Inspired imagination
09/10/14 05:30
It has been said that Robert Michael Ballantyne had printer’s ink in his blood. His father, Alexander was a newspaper editor and printer, but the book printer in the family was his uncle, James, who was the printer for the Scottish author Sir Walter Scott. But it might not have been the printing business that launched RM’s career.He grew up at the tail end of a large family. There were ten children and RM was number 9, the last son. His father’s newspaper went broke during the bank crisis of 1825 as RM approached his teens. At 16 he found himself apprenticed to the Hudson’s Bay Company for five years as a junior trader.He traveled by canoe and dogsled to some of the most remote country in northern Canada. He learned some of the ways of the indigenous people. He learned the rigors of travel in isolated locations, he felt hunger occasionally.
And he got homesick.
To deal with his homesickness he began to write long letters home. In his 1893 memoir, “Personal Reminiscenses in Book Making,” “To this long-letter writing I attribute whatever small amount of facility in compassion I may have acquired.”
He was being modest when he wrote “small amount of facility.” RM Ballantyne was the author of more than 100 books. His genre was juvenile fiction. He wrote adventure stories for teens. The seeds of a lot of those stories came from the adventures he had as a teen.
I guess I had a few adventures between the ages of 16 and 21. I was a year older than RM when I moved away from home. My trip was only 80 miles rather than across the ocean. I went to college while RM went to very hard labor. I was still going to school five years later.
Along the way I did take a few backpack trips to remote locations. I did paddle a few strokes in a canoe. I got married. But I didn’t spend any amount of time trading with Indians, mushing dogs, surviving -50 temperatures, sitting around the campfire with voyageurs listing to their tales while sipping the day’s dram of rum, or waiting out the wind and weather on a remote island in a huge lake.
On the other hand, RM Ballantyne’s most famous story is called “The Coral Island,” an adventure perhaps roughly based in Ballantyne’s ship travels, though he didn’t sail southern seas. The story is famous for two things: First, Robert Louis Stevenson was inspired to write his novel, “Treasure Island” by reading the tale, and second, he got the thickness of a coconut shell all wrong. It is that second little bit of trivia that is most inspirational to me. He was writing from his imagination and it is that imagination, I believe, that is most critical for a writer and teller of tales.
Now I’m a firm believer in telling the truth. I think it is a good idea to do your research. But there is something about a well-crafted story that gives it the ability to at least stretch and bend the truth, to create its own world separate from the world of the listeners, that invites one into the tale. Garrison Keillor has told a lot of truth and shared a lot of wisdom by talking about a town that has never existed. Lake Woebegone has become the hometown of countless people who grew up in and left small towns. Its characters have become believable enough to serve as models and mentors for others. That is what happens when a story is well-told. The “facts” might all be wrong, while the underlying truth continues to be true.
Jesus was that kind of storyteller. When he told about a man who fell into thieves on the road, his listeners understood that it was a lesson in neighborliness and never thought to question whether the story was fact or fiction. When he spoke of a sower tossing seed in the weeds and on the road, they never questioned his agricultural expertise or experience. They allowed themselves to become involved in the stories he told and to be transformed by the lessons therein.
It is a challenge for a preacher seeking to be a disciple of Jesus. Making up stories for sermon illustrations isn’t encouraged. Then again, many of the stories that a pastor knows first hand aren’t his or her to tell. A minister who builds a career by going around and telling stories about other people won’t be long in the pulpit.
Then again, some of Jesus’ stories are complex enough that you don’t get them on the first read. Many contemporary ministers follow the Revised Common Lectionary, a pattern of scripture readings that follows a three-year cycle. I’ve been preaching from the lectionary since my ordination in 1978. That means that I’m on my 13th trip through that cycle of stories. Since there are four readings for each week, (Hebrew, Psalm, Epistle and Gospel) it is possible to go through the cycle and still avoid some texts by preaching on another of the texts. I’m pretty sure I haven’t preached on this week’s parable 13 times. In fact I can distinctly remember focusing on the Hebrew lesson for the day 3 years ago in 2011. I know that we were focused on the Moses stories of the Hebrew lessons in 1999 and I probably didn’t mention the parable. I’m pretty sure I avoided it in 1981, and again in 1984, when I was a bit sleep deprived with babies in the house and a bit distracted in some of my preaching. In fact though I can remember studying the text, I can come up with no memorable sermon I’ve ever preached on the parable.
Like RM Ballantyne writing about Coral Island, I’m going to need a bit of imagination to craft a sermon for this week. I had originally planned to preach on the Hebrew Text. It’s a good one. Its lessons are pretty straight forward and simple.
