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| Ted Studebaker |
“Tell me a story!” How many times have we said this to tired parents, or heard it from wound up children? What is it about a story that can comfort, lull, provoke thought, teach, or even disturb? As a child, I remember my Mom reading me a book called Ted Studebaker: A Man Who Loved Peace. (http://co.mcc.org/us/co/profiles/studebaker.html) The book tells of a conscientious objector who served in Vietnam as an agriculturist during the war, and was eventually killed. The tale opened up a way for my parents to teach my sister and I about the Mennonite view of pacifism, thus having a large impact on both of our lives.
Although Ted’s story is a true one, fictional stories can hold just as much power. In his novel Searching for Intruders, Stephen Raleigh Byler presents stories of realistic fiction that deal with very difficult issues such as reconciling with one’s past and dealing with grief in the modern world, both important issues. The plot of the movie Pearl Diver also wrestles with many questions, one being the question of the place of story in Mennonite heritage. Hearing stories from storyteller and writer Jack Dueck created an almost holy space in the classroom as we learned about history and human emotion and a range of things inbetween. All of these are just a couple of examples demonstrating the power of story. This leads me to believe that there is a large role for fiction in the American Mennonite literature of the future, and it is a job of not just to entertain, but also – and maybe more importantly – to provide a mechanism that passes on important information about one’s culture and how to live in it. 
Cleary, the element of story holds much power. With a tool that is so influential in a community, the question of “who” can become apparent quickly. Although adult men have presented all of the aforementioned stories, I have to believe that this is not always the case, as we’ve heard accomplished stories by many ages and genders. Many writers and poets in the Mennonite community such as Stephen Raleigh Byler and Julia Kasdorf live, by choice or by circumstance, on the fringes of the Mennonite community. This shows how outsiders are frequent contributors to the creation of story, but Jack Dueck’s visit convinced me that excellent work can home from inside the community just as well, if not as exotic. Therefore, I think that the people who get to tell the story are the ones who feel the story, or have seen the strength of the story firsthand. I’m not limiting storytelling to first and second generations; rather, I believe that the ones who understand the depth of experiences (such as struggling with healing your own brokenness, coming back to a restless community, or even enjoying a really, really good cup of borsch with your whole being) have the power to describe such things in a way that teaches and grasps the attention of those on the receiving end.
Who is the receiving end? In modern literature, it seems to be both insiders and outsiders. While oral Mennonite tales have been historically reserved for insiders to pass on traditions and tales, more recent stories invite the outside for a peek in. These stories portray the Mennonite culture in a variety of ways, from a close-knit, conservative group to an open, peace-loving community, to an unnamed part of a troubled past. This can get the storyteller in trouble, as each person has a different experience with the world, and each person wants that experience to be represented. A comfortable member of the Mennonite community who reads a story of harsh pain may not be as receptive to the story or the storyteller, and may not want the community to be represented as such. It’s hard to let go of an idealistic belief that we have no lessons to offer on reconciling pain and struggle, even though those are often the most powerful lessons a story can offer.
With the aim of offering life lessons in mind (as opposed to recitation of facts), I believe that the storyteller has freedom in representation of story in order to get the point across, and would believe that stories should attempt to remain culturally accurate to appeal to the community, but should lean toward becoming humanly compelling. In this way, the role of fiction in the American Mennonite canon now and in the future keeps its role of entertainment of education.
