You can also enjoy a Zoom version of this service at 11am on Sunday 10th May. If you wish to access the serivce the code is as follows: Meeting ID: 841 9082 8195
This is a recurring meeting so it will be the same code each week and for all future.
“Let Me Tell You A Story, I Invite You To Tell Yours”
Invocation
I invite us to join together in a time of silence…Let us invite a loving presence to be amongst us and to awaken from deep within us…
Chalice Lighting
Blessed is the fire that burns deep in the soul. It is the flame of the human spirit touched into being by the mystery of life. It is the fire of reason; the fire of compassion; the fire of community; the fire of justice; the fire of faith. It is the fire of love burning deep in the human heart; the divine glow in every life.
Amen
Hymn 174 Green Hymn Book “A Church is a Living Fellowship” Words Frank Clabburn Tune Lancaster 96. 96. By David Dawson
A church is a living fellowship
More than a holy shrine,
Where people can share their hopes and fears
Less of the yours and mine;
Where bonded by trust we search for Truth
Beyond the chains of creeds,
Anthought can aspire to shine with fire
From all our deepest needs.
Let’s stretch out the open hand of Love,
Conquer the fists of hate,
Divided no more by voices of war,
Greeds of our mindless state;
We’ll take all our building bricks of Truth,
Make of them homes of Life,
A future to face the shame and disgrace
In all our pasts of strife.
A church is a place of human trust
More than of brick and stone;
Of love we will sing to make it ring
In every joyous tone.
Prayer (Followed by Lord’s Prayer)
“A WEB OF HOLY RELATIONSHIPS”by Lyn Cox
Spirit of Life,
Who draws us together in a web of holy relationships,
Make your presence known with us and in us and among us.
Remind us that we are not alone in history,
Ignite us with the courage of the living tradition.
Remind us that we are not alone in entering the future,
Anchor us with patience and perseverance.
Remind us that we are not alone in our times of grief and pain,
Comfort us with your spirit, manifest in human hands and voices.
Remind us that we are not alone in joy and wonder,
Inspire us to honor and extend the beauty we find in this world.
Divine music of the universe,
Let our hearts beat in diverse and harmonious rhythms,
Cooperating with an everlasting dance of love.
May we move with the rhythms of peace.
May we move with the rhythms of compassion.
May we move with the rhythms of justice.
Source of stars and planets and water and land
Open our hearts to all of our neighbors
Open our souls to a renewal of faith
Open our hands to join together in the work ahead.
So be it, blessed be, amen.
Lord’s Prayer
Reflection
Our lives are made up of all kinds of stories, that tell us who we are. We connect with one another through the telling of these stories. We all have our stories and we love to hear stories. I decided at the beginning of “lockdown” that I would film the telling of a story each day. I adopted a character Cap’N Dan and he tells tales old and new for young and old. The stories have helped people through a difficult time, both children and adults. The author Phillip Pulman has said of stories “After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.” I would suggest that in some ways stories give us nourishment, shelter and companionship in a none material sense.
Anthony DeMello wrote...
The Master gave his teaching in parables and stories, which his disciples listened to with pleasure — and occasional frustration, for they longed for something deeper.
The Master was unmoved. To all their objections he would say, "You have yet to understand, my dears, that the shortest distance between a human being and Truth is a story."
Stories are an access to something deeper within ourselves and within life. Stories are about Mythos. They are not fact, history, nor are they completely untrue, a myth as it is understood today. Mythos reveals a deeper universal “truth” that all people can connect to regardless of time and place. Mythos reveals a deeper “truth” about the human condition and nature of reality. They help us engage in the conversational nature of reality. For life is all about relation. A story is a deep conversation with life that enables us to connect more deeply to the meaning in life. Even good history is really about the telling of stories, it is not just prosaic fact. History comes alive by the telling of the stories within the events
Stories and story-telling have been distilling wisdom throughout the generations and I have no doubt that this will continue on into eternity. They have revealed universal truths, they have spoken deep into the soul of those who have cared to listen, introducing them to magic, mystery and the possibility of otherness. These stories have expanded the imagination and have been windows onto something beyond the confines of prosaic fact.
Stories exist in the great once upon a time, often in a land far, far away and yet we can not pinpoint this time and place, this is because they can connect to anyone in any time or place. Once upon a time is of course a safe place, a place we can explore our deeper subconscious selves and by exploring these depths safely we can explore with a sense of security and though we often do so alone we are connected to all past, present and future.
