Christians disagree. All the time about all kinds of things, some of which have very serious implications and some of which do not. Sometimes Christians disagree badly, branding brothers and sisters wrongly as heretics and making a spectacle of the church before unbelievers. But sometimes, just occasionally, Christians manage to disagree well.

One example I always think of in this respect is the disagreement between John Wesley and George Whitefield. Their disagreement was profound and serious, yet their correspondence was conducted in courteous and humble tones and each took care not to disparage the other in public. This story illustrates something of that:

One day, after Whitefield's decease, John Wesley was timidly approached by one of the godly band of Christian sisters who had been brought under his influences and who loved both Whitefield and himself:

' Dear Mr. Wesley, may I ask you a question?'

' Yes, of course, madam, by all means.'

' But, dear Mr. Wesley, I am very much afraid what the answer will be.'

' Well, madam, let me hear your question, and then you will know my reply.'

At last, after not a little hesitation, the inquirer tremblingly asked, ' Dear Mr. Wesley, do you expect to see dear Mr. Whitefield in heaven?'

A lengthy pause followed, after which John Wesley replied with great seriousness, 'No, madam.'

His inquirer at once exclaimed, 'Ah, I was afraid you would say so.'

To which John Wesley added, with intense earnestness, ' Do not misunderstand me, madam; George Whitefield was so bright a star in the firmament of God's glory, and will stand so near the throne, that one like me, who am less than the least, will never catch a glimpse of him.'

There is a man who for all his faults, recognised a brother in Christ with such obvious love for the Lord and zeal for the lost, that despite their disagreements, he honoured and esteemed him. Maybe there's a lesson in here for all of us.

Story taken from this website.

I've been asked a few times recently whether or when I think the Queen is likely to abdicate. I know this issue is debated in the UK too (though I think less than it was maybe 10 or 20 years ago for some reason).

Personally I don't think the Queen has any intention of abdicating, nor do I think there is any reason she should. But I also don't think that everyone realises quite what a precedent such an abdication would set.

There has been only one voluntary abdication in English history (that of Edward VIII). Prior to that, Richard II was forced to give up his crown to Henry Bolingbroke (Henry IV)in 1399 and James II also gave up the throne (in practice if not quite in his own mind) when he fled from William of Orange in 1688.

No monarch has ever given up the throne for reasons of old age or ill health. In times when the monarch took a more active role in government, Regents were appointed but these could not usurp the God-given right of the monarch to hold the throne and demand the loyalty of his or her subjects.

Now it is true that life-expectancy has increased, making a late accession more likely. If Elizabeth II reaches the same age as her mother (102) then Charles will be 80 when he succeeds. I suppose it's possible that at that point he might choose to refuse the crown, in favour of his son, though I suspect that, having been waiting for so long, he'll jump at his chance.

These are ancient institutions and rules of inheritance, not to be lightly overthrown. I hope and expect that long after we've rejected the tyranny of modern democracy, we'll still have a King or Queen to rule us in accordance with God's law and pattern.

Cresheim Valley Church has been meeting on Sunday mornings since Jan 7th and it's going really well so far. We now have a website here where you can see photos of some of the congregation and also download sermons. This Sunday's on 'Blessed are those who mourn' was, I thought, a particularly helpful look at how Christians should handle depression and grief and bear one another's burdens. It's thoughtful, biblical and practical and I was really encouraged to be in a church with a pastor who thinks like this.

...it's the incompetent woman on the IRS helpline. I was trying to fill in the form today(which actually wasn't the one she'd said, since that was for US Citizens only) and found a paragraph stating that not all students on F or J visas were required to file a return. I girded my loins and tried phoning again. After being put through to about 4 different people I eventually spoke to someone who sounded like he knew what he was talking about. After I agreed that no, I wasn't over 60 nor legally blind, and that no I hadn't had any federal tax withheld, he came to the conclusion that I was not required to file a return, after all. Hooray!

In sadder news, my car is very sick. It's being looked after by the nice mechanics at the moment and we're hoping for a full recovery soon. Though my bank balance is starting to flinch.

The TV is continually showing adverts for products/services to help you fill in your tax return at the moment. Clearly this is a big industry. And today I discovered one reason why.

