We are storytelling creatures. Think about it. In our everyday lives, nearly all of our conversations are structured as stories.
“Honey, how was your day?” “It was exhausting. First I had to respond to an email from an angry customer. Then, Johnny stopped by the office and wouldn’t stop talking. Finally, after skipping my lunch…”
Or, “You’ll never believe what just happened to me! I was driving down Springfield Ave when I saw the craziest thing out in someone’s yard!”
Take just about any conversation and you can find an element of storytelling. Communications theorist Walter Fisher coined the term Homo narrans (“storytelling human”) to describe this phenomenon. Fisher argued that it was our ability to tell stories, rather than our ability to use language or logic, that set humans apart from every other creature in the world.
Indeed, we certainly love stories. Not only are our conversations filled with narrative storylines, but we have made novels, tv shows, and motion pictures into multi-billion dollar industries. Even our Scriptures are primarily narratives rather than theological essays. Stories are powerful forces that can transform our thinking, inspire us to be better, and open up our imaginations.
However, any powerful tool can also be misused. The political and societal polarization we are facing in this country today is, ironically, also a product of storytelling. When groups of people create narratives while being isolated from those who are different from them, those narratives grow and form an echo chamber that reinforces our existing biases. Pretty soon, those stories change into myths we believe about outsiders that have little resemblance to reality.
In contrast, the primary pathway to empathy and human understanding is through hearing the stories of others. I suspect if we spent less time sharing memes on social media and more time sitting down with people we disagree with to listen to their experiences and testimonies, we would find ourselves becoming less angry and more humble. It is easy to dismiss words on a screen, but it is harder to dismiss a story when told by a human face.
As an example, the primary moment that changed my perspectives about racism was not a book or logical argument, but was a meal during a seminary retreat. During that meal, I listened to several of my black classmates recount their own personal stories of discrimination, some as recent as the day we left for the retreat. No longer was this an academic or political debate because now the issue had faces and names. I gained new understanding that day.
With that in mind, let’s get sharing. What's your story?
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