BIBLETELLING
Below is the Narrative Lectionary passage for the coming week. It is followed by Bruce’s notes on the text which aim at a general understanding of the text and some notes on the structures and techniques used by the Biblical storytellers.
On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them.1 In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ ” Then they remembered his words.2
When they came back from the tomb, they told all these things to the Eleven and to all the others. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the others with them who told this to the apostles.3 But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense. Peter, however, got up and ran to the tomb.4 Bending over, he saw the strips of linen lying by themselves, and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened.5
Luke 24:1-12
THREE STORIES
The following three stories pair well with the Narrative Lectionary passage for the coming week. They are followed by Danny’s sermontelling footnotes which explore the stories’ theological connection to the passage as well as insights into craft and performance. Our advice is to read the story first before digging into the footnotes.
The Owl’s Question
It is was night time in the forest and the Owl was out.6 The Owl, being the wisest and most philosophical of the creatures, wanted to get the forest talking and thinking. The Owl, asked his usual question, “Who? Who? Who?”7
But the Owl was met only with silence. So the Owl decided to ask the forest a new question. He asked, “What is life?”
To the Owl’s great pleasure, the forest contemplated this question and the night creatures began their answers.
The bullfrog, who was hopping from lily pad to lily pad across the moonlit pond, answered, “Life is just a series of events, one right after the other, until you reach the end.”
Then the crickets, who were making stringed melodies in the trees, answered, “Life is merriment and song.”
Then the bear, who was lying in a cave with his cubs, answered, “Life is being close to those you love.”
Then the raccoon, scavenging for food around campsites, answered, “Life is endless striving for what you can get your hands on.”
Then the possums, hanging upside down from the trees, answered, “Life depends on your perspective.”
Then the loon, gliding across the water singing its mournful tune, answered, “Life is suffering and sadness.”
Then the bat, flying through the air guided only by its radar answered, “Life is having faith in things you cannot see.”
On and on the forest creatures went, all through the night, answering the Owl’s question: what is life? The raven said life was misfortune, the mayfly said life was short, the spider said life was taking what comes to you, and the wolf said life was a hunt.8
Then, when all of the creatures of the forest had spoken, the black night turned blue, and banners of pink and purple streaked the horizon. Then the sun, peaking up over the mountains, began to bathe the earth in golden light. When all eyes were fixed its direction, the risen sun whispered, “Life is just the beginning. A short night giving way to eternal day.”9
~ My telling of a traditional Swedish story
The Stream
High in the far-off mountains, a little stream sprang from its hidden source. It flowed down the mountainside, through all kinds of different terrain, sometimes leaping and bubbling, sometimes drifting lazily or going underground, but it was never stopped by any obstacle that may have got in its way.10
One day, it reached the edge of a vast desert. Just one more obstacle to overcome, it thought to itself. Nothing has ever stopped me flowing, and I shall surely overcome this obstacle too.
And so the stream flung itself at the desert. But each time it did so, its waters simply disappeared, trickling away into nothingness, swallowed up by the dry, hot sand.
But the stream was not to be deterred. If its destiny was to cross this desert, then it would surely find a way. If the wind can cross the desert, so can the stream, it thought to itself, and the desert sands seemed to echo back these words: “The winds cross the desert and so can the stream.”
And so began a conversation between the stream and the desert sand.11
“I know I must cross this desert,” the stream told the sand, “but every time I try, the sand swallows me up. No matter how hard I fling myself at the desert, I don't get any further.”
The desert replied, "You won't be able to cross the desert using the old methods that worked for you further up the mountain. It is no use hurling yourself at the desert like that. You will never cross the sand like this. You will simply disappear, or turn into marshland. No, you must trust the wind to carry you across the desert. You must let yourself be carried.”
“How can the wind carry me across the desert?” the stream asked in disbelief.
“You must let yourself be absorbed into the wind, and then the wind will carry you,” the desert replied.
But the stream didn't like this idea. After all, it was a stream, with a nature and identity of its own. It didn't at all want to lose itself by being absorbed into the wind. The desert sensed the stream's fears, and tried to offer reassurance.
"That's what the wind does,” it told the stream. “Trust me, and trust the wind. If you let yourself be absorbed by the wind, it will carry you across the desert and let you fall again on the other side, to be a stream again.”
The stream wasn't convinced. “But I won't be the same stream that I am now. I won't be this particular stream.”
The desert understood the dilemma, but the desert also understood the mystery: “You certainly won't be the same stream you are now if you fling yourself into the sand and turn into a marsh. But let the wind carry you across the desert, and the real heart of you, the essence of everything you truly are, will be born again on the other side, to flow a new course, to be a river that you can't even imagine from where you are standing now.”
The stream thought for a while, and something deep in its heart had a memory of a wind that could be trusted, and a horizon that was always out of reach, but was always a new beginning. So the stream took a deep breath, and surrendered to the wind.