Once upon a time gives the story no set beginning and perhaps no ending. The story is never ending because life goes on. The stories connect us to the past, the present and the future.
So, here’s a never-ending story. It is taken from “Concentration and Compassion: More Stories from the World’s Spiritual Traditions” by my friend and retired colleague Rev Bill Darlison. It goes by the title
“The Endless Story”
In the Far East there was a great king called Calapha who had no work to do. Every day, and all day long, he sat on soft cushions and listened to stories. And no matter what the story was about, he never grew tired of hearing it, even though it was very long. “There is only one fault that I find with your story,” he often said: ‘It is too short.’
All the story-tellers in the world were invited to his palace, and some of them told tales that were very long indeed. But the king was always sad when a story was ended.
At last he sent word into every city and town and country place, offering a prize to anyone who should tell him and endless tale. He said, ‘To the man that will tell me a story which shall last forever, I will give Zaidee, my fairest daughter, for his wife; and I will make him my heir, and he shall be king after me.’
But this was not all. He added a very hard condition. “If any man shall try to tell such a story, and then fail, he shall have his head cut off.’
Zaidee was very pretty, and there were many young men in that country who were willing to do anything to win her. But none of them wanted to lose their heads, and so only a few tried for the prize.
One young man invented a story that lasted three months, but at the end of that time, he could think of nothing more. His fate was a warning to others, and it was a long time before another story-teller was so rash as to try the king’s patience.
But one day a stranger from the South came into the palace.
‘Great king,’ he said, ‘is it true that you offer a prize to the man who can tell a story that has no end?’
‘It is true,; said the king.
‘And shall this man have your fairest daughter for his wife, and shall he be your heir?’
‘Yes, if he succeeds,’ said the king. ‘But if he fails, he shall lose his head.’
‘Very well, then,’ said the stranger. ‘I have a pleasant story about locusts which I would like to relate.’
‘Tell it’ said the king. ‘I will listen to you.’
The story teller began his tale. ‘Once upon a time a certain king seized upon all the corn in his country, and stored it away in a strong granary. But a storm of locusts came over the land and saw where the grain had been put. After searching for many days they found on the east side of the granary a crevice that was just large enough for one locust to pass through at a time. So one locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn.’
Day after day, week after week, the man kept on saying, ‘Then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn.’
A month passed; a year passed. At the end of two years, the king said, ‘How much longer will the locust be going in and carrying away corn?’
‘O king! Said the story-teller, ‘they have as yet cleared only one small corner; and there are millions more grains of corn in the granary.’
‘Stop, Stop!’ cried the king, ‘You will drive me mad. I can listen to it no longer. Take my daughter; be my heir; rule my kingdom. But do not let me hear another word about those horrible locusts!’
And so the strange story-teller married Princess Zaidee, and he lived happily ever after in the land for many years. But his father-in-law, the king, had had enough of the endless stories.
Reading
Rachel Naomi Remen in Kitchen Table Wisdom , says:
“So many of us do not know our own story. A story about who we are, not what we have done. About what we have faced to build what we have built, what we have drawn upon and risked to do it, what we have felt, thought, feared, and discovered through the events of our lives. The real story that belongs to us alone.
All real stories are true. (though some may say) "But it didn't happen quite that way, it happened more like this." Over the years I have come to know that the stories both these people tell me are equally true, equally genuine, and that neither of them may be "correct," an exact description of the event much as a video camera might have recorded it. Stories are someone’s experience of the events of their life, they are not the events themselves. Most of us experience the same event very differently. We have seen it in our own unique way and the story we tell has more than a bit of ourselves in it. Truth is highly subjective. All stories are full of bias and uniqueness; they mix fact with meaning. This is the root of their power. Stories allow us to see something familiar through new eyes. We become in that moment a guest in someone else's life, and together with them sit at the feet of their teacher. The meaning we may draw from someone's story may be different from the meaning they themselves have drawn. No matter. Facts bring us to knowledge, but stories lead to wisdom.”
