Michael Peppard begins his new book, How Catholics Encounter the Bible, with something other than a passage from sacred Scripture. He offers instead an image of Michelangelo’s “Pietà,” the world-famous sculpture housed in St. Peter’s Basilica that depicts a grieving Mary cradling her dead son. So cherished is this great artwork that few Catholics would fail to recognize the story of incarnate love and maternal suffering that it evokes. Of course, as Peppard points out, this scene never appears in the Bible itself. Instead, it represents an imaginative interpretation “between the lines of the text” that has nevertheless had an outsized influence on the way that Catholics understand the biblical narrative of Christ’s death.
Peppard uses this example to illustrate his main idea: Although Roman Catholics have a rich sense of the biblical story, they do not actually read the Bible all that much. Instead, Catholics “encounter” the Bible in other ways through worship, prayer, art, song and literature. This represents a uniquely Catholic way of internalizing and living out the sacred Word.
Peppard structures the book to capture this distinction. He first outlines the function of Scripture in Catholic worship and prayer (Chapters 1 to 4) as the primary domain of Catholic biblical encounter. Then, readers travel through diverse examples of Catholic art from the earliest Christian sarcophagi all the way to the biblically infused music of Bruce Springsteen (Chapters 5 to 7). Only then does Peppard turn to the subject of Catholic biblical study and scholarly interpretation, both of which he sees as subordinate influences on the broader biblical sensibility of Catholics.
Even within this final chapter, one is hard-pressed to find modern exegetical treatments of specific biblical passages, though Peppard himself is an erudite New Testament scholar. That is, what modern biblical scholars have to say about the Annunciation scene, for example, in the Gospel of Luke is far less important to most Catholics than the rosary, medieval liturgical dramas or the tradition of Las Posadas in Latin America.
Peppard analyzes an impressive array of material throughout. For good reason, he focuses on the Roman lectionary as the place of “by far the most frequent Catholic encounter with the Bible.” And a detailed introduction to the lectionary reveals things that a weekly Catholic worshiper may not notice. Much of Peppard’s analysis focuses on the Old Testament reading, which functions primarily to supplement the Gospel reading at Mass. Over the course of the lectionary’s three-year Sunday cycle, “enormous and influential portions” of the Old Testament are never heard by Catholics. The cycle of readings emphasizes the primacy of the Gospel but also deprives Mass-goers of important stories about Jacob, Joseph and even King David.
Peppard exposes the cost of such omissions by pointing, for instance, to the relative absence of biblical women in the lectionary. Catholics never hear the books of Ruth or Esther read aloud, nor can they be inspired by the fearless faith of Shiphrah and Puah, Hebrew midwives who defy Pharaoh’s order to kill all infant boys of Israel (Ex 1:15-21). The midwives’ courage results in God’s favor and ultimately the birth of a nation through the liberating events of the Exodus, but no one proclaims their story at Mass. On Sundays, we never hear of New Testament women Prisca, Lydia or Phoebe (Rom 16:1-5, Acts 16).
Peppard’s constructive and yet critical treatment of the lectionary demonstrates how Catholics receive a “canon within a canon” at Mass. He highlights the losses incurred while also acknowledging the practical constraints of the lectionary form and the Christological heart of what Catholics do hear on Sundays. It is an arresting section of the book, and one that ironically leads me to my leather-bound copy of the Bible to read about the women whose names I never hear in church.
Of course, while the lectionary may provide the primary biblical encounter for most Catholics, it is far from the only one. Peppard’s ensuing trek through diverse examples of prayer, devotion and art moves more quickly, with less critical analysis and more celebratory depictions of Catholic biblical imagination. The rosary is biblical! The Angelus is biblical! Devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe is biblical! As a cradle Catholic who grew up praying the rosary with an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe by my bedside, these sections resonated with my childhood faith, a faith by which I identified with such devotions precisely over and against the Bible. Peppard overturns this kind of ingrained assumption, showing the biblical heart of these devotions while also detailing how they add new shapes and colors to the literal words of Scripture.
Many of the most engaging passages of the book occur in the chapters devoted to Catholic biblical art in its many forms. Standout sections include reflections on early sarcophagi that emphasize biblical miracles, Marian iconography in Late Antiquity and the medieval era, and the biblical genius of Dante’s “Divine Comedy.” Peppard plumbs the biblical depths of Flannery O’Connor’s short stories and Bruce Springsteen’s songs, showing how such works belong in the same book as the fourth-century Junius Bassus sarcophagus and Fra Angelico’s 15th-century fresco titled “Annunciation.” Peppard’s disarming prose, interlaced with personal anecdotes and humorous asides, makes this an exciting voyage. His clear enthusiasm for the depth and beauty of Catholic biblical imagination is infectious.
It is easy to raise questions about an author’s choice of material in a work of biblical reception. Why is Tolkien’s hugely influential Lord of the Rings left out, while the Netflix drama “Daredevil” takes center stage for several pages? Peppard includes some examples from the global church, including a beautiful section on Latin American base ecclesial communities, but more could be done to move beyond the Western arena of Catholic biblical experience. Contemporary Catholic projects that encourage us back to the text are largely left out; no mention is made of the Word on Fire Bible or the Saint John’s Bible, both of which urge Catholics to read Scripture through beauty. Perhaps the most glaring omission is the exploding mediation of the Bible through Catholic apps and social media, which must be probed with the same critical lens that Peppard brings to the lectionary.
Such omissions, however, are inevitable and do not detract from the panoramic value of this work, which is significant and timely. It arrives at a moment when Catholics are encountering the Bible in new ways. One of the book’s most striking moments arrives in the final chapter, where Peppard characterizes Catholic biblical scholarship and magisterial teaching as a “cornerstone” that “hardly anyone looks at.” As he writes, “The vast majority of people just walk through the church door, where the Bible is present through proclamation, art, and prayer.” This reality only magnifies the care and caution with which Catholics should receive the Bible through the ever-changing media of the technological age.
And, of course, in the spirit of this joyful book, it also reminds us to live in and between Scripture’s lines, surrounded by the countless Catholic artists, writers and congregations of the past who continue to imagine with us.
This article appears in September 2025.
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