But the parable won’t let go of me. I’ve been thinking about it all week. It is one of my “Come to Jesus!” moments when I become aware that the simplest course of action isn’t the one to which I’ve been called. So it is Thursday and I know what text I should address, but I don’t know what I will say. It is not a comfortable position for me to be in. I like to have a clear sense of my sermon by about Tuesday so I can spend the rest of the week polishing.
Sometimes the creativity comes out when the pressure is on. I pray that will be the case this week.
And he got homesick.
To deal with his homesickness he began to write long letters home. In his 1893 memoir, “Personal Reminiscenses in Book Making,” “To this long-letter writing I attribute whatever small amount of facility in compassion I may have acquired.”
He was being modest when he wrote “small amount of facility.” RM Ballantyne was the author of more than 100 books. His genre was juvenile fiction. He wrote adventure stories for teens. The seeds of a lot of those stories came from the adventures he had as a teen.
I guess I had a few adventures between the ages of 16 and 21. I was a year older than RM when I moved away from home. My trip was only 80 miles rather than across the ocean. I went to college while RM went to very hard labor. I was still going to school five years later.
Along the way I did take a few backpack trips to remote locations. I did paddle a few strokes in a canoe. I got married. But I didn’t spend any amount of time trading with Indians, mushing dogs, surviving -50 temperatures, sitting around the campfire with voyageurs listing to their tales while sipping the day’s dram of rum, or waiting out the wind and weather on a remote island in a huge lake.
On the other hand, RM Ballantyne’s most famous story is called “The Coral Island,” an adventure perhaps roughly based in Ballantyne’s ship travels, though he didn’t sail southern seas. The story is famous for two things: First, Robert Louis Stevenson was inspired to write his novel, “Treasure Island” by reading the tale, and second, he got the thickness of a coconut shell all wrong. It is that second little bit of trivia that is most inspirational to me. He was writing from his imagination and it is that imagination, I believe, that is most critical for a writer and teller of tales.
Now I’m a firm believer in telling the truth. I think it is a good idea to do your research. But there is something about a well-crafted story that gives it the ability to at least stretch and bend the truth, to create its own world separate from the world of the listeners, that invites one into the tale. Garrison Keillor has told a lot of truth and shared a lot of wisdom by talking about a town that has never existed. Lake Woebegone has become the hometown of countless people who grew up in and left small towns. Its characters have become believable enough to serve as models and mentors for others. That is what happens when a story is well-told. The “facts” might all be wrong, while the underlying truth continues to be true.
Jesus was that kind of storyteller. When he told about a man who fell into thieves on the road, his listeners understood that it was a lesson in neighborliness and never thought to question whether the story was fact or fiction. When he spoke of a sower tossing seed in the weeds and on the road, they never questioned his agricultural expertise or experience. They allowed themselves to become involved in the stories he told and to be transformed by the lessons therein.
It is a challenge for a preacher seeking to be a disciple of Jesus. Making up stories for sermon illustrations isn’t encouraged. Then again, many of the stories that a pastor knows first hand aren’t his or her to tell. A minister who builds a career by going around and telling stories about other people won’t be long in the pulpit.
Then again, some of Jesus’ stories are complex enough that you don’t get them on the first read. Many contemporary ministers follow the Revised Common Lectionary, a pattern of scripture readings that follows a three-year cycle. I’ve been preaching from the lectionary since my ordination in 1978. That means that I’m on my 13th trip through that cycle of stories. Since there are four readings for each week, (Hebrew, Psalm, Epistle and Gospel) it is possible to go through the cycle and still avoid some texts by preaching on another of the texts. I’m pretty sure I haven’t preached on this week’s parable 13 times. In fact I can distinctly remember focusing on the Hebrew lesson for the day 3 years ago in 2011. I know that we were focused on the Moses stories of the Hebrew lessons in 1999 and I probably didn’t mention the parable. I’m pretty sure I avoided it in 1981, and again in 1984, when I was a bit sleep deprived with babies in the house and a bit distracted in some of my preaching. In fact though I can remember studying the text, I can come up with no memorable sermon I’ve ever preached on the parable.
Like RM Ballantyne writing about Coral Island, I’m going to need a bit of imagination to craft a sermon for this week. I had originally planned to preach on the Hebrew Text. It’s a good one. Its lessons are pretty straight forward and simple.
But the parable won’t let go of me. I’ve been thinking about it all week. It is one of my “Come to Jesus!” moments when I become aware that the simplest course of action isn’t the one to which I’ve been called. So it is Thursday and I know what text I should address, but I don’t know what I will say. It is not a comfortable position for me to be in. I like to have a clear sense of my sermon by about Tuesday so I can spend the rest of the week polishing.
Sometimes the creativity comes out when the pressure is on. I pray that will be the case this week.