I recently read a line from an instruction by Saint Columban that said, “Wisdom asks: Who will find out what is so very deep? As the depths of the sea are invisible to human sight, so the Godhead of the Trinity is found to be beyond the grasp of human understanding.”1
What a wondering and ponderous line; a bewildering insight into the infinity of God. Fittingly, the magnitude, mystery and wonder of the ocean in the 7th century was an image for the magnitude, mystery and wonder of God. Hence, I was surprised by my initial reaction; I scoffed! Why? Moments before reading that line I glanced through the means of video technology at an image of the deep ocean, an image of the deepest depths, an image of the Mariana Trench. At first thought therefore, the depth was no wonder to me, for having glimpsed its gloom and the loathsome creatures that dwell there.
What then was lost by having seen the image of the Mariana Trench? In some degree, what was lost was a sense of curiosity, mystery, imagination, wonder. Arguably, due to the forceful invasion of many technological influences in our lives, we have lost aspects of ways in which we relate with and see the world and each other. Nothing seems to be left unknown. As the depths of the ocean are exposed and laid bare, what becomes hidden is the mystery of it all – that reality truly is wondrous.
Yet, there is wonder in the unknown; mystery in the sacred. We learn from a young age to see things anew and wonder at them. We questioned, why does the shade in the forest seem to be menacing? We queried whether the dust dancing on falling sun beams were not small persons, elves, or fairies? Our imagination, which has been dimmed, if not darkened by the continuous breach of videos or social media, is however illumined by the experience of a personal encounter made through means of storytelling, poetry recitation, and theatre reenactment. C.S. Lewis said, “The value of the myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which had been hidden by ‘the veil of familiarity.’”2 The Heated Hearth; Stories on Stumps, is a club composed at JPII Seminary in an attempt to lift such a veil, weighed down by distractions of fast paced modernity, and regain the ability see afresh the world with wonder and marvel at what is truly real and present.
We tell fables, legends, myths, lore, and stories of our history and our heroes. The structure of a good story is already set in tales that have been refined, passed down, retold, and nourished from person to person, until we have listened and received them ourselves. Aesop’s Fables, Grimm’s Fairytales, Anderson, Shakespeare, Hopkins, Elliot, and Yeates are to name a few of the revered masters of our language. They have treated, fenced, and played with words, understanding their value as precious gems; powerful jewels bringing light and meaning to sift heart and mind.
These stories have been enjoyable to us as a connection is built between the narrator and the listener. This connection is made between all who are under the spell of wonder and imagination cast by the storyteller. It is here where hope, desire, fear, sadness, joy etc. are experienced and learned in common. Morals of the community are absorbed and wisdom is learned and remembered as the stories are given and received. This is the development and enrichment of culture and what we have experienced as a club.
Upon further reflection, we discussed how the practice of these arts, and storytelling in particular, reflect the rhythm of creation. There is a return to a sense of the ‘natural,’ not only in terms of communicating directly with another person, as opposed to through a machine, but also regarding the rhythm of story. Humanity is pushed along by the law of time. Things are changed and experienced anew, but carry an aspect of sameness that is pattern and repetition: day then night, winter then spring, breath in, breath out, birth then death. Repetition is natural to us, and a delight is taken in its familiarity. We enjoy having stories told and retold to us, as they are a reflection of our very lives.
The fathoms of the deep; God speaks and it becomes; man speaks to reflect what already is. As we reflect and articulate what is real, true, beautiful and good, we discover and grow in a deeper understanding of our participation in this world, and in this life, as a participation in the grandest of all stories; a love story between God and man.* We have become more aware of the realization that all creation echoes the greatest story ever told; “God so loved the world that He gave his only-begotten Son...” (John 3:16)
Such a realization provides us with joyful interactions and fond memories to cherish. The club aspires to model a desired home for rest and recourse, which is aptly described by J.R.R. Tolkien in the following excerpt from his story, The Fellowship of The Ring:
“That house was, as Bilbo had long ago reported, ‘a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all.’ Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear, and sadness.”
The Heated Hearth then, unlike the Mariana Trench, is a place easily and excitedly made accessible for a warm cup of tea and rejuvenating leisure attained through the arts of storytelling, poetry and theatre.
The renowned Bilbo Baggins pours a cup of hot tea for Gandalf the Grey.
1 Lewis, CS. "Tolkien's Lord of the Rings" from On Stories: And Other Essays on Literature