I grew up in post-WW II Scotland. I remember sitting around a coal fire with my parents and grandparents hearing stories of the war and how that war affected their lives and well-being. There was pain and laughter, challenge and purpose, recovery and loss in these stories. They always ended with statements like: “We survived and we had some good times in the midst of our pain. We pray that you will not have to go through what we did.”.
As I travel around these islands, I am constantly amazed at the stories I hear and experience - stories of journeys and of healing, of pain and separation; stories of joy and liberation; stories of faith and stories of traditions; stories that are new and stories that are ancient; stories of the First Peoples; and stories of settlers, refugees, tourists and visitors.
There is presence in these stories which transforms and changes, a presence that sustains and nurtures, challenges and comforts, and brings hope and peace.
The new stories are about a chance to begin again with opportunities to reach out in generosity and kindness. There are stories that tell of beauty and love, and tenderness and mercy. The ancient ones tell us about resilience and constancy in the face of overwhelming odds. We hear and see these stories in the faith communities in which we live but stories are not restricted only to people of faith.
Not all stories are good or harmonious. Some divide, bring hate, or hurt and hinder others. These we must reject and dismiss because of the overwhelming goodness that we see and know in humanity and in the divine. These are not the story of God but come from places of hurt and pain at the very root of humanity. The story of humanity’s anger lived out of pain is one that does not build up but tears down and is one we are seeing today on an international scale. I do not want to give the impression that there are simple answers to the complex world in which we live. Each of us, however, through self-examination and self-awareness, can look and appreciate how we respond to each situation.
When we hear stories, which invite us into relationship with neighbours, the First Peoples of these lands, the immigrants and refugees, the homeless and those suffering from addictions we know these are good stories. How do these stories shape us and those we speak about?
Each day we begin a new story of ourselves. We write ourselves into the stories and lives of family and neighbours. Stories shape and form us into who we are. We are the authors of our own future and that of our children. As we tell stories of the interconnectedness and diversity of this planet and humanity we prepare the way for generations yet to be born.
The late Archbishop Óscar Romero of the Americas said we are prophets of a future not our own. We are keepers of truth, we are story tellers of the past and present so that we might shape a future not our own. However, to shape that future we must live stories of inclusion, diversity, peace, gentleness, non-violence and truth. The future will only be lived out as we live and are transformed by these stories bringing harmony and healing.
Walk gently with one another, walk gently with the creator, walk gently on this land.
The Right Reverend Logan McMenamie is the Anglican Bishop of the Diocese of British Columbia.
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