Religion and the Narrative

                Narratives, the fundamental stories that define and shape a belief system, make religion accessible and relatable. They are the practice and the practical of theology. They show relatable situations with realistic characters whose actions and responses are either examples of what to do or what not to do. In this way, stories are our means of reflecting on the fundamental questions of religion: Why are we here? What happens after we die? What constitutes good? What defines evil? These are complex questions, and narratives frame them in terms we can understand. A child can understand the moral of “The Tortoise and the Hare” long before they can discuss stamina and perseverance. Narratives are catchy, attractive, and memorable. Nearly every influential religious figure excelled as a storyteller. The parables of Jesus are among the most recognizable passages in the New Testament. Later thinkers, from Rumi to Dr. King to Billy Graham, are remembered for the eloquence of their speaking and writing. Charismatic leaders, good or evil, gain power by controlling the narrative.

            A fascinating example of this occurs in modern Tibetan Buddhism. In 1959, following the annexation of Tibet by the People’s Republic of China, the Dalai Lama fled to exile in India, where he remains to this day. When the Dalai Lama identified Gedhun Choekyi Nyima in 1995 as the Panchen Lama (the second highest figure in Tibetan Buddhism), the Chinese government immediately kidnapped the six-year-old boy and replaced him with their candidate. Nyima has not been seen since (China). Now an elderly man, the Dalai Lama has stated that he cannot and will not be reborn under Chinese authority, effectively setting up Tibetan Buddhism for a Moses-style exile narrative (Clark). The publicity of his situation has brought Western attention to Buddhism, demonstrating the power of the narrative in twenty-first century religious dialogue. 

            Indeed, no religion can thrive without narratives. According to data from the Pew Research Center, almost ninety-nine percent of religious people worldwide belong to faiths that are more than one-thousand years old (the only major exceptions being Sikhism and Baha’i). Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam have all undergone dramatic changes in core emphases, beliefs, and practices over their centuries- or millennia-old histories. The narrative both records and balances this evolution. Dr. Keith Suter says, “Each religion is a cumulative learning experience: a later generation can build upon what is contained in the sacred texts (oral or written) that have evolved over time, rather than having to start from the beginning.” The narrative contextualizes developments into the wider dialogue and provide vital continuity.

Sometimes, narratives absorb so much that they themselves become history. Jewish history, for example, is marked by the exile narrative. For a religion centered on the idea of a chosen people and a promised homeland, the cycle of exile and return is traumatic. But the presence of this narrative in the Torah, that is, in their theological core, lends a spiritual justification to this cycle of persecution. The exile narrative therefore becomes an object of celebration and resilient beauty. Interestingly for a story so tied to one nation, the culture of this narrative has become a symbol for outcast peoples worldwide. The sentiment immortalized in Psalm 147 is common to African-American and post-colonial literature, and “Pharaoh, let my people go” is a universal rallying cry for the oppressed. By nature, narratives convey a sense of belonging to their tellers and hearers. Wade Clark Roof, former president of the Religious Research Association, said, “We tell stories not so much to illustrate as to affirm who we are and what gives identity, purpose, and meaning to our existence.” For peoples without a homeland, the exile narrative offers a place in which to exist.

            Stories are the ultimate ecumenical device; they contain no innate politics, no demands, no arguments. People unwilling to engage in discussion or debate are often willing to listen to stories; this is the basic premise of testimony-based evangelism. They illustrate without resorting to jargon. Particularly important in the modern intellectual climate, stories add a degree of depth and nuance often lacking in current dialogue, by utilizing real, flawed human beings as models of action and behavior. For this reason, we cannot move beyond storytelling. We can never replace it with research or empiricism.

            In this way, the narrative itself becomes quasi-religious. Roof, quoting Wesley Kort, speaks of it as “the attempt to create ‘ordered time.’” He goes on to say, “By imposing order and meaning on life’s sequence of events, narrative forces questions of interpretation.” These same questions of interpretation are fundamental characteristics of religion, and the narrative seeks to shape their many answers into something that exists cohesively in time and space. The nature of the Divine is unknowable and impossible to understand, so we frame it in narrative in order to bring it into our own lives.