In our house, one of the most wonderful moments each day is reading books at bedtime to our little girl. So many books and so many stories. But my wife and I are frequently asked to make up one last story after prayers are said and the lights turned out.
The imaginary central character of these tales has a made-up name, but the story has to more or less reflect the day’s events if we are to persuade the tired little listener to close her eyes in satisfaction.
Telling stories, and repeating them over and over is part of our common humanity across all cultures and across all ages. Before alphabets were invented, stories were just told.
In Hebrew scripture, the Song of Deborah in the book of Judges is a poem dating to the eighth century before Jesus’ birth that tells of an event that likely took place some 400 years earlier.
So the story must have been passed from one generation to another, until people developed writing and were able to record it. And still it had been told over and over…
It’s how we learn who we are. How the world is framed. What our roots are.
Even in our personal lives, stories are hugely important. Great wrongs and great triumphs are told and retold. Just think of all those family parties: Uncle Jack is telling that story for the 40th time and everyone knows the words! But it is a defining story for him and the family.
Stories are also important for dealing with hurts. They are so powerful that we often bury stories of terrible abuse because the pain of recalling them is too great.
But being able to tell those painful stories in a supportive setting is also recognized as crucial to healing the wounds. Sometimes the same story has to be told over and over in order for the victim to appropriate it properly — to put it in the context of an overall life and, while giving it its due, not letting the past dominate the future.
On June 15 in Winnipeg, Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission opens. Central to its mission will be listening to the stories of people who attended the Indian Residential Schools.
Enough of these stories have been told that we know there is going to be much pain involved. All of us need to feel this pain if we hope to understand this important and tragic part of our country’s history and how it has shaped the present.
Because it is not “their story.” It is “our story.” Ours whether we are native, tenth-generation British or French or newcomers. Because it is part of Canada’s story.
It is terribly important that we listen and not become defensive. So often one hears or reads comments that not all the teachers were bad or that not all the children were abused.
That is true. But it is to miss the point that the whole experiment was utterly flawed. It’s like saying that not all Germans or Italians in the war were bad. Of course not! But the fascist experiment was atrocious and we don’t cut off someone talking about the war’s horrors by noting that Hitler built good highways.
So we need to listen and listen attentively, sensitively and humbly. We need to listen as if we were in a room with Jesus sitting there listening to the stories as well. Or imagine him in our living rooms watching the commission’s work unfolding in the nightly news. Would we up and turn off the TV?
God is always with those who suffer. If we as a nation and we as a church want our story and the story of our native brothers and sisters to transform over time so that future generations tell a new story of when this great wound was healed, we need to be part of this story now.
As that old maxim puts it: God gave us one mouth and two ears. This is a time for the survivors to talk and for the rest of us to listen.