Last year I did a small amount of paid work at Westminster, marking Greek tests. I earned less than $100 total. I paid some small fraction of this in taxes, but I'm very happy to write it off as not worth the hassle. However, one of the pieces of paper in my 'Welcome to Westminster' pack states that all international students have to file a tax return.

So today, I went to see the International Student Co-ordinator to see if this really is the case or if it's just that 'international students are not exempt from filing tax returns'. She wasn't sure and was just as confused by the information on the IRS website as I was. So she very kindly phoned the help line and after being put on hold twice finally spoke to someone who said they couldn't just give a decision, they'd need to ask me lots of questions.

Susan handed the phone over and the woman asked exactly the same questions Susan had just answered for me. Then she looked up the form. All student on F or J visas earning less than $100,000 must fill in form 1040EZ. I said that this seemed like an extraordinary waste of time and money. She told me that it wasn't a waste, it was the law.

To which I really wanted to reply, 'Well in that case, the law is an ass.' But she didn't sound to me like she'd read a lot of Dickens.

So not only do I now have to file the form, I also have to complete extra paperwork every time I leave and enter the country. Great.

The last couple of days have been one book after another. I have now crossed 49 off the list, so my target of 50 before semester starts is, with one day to go, in sight. I've read books on text-criticism, the formation of the canon, the culture/religion/history of ancient Egypt/Israel/Mesopotamia and other even more interesting things than that.

Yesterday I learned that few words survive from the Sumerian language. One of the few that does is a word that means 'Mazda-worshipper'. I kid you not. Now, I'm quite fond of my Mazda 626, on the whole (though I'll be a whole lot happier if the man at the garage I'm taking it to tomorrow tells me it doesn't need the several hundred dollars worth of work he's predicting). But honestly, worship? That's taking idolatry to the point of ridicule.

Another thing I learned was how easy it is to rewrite history to suit one's own perspective and get it published. I read a horrid article on 'free love' in Babylonian society, which was arguing that the sexual immorality (my word, not his) that was so prevalent was highly valued by Babylonian society and was generally a good thing. The 'only' disadvantages were that the female prostitutes didn't have households of their own, and that the male prostitutes (who always took the 'passive' role) could have felt lonely and isolated.

You think? How about abused, dehumanised, disenfranchised, worthless... ?

Today my attention was caught by the expression 'The Last of the Masoretes'. If anyone would like to write that novel, or indeed, screenplay, their names were Ben Asher and Ben Naphtali.

Check it out here.

HT: David Field

Probably most people who read this blog do so because they know me (though others who are interested are, of course, welcome too). Something most of you probably don't know about me is that I like to write for fun. I've written bad poetry, some original fiction, and lots of what is now known as fanfiction.

Fanfiction takes an already existing fictional world (usually from a book, but also sometimes from film, TV, and even, I believe, videogames) and uses it as a springboard. This can result in prequel, follow-on, alternative point of view or 'missing moment' type stories, which vary from a few hundred words to long novels. Probably the most well-known, and certainly most well-respected, example of this kind of fiction is Jean Rhys's novel, 'The Wide Sargasso Sea' which tells the story of the first Mrs Rochester from Jane Eyre. There have been several published attempts at sequels to Pride and Prejudice which also fall in this category.

I've always enjoyed writing this kind of fiction. I find that when I've invested so much time and emotional energy in reading a book, the characters and the setting live on in my mind for a long time afterwards, and writing about them is lots of fun. I never expected anyone else to be at all interested in reading what I wrote - it was purely for my own pleasure. As indeed were all my attempts at creative writing.

Then came the internet. And Harry Potter. And now there are literally hundreds of thousands of fanfiction stories being posted daily. Most of which are utterly abysmal.

About six months ago I started a Live Journal account specifically as a place to post some of my Antonia Forest fanfiction (it's a pretty minority interest and at the time I'd only read one other story in her world so I didn't expect much of a readership). Since then I've been writing more and more and starting to consciously think about how to become a better writer. One of the ways I do this is by writing Harry Potter fanfiction. Harry Potter, not because they're my favourite books by a long shot, but because there's such a wide audience out there for it, including some really able and insightful writers and readers who I've learnt a lot from. Also, back in November I did the National Novel Writing Month Challenge - 50,000 words of original fiction in a month.

