Bibles of the seventies

#13 in an occasional series of repressed 70's memories that turn out to be true.

A commissioned post.

Sometimes, after a long dry spell, one needs a little inspiration to get going again. This comes in the form of a request from the Readership, who suggested that we document the Superstar years.

Greatest of All Sisters had The Way, because she was so holy/groovy/hippy chick. What I recall about this text was not so much the scripture, but the opening chapters of each book, which like, dug your hassles, man. And Job does too. Let's rap about them.

The Living Bible translation itself was not quite so cheesy, just an accessible paraphrase:

God loved the world so much that He gave his only Son so that anyone who believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

Nice, right?

Wait a minute, I'm still thinking about that.

Ok. Anyway.. Biblical translators pouted that someone could paraphrase. Who are you, Jane Goodall, studying chimps without the right credentials?

Fortunately, the scandal road had been cut by this guy, and was ready for paving. Who was going to call him a blasphemer?

Peanuts was actually published in the 60s, but no doubt made Superstar possible. Not that it was socially acceptable by any means. But Late Boomers/Early Xrs could not be stopped.

This design always caused some sniffs at the t-shirt transfer place.

I remember a goofy paperback New Testament my parents had with these contempo-mod'rn line drawings. I can't find a picture of it, but I remember the illustrations as a cross between Scriptographics and the string-bean clip art guy. Maybe it wasn't the whole testament, maybe just Paul's letters, or The Acts. I remember thinking it was not as compelling as Charles Schultz, and certainly not as funny. But I thought I could tackle it if I tried hard enough.

Remember this?

Does that just scream 70s at you -- of the bleak, 4-dead-in-Ohio variety?

Daily Devotionals for the leisure suit set.
I think I first read this at 13 or 14 and it gave me the full-on shivers.

Apparently Get Over Yourself You Bloated Hypocrite did not have shelf appeal. Chew on this:

When we pray
We get down on our knees,
we bow our heads,
We close our eyes.

We never look into the eyes of Christ.
I wonder why?
And then again,
I think
I know why.

And that's pg 20. Chicken Soup, my ass.

I looked for this Theological Brigadoon for decades afterward. I was certain I had made it up. Thanks Internet. Got my own copy now. I'll be up all night.

Now there is the Men's Bible, the Women's Bible, the Busy Soccer Mom Bible, the I Carry This Around to Shut my Mother-in-Law Up Bible, the NASCAR Bible, the Nagging Scold's Bible, hold on, I might come up with 10 in a minute.... Whatever meets you where you are, I guess. I'm an RSV girl myself.

Recently, while trolling The Bible section of the local Book Monger's, I came across The Backpack Bible, which is bound in denim, hunter green, or breast cancer pink. It has no title, and a little diary lock. So you are the kid who wants to have her Bible at school, but discreetly. Like maxipads. You are conflicted.

You are probably not sporting this spring top: