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Exploring the word

20 May 2012 - Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord, Cycle B

THE NARRATIVES ABOUT Jesus by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John fit nicely into a classic American genre: the road story. Jesus and his friends leave the familiarity of home and hearth to light out for the territories, see the world in all its fascination and misery, give some help and get into some trouble, make a few allies and a few more enemies, and take the ultimate journey to the center of their society, Jerusalem, where, according to the genre, they would either triumph or be vanquished. This story arc is basic to every story from The Wizard of Oz to Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and though we tend to think of it as an American narrative form, Homer’s Odyssey and Dante’s Divine Comedy would protest. The journey story, in which fools become wise and children grow up, is also the story of Israel in the First Testament. The band of 12 disciples are not the first ignorant bunch—or even the first bunch in the Bible—who went on the road to meet their destiny and prepare for it in the same inadequate shoes. Abraham did it, and so did Jacob, Moses, David, Ruth and Naomi, Tobias, and all the way to Paul of Tarsus. Here, however, is where the Christian narrative takes an original turn. The end of the journey in road stories requires a finale: either win or lose, be crowned or crushed by your fate. In the case of Jesus, arrival in Jerusalem leads to the paradox of defeat and victory—inscrutably in tandem. What’s more, rather than inscribing “The End” at this obvious conclusion, another chapter unfolds: 40 more days of teaching and learning, followed by a surprise sequel. Another road story is about to unfold. Those who were learners will now be the teachers. And on it goes, through the centuries of church. Of course the supernatural events of Incarnation through Ascension are the road-story-to-end-all-road-stories. From heaven to earth to hell and back again. That unique journey is not ours to take. but the other is not only recommended but required for people of faith. We can’t sit on our creeds in the pews but must follow the story line from learner to teacher, from disciple to evangelist. It would be a horrible misunderstanding to think that the Ascension is an event in which Jesus makes it safely home, a happy ending about which you need trouble yourself no further. The liturgical year is not a pageant of historical episodes in the life of God, which all work out to our mutual satisfaction in the end. The next wave of this arc involves you and your being “sent” to continue the story for the age to come. So tie up your laces, and let’s get moving. Related scripture links Gift of wisdom and understanding: Col. 1:9 Head and members: Rom. 12:4-5; 1 Cor. 10:17; 12: 27-31; Col. 1:18 Go forth and spread the gospel: Matt. 28:19-20 Catechism links Ascension of Jesus: CCC 659-664; 670; 673 Descent of Jesus to the dead: CCC 624; 631-635

Authors Alice Camille

Journey story storytelling

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Exploring the word

10 Jul 2011 - Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

Storytelling is a time-honored occupation. We may not sit around the tribal campfire anymore to hear what the bards have to say, but we do plop onto the sofa in front of the TV, fire up the Netflix Instant Watch on the computer, or read an old-fashioned novel in bed—with or without a Kindle. That is curious behavior, of course, because there are far easier ways to get information. As Woody Allen once slyly said: “I took a speed reading course and read War and Peace in 20 minutes. It involves Russia.” Those who actually read the 1,200 pages of War and Peace—or even stop a few hours to enjoy the movie—are looking for more from Tolstoy than a synopsis of the plot. When Jesus approached his teaching straightforwardly—in the Sermon on the Mount, in proverbs, or in direct answers to questions—he showed himself capable of getting right to the point. So why did he more frequently choose to linger and tell so many parables? It wasn’t a time-efficient means of getting the catechetical job done. Many parables can be reduced to a simple sentence: God forgives sinners. God expects us to be generous. But in parable form the long story stands in for the short thesis, and happily so. The story sticks in the memory longer, adhering to the heart or to the gut better than an admonition alone would do. Yet the longer we sit with a parable, turning it over in our minds, the more facets we uncover. Ambiguities and inconsistencies surface that trouble our desire for simplicity. We want a yes-or-no answer, a God whose rules are easy to understand and which match our sense of justice and order. What we often get with parables is a God who doesn’t add up neatly, a framework for justice that challenges more than it comforts. When the disciples ask Jesus why he prefers this teaching method when it is so imprecise, he replies that mystery is the intended result. Those prepared to stop, ponder, and listen will hear. Those looking to chalk up another commandment with which to bludgeon their neighbor or keep their children in line will be disappointed. Wisdom teachers across the ages might agree, whether Native American elders passing on ancestral myths or gurus offering their tight little koans. The easy answer turns out to be no answer at all. If you’re not willing to sit with a mystery, you don’t get to pierce its secrets. The seed that goes down into the rich soil must burrow a long way, roots pushing through the earth and incorporating water and minerals to achieve the eventual return to the surface. Only then will the shoot produce its fruit. Scripture links God's Word is alive: Heb. 4:12 Word made flesh: John 1:1-5, 14 The weakness of human will: Ps. 95:7b-8; Rom. 7:14-25 Hold me in life: Ps. 25:20 Made in the image of God: Gen. 1:27 The voice of creation: Pss. 8:3, 19:1-5a, 96:11-13, 148:1-14; Luke 19:40 Catechism links The sower and the seed: CCC 29; 546; 1724 Creation and its problem: CCC 280; 400; 1739-1742; 2630 Yet God remains on message: CCC 1720-1724; 1042-1050