Anyway, the reason for this post is not that I expect all, or indeed, any of you to rush off and start reading (though feel free if you really want to). It was more a nagging sense of unease at having something of a double identity here on the internet. I don't write things that I'm ashamed of (or at least I don't want to) and I think that knowing my 'real-life' friends have access to what I'm posting is a good thing. I've recently posted something on my writing LJ introducing myself properly to the people I've met there and that feels like a good thing too.

So, if you are interested, you can also find me at http://girlyswot.livejournal.com and my NaNoWriMo novel (a counter-factual historical novel in which Jane Grey becomes Queen properly) is at http://queenjane1.livejournal.com

http://www.nbc10.com/news/10851426/detail.html

You'd think they could at least have stopped by for tea.

HT: Karyn

...in the wilderness of comparative studies. John Walton quotes this from Francis Andersen:

Two extremes should be avoided. Nothing is gained by contending so energetically for the uniqueness of Israel's life, especially its religion, as the product of special revelation, that the people of God are cut off from the rest of the world. Some scholars have not been prepared to recognize much affinity between the Old Testament and "pagan" writings and insist on interpreting the Bible solely in terms of itself. At the other extreme, the culture of the ancient Near East is sometimes viewed as if it were uniform from the Persian Gulf to the upper reaches of the Nile. "Comparative" studies of myths and rituals have highlighted similarities between the gods and institutions of the people of the region; and the impression is sometimes given that the Israelites invented nothing on their own but borrowed everything, just as they borrowed the alphabet, from one or other of their neighbours.

Walton begins his book (Ancient Israelite literature in its Cultural Context) by pointing out that even according to the biblical account, Abraham came from Mesopotamia; his descendants lived for centuries in Egypt and they then settled among the Canaanite peoples. Add to that the continual interplay between the nations for trade (seen for example during the building of the temple), at war - in conquest and defeat, during the exile and afterwards, and it is hard to see how anyone could think that the Israelite people developed their culture or religion in utter isolation. Indeed, we know they did not, for the Hebrew language is one of a family of closely related Semitic languages.

So we shouldn't be surprised that there is other ANE literature that tells similar stories and uses similar genres to those familiar from the bible. Indeed, it would be much more surprising if there were not. That's the point about revelation - God uses familiar language and forms to communicate in ways that can be understood by his people, not utterly novel and unfamiliar ways that they can't recognise or understand.

But that is not to say (as many have tried to suggest) that there can be nothing unique about Israelite religion, nor that there is no place for special revelation. The comparative literature is at least as different from the bible as it is similar, even in those passages that have the closest parallels. It's different because of its context in the canon and we can see that it's different because of its effects in history.

Walton ends his book with a brief comparison of Israelite religion with contemporary religious beliefs and practices from Mesopotamia and Egypt. He notes two strikingly unique features of Israelite religion: monotheism and the covenant. Given the fundamental nature of both of these in the OT, it's hard to sustain the belief that Israelite religion was merely a natural evolution of earlier Babylonian (or other ANE) belief systems.

Readers may be interested to look at this interview with Peter Enns, OT professor at Westminster and author of 'Inspiration and Incarnation.'

I think he has helpful things to say about the role of academics in the church and the appropriate manner for theological debate, among other things.

HT: digitalbrandon!

In the last couple of days I've been back to the books. History and literature of Ancient Near Eastern peoples. Riveting stuff.

But it did make me think of something I've wondered for a while. And when I was in the grocery store earlier I was reminded of it again.

When did we start calling the Near East, the Middle East? So the countries/people groups I've been reading about (Sumerians, Akkadians, Babylonians, Persians, Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites and so on) all lived in modern day areas such as Iran, Iraq, Israel/Palestine, Jordan, Syria etc. - places we now call the Middle East. But if we're talking any time before Christ (and for some undetermined time afterwards) it's always called the Near East.

Did it get further away? And where is it in the middle of? As far as I know, the Far East is still where it's always been - far away in Japan and China and places like that.

Oh, and why was I thinking about it while food shopping? Because my couscous is sold by a company called 'Near East'. Intriguing.

Anyone have any light to shed?

Well, it's January so I've been bitten by the 'must start a new craft project or three' bug.

