In my previous post, I reflected on the importance of our biblical heritage, as well as the importance of delving into history to better understand that past. As I reflected on this a bit more, I realized that exploring our biblical history also offers lessons about the importance of story-telling, story-making and story-listening.
Having been raised in the valley of the Appalachian Mountains and now living in the heart of Appalachia , I know the importance of storytelling. It is a critical component of our lives and of our connections with each other. I find I look forward to my own family gatherings, where we share stories of our past, both collectively and individually.
But I realize that storytelling and memory are not restricted to family gatherings or even non-church settings. I can still remember the Sunday school building of my childhood with its Victorian architecture. The building’s layout is still clear to me even though the building was demolished when I was not yet a teen. I still remember the many faces and places of my church experience.
But I now am transplanted to new place nearly 200 miles away. The stories of these churches are new to me. I realize the importance of the individual and collective stories of each of these churches and of their people. The stories are critical to my getting to know the people and the churches. The facts and fables that populate the people’s impressions of their churches and of each other make nearly indelible imprints on the maps that they use for being church and doing ministry.
The memories and stories impact the manner in which they engage with the people and places of the other churches in the region. The fables of long-ago-deceased parishioners continue to impact how today’s parishioners engage with each other, and particularly with me. I needed to learn these stories. The stories explain who the people are, who they see themselves to be, and who they may perceive me to be.
I took this realization very seriously. I have asked many questions. I have asked people to share their stories with me, both orally and in writing. More importantly, I have listened. I have learned how different today is for them from the past—both good and bad. People are wistful about the good memories. They want to hold on to those memories. But I also learn of those memories that are less favorable. Those stories also provide bridges for me in learning how to assist them in developing new futures as well as creating new memories.
By and large, people see the good and the bad. On reflection, they find that they are open to changes, even if small or incremental. As we engage with the story-telling, I am finding that I hear a lot less today than I did a year ago, the standard response to many of my earlier suggestions for change: “We NEVER did it that way.” And that is a good thing, wouldn’t you agree?
Theresa