Authors Alice Camille

storytelling parables

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Simple gestures take the lead

Funeral homily stories

My father, who most everyone knew as Big John—a name that said as much about his hearty personality as it did about his large frame—did not leave this world without a grand sendoff. “Epic” is how one of my father’s friends described his wake and funeral Mass. As de facto patriarch of a large Irish family, many people from around the world made their way to Chicago to pay their last respects. At one point in each evening of his two-day wake, mourners were invited to say a few words about my father. These moments quickly transformed into revival-style gatherings with people waiting in line to “testify” about Big John. They told of his random acts of kindness, his broad embrace of family and friends, his long nights of drinking and storytelling. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and co-workers wanted to describe the impact Big John had on their lives. My cousin John, a young father at the time, described in hilarious detail the many things he learned from Big John, including the art of conversation, how to make a sale, and the importance of pacing yourself during a long night on the town. He then ended his tribute describing one last lesson learned: “We were at the Tuohy Picnic—I was probably 17 or 18 at the time—and Big John was bouncing one of the cousins’ babies in his lap. He looked at me smiling and said, ‘Johnnie, there isn’t anything softer than a baby’s foot.’ At that moment, he taught me what it means to be a man."

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

funerals wakes storytelling

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Exploring the word

27 Mar 2016 - Solemnity of the Resurrection of the Lord (Easter Sunday), Cycle C

There are four main plot lines in storytelling, rendered baldly with no curtseys to inclusive language. They are: Man against man. Man against society. Man against nature. Man against himself. All classic stories follow one of these principal arcs. One presumes stories about women also pit them against another person, society, nature, or the self. According to these rules, we’re assured there’s no plot line that goes: Once upon a time, everything was fine, there was no one to fight, and nothing to resolve. Because conflict drives the human story, our history is often reduced to a litany of wars, generals, and military adventures. As if nothing but violence propels people from one decade to the next. In fact, a lot of things motivate us: the desire for home and belonging. The thirst for understanding. The quest for new solutions to old problems. The hope of making things better in the future than they were in the past. When we read the stories of saints, we discover human beings who lived with a zeal for the things of God: love, compassion, healing, peace, wisdom, rescue. We might have to add a new category to the list of story plots: “Saint against evil” or perhaps “Saint for justice.” Does the story of Jesus follow a classic literary plot? The enemies of Jesus certainly square off against the threat they perceive in him. But he doesn’t come to fight them: Caiaphas or Pilate or Herod or even Judas. Nor is the mission of Jesus to fight society in general: that culture created by Pharisaic purity, Temple laws, and Roman domination. Jesus isn’t born into the flesh to fight the culture wars. Jesus is also not Noah, steering his ark on the tide of floodwaters; not Samson, wrestling lions; not the prophets who survived in the wild with no visible means of support. Nature isn’t the nemesis. Does Jesus come to fight his own nature, then? To conquer the impulse to sin, as in the initial desert fast, so as to break the spell of original sin altogether? Is the big “against” in the story of Jesus, the fight against the Satan without or within? Because we’re accustomed to look for conflict at the center of every story, we’re tempted to settle for this theme. But in every episode, Jesus himself defines his primary purpose as a testimony to the truth. This truth is that God made the world because life is a value, and love is the original relationship. The reality of sin and death made the greater reality of divine mercy and forgiveness twin imperatives, to rescue life and redeem the relationship of love. Try as we might, we can’t make bad news out of Easter. Related scripture links We have seen the Lord: John 20:25 What we have seen and touched: 1 John 1:1-4

Authors Alice Camille

conflict storytelling

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Revitalization?

Short essays about observed trends in Roman Catholic life - Pastoral trends

Imagine a field where people gather to worship for five hours every Saturday night–70,000 of them. Imagine busy city churches packed, every day. Imagine rural churches expanding rapidly into multiple thriving communities. Imagine preachers whose every word, musicians whose every note, enthrall with spiritual power. Imagine young people committing themselves to living in community for the sake of the gospel. Imagine deeply engaged young people worshiping in vast public sports arenas. Imagine extraordinarily large, flourishing gatherings that annually resource people in ministry and inspire adults on their faith journey. This is the global Catholic community today—from El Shaddai in the Philippines to packed urban churches and burgeoning village chapels in Africa, from new ministries growing and maturing in Latin America to remarkable youth ministry gatherings in the United States and the throngs who gather at the Los Angeles Religious Education Congress each year. Yes, the Church is dying in some ways, but also growing. Diminishing here, thriving there. Which narrative do we choose? How does that narrative play to our anxieties and fears, our hopes and dreams? Or do we embrace each and every narrative in its complexity and beauty? Do we think being Catholic is about a universal narrative, a single story line? Or do we think of it embracing the whole, cata-holos? Which is of course what the word actually means. An organic whole that is always vital and re-vitalizing.

