions in ways I envy.
Still, if the Bible is a living word, where its stories invite more stories, and where its real and imagined people are similar enough to you and me, we’re all amateurs. No one is the expert. Everyone is still learning.