How to succeed, not just survive. The D____ B___
in your bulletin stands for DREAM BIG!, which we looked
at last week. To succeed, not just survive, expand your
parameters, set your expectations high. Dream big.
Our topic today: Tell the Stories. To succeed, not
just survive, tell the stories. Leonard Sweet writes,
We can scream about the moral failure of
society. We can blame an absentee
parent-class. We can point to a general
cultural glorification of violence. But the
greater problem may be that inside this
burgeoning generation of frightened and
frightening children, there is a huge hollow
in the heart where all the stories of our
ancestors, all the tales of woes and warning,
all the familiar recitations of dreams and
hopes should reside. Without these kinds of
comforting, guiding, threatening, promising,
teasing, telling stories, our children have no
landmarks, no moral maps, no hitching
posts to guide them on their way. Our
shared stories used to keep us joined
together at the heart, even when our paths
seldom crossed. Common stories that
fostered communal beliefs kept a strong
message of ethics and expectations flowing
from one generation to the next.
In Jewish culture, storytelling is the predominant
way each new generation is invited to personally step into
the stream of salvation history. Deuteronomy 26:1-11
contains a creed which the worshipers recited at the
Thanksgiving festival. Tithes from the first harvest were
brought to the worship place, and then the story was
recited, the story of who they were, where they had come
from, a story of their roots. The creed begins with,
"A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he
went down into Egypt and lived there as an
alien, few in number, and there he became a
great nation, mighty and populous."
Who is the wandering Aramean? Jacob. His father? Isaac.
His grandfather? Abraham. Jacob settled in Egypt because
of the famine, and his son, Joseph, was an official of the
P>government.
Notice the pronoun "my." The story is very
personal. The next phrase is even more personal. "When
the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us." Us!
Not them, not even "our ancestors." But, us! Those who
tell the story are involved. It is our story, not someone
else's, not even our ancestors.
"The Egyptians treated us harshly, the Lord
heard our voice and saw our affliction, our
toil, and our oppression. The Lord brought
us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an
outstretched arm...and he brought us into
this place and gave us this land."
Us and our. Our story. Many psychologists and
psychiatrists are finding that orthodox Jewish child-raising
practices are successful because of the combination of
storytelling and highly ritualized celebrations that act out the
stories.
Do you recall the powerful impact on African
Americans when Alex Haley researched and wrote Roots?
Ancestors of black Americans had been uprooted from their
homeland, separated from their families, their ancestors,
separated even from their spouses and children, and sold as
slaves. How important it was to African Americans for the
stories to be told, the stories of who they are, who they
were, where they came from. In my "humble" opinion, the
best picture last year (of those I have seen) is "Amistad."
Steven Spielberg tells the story, based quite accurately on
an historical incident, of slaves who took over their ship,
were arrested, and eventually, represented by John Quincy
Adams, won their freedom from the Supreme Court. A
powerful, moving story. What is hinted at in the movie, and
what actually subsequently occurred, is that several were
converted to Christ, returned to their African homeland with
Brethren missionaries, and, through mergers, are now part
of the United Methodist Church.
Jeffrey Katzenberg, through technological
advancement of computer imaging and graphics which made
it possible to bring more life and depth to cartoon
characters, reached backward in time to portray some of the
oldest, most beloved, time-tested fairy tales that have ever
been told. Our children were treated to The Little
Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, The Lion King
(which is a traditional African folk lore), and soon The
Prince of Egypt (the story of Moses). Our children need
stories; we all need stories to fill the hollow in the heart.
Tell the stories. Tell the stories to your children, to
your grandchildren, to the neighborhood children, to
Sunday School children! Tell the Bible stories. Tell the
stories of Jesus. Use personal pronouns-- us, we, our. Tell
the church's story. Tell them about John Wesley. Tell
them your family stories. To succeed, not just survive, our
children and grandchildren need roots, deep roots imbedded
in their faith and their family, roots that will hold the tree
sturdy when the wind blows, the ground shakes, and the
waters flood.
After last week's sermon in which I used Albert
Schweitzer as an example of a big dreamer who devoted his
life to humble service, Diane Riise told me that her
grandmother grew up in the same German village with
Albert Schweitzer. Her grandmother used to tell Diane
stories, but she, like most of us, didn't pay that much
attention. She didn't realize who Albert Schweitzer was.
Now, Diane is sorry she didn't memorize the stories, or
write them down. When Ellie's father was dying, Ellie had
the presence of mind to take a tape recorder with her to
Arizona, and there in the hospital, he told the stories, and
she recorded them. Someday (!), we will transcribe them so
his grandchildren and great grandchildren can not only hear,
but read the stories.
My son, Craig, gave me for Christmas a software
package called "Family Tree Maker." I have begun
entering the data we know. Someday (!) I will devote time
and research, and will print out the family tree for my
children and grandchildren. We have traced my Norris
ancestors back to the Mayflower, and according to one
tradition, our family can be traced back to William the
Conqueror. Deep roots.
Both of my grandfathers were wonderful story
tellers. I sat completely enthralled with the tales they told.
I wish they had been written or recorded. My favorite
Grandpa Norris story, which he loved to repeat, is the time
he was in school (a one-room country school in Minnesota)
and had to go badly. He raised his hand, but the teacher
told him he had to wait until recess. A while later, he raised
his hand again and told her he had to go badly. She told
him he had to wait. He didn't know what to do until he had
the bright idea to use his boot! But, it ran over, and to this
day, even though the school house had been purchased by a
farmer who now used it as his granary, you can see the stain
on the floor! When we would drive by that farm, my
parents thought I had lost my mind, because I wanted to
stop to examine the granary floor! I tell this story, which
some might consider inappropriate, to illustrate that the
family stories you tell do not have to be of grandiose saints
who braved fire and flood, but ordinary people doing
extraordinary things!
Children and youth, I have a challenge. On the way
home today, right there in the car, ask your parent(s),
"When and how did our family come to the United States?
When and how did we come to Merced?" Note the pronoun "we."
Ask your parent(s) to tell you your story.
To succeed, not just survive, Dream ___ (Big), and
Tell the _____ (Stories). Nourish the roots. Continued
next week.
We celebrate Holy Communion today, which is a
ritualized reenactment of Jesus' last supper with his friends,
our ancestors in the faith. Hear the story as our story.
Remember how we went to supper that evening? It
was a party. We were celebrating the Passover. We call it
a Seder Dinner now. We were having a wonderful time, but
there were some uncomfortable moments. Down at the
other end of the table, several asked, "Is it I?", and then
Judas got up and left. We weren't sure what that was all
about. After we enjoyed the Passover ritual and ate the
ceremonial foods, which told again the story of our
deliverance from Egypt, Jesus took a loaf of bread. He
broke it in half and said, "This is my body, broken for you."
We had no idea what he meant. "Take and eat this and
remember me." After supper he took a cup of wine, and
said, 'This cup is the new covenant in my blood (new
covenant, what did he mean?) which is shed for you and for
many for the forgiveness of sins." We had no idea what he
was talking about, until the next day, when he died.
© 1999 Douglas I. Norris
