December isn’t frenetic enough, so some people become religious professionals.
And because December for religious professionals (and the layfolk who participate in their choirs and pageants and extra services) is frenetic, they don’t really have time for your questions about whether the oil literally lasted eight days when it shouldn’t have lasted one, or whether the ancients literally thought the sun would disappear for ever, or whether Jesus was literally the son of God and was born in a manger and three wise guys found him by following a star.
We know you have doubts about these seemingly too-good-to-be-true tales.
We do too.
And still, we tell the stories, and put our faith in them, and act out the events, and celebrate them. Because that’s the power of stories like these. The too-good-to-be-true-ness of them is the point. And it’s good.
Who remembers that George Washington chopped down a cherry tree, and when asked about it, said ‘I cannot tell a lie’? When we were little, we thought that was true, until we learned that it was an allegory, that affirms his integrity. We don’t care that it’s true facts, because it represented something we know to be true about the man who became the first US president.
We tell these mythic narratives all the time - even about people living today (which is why, when we find out they’re actually just human and make human mistakes, it crushes our spirit). And we do this because, as I’ve said before, our brains are wired for story - we tell stories because we are formed by stories. It’s an endless loop. It’s how we learn. And what’s more, the stories don’t stay static - they change over time, to meet the moment. There are too many versions of Aesop’s original fables to count, across the world, in many forms. And remember that these began as oral stories, told to people who tell them to someone else, and somewhere along the line they get written down, and rewritten, and recast in a different setting, and with variations. Somewhere in that is a kernel of truth that began thousands of years ago - an affirmation of something crucial to know about humans. The story is true, even if it’s light on facts.
The same is true of the stories from our sacred texts. They were passed down in the oral tradition, told to one another to both remember things that happened but also to make them memorable. Characters become greater heroes or villains to emphasize meaning. Events get exaggerated. Coincidences are explained in relationship to the core story. Other stories are woven in or used to affirm a story. And they’re told to various audiences, who tell them and reshape them for other audiences. And somewhere along the line someone thinks to write them down, which sets off thousands of years of more retellings, and a considerable amount of arguing and debating about what is fact and what is true.
Which is missing the point.
When it comes to our sacred stories, we should not be asking is it factual - we should be asking is it helpful? As theologian Charles Halton talks about in his book A Human Shaped God, we should be asking do these stories help us become better, more charitable, more compassionate people? Do these stories lead us to generosity and hope?
We don’t need to interrogate the facts, especially when we’re simply trying to tell truth-filled, inspiring stories. When we get caught up in the details, we miss what actually matters about our telling of the longest night, the oil in the lamp, and the baby being born.
Because what matters is that there is always a glimmer of hope. There is always a light. And those things exist because we exist together, to be a light for one another.
Storytellers don’t tell stories in empty rooms. They tell stories with others, and those stories offer what others need to see hope, and light, and love. And in the frenzy of our Decembers, we can stop, be still, give thanks, and know that together - in our stories and in our celebrations - we will find hope.
And that’s the real truth.
Happy Yule. Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Blessed Kwanzaa.
Hold My Chalice will return on January 8, 2024.
Be excellent to one another.
Oddly this just popped up on my feed and it was exactly what I needed. Thank you