The Bible Story, by Arthur S. Maxwell, illustrated by various artists

I was recently tasked with clearing out a Sunday school shelf laden with teaching resources from generations past. Fated for the bin was a “display copy” of Arthur S. Maxwell’s The Bible Story, Volume One — common to North American doctor’s offices in the mid-60s to early-70s. I took it home, snapped a few photos of the illustrations and posted them behind the blue-and-white velvet rope.

Below is the first picture I posted. Not sure who the artist is (illustrations are only occasionally credited), but I suspect it’s Herbert Rudeen. I captioned it, cheekily but not dishonestly, “My favourite page since I was a kid!”

"Whoa -- let there be Lights Out!"

Where Rudeen is rough, almost impressionistic, fellow painter Russell Harlan favours a velvety smoothness. Also, Harlan’s Eden clearly includes hairbrushes and safety razors.

Upon posting, a friend snarked, “Reassuring white children that the first two humans were white.” Very true — certainly that was my POV on the matter when I was a sprat. Once the narrative leaves Eden, however, the Maxwell biblical characters take on skin-tones and garb that are roughly approximate to the ethnicities that originally produced these stories. It’s a curious juxtaposition.

Nor does Maxwell stint on any biblical violence.

Perhaps the white-washing of Eden is an unconscious outcome of the story's intrinsic appeal? Certainly the Eden story is something children insert themselves into quite naturally. From the giddy joys of scampering around without a stitch of clothing, to doing something you were expressly told not to do, to suffering the consequences — this is every child’s origin story.

Including those whose skin-pigment renders them the colour of margarine.

But the biblical narrative slides into trickier territory pretty quickly after that. Noah’s Ark — another story kids love. Put all the animals in a big wooden boat, keep them safe! But the sons of God coupling up with the fairest of human women — how do you explain that?

On this matter and many others, Maxwell performs a parental dodge:

It is hard to understand how such things could have happened such a short time after creation, and such a little way from all the peace and harmony of Eden. Yet it is not uncommon even today for boys and girls to be cross and unruly right after church. Some can become real little pests just as soon as a nice picnic is over. It doesn’t take long for some to forget kindness and love that they should remember forever.

Maxwell strives always to keep the moral of the story (as he perceives it) clear, even during the Bible’s most viscerally irregular moments. Jehovah’s smiting of Aaron’s two sons during the first sacrifices in the brand-new tabernacle, for instance, falls under the heading “Two naughty boys.” Kids, be grateful for your spankings!

Returning to the visual contrast — though Maxwell endeavours to make the narrative relatable to his young listeners/readers, there remains a historic and aesthetic distance to bridge, to say nothing of culture. The aesthetic results are, to modern eyes, uncomfortably superficial. In effect the pictures declare, The sandals and bathrobes and tea-towels — are we not all victims of fashion, finally?

Approachable, sure -- but would it kill him to try on some pants?

We return to the opening pages of Maxwell’s tomes, to the present — in this case, 1954.

Blue-jays! Even better than the lowly sparrow!

Bucolic kitsch, not that far removed from Harlan’s depiction of Eden. Except — the “present” appears to be more integrated than our shared biblical past was. And remember — we’re talking 1954.

The neighbours!

Or perhaps I am getting ahead of myself — judging (again) by fashion, some illustrations appear to have been inserted a decade or two after the initial release of Maxwell’s The Bible Story.

Skirt-lengths will vary, but the kimono transcends all eras.

"Erm, that's right, little brother -- the Bible does say 'Scram!'"

Anyway, thus began my education. From the age of five to nine I heard these stories told this particular way on a near-daily basis at home, at school and at Sunday School.

And I dug the pictures — some more than others.

...say, she kinda looks like our Sunday School teacher...