Playing with Sacred Stories

From the time I learned to read, there was never a time when I was not a reader.  In college “required reading” became the priority while pleasure reading was often sacrificed, but after finishing my PhD I re-learned the joys of fiction and discovered many new favorite authors.  Living in Iowa City, home of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, provided me with a rich environment for feeding my love of books.

When I discerned a call to ordained pastoral ministry and began my seminary education, my passion for reading accompanied me.  By this time, I had learned to embrace the supplementary reading along with the required texts. I always knew that literature had something to contribute to my education.  Fiction would have a voice in my education and my ministry.

I learned that, in writing sermons, my inspiration would come from literature as much as from Bible commentaries.   So when preparing a sermon on Isaiah’s suffering servant, I re-read The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro.  When writing a sermon for Epiphany, I drew from Bee Season by Myla Goldberg.  A sermon on the second coming of the Son of Man lent itself to being shaped by the story A Single Light by Maia Wojciechowska.

Giving a sermon is telling a story.  The preacher connects the story we find in scripture with the story we find ourselves living, and literature often helps us make the connection.  There are occasions when I draw from nonfiction, such as biography or history, to tell the story.  There are times when books or articles about contemporary culture can help frame a sermon.  However, my first love, and the material I am most likely to go to, is the novel.

Telling our stories is an essential part of our humanity; it is the means by which we teach what we value and share our history.   In the telling, in the sharing, in the reading we find meaning. 

This is why I have come to think that the way to preach the good news is to simply share the stories.  For each text, tell the story, and the stories behind the story.  Weave my story and our story into the telling.  Invite the stories into our lives and have a conversation with it.  Don’t be afraid to add shape and texture to the story, but take care not to do violence to it. 

A story is a living thing if it’s any good at all.  I appreciate the old, old stories, but I don’t want to put them behind glass.  I want to play with them.  As we handle the stories they may give rise to questions and direction that guide us and shape us.  There is power in the story.  Of course. 

How far do you think we can go with this?