Reflection
We all have our stories and no doubt those that know us have stories to tell about us. It’s interesting that when a person tells a story about you their perception and memory will reveal something of how they see you and know you. It reveals as much about the storyteller as the person they are telling the story about. My mum recently recounted a tale from my childhood. It came following the news of the former Leeds United and England footballer Trevor Cherry. He was a much loved man in the whole of West Yorkshire as he played for both Leeds United and Huddersfield Town as well as being the manager of Bradford City during the tragedy of the fire at Valley Parade. Here is my mum’s recollection of a time when I was about nine years old. She recounts:
“Danny and I had an unforgettable experience in 1981 when we lived at Lepton on the outskirts of Huddersfield at the top of Rowley Lane.
Both boys were football mad. Otis was a Liverpool fan and Danny was a Leeds United fan. The lady next door told me that Trevor Cherry had moved into a new house just off Rowley Lane. I thought it might be a nice surprise to take Danny down there and show him where he lived. I had no idea which number it was. Naturally he was very excited and he was sat in the back seat. When I got down there it was a new development and you couldn't see the houses that were already built as the road turned away. I drove down the first bit and turned left to where I could see new houses. Unfortunately the road was unfinished and came to a dead end. I decided to reverse into someone's drive to turn round. I saw a car approach and to my horror I had reversed into their drive. Suddenly Danny leapt passed me to get to the front and shouted " Mum it's him it's Trevor Cherry" I looked up and could see Trevor Cherry drumming his fingers on the steering wheel with that look of "Not another nosey fan" I tried to get Danny to stop shouting and pointing but to no avail. I panicked and the car stalled. All the while Danny is saying " Mum, it is him, it's Trevor Cherry" Eventually I escaped with Danny now back in the back seat was waving frantically at Trevor Cherry and his family.
Rest in peace Trevor Cherry and thank you for this special memory.
We all have our own story and we all have stories that speak to us personally. What are your stories, what are the tales and stories that speak to you? Maybe this is something to think about. Perhaps ask yourself what it is about these stories that speaks to your heart and soul?
Hymn 235 Green hymn book “A Melody of Love” words Henry Walford Davies tune Childhhod meter 888. 6.
1 God speaks to us in bird and song,
In winds that drift the clouds along,
Above the din and toil of wrong,
A melody of love.
2 God speaks to us in far and near,
In peace of home and friends most dear,
From the dim past and present clear,
A melody of love.
3 God speaks to us in darkest night,
By quiet ways through mornings bright,
When shadows fall with evening light,
A melody of love.
4 O Voice divine, speak thou to me.
Beyond the earth, beyond the sea,
First let me hear, then sing to thee
A melody of love.
Reading
Here is a classic parable from the New Testament from Luke’s Gospel
Luke Ch 10 vv 25-37
25 Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus.* ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ 26He said to him, ‘What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ 27He answered, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself.’28And he said to him, ‘You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.’
29 But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbour?’ 30Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 31Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33But a Samaritan while travelling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. 34He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35The next day he took out two denarii,* gave them to the innkeeper, and said, “Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.” 36Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’ 37He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.’
Reflection
The great sages such and Jesus and the Buddha excelled in storytelling. They so because they knew that through a story they could reach every aspect of the person receiving their truth. They that people could relate to a story, that it could open them up. A story really does put flesh on the word. Shaman and elders of every tradition also shared their wisdom through telling the tale around the campfires and other gatherings. They drew their listeners to deeper visions of life with imagery and symbolism. The story teller has always been with us and is with us today. In fact you could say that perhaps today there are so many stories it is difficult to discern what is useful and what is not.
Everybody can and does tell and share their story. Modern social media allows almost unlimited access. We share our tales and these stories are open to the world. Like all classic tales, these stories are an interesting mixture of the good and bad, the negative and the positive, the light and dark. Real life does not have a Hollywood ending and actually usually the classic ones didn’t either. Yes the Grimm tales were named after the brothers who compiled them, but also because in many ways they were pretty grim.
The old stories were not just entertainment, they were trying to teach something about the nature of humanity and life itself, they had a kind of morality about them, an ethic a meaning,. Some say that today this narrative as almost disappeared.
Post-modernism would claim that today there is no longer one narrative. The French philosopher Jean-Francois Lyotard has defined post-modernism as ‘the death of metanarrative’. He claimed that we no longer have nor need the big stories ‘that tell us who we are, where we come from, and what we are called to do.’
Personally, I am not convinced by this argument as I do see universal qualities in all these tales. Whether it’s the one I hear from friends and family, or the one I see on the big screen, or the one I read in some ancient text. The stories may be told in different ways but they still connect us with one another through time and space. They do more than connect us though, they heal us, they renew us and spur us on to greater things. Regardless of when they were first told and by who they still have the capacity to tell us who we are, where we come from and what we are called to do.