The wind raised up the vapour of the little stream and carried it in strong and loving arms far beyond the horizon, high above the hot desert sand, and let it fall again softly at the top of a new mountain, far away. And the stream began to understand who it really was, and what it meant to be a stream.12
~ ONE HUNDRED WISDOM STORIES, by Margaret Silf
Threatened with Resurrection
A modern day witness to death and Resurrection was Julia Esquivel.13 Julia Esquivel was a school teacher, social worker, and advocate for the poor in Guatemala in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. She was a Christian of deep faith. In fact, after she was barred admittance into a Presbyterian seminary on account of her sex, she left Guatemala and studied in Costa Rica. After her studies, she returned to her native land to work on behalf of her people.
Many will recall that in the last decades of the 20th Century, Guatemala experienced a bloody 36 year long Civil War. During this time, 200,000 people were killed. The vast majority of them were indigenous people. Julia Esquivel spoke out against the brutal dictatorship’s14 human rights abuses which included extrajudicial killings, imprisonments, and torture. A climate of fear was caused by the systematic rape of young women and ‘disappearing’ of young men. While this caused some to lose hope or become angry and take up arms. Esquivel kept calling for peace in the name of Jesus Christ and confronting power with the terrible truth of their actions.
Because she would not remain silent, Esquivel was threatened and harassed by police and army forces for many years, narrowly escaping kidnapping, arrest, and assassination. Finally in 1980 she was exiled from her home country but continued to speak out and work for an end to the suffering her people were experiencing.
As if being a teacher/pastor/advocate wasn’t enough, Esquivel was also a poet. Her deeply beautiful poems bear witness to the horrifying truth of what was happening in Central America but also to her eternal hope in Jesus Christ. One of Julia Esquivel’s most loved poems was written during her years of exile. It reflects upon her experience of living under the threat of death as she spoke out in Guatemala.
The Poem is called, They Have Threatened Us with Resurrection. In the poem she responds to all those asking why she continues to march and speak out against evil, even as her life is endangered. Her response is that she is not threatened with death but with resurrection. Because of her hope in Jesus Christ, she knows that there is nothing the corrupt powers of death can do to her. She also knows that all those who have gone before her, silenced by a brutal regime, stand with her in the great cloud of witnesses.15
In the poem she uses the metaphor of being awake and keeping vigil for her continued activity. The powerful want her to go to sleep but she cannot. What keeps her up is not the noise on the streets, it is the threat of resurrection. She looks forward to a day when all those who have been lost to the conflict will stand once again and reclaim an overturned world.16
NOS HAN AMENAZADO DE RESURRECCIÓN THEY HAVE THREATENED US WITH RESURRECTION It isn’t the noise in the streets that keeps us from resting, my friend, nor is it the shouts of the young people coming out drunk from St. Paul's bar nor is it the tumult of those who pass by excitedly on their way to the mountains. It is something within us that doesn’t let us sleep, that doesn’t let us rest, that won’t stop pounding deep inside, it is the silent, warm weeping of Indian women without their husbands, it is the sad gaze of the children fixed somewhere beyond memory, precious in our eyes which during sleep, though closed, keep watch, with each contraction of the heart, in every awakening. Now six have left us, and nine in Rabinal, and two, plus two, plus two, and ten, a hundred, a thousand, a whole army witness to our pain, our fear, our courage, our hope! What keeps us from sleeping is that they have threatened us with Resurrection! Because every evening though weary of killings, an endless inventory since 1954, yet we go on loving life and do not accept their death! They have threatened us with Resurrection Because we have felt their inert bodies, and their souls penetrated ours doubly fortified, because in this marathon of Hope, there are always others to relieve us who carry the strength to reach the finish line which lies beyond death. They have threatened us with Resurrection because they will not be able to take away from us their bodies, their souls, their strength, their spirit, nor even their death and least of all their life. Because they live today, tomorrow, and always in the streets baptized with their blood, in the air that absorbed their cry, in the jungle that hid their shadows, in the river that gathered up their laughter, in the ocean that holds their secrets, in the craters of the volcanoes, Pyramids of the New Day, which swallowed up their ashes. They have threatened us with Resurrection because they are more alive than ever before, because they transform our agonies and fertilize our struggle, because they pick us up when we fall, because they loom like giants before the crazed gorillas’ fear. They have threatened us with Resurrection, because they do not know life (poor things!). That is the whirlwind which does not let us sleep, the reason why sleeping, we keep watch, and awake, we dream. No, its not the street noises, nor the shouts from the drunks in St. Paul's bar, nor the noise from the fans at the ball park. It is the internal cyclone of kaleidoscopic struggle which will heal that wound of the quetzal fallen in Ixcán, it is the earthquake soon to come that will shake the world and put everything in its place. No, brother, it is not the noise in the streets which does not let us sleep. Join us in this vigil and you will know what it is to dream! Then you will know how marvelous it is to live threatened with Resurrection! To dream awake, to keep watch asleep, to live while dying, and to know ourselves already resurrected!