First off, and amazingly, already finished, was this:

My first American quilt. It's American, not so much because the quilting was done here (though I made the patchwork while I was at home with my sewing machine) but because of the kind of patchwork technique I used. The American system of sewing blocks is quick and easy to achieve good results, whereas English paper piecing takes forever and is much less forgiving. I cut a whole lot of 4 inch squares and sewed these into strips of four, then blocks of twelve. I added a plain strip to the edge of each to give a square block. Four blocks sewn together make the pinwheels, of which there are six. Finally I sewed strips of stripey fabrics to plain yellow squares to make the sashing (borders). All this took one evening and one morning. I spent no time at all thinking about colour or pattern and I'm surprisingly pleased with the overall result. When I got it back to America I hand quilted in a simple design and added the binding round the edges.

So now I've moved onto socks.

I've knitted socks before, but only on ordinary needles with a back seam. These are properly knitted in the round on three double-ended needles. The wool is dyed to produce the stripey pattern you can see. I'm really enjoying it, though it's fine wool and small needles so it doesn't grow terribly quickly. But if all goes well, everyone may be getting socks for Christmas this year.

For a couple of great one-liners from N.T. check out Matthew Mason's blog here.

So we didn't exactly have a gaggle of girls, but Helen and I did our best between us. There was certainly giggling, a smattering of foolish remarks, some struggles to find suitable places to eat, drives through the countryside and even visits to the airport. Though this time I didn't have to get on the plane.

We visited several famous landmarks of the local area (Independence Hall, Liberty Bell, Princeton) and one or two lesser known sites (Paoli Massacre Battlefield, Ringing Rocks Park). We did some shopping, quite a lot of eating, learned lots of history, went to the cinema, practiced our queueing skills and met some of the locals.

Independence Hall was a fun tour. We'd been to Reading Terminal Market, the Independence Visitor Centre and had lunch, when we spotted a queue of people forming. Before we quite knew what we were doing, we'd been through security (and tried to persuade the guard that not only were we not twins, we weren't even related at all) and found ourselves at the back of the line, feeling suitably English. A Canadian who was just in front of us informed us that the doors were going to open at 1.30pm, so we waited patiently.

Independence Hall

The tour guide was a very small and disproportionately forceful man. He told us to take our photos as soon as we entered each room. Even if you didn't really want photos you felt that you were obliged to take some, in case he told you off. Once inside, he told the story of High Treason that began with the Queen's coat of arms being ripped from the court room and ended with the Declaration of Independence.

Scary Tour Guide

I learned a number of things I didn't know before. Like that the first president of the US wasn't George Washington but a man called John Hanson. And that the Declaration of Independence wasn't signed on July 4th but on August 2nd. It just happened to have been printed on July 4th so that's the date people remembered.

He was a good storyteller, but he did assume that his audience were all loyal citizens of America rather than faithful subjects of Her Britannic Majesty. I found that I kept wanting to shout things like 'God Save the Queen' and 'Rule Britannia', but I restrained myself.

We also visited the Benjamin Franklin Underground Museum where the most fun thing was all the telephones to people of the past. I spoke to William Pitt, Lord Byron, Mark Twain, John Adams and Immanuel Kant. There was also a model of the most extraordinary musical instrument invented by Franklin called the Glass Armonica. (I don't know if Franklin had a cockney accent or if he just couldn't spell harmonica). It's a series of tuned concentric glasses which resonate, much in the way that you can achieve when you run your finger round the top of a glass.

I blogged a few days ago about our aborted trip to New York. Here's the photographic evidence of our visit to Princeton:

Doesn't this remind you of Christ Church?

The day before that we went to Paoli to look at the site of the Paoli massacre. This was an encounter between the British and American forces during the Revolution/War of Independence. The Americans were encamped at Paoli, planning an attack on the British camp in the next few days. The British soldiers approached at night, quietly, without letting off a single gun. They took the Americans by surprise (though not totally by surprise - they did have some intelligence) and attacked with bayonets. About fifty Americans were killed and just a handful of British soldiers. The event is marked with at least two memorial stones on the field, both with the same inscription referring to the 'British Barbarity'.

It was very cold and there wasn't a lot to see, except an interesting fence. But Justin was an informative tour guide and I feel like I now have a much clearer idea about the war than I did before. And we had a very nice lunch on the way home.

Sydney, 2008, anyone?

Here's a helpful comment on Foucault and authorial intent that I'd like to be able to find again.

This looks to be a very helpful new website for anyone who ministers the sacrament of the Supper. There are articles and meditations to help ministers and congregations better understand the meal they participate in. The site is still under development but there are some articles (including mine on the words of administration) and meditations already up and readers are invited to add their own. Well done, Neil and James!

