The Missed Question Marks are the Most Important Ones

When Bible translators added punctuation to the original text, they neglected to mark some of the most important questions. I’m glad they did. The Bible is a treasure trove of hidden questions. Like little Easter eggs hidden throughout the text, these hidden questions delight the reader with the mysteries of God.

(Feel free to skip the first section if you’re not inclined to geek out on the history of words. But this is fun for me.)

A brief history of punctuation

Punctuation is a relative newcomer in the field of writing. Ironically, it was developed for speakers, not readers. When you consider what the orators had to work with, this makes perfect sense.

…in classical times stone inscriptions as well as handwritten texts WOULDLOOKLIKETHIS – written on scrolls, potentially unrolling forever. [S]ince we’re hardly aware of the minuscule pauses we make between words when speaking, it isn’t obvious to register something we do and perceive unconsciously with a designated sign that is a non-sign: blank space.

Reading was hard work reserved for the few who knew how to read. Many of those who read did so for the sake of speaking.

One of the primary purposes of writing in Ancient Greece and Rome was giving lectures and political speeches, not publishing texts. Before going on stage, an orator would work on his text, making subjective, individually determined signs for long and short syllables, pauses for rhetorical effect and breathing, and joining up of words when reading aloud. There was no such thing as reading at first sight.

Early punctuation was designed by the speaker for their own use. A jot here or tittle there would remind them how they wanted to speak or gesture. Over time, some of their tools made it into common usage. Blank spaces, for example, were added to separate words from words and sentences from sentences. But (italics mine to highlight the puns!)

It was not until the 7th century that punctuation marks as we know them began to take shape, thanks to Isidore of Seville. His introduction of the period, comma, and colon marked a significant transition in reading, moving humanity from spoken to silent understanding.

Readers no longer had to work as hard to decipher what the writer was saying. Discerning the meaning and purpose still rested with them. But communication between the reader and the writer was working better. Another change is that reading became a potentially solitary venture. It could be done for pleasure or personal growth that was disconnected from an audience.

A treasure trove of unmarked questions

The Bible, as we know it, was written in that mysterious time when words ran together and punctuation didn’t exist. This was not a problem for the bulk of society. Most people didn’t own stones or tablets and couldn’t have read them if they did. God’s message to the world depended on faithful readers to catch the writer’s intent and convey it to his listeners. Think about it. The Gospels were written to be read aloud to the crowds. Paul expected one person to read his letters to the congregation. John’s Revelation was written to be absorbed through the ears, not the eyes.

In some ways, we’re moving back to that. Audio books allow us to bypass the work of reading and place the burden of interpretation on the narrator. He/she decides what tone of voice the character is using and where to place the emphasis in the text. Listeners become passive, receiving only the what the narrator effectively passes on.

Audio books don’t work for me. My mind wanders too much. A bird will catch my attention instead of the book and I have to rewind to hear what was said. More often, I’m distracted by the hidden questions that open up little rabbit holes for me to chase ideas through. The unexpressed thoughts and unasked questions beckon me, calling me to linger on a thought or ruminate on a problem. I distantly hear the narrator droning on, but my mind is elsewhere.

Sometimes, I wonder if the writer or narrator intentionally left things unmarked just to trip me up. They know pregnant pauses in the text are places with the greatest potential to birth something new in me. If that’s true of modern texts, I wonder if it’s true of the Bible as well.

Hidden questions in the Bible

Some of the marked questions in the Bible are troubling. They can be rhetorical questions that are asked to prompt thought more so than elicit answers. Consider Psalm 13, a dissonant collection of anguish that never fully resolves.

How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
    and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
    How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
    and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me.

The translators caught most of the questions and designated them with the appropriate marks. But they missed at least some. Do you see them? Here’s some that I see:

• Is it possible for God to forget me? Or to remember me, but hide his face from me so that I can’t see him? Why would he do that?
• How do we go on living when God ignores us?
• Does trusting in God’s unfailing love always lead to rejoicing?

At other times, the questions are separated by so much space, a question mark can’t pull them together. Consider Numbers 6:22-27.

The Lord said to Moses, “Tell Aaron and his sons, ‘This is how you are to bless the Israelites. Say to them:

“The Lord bless you
    and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine on you
    and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
    and give you peace.”

So they will put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them.

As a pastor, I almost always closed the service with my hands upraised, pronouncing this robust promise over the congregation. It is a beautiful and full-bodied declaration of God’s blessing on his people. I especially love the phrase, make his face shine on you, elsewhere translated smile at you. And I love the image of God turning his face toward you, or paying attention to you. I can feel the peace just thinking about it.

But this beautiful promise of protection, grace, and peace also raises questions when placed alongside other passages. There is a great chasm, for example, between this promise and Psalm 13. But they’re both in the Bible. They must be connected somehow. Together, they are God’s effort at revealing who he is to us. So, I wonder:

• What is happening in the Psalmist’s life that makes him doubt that God is protecting and keeping him?
• If the Psalmist imagined a smile on God’s face, would he assume God was laughing at him in his pain?
• If the Psalmist believes God has turned his face away from him, we can understand why he wouldn’t feel peace. But does that mean that the final stanza of Numbers 6 is more hope than promise?

I think you can see why audio books move too fast for me! The unmarked questions pull me away from the spoken word…and that’s OK. They distract me temporarily, but only to point me in a more fruitful direction. Indeed, the unmarked questions guide me more faithfully toward God. You might say the unmarked questions are blazes on the trail of life that helps me discover the mysteries of God and the joy of finding him.

How about you? When have the questions raised drawn you further into the journey of faith? How have they guided you toward God? Feel free to share your experiences in the comment section.