~ Poem from THREATENED WITH RESURRECTION by Julia Esquivel
SERMONTELLING NOTES:
We are accustomed to thinking of these beings as angels when we hear the Easter story. Luke calls them men. Within scripture, it is not unusual for stories to speak ambiguously, blurring the distinctions between men and angels, and even sometimes God himself. Look for example at the story of Sodom and Gomorrah in Genesis 18 and 19. In 18:2 the three beings are referred to as men, even though in 18:1 the visitation is described as being from “the Lord.” In 18:17, one of the figures is said to be “the Lord,” while in 19:1, the other two are referred to as “angels.” All of this seems terribly imprecise to us, but does no seem to create problems for the Biblical storyteller. Perhaps the device is used to capture the disorienting effects of coming into contact with a spiritual being.
The women, like the other disciples, have heard Jesus speak of his coming death and resurrection, but are still surprised when they find themselves in the middle of the story.
One would think that such a panel of witnesses would carry a great deal of weight. On the other hand, what they are asking the disciples to believe is beyond incredible.
Peter alone from among the disciples decides to go and investigate. He seems to be included in the previous verse among those who thought the women’s story was nonsense, but something compels him to go check out the tomb
Peter’s initial response to the empty tomb and abandoned graveclothes is one of puzzlement. He has no categories for what he is looking at. A later story told by two men who encountered Jesus on the road to Emmaus seems to have enjoyed a similar reception. It is not until Peter and the others experience the risen Christ for themselves that they shape their lives around a new truth.
The Owl’s Question
I’ve heard countless iterations of this parable with countless creatures giving countless responses. The parable has a pretty malleable structure but it always ends with the sun’s answer. My version takes place in the forest at night with traditionally North American night animals. I set it at night because I liked the idea of an owl asking the inciting question, “what is life?” and I like the image of the sun rising (especially for Easter) as it intimates the truth of eternity.
I ask this question matter-of-factly, not doing an ‘owl voice’ and pausing between each ‘who?’ for a response. This always gets a laugh.
You get the idea. If you come up with some brilliant ones, feel free to sub in your own.
We are lighter than usual on the notes this week because we’re trying to get through Holy Week as well! I chose this particular story because the risen Son gives us an answer to the great philosophical question, “What is life!” I could see this parable opening a sermon that repeatedly comes back to this question.
The Stream
This is Margaret Silf’s telling of The Stream as found in ONE HUNDRED WISDOM STORIES. This opening she crafted is a beautiful example of my order of operations for beginning stories: Somewhere/Someone/Every day/One Day. If this is your first encounter with the concept, I discussed it at great length here.
It only just now occurred to me that this story is also a conversation between elements of nature like the story above. Perhaps this is a genre of parable worth exploring. How can other deep theological concepts be illustrated through conversations in nature? I’d love to hear your ideas.
The power of parable is that, through analogy, we set something that is easily understood (most children can describe the water cycle) next to something that is not easily understood. Nature parables are a great way to describe the resurrection. Geronimo the Grub is another beautiful one. The danger is that we let our congregations think the resurrection itself is a metaphor. For the Christian, the resurrection is an actual event. We do well to remember John Updike’s challenge:
SEVEN STANZAS AT EASTER
Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.
It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.
The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.
Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.
The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.
And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.
Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.Threatened with Resurrection
I happened on a slim copy of THREATENED WITH RESURRECTION quite by chance at my local library the summer before COVID. I have not yet returned it. I am not a liberation theologian and was not familiar with the life and ministry of Julia Esquivel. I was captured by the title and found the poetry within moving and beautiful.
The poem, They Threaten Us with Resurrection made me think of Paul’s defiant crowing in Corinthians 15:Where O death is your victory? Where O grave is your sting? Or, for that matter, Romans 8. I love this idea that in the world we are threatened only with resurrection. What else can they bring against us?
The more I learned about Julia Esquivel, the more I appreciated her as a witness to the resurrection. Like the women who followed Jesus, she bore witness to her people’s suffering but also to their eventual resurrection.
This dictatorship was installed and kept in power by the CIA. Whether or not you bring this up with your Easter Sunday visitors is up to you.
It may seem inelegant to give the cliff’s notes explanation of a poem before reading it but I’ve found that this is actually important. In an oral setting, the audience won’t have the luxury of going back and rereading a poem or pausing to think about it. To set them up for success you have to tell them what to look for in the poem so they can appreciate it. Even so, the inspiring language of the poem will overcome unfamiliarity with the subject. The hearer will get the gist even if they are not familiar with the ins and outs of the Guatemalan civil war.
My best advice for reading a poem outlaid is to ignore line breaks. Take short pauses at commas and longer pauses at periods.