Authors Bryan Froehle

growth storytelling

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Exploring the word

11 Aug 2019 - Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

As any teacher or public speaker knows, the best way to deliver a message is to tell a story that drives the point memorably home. Rest assured that people will lose the handouts, shelve their notes, and forget the PowerPoint display in short order. But an evocative story has staying power. The longer it is savored, the more its meaning penetrates our understanding. So it is not surprising to note how frequently biblical writers resort to storytelling as a mode of exhortation. Sure, there are long lists of laws, rules, and moral instructions in the Bible, too, but how familiar is the average churchgoer with Leviticus and Sirach? The best known and most well-loved part of the scripture is the Book of Genesis. That’s where the stories are. That’s where the action is and where listening becomes learning. In today’s readings, we see that the writer of Wisdom appeals to the great story of the Exodus to illustrate God’s special providence for the just, while the writer of Hebrews retells the exploits of Abraham to affirm the necessity for a vital faith. In the gospel, Jesus underscores a teaching on stewardship with contrasting parables about responsible and reprehensible servants. Though all three of these teachers were no doubt held in great esteem by their audiences, chances are their lessons might have slipped beyond their listeners—and any future disciples—if they had relied on a thesis statement alone. The holy children of the good Times were hard in Egypt as Jacob’s children languished in slavery. If you read the account of their trials in the Book of Exodus, you know that the people of God were not fervently awaiting their deliverance at the hand of the Almighty. They definitely wanted to be released from their chains, but they lacked a communal experience of the divine to rally around in sacred memory. On the night of Passover, however, all of that changed. From that night on, they were a people with a story to tell, a ritual to repeat, and an experience to count on. The nation that would emerge from Passover night would become the stewards of holy memory, recalling the story for each new generation: “Why is this night different from every other night?” Christians, too, are stewards of the stories of salvation, not just the climactic good news of the gospel but of all the experiences of God’s people leading up to it as well. This is why we recount both storylines—Old and New Testaments, Hebrew and Christian scripture—in our liturgies. This practice dates from the first century of the church, when Judaism and Christianity were by no means distinct identities. The Letter to the Hebrews demonstrates what this dual religious consciousness was like. The writer intertwines the personalities of the ancient story and the contemporary witness of Christians with a seamless sensibility. Abraham and Sarah—not to mention Moses, David, the judges, and the prophets—all acted in faith and were rewarded for their trust in God. Yet none received the fullness of the promises they believed in, the writer notes. How favored the Christian community is in its faith, to be the immediate beneficiaries of what they hold true! Christ assumes, perfects, and fulfills the meaning of salvation history as a whole. The ancient stories, far from being rejected or replaced, are illuminated with a new light. The parables of Jesus Jesus is rarely depicted as retelling the ancient stories. He knew other teachers were handling that end of the business. Instead, he created stories to open new windows on human understanding. His parables were memorable because they were fresh and contemporary. The folks in the crowds were familiar with servants like the ones Jesus described: the fellow who is vigilant for his master’s arrival and has the household organized to receive him, as well as the abusive servant who raids the kitchen and the liquor cabinet, beats the men beneath his station, and takes liberties with the women. These and other characters that Jesus described—a farmer sowing seed or a woman baking bread—were imbued with meaning because of the tag ending that Jesus applied to these common scenes. So Jesus effectively communicates two messages at once through the vehicle of story: one, the stated teaching (e.g., “You must also be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come”), and two, the implicit message that the truths of the reign of God are “hidden out in the open” of ordinary experience. The ancient stories that other teachers tell and retell remind us that God has worked in human history in a great cooperation for the purpose of our salvation. These are proof texts we can use as ballast against the tossing and turning of contemporary times, where God’s intervention may seem noticeably absent. But the stories Jesus tells are not reminders so much as revealers. They lift the veil on our present experiences to show us that God’s grace is active in every hour and is available with those who have eyes to see. Applying the word Telling a modern tale of grace What is the trick to opening up the parables for today’s audience? Some feel the stories of agrarian culture or ancient social codes are no longer accessible to civilized urbanites. I personally doubt we are that civilized. But to overcome the perceived lost worldview, we often deliver meticulous homilies about the precise nature of sheep or fun facts to remember about first-century Judean households. This approach can be instructive, but it relies on the notion of analogy, which parables are not. It also begs the deeper issue: Is the homily to instruct or inspire? It would be closer to the tactic of Jesus to tell steward stories of our own, about responsible and neglectful parents, or—at our own expense—nurturing or lazy pastors, and how the reign of God comes to light through them. The stories have not changed much. Only the roles get moved around to protect the perpetrators. Related scripture links Other heroes in Hebrews: Heb. 11:20-39 Christ assumes and fulfills salvation history: Luke 9:28-31 Common scenes in Lucan parables: 8:4-18, 10:29-37, 12:16-21, 13:6-9, 18-21, 14:7-24, 15:1-16:8, 16:19-31, 18:1-14, 19:11-27 Those who have eyes to see: Luke 7:41-42, 10:23-24, 11:33-36, 12:54-56, 18:41-42

Authors Alice Camille

storytelling salvation stories parables

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