The Parable of the Good Samaritan we heard earlier answered the question of who is our neighbour, a tale from two thousand years ago, but surely a tale we can all still relate today. How we see our near neighbours currently will impact on how we see our neighbours wherever we live in what time, this once upon a time is actually anytime, including this time. Who are your neighbours and by the way what are your neighbours like?
Here’s another tale taken from another of Bill Darlison’s short story anthologies, this time from “The Shortest Distance”: 101 Stories from the World’s Spiritual Traditions”
“What are the neighbours like”
One Sunday afternoon in spring, the time of year when people go looking for a new house, an old man was leaning on his garden gate, smoking on a pipe, and meditating on life, when a stranger approached him. “Excuse me, sir,’ said the stranger. ‘I’m thinking of moving to this town, and I was wondering what people are like around here?’
The old man took his pipe from his mouth and said, ‘What are the people like where you live now?’
‘Oh I don’t like them. They are noisey, selfish, mean, and unfriendly. I’ve lived there for five years and I’ve not found a single person that I like. I’ll be glad to get away from them.’
‘Well,’ said the old man, ‘I expect you’ll find the people around here are like that too – selfish mean and unfriedly. I don’t think you’ll like it here.’
The stranger walked on. A little while later, another stranger approached the old man. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said, I’m thinking of moving to this town, and I was wondering what the people are like around here?’
‘What are the people like where you live now?’
‘Oh they are fine people. I’ve grown to love them all. They are friendly, sociable, helpful. I’ll be sorry to leave, but I’ve just been promoted and so I’ve got to move house.’
‘Well,’ said the old man, ‘I expect you’ll find that the people around here are like that too – friendly, sociable, and helpful I think you’ll enjoy living here.
What are your neighbours like? What stories would you tell of them? What stories would they tell about you?
Meditation
I invite us to join together in a time of prayer, meditation and contemplation. Following words of settlement let is share a time in silence together. Following the silence please play some music of your own choice.
I invite us to quieten our minds, still our thoughts, connect to our bodies, to our breathing to our life sustaining breath, the breath of all life…Let us be still and silent together.
5 minutes of silence
Music for reflection of our own choice
Hymn 147 Purple
“Spirit of Earth, Root, Stone and Tree” words Lyanne Mitchell Tune “Leaving of Lismore”
Spirit of earth, root, tone and tree,
Water of life, flowing in me,
Keeping me stable, nourishing me,
O fill me with living energy!
Spirit of nature, healing and free,
Spirit of love, expanding in me,
Spirit of life, breathe deeply in me,
Inspire me with living energy.
Spirit of love, softly draw near,
Open my heart, lessen my fear,
Sing of compassion, help me to hear,
O fill me with loving energy!
Spirit of nature, healing and free,
Spirit of love, expanding in me,
Spirit of life, breathe deeply in me,
Inspire me with living energy.
Spirit of life, you are my song,
Sing in my soul, all my life long,
Gladden and guide me, keep me from wrong,
O fill me with sacred energy!
Spirit of nature, healing and free,
Spirit of love, expanding in me,
Spirit of life, breathe deeply in me,
Inspire me with living energy.
Story
Here's another story from Bill Darlison’s “The Shortest Distance: 101 Stories from the World’s Spiritual Traditions” This is one of the classic tales of Mulla Nasruddhin.
“A Gift of Tomatoes”
Nasruddin was a keen gardener, and one year his garden produced a very fine crop of peaches. “I’m so pleased with these beautiful peaches,” he told his neighbour, “that I think I’ll take some to the Sultan as a present.”
“Good idea,” said his neighbour.
So off Nasruddin went to the palace with a box of his choicest peaches, and they were very gratefully received by the Sultan, who happened to like peaches very much.
Later in the year, Nasruddin’s garden yielded some big turnips. Nasruddin had never grown better, so he decided that he’d take a few along to the sultan, who was sure to appreciate such fine specimens.
“Where are you going.” Asked his neighbour, as Nasruddin walked along the road with a box of turnips in his hands.
“I’m just going to give these turnips to the Sultan. They are the best I’ve ever grown,” said Nasruddin, with pride.
“You can’t take turnips to the Sultan!” said the neighbour. “He liked your peaches, but peaches are a different matter. Peaches are exotic and sweet, but turnips are just for feeding to the cattle! The Sultan would be insulted. Take him some tomatoes instead.”
