For Mary Rakow, like all great art (Mozart, Cezanne), the Bible is porous and many-mansioned. Like the sonnet, a symphony, a great film, the Bible is never entirely about itself or for itself. There is always room for the other.
The minimalism of the Bible is known to all who read it. More is not-said than said. Into this emptiness Rakow’s Bernadette throws herself, her anger, disillusionment, her hope, making her home in the Bible’s welcoming vastness. To some, the liberty she takes might offend. But to her this way of reading the Bible, of entering into it, is an act of love.
Rakow believes that when we are moved by great art we sense these empty spaces waiting for us. And when we rush to fill them, we fill them with ourselves.