Stories can conquer fear, you know. They can make the heart bigger.” ? Ben Okri
Story. As humans we are bound together by story. This is especially true at this time of year, during Advent, as we walk our way slowly and thoughtfully toward Christmas. In the Christian household in this season, we haul out the same scriptures, dust them off, read them again and pray with clinched hands and open hearts to breathe new life into them, to see some new wisdom there. The four Sundays of Advent have us wrestling with stories of end times, of the destruction of the world as we know it. This seems odd to many but sets up the surprising hope of a child who would help heal the troubles of the world if we would listen, if we would turn around and pay attention.
One of those Sundays has us hearing the story of a man wearing the hides of animals, whose diet consists of locusts and honey, a seeming mad man who shouts at the top of his lungs to ” Get ready! Something big is on its way!” Another Sunday has us resting with interest and wonder at the story of two women, one older, one younger, both pregnant and surprised about their state as they support and calm the other’s fears.
All these stories, of course, are only the opening acts leading to the big story told on Christmas Eve. This story, in most settings, is so good, so big, we cannot be content to just hear it though its telling is filled with wonder enough. This story is so good that the people cannot be contained in their seats. They must allow their children to don angel wings….”Gloria, Gloria, in excelsis deo!” their tiny voices shout. This story is so good young children are allowed to carry sticks posing as shepherd’s crooks right past grandmas and grandpas and tiny babies. Trust floods the room and sticks are held tight as the very good story opens its heart for the man, the woman, the baby. And finally, the last to arrive in the very good story….royalty. Awe and wonder fill the room though most present know the story, recognize the characters, know how it will end.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Before this story unfolds, there are the others being played out, retold all around us. As trees are decorated, ornaments are pulled out of boxes and stories of where they came from are told. Plans are made for those who make their way home for these days and tales are told of who will not be there this year…..or ever again. Stories are created as presents are chosen. Friends gather and in their gathering retell how their lives became enmeshed. Other people, once friends, no longer gather and the story of loss and hurt is remembered,felt deeply one again.
Yes. We are people of story. We are, after all, the ones in the whole of Creation with words. And so we tell the stories. And the stories we tell have power. It has always been so which urges us to tell them with care and for us to be wise as to which stories we give attention to and which we allow to fall away, forgotten. For stories carry the gift to trample or transform. They carry the weight of hope or despair. They can instill fear or faith.
From the first days when our ancestors gathered round the fire, their eyes alight with dancing flames and the gift of imagination, stories have held us and helped us create meaning. What stories are you willing to tell today? What story are you willing to let die today? What story are you holding today in the hope that it will enlarge your heart for the healing of the world?
There is always a story…..tell it well.