Now it happened that Nasruddin had a good crop of tomatoes too, so, taking his neighbours advice, he left the turnips at home and made up a box of tomatoes to take to the Sultan. But the Sultan was in a bad mood that day. He’d had an argument with his wife (The Sultana!) about who should do the washing up, and she’d told him in no uncertain terms that he was a lazy good-for-nothing slob! What’s more he didn’t like tomatoes! Whenever they appeared on a sandwich, he would remove them and leave them on his plate, or feed them to the dog under the table. So, when Nasruddin appeared with a box of tomatoes the Sultan was less than gracious. “I hate tomatoes” he yelled. “I never liked them in the past, I don’t like them now, and I won’t like them in the future.” Saying these words the red faced Sultan started to throw the tomatoes at Nasruddin, splattering them on his head.
Nasruddin ran away from the Sultan’s palace shouting, “Thank you, my neighbour, thank you!”
A friend stopped him. “Why are you saying thank you to your neighbour? Your covered in squashed tomatoes!”
“Yes, and if I hadn’t heeded my neighbour’s warning my skull would have been bashed in with turnips!”
Reflection
I love Nasruddin, the holy fool. You will find characters like him in most cultures. Through humour they reveal deep truths, ones that are too often hidden.
Humour is something that helps us through the great trials of life. Many of the great stories have laughter and humour within them. Sadly humour can be absent in the spiritual life, it ought not to be. There is something lacking in a spirituality that takes itself too seriously. The spiritual life can at times be perceived as an arid and serious world, utterly devoid of humour and lightness. Many of us look at the spiritual, the religious life, as if were a dose of rather distasteful medicine. We may well see the benefits of it, but aren’t sure we would like the way it tastes. We are frightened that it might actually reduce our experience of life. We can easily become too intense and earnest in our approach to spirituality; by doing so we can view laughter as sacrilegious and end up apologising for the freedom that it can breed. We should never apologise for experiencing joy and laughter. The spiritual life needs humour. There is humour in the ancient tales, so surely there is a place for it in our age. There is always room for Divine humour. “Life is too serious to be taken too seriously.”
Here’s another tale this time taken from Anthony DeMello’s “Taking Flight: A Book of story Meditations” from the Chapter “The Self”
A woman in a coma was dying. She suddenly had a feeling that she was taken up to heaven and stood before the Judgement Seat.
“Who are you?” a Voice said to her.
“I’m the wife of the mayor,” she replied.
“I did not ask you whose wife you are but who you are.”
“I’m the mother of four children.”
“I did not ask whose mother you are, but who you are.”
“I’m a schoolteacher.”
“I did not ask you what your profession is but who you are.”
And so it went. No matter what she replied, she did not seem to give a satisfactory answer to the question. “Who are you?”
“I’m a Christian.”
“I did not ask what your religion is but who are you.”
“I’m the one who went to church every day and always helped the poor and needy.”
“I did not ask you what you did not but who you are.”
She evidently failed the examination for she was sent back to earth. When she recovered from her illness she determined to find out who she was. And that made all the difference.
Your duty is to be. Not to be somebody, not to be nobody—for therein lies greed and ambition—not to be this or that—and thus become conditioned—but just to be.
Reflection
So I ask again, what is your story? What is the story that speaks to you and of you? Where do you find yourself, what gives you the permission to simply be.
When we listen to the great stories and when we listen one another’s stories we connect not only to each other but to all people at all times, past present and future and of course to that greater reality present in all life. These stories bring a zest to life; these stories help us to see ourselves reflected in a different light. Through identifying we also see our own absurdities and we can laugh at our own holy foolishness. This helps us see a new, a different perspective. A great story builds a bridge from our particular life to the timeless, the universal, they connect us to the whole. They are windows that give us a glimpse of something way beyond ourselves.
These stories nourish us. They reveal profound spiritual and psychological realities. They illuminate the inevitable difficulties that every human life faces. Great stories reveal new vistas, they shine a light on a new path, a new way and they teach us how to see this new path, they remind us that there are always new possibilities. They open up our hearts, our minds and our souls. These stories are an invitation to laugh, to awaken, to journey with others. These stories are also our stories. These stories have the power to touch us deeply, to move us intensely and to inspire us to fully live our lives.