Today we got up early with the firm intention of catching a train to Trenton and then one to New York for a day of sightseeing, shopping and eating.

Car key fails to turn in the ignition. Several failed attempts, jiggling steering wheel, clutch and brake. Call the AAA who promise to send out a locksmith within 2 hours. Great. Just try once more. Oh. It works now. Cancel the AAA man but we've missed the train and the next one's not for another hour.

Okay. Decide to drive to Trenton (considerably quicker than the train) and get a train from there. Find map and directions and set out. Negotiate the big scary roads and arrive in Trenton. Get lost. Find the Empire Beauty School and ask for directions at the food store next to it. Actually not as lost as we thought we were. Find a train and a place to park. Discover that train is not actually at the station which is about 10 minutes walk away. Find that train to NY is running an hour and a half late. Decide that Trenton not really a place to while away an hour and a half.

Drive to Princeton. Notice huge contrast of wealth in the six mile journey. Wander round university buildings and decide that they are modelled on Oxford (at least in part). Have lunch in Princeton - yummy pancakes. Peanut butter, raspberry, apple and banana pecan. Find it has started snowing while we've been eating lunch.

Go on to Lambertville. Actually aiming for New Hope but need to stop for tea first. Find beautiful furniture around the $5000 mark. Decide not to buy it today.

Eventually head for home. Safe. Warm. Feeling like we've had some proper American experiences (not least in the confusion on the roundabout). But not New York. Oh well.

David Field has a series of posts which will be of interest to anyone (English or otherwise) who wants to know just what constitutes that mysterious quality of Englishness.

Watching the English 1
Watching the English 2
Watching the English 3

This is my favourite quote, expressing the English desire for moderation, lack of fuss and fear of change:

What do we want? GRADUAL CHANGE
When do we want it? IN DUE COURSE

Last night I came across this site - a digest of all the worst baby naming discussions on the internet. I stayed up far too late giggling uncontrollably.

Here are some of my favourite contributions:

For the last 50 years, my family has been naming their children after Southwestern Ontario cities. My brother is Barrie, my sister is Kingston, and my cousin is Markham. I am due in two weeks (it'll be a girl) and I thinking about naming her either York or Orillia. What do others think?

How sensible of your family to choose a theme and stick with it. Imagine the teasing that would ensue if anyone chose to name their child after a city in the north-east of Ontario. Or, heaven forbid, after a person.

I grew up with a "grown-up" name (Victoria) and a "kid" name (Tori), as did my sister. I have always liked having both available....so we plan on naming our firstborn son Creighton.

The obvious choice.

It seems to me that the name "Scatman" is a great one. you know: after semi-singer and comedian Scatman Crothers.
I keep envision having a son named Scatman. I can imagine everyone he meets saying, 'What a cool name.' Which is good because that way they'll have something to like about him even if his personality is really off-putting. Or if he's shallow or a bully when he's like 13, when he should be getting into punk rock or something. At least they'll think he has a hip name.

But don't use it, cause I thought of it.

So it was helpful of you to share it then, if no one else is allowed to use it.

My daughter-in-law would like to name the baby River Sunshine. That's the first and middle names. I think he's going to be teased in school.

Surely not?

I'm seven months pregnent with quadruplets!!!! Nicole, Luke, Amanda and Alex. These names sound refreshing with a hint of mystery.

That's just what I've always thought's important when choosing a name. Or possibly mysterious with a hint of freshness? Hard to say.

Struggling through von Rad's Old Testament Theology today.

Here's a thought I was surprised to find - I thought it originated with Packer:

...it cannot be said that Israel regarded God anthropomorphically, but the reverse, that she considered man as theomorphic.

And this made me smile:

...it is hardly possible to conceive of the idea of a created chaos, for what is created is not chaotic.

Why then, is it so easy to create chaos?

Here's a thought I've not had before. We tend to think of texts as static wholes to be comprehended all at once. But actually, by virtue of the fact that both writing and reading are dynamic activities, we may be better thinking not of 'structures' but of 'movements' within the text. Robert Alter again:

Structure suggests an image of static form extended in space, like a building, and I want to correct that implication by reminding readers that what we think of approximately as structure in literature is, by the serial nature of the medium, dynamic movement unfolding sequentially. If we try to imagine this for a moment not in terms of the finished product we experience in our reading but rather as the process the poet initiates in his making of the poem, we might well speak of a generative principle of intensification.

