Passing on the story

Passage for reflection: Psalm 145

School for me was often not a happy time but one thing I loved at junior school was the Monday morning write in your news book time. We were to sit down and write down the story of our weekend. I would always write about going to our little village chapel and then I’d badly draw it. I wrote down what I remembered. 

Christmas is 100 days away as I write this. Goodness only knows how we will celebrate Christmas! We always used to gather as a family and after tea play games. My Auntie Doris would at some point in the evening turn to my Uncle and say “go and put some things on a tray, Bob!” We would then look at the things on the tray (which were the same every year) then the things were covered up and we had to shout out how many we remembered. 

I had an interesting night on Wednesday during sleep. I had a nightmare where a man was chasing me. It was vivid and I whacked my face on the bedside table next to me. I woke up with blood round my eye and my eye got blacker as the day went on. I’m amazed no one I visited on Thursday asked what I’d done to my eye. I looked like someone had thumped me! 

Passing on our story is an essential part of our spirituality whether we write it down or tell it out loud. Psalm 145 is the lectionary Psalm for this Sunday. The Psalm played a major role in the prayer life of the Jews. The Talmud, a collection of ancient Rabbinic writings on Hebrew scripture and worship, directed the people to say this Psalm three times a day every day.

 “Clearly,” one commentator notes, “the people of Israel were formed in their faith by repetition of their hymns of praise.”   

 

“One generation shall declare your works to another and shall declare your mighty acts.”

The Psalm reminds me of two important things.

First, we need to remember those who passed on the story of God’s love to us. Who were those wise, often older people, who gently told us of Jesus? For me there were saints at the Folly chapel in Wheathampstead, the chapel I wrote about and drew in my Monday news book. Claude Deaville was my Sunday School teacher. The Sunday School was just me! He enthralled me as we sat together in the vestry, pre safeguarding days, and he just simply passed on his faith to me.

Then I think we have to cherish our own story and be able to pass it on. At the end of my second week in a new appointment I’m really enjoying getting amongst my eight communities to hear what they want to pass on to me. This is being done through Zoom Coffee mornings, visits in gardens over afternoon teas (ginger scones and pancakes with jam!) meetings to discuss the future and the next few months, and wacky ways to do Church Councils: one in a car park last week, and another on a farm next week. I’m taking time to listen to people. What are the precious things we want to pass on? What are our spiritual items on a tray we want others to remember?

 I find the poem “The Sharing” by Edwina Gateley very helpful:

“We told our stories— that's all. We sat and listened to each other and heard the journeys of each soul. We sat in silence entering each one's pain and sharing each one's joy. We heard love's longing and the lonely reachings-out for love and affirmation. We heard of dreams shattered. And visions fled. Of hopes and laughter turned stale and dark. We felt the pain of isolation and the bitterness of death.

But in each brave and lonely story God's gentle life broke through and we heard music in the darkness and smelled flowers in the void.

We felt the budding of creation in the searchings of each soul and discerned the beauty of God's hand in each muddy, twisted path.

And His voice sang in each story. His life sprang from each death. Our sharing became one story of a simple lonely search for life and hope and oneness in a world which sobs for love. And we knew that in our sharing, Gods voice with mighty breath was saying "Love each other and take each other's hand."

For you are one though many and in each of you I live. So listen to my story and share my pain and death. Oh, listen to my story and rise and live with me.”

Barbara Glasson, last year’s President of Conference in her address to Conference talked about the importance of story and sharing what we remember.

“We are people of a multitude of wise, troubling, hilarious, faithful human stories - so let’s tell them, and surprise ourselves once again with the way of Jesus. And let’s find new confidence in the story of God, not as a mallet to knock in stakes of certainty, but with hearts strangely warmed wit the assurance that the world can be changed through unconditional love.”

They shall speak of the majesty of your glory, •
   and I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.
They shall speak of the might of your marvellous acts, •
   and I will also tell of your greatness.
They shall pour forth the story of your abundant kindness •
   and joyfully sing of your righteousness.
The Lord is gracious and merciful, •
   long-suffering and of great goodness.

You know, we wonder why people aren’t coming to church. I know why. It’s because we aren’t passing on the story. Surely as we think seriously in a pandemic world what matters, this sharing what is in our heart has to be the priority. We can pass gossip from one end of the city to the other, what will be pass on that is more healthy?