In “Crow and Weasel” Barry Lopez said
“The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put these stories in each other’s memory. This is how people care for themselves.”
I will continue to listen to the stories and when they come to me I will nurture them, I will take care of them and I will continue to give them away, we all need them. I ask that you do the same, because by doing so we will better take care of ourselves.
I will continue telling the tale and I will listen as you tell yours.
So I ask again, what is your story? What is the story that speaks to you and of you? In which story do you find yourself, what gives you the permission to simply be?
Hymn 88 Purple Hymn Book “Let it be a dance we do” Words Ric Masten Tune Masten
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
For the good times, and the bad times too,
Let it be a dance.
Let a dancing song be heard.
Play the music. Say the words.
Fill the sky with sailing birds.
Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance.
Every body turn and spin.
Let your bodies learn to bend
Like a willow in the wind,
And let it be a dance.
A child is born. We all must die.
A time for joy, a time to cry --
So, take it as it passes by,
And let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
For the good times, and the bad times too,
Let it be a dance.
The morning star comes out at night.
Without the dark, there'd be no light.
Yet, if nothing's wrong, then nothing's right.
So, let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance.
Let the sun shine. Let it rain.
Share the laughter. Bear the pain.
Round and round we go again,
And let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
For the good times, and the bad times too,
Let it be a dance.
Benediction
“Blessed is the Path” by Eric Williams
Blessed is the path on which you travel.
Blessed is the body that carries you upon it.
Blessed is your heart that has heard the call.
Blessed is your mind that discerns the way.
Blessed is the gift that you will receive by going.
Truly blessed is the gift that you will become on the journey.
May you go forth in peace.
And may we bless all of life by our very being and may we do so in all that we feel, all that we think, all that we say and all that we do. Amen
“A Gift of Tomatoes”
Nasruddin was a keen gardener, and one year his garden produced a very fine crop of peaches. “I’m so pleased with these beautiful peaches,” he told his neighbour, “that I think I’ll take some to the Sultan as a present.”
“Good idea,” said his neighbour.
So off Nasruddin went to the palace with a box of his choicest peaches, and they were very gratefully received by the Sultan, who happened to like peaches very much.
Later in the year, Nasruddin’s garden yielded some big turnips. Nasruddin had never grown better, so he decided that he’d take a few along to the sultan, who was sure to appreciate such fine specimens.
“Where are you going.” Asked his neighbour, as Nasruddin walked along the road with a box of turnips in his hands.
“I’m just going to give these turnips to the Sultan. They are the best I’ve ever grown,” said Nasruddin, with pride.
“You can’t take turnips to the Sultan!” said the neighbour. “He liked your peaches, but peaches are a different matter. Peaches are exotic and sweet, but turnips are just for feeding to the cattle! The Sultan would be insulted. Take him some tomatoes instead.”
Now it happened that Nasruddin had a good crop of tomatoes too, so, taking his neighbours advice, he left the turnips at home and made up a box of tomatoes to take to the Sultan. But the Sultan was in a bad mood that day. He’d had an argument with his wife (The Sultana!) about who should do the washing up, and she’d told him in no uncertain terms that he was a lazy good-for-nothing slob! What’s more he didn’t like tomatoes! Whenever they appeared on a sandwich, he would remove them and leave them on his plate, or feed them to the dog under the table. So, when Nasruddin appeared with a box of tomatoes the Sultan was less than gracious. “I hate tomatoes” he yelled. “I never liked them in the past, I don’t like them now, and I won’t like them in the future.” Saying these words the red faced Sultan started to throw the tomatoes at Nasruddin, splattering them on his head.
Nasruddin ran away from the Sultan’s palace shouting, “Thank you, my neighbour, thank you!”
A friend stopped him. “Why are you saying thank you to your neighbour? Your covered in squashed tomatoes!”
“Yes, and if I hadn’t heeded my neighbour’s warning my skull would have been bashed in with turnips!”
Reflection
I love Nasruddin, the holy fool. You will find characters like him in most cultures. Through humour they reveal deep truths, ones that are too often hidden.
