Friday morning Walter Wangerin Jr. told a story about a hyena. I think the hyena was in a dessert. At least, that’s where I pictured him. What’s important is that the hyena was hungry and looking for food. Eventually he smells food off to his right but as soon as “he lifted his right paw” he smelled food to his left. Which way should he go? Left? Right? Left?! Right?!?! LEFT?! RIGHT!?! He was so worked up that he died. I imagined him exploding but what’s important to know is that he died.
Wangerin told us that a friend of his told this story to a classroom of students, and I believe that the story was told in a classroom in Africa. I’m sorry I don’t remember what the specifics of the setting are, but what’s important is that in the classroom were two sets of listeners: those that believed the story was true and those that concluded, “it’s just a story.”
When the teacher asked those that believed the story was true, one student seemed to physcially struggle to say these two words: Greed kills.
The point I want to dwell on is not about greed. When I heard Wangerin tell about the struggle the student had to explain himself, my heart felt like it was being squeezed and I knew that if I had to explain why it would be a struggle for me to do so. Then Wangerin explained it for me. He said that the reason for the struggle was that in order to explain the story, that student would have to come out of it. Once he explained the story, he would lose part of the experience.
I made a mistake declaring I would blog everyday from the Festival of Faith and Writing. While there is lots I want to reflect and share, I’m not ready to step out of the experience. I will, and I believe I should but right now I think it will squeeze my heart too much in an attempt to explain.
On Thursday night I sat with a few others and talked with author Sarah Arhtur about stories that brought us closer to God. After one woman shared an experience with a story that touched her, Sarah said, “That story happened to you.”
That’s what’s going on with me. Stories are happening to me and I’m not ready to struggle my way out of them just yet. It’s not that I’m sitting comfortably with them, however. I think when stories happen to you, “comfort” is not a word that appropriately describes the experiene. I’m restless and excited. I’m breathless and joyful.
I’ll get to them and I’m looking forward to exploring the stories have have darted their way into my view. Right now, I’m just going to stare at them awhile. No paws will be lifted, no decisions will be made. I’m OK sniffing the air for a time.
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