Each word is succeeded by the next, each sentence lasts only a moment before the next takes its place. So when we think about the relations within texts we need to think in these sequential, dynamic terms, not as if we're dealing with a single co-existent entity.

Something I've thought for a while about the wisdom books in particular is that the form of these books mirrors, matches and enhances their content. It's pleasing to find that Robert Alter thinks the same, at least with respect to Job:

What I am suggesting is that the exploration of the problem of theodicy in the Book of Job and the "answer" it proposes cannot be separated from the poetic vehicle of the book, and that one misses the real intent by reading the text, as has too often been done, as a paraphraseable philosophical argument merely embellished or made more arresting by poetic devices.

The piling on of poem after poem in Job leaves the reader feeling Job's burden and anguish in a way that no paraphrase can. But so also does the grandeur of the poetry of the last few chapters serve their purpose:

If the poetry of Job - at least when its often problematic text is fully intelligible - looms above all other biblical poetry in virtuosity and sheer expressive power, the culminating poem that God speaks out of the storm soars beyond everything that has preceded it in the book, the poet having wrought a poetic idiom even richer and more awesome than the one he gave Job. Through this pushing of poetic expression toward its own upper limits, the concluding speech helps us see the panorama of creation, as perhaps we could only do through poetry, with the eyes of God.

Oh yes. The powers that be (and who knows who they could possibly be) have decreed that this is officially de-lurking week. So all of you lurkers out there (and my page view stats indicate that there are many) - now is your chance to crawl out of the woodwork and say hi!

Honestly, I know mine isn't the easiest blog to comment on, but it's worth a try. I'd love to know who's reading.

It's possible that not all of my readers are familiar with the very helpful work that's been done in recent years on the structure of the Psalter. It used to be thought (and still is by many people) that the psalms are entirely independent units, thrown together almost at random, or organised by factors such as authorship or dating. But the suggestion that the division of the Psalter into 5 books was intended to reflect the 5 books of the Torah and a careful study of the 'seam' psalms, indicates otherwise.

The simplest observation along these lines concerns several of the 'royal' psalms - psalms which have kingship as a major theme. Book I of the Psalter begins with the introductory psalm 1, but next follows a royal psalm, psalm 2. Book II concludes with a royal psalm - 72. Both of these have a generally positive attitude to the Davidic kingship. But Book III finishes with a different kind of royal psalm - 89 - which recounts the failure of the Davidic monarchy.

Gerald Wilson explains the significance of this:

At the conclusion of the third book, immediately preceding the break observed separating the earlier and later books [i.e. separating books I-III from books IV-V], the impression left is one of a covenant remembered, but a covenant failed. The Davidic covenant introduced in Ps 2 has come to nothing and the combination of three books concludes with the anguished cry of the Davidic descendants... It is to this problem of the failure of YHWH to honor the Davidic covenant that Ps 89 directs its plea. How long? And it is with this plea that the first part of the Psalter ends.

The answer to this plea is found in books IV and V, at the heart of which are the enthronement psalms: Ps 93, 95, 96, 97. The answer to the failure of the Davidic monarchy is simple: The LORD reigns!

The psalms acknowledge that this reign of God exists amid continuing opposition and thus these psalms give the book an eschatological thrust. The reader is called to affirm God's sovereignty now and to wait upon the Lord.

Here's an observation I hadn't noticed before.

As a rule, when a narrative event in the Bible seems important, the writer will render it mainly through dialogue, so the transitions from narration to dialogue provide in themselves some implicit measure of what is deemed essential, what is conceived to be ancillary or secondary to the main action. Thus, David's committing adultery with Bathsheba is reported very rapidly through narration with brief elements of dialogue, while his elaborate scheme first to shift the appearance of paternity to Uriah, and when that fails, to murder Uriah, is rendered at much greater length largely through dialogue. (Alter, of course)

Alter thinks that this may be because ancient Hebrew writers deemed speech 'the essential human faculty'. I wonder if it's more to do with matching narrative time and event time. Reading dialogue takes approximately the same length of time as the events it describes. Reading a narrative summary is usually much quicker, so the reader need not dwell on the events at length.