Humour is something that helps us through the great trials of life. Many of the great stories have laughter and humour within them. Sadly humour can be absent in the spiritual life, it ought not to be. There is something lacking in a spirituality that takes itself too seriously. The spiritual life can at times be perceived as an arid and serious world, utterly devoid of humour and lightness. Many of us look at the spiritual, the religious life, as if were a dose of rather distasteful medicine. We may well see the benefits of it, but aren’t sure we would like the way it tastes. We are frightened that it might actually reduce our experience of life. We can easily become too intense and earnest in our approach to spirituality; by doing so we can view laughter as sacrilegious and end up apologising for the freedom that it can breed. We should never apologise for experiencing joy and laughter. The spiritual life needs humour. There is humour in the ancient tales, so surely there is a place for it in our age. There is always room for Divine humour. “Life is too serious to be taken too seriously.”
Here’s another tale this time taken from Anthony DeMello’s “Taking Flight: A Book of story Meditations” from the Chapter “The Self”
A woman in a coma was dying. She suddenly had a feeling that she was taken up to heaven and stood before the Judgement Seat.
“Who are you?” a Voice said to her.
“I’m the wife of the mayor,” she replied.
“I did not ask you whose wife you are but who you are.”
“I’m the mother of four children.”
“I did not ask whose mother you are, but who you are.”
“I’m a schoolteacher.”
“I did not ask you what your profession is but who you are.”
And so it went. No matter what she replied, she did not seem to give a satisfactory answer to the question. “Who are you?”
“I’m a Christian.”
“I did not ask what your religion is but who are you.”
“I’m the one who went to church every day and always helped the poor and needy.”
“I did not ask you what you did not but who you are.”
She evidently failed the examination for she was sent back to earth. When she recovered from her illness she determined to find out who she was. And that made all the difference.
Your duty is to be. Not to be somebody, not to be nobody—for therein lies greed and ambition—not to be this or that—and thus become conditioned—but just to be.
Reflection
So I ask again, what is your story? What is the story that speaks to you and of you? Where do you find yourself, what gives you the permission to simply be.
When we listen to the great stories and when we listen one another’s stories we connect not only to each other but to all people at all times, past present and future and of course to that greater reality present in all life. These stories bring a zest to life; these stories help us to see ourselves reflected in a different light. Through identifying we also see our own absurdities and we can laugh at our own holy foolishness. This helps us see a new, a different perspective. A great story builds a bridge from our particular life to the timeless, the universal, they connect us to the whole. They are windows that give us a glimpse of something way beyond ourselves.
These stories nourish us. They reveal profound spiritual and psychological realities. They illuminate the inevitable difficulties that every human life faces. Great stories reveal new vistas, they shine a light on a new path, a new way and they teach us how to see this new path, they remind us that there are always new possibilities. They open up our hearts, our minds and our souls. These stories are an invitation to laugh, to awaken, to journey with others. These stories are also our stories. These stories have the power to touch us deeply, to move us intensely and to inspire us to fully live our lives.
In “Crow and Weasel” Barry Lopez said
“The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put these stories in each other’s memory. This is how people care for themselves.”
I will continue to listen to the stories and when they come to me I will nurture them, I will take care of them and I will continue to give them away, we all need them. I ask that you do the same, because by doing so we will better take care of ourselves.
I will continue telling the tale and I will listen as you tell yours.
So I ask again, what is your story? What is the story that speaks to you and of you? In which story do you find yourself, what gives you the permission to simply be?
Hymn 88 Purple Hymn Book “Let it be a dance we do” Words Ric Masten Tune Masten
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
For the good times, and the bad times too,
Let it be a dance.
Let a dancing song be heard.
Play the music. Say the words.
Fill the sky with sailing birds.
Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance.
Every body turn and spin.
Let your bodies learn to bend
Like a willow in the wind,
And let it be a dance.
A child is born. We all must die.
A time for joy, a time to cry --
So, take it as it passes by,
And let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
For the good times, and the bad times too,
Let it be a dance.
The morning star comes out at night.
Without the dark, there'd be no light.
Yet, if nothing's wrong, then nothing's right.
So, let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance.
Let the sun shine. Let it rain.
Share the laughter. Bear the pain.
Round and round we go again,
And let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
For the good times, and the bad times too,
Let it be a dance.
Benediction
“Blessed is the Path” by Eric Williams
Blessed is the path on which you travel.
Blessed is the body that carries you upon it.
Blessed is your heart that has heard the call.
Blessed is your mind that discerns the way.
Blessed is the gift that you will receive by going.
Truly blessed is the gift that you will become on the journey.
May you go forth in peace.
And may we bless all of life by our very being and may we do so in all that we feel, all that we think, all that we say and all that we do. Amen
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