Staying alive – with stories

The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive.

—Barry Lopez in Crow and Weasel

How have stories cared for you?

When my friend moved away at the end of the seventh grade, my oma comforted me with the story of two Mennonite girls, separated when their families emigrated from Russia, reuniting in a Canadian nursing home. Janice Dick’s novel, Calm Before the Storm, convinced me that God could use an introvert. When my son is sobbing over a nightmare, all it takes to calm him is a whispered “Would you like to hear a story about the day you were born?”

And how can we care for stories?

We must fight the urge to milk the story and then slaughter the cow. Or to put it another way, to drink the water and throw out the fountain. Too often stories are used as merely the container for the principle or rule for living. Once the principle has been extracted, the story is expendable.

In his book, Old Testament Ethics, Waldemar Janzen likens the paring down of Bible stories to principles to reading a musical score in lieu of attending the concert. Here is his description of what he regrets to find in many classrooms:

Thus a Sunday school class studying the story of Ruth and Boaz (Ruth 2) has not finished its task until the story has led to an abstract maxim, such as ‘Help the needy!’ At that point, no great loss is felt if the pupils forget the story on their way home, as long as they hold on tightly to the principle ‘Help the needy!’ Of course, such a principle might have been drawn also from . . . many other biblical texts. It is clear that the story or text, in this approach, becomes exchangeable and secondary, a mere scaffold for establishing a principle that can then stand and be effective on its own.

Dust off the books of Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy and it will become apparent that, even there, principles do not stand alone. Rather, they are set within a love story. The commands given to the nation of Israel are reminders of their experiences with God.

For example, the third commandment, “You shall not misuse the name of the LORD (or Yahweh) your God” (Exodus 20:7) is shorthand for Exodus 3–15, the story of God’s redemption of Israel from Egyptian slavery where He revealed Himself to them as “the LORD” (Exodus 3:13–15). And the fourth commandment, “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy” (Exodus 20:8) is another way of saying “Read Genesis 1 and appreciate it weekly,” for “in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy” (Exodus 20:11).

I have taught my share of children’s Sunday school classes (and adult Bible studies for that matter) that drilled the principles rather than set free a story. At the end of the lesson we’d divide the children into teams, ask Bible application questions, and keep score. What drove us crazy as teachers was that both teams would give all the right answers about how to show kindness, all the while taunting and insulting the opposing team! It seemed everything I was teaching was bouncing off their skulls.

When I stopped to think about it, I realized that principles are grossly ineffective at shaping behaviour. I was about 11 when my dad sat me down and told me the story of a promising young man, about Dad’s age, who tried drugs in high school. He told me how this man now lived alone in poverty, incapable of making his own meals. His story was more effective in shaping my rebellious streak than saying, “Ange, don’t do drugs.”

Everything changed for me as a teacher when I allowed the Holy Spirit to speak directly to my students’ hearts through the stories He inspired . . .

As I turn the other figurines to face “Sinai” I can see out of the corner of my eye that all eight sets of eyes are still mesmerized by my soft words and gentle movements. “. . . The people looked past Moses to the top of the mountain. They knew Yahweh would be with them and would lead them to the Promised Land.”

I point to the glittered cotton ball perched atop a mound of tan felt. “I wonder why God showed Himself to the Israelites in a cloud?” I look from one five-year-old face to another.

“You don’t see many clouds in the desert.”

I turn to the voice and suck in my breath. Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of it? What could be more comforting in the middle of the desert than a blanket of cool water droplets over one’s head? These children never cease to amaze me.

“Who would like to respond to the story by drawing?” I offer.

Three boys line up along the empty mural and begin to worship using markers. A blue line of water flowing from a rock stretches across the wall. One after another smiling stick figures appear in the water, drinking and splashing. “That’s me, that’s Jonathan, and that’s you, teacher,” he explains. (Why do adults see God’s Word as ancient history when children intuitively know it’s ever-present?)

As we sit down to eat a snack I notice one child shivering uncomfortably.

“Are you cold, sweetie?”

“No, I’m so hungry and thirsty. God hasn’t sent the ravens yet, you know.”

When the parents come to pick up their darlings they find us spontaneously running around the room, laughing and chasing paper airplanes – ravens, I mean – and feasting before a God who provides.

I’m glad to belong to a denomination that cares for stories. The ideas for this lesson came from Jubilee, the Sunday school curriculum published by Mennonite churches and distributed by Kindred Productions. Jubilee, and the upcoming 2006 Gather ’Round, which builds on Jubilee’s unique strengths, incorporate figurines, drama, art and open-ended questions to lead children in internalizing God’s story.

Stories are alive. They get under your skin and become a part of you. That’s why Family Life Network’s “Connecting Points with Kids” ministry travels around the country to “share a true story,” not a true principle. It’s why the MB Herald’s purpose is “to share the life and story of the church.” And it’s why I’m glad my son and daughter are experiencing stories.

When we focus on principles, we get the metaphor all wrong. The story does not contain the milk; it is the milk. The Bible story is not the fountain; it’s the life-giving drink.

Yahweh is the fountain.

Angeline Schellenberg is a freelance writer and speaker, and a member of Crossroads MB Church, Winnipeg.