Telling Stories

I became aware of David Sedaris through This American Life. He's a story-teller and humorist, who has many wonderful stories of his absurd life, growing up, getting involved in performance art and being gay. He's a phenomenon who plays to large crowds in dozens of cities. Hardly anyone in London has heard of him, however, even though he lives there (although he also lives some of the year in France).

Sedaris's stories are meant to be non-fiction, but recently Alex Heard of New Republic magazine accused Sedaris of exaggerating and embellishing stories to breaking point, and that his claim to be a non-fiction writer was highly questionable. In an interview in the Guardian, Sedaris says this:

"You know, if you tell a funny story at the dinner table in front of 10 people, nine of them will laugh, and one of them will say that's not true. Now, I never say that to people. I'm never the 'that's not true' guy when someone tells a funny story. And I don't like the 'that's not true' guy. I've always hated that person. And all of a sudden those people are like the arbiters; in America, that's who we're hearing from."

So when is a lie not a lie? This is not an area that Christians - especially evangelicals - handle well. We generally consider hyberbole to be a euphemism for lying. In fact, the Bible uses exaggeration rather a lot. But the moment you say that, Christians can start to freak out, lay hands on you in prayer or attempt to drive out demons. Jesus talks about hating your father or mother - which would be a sin if you took him at his word. He is using hyperbole. Clearly, we mustn't use hyperbole as a label for anything we find unpalatable or extreme. The gospel is extreme and all-consuming. But here's another case. Job 1.

It's a very stylised form of writing - and when Job's life disintergrates, the way it is written is comic in style. Look:

13 One day when Job's sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother's house, 14 a messenger came to Job and said, "The oxen were plowing and the donkeys were grazing nearby, 15 and the Sabeans attacked and carried them off. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!"

16 While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, "The fire of God fell from the sky and burned up the sheep and the servants, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!"

17 While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, "The Chaldeans formed three raiding parties and swept down on your camels and carried them off. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!"

18 While he was still speaking, yet another messenger came and said, "Your sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother's house, 19 when suddenly a mighty wind swept in from the desert and struck the four corners of the house. It collapsed on them and they are dead, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!"

Did it actually happen exactly that way? Word for word? Or is the narrator playing with the scene for effect? If he is, that's okay isn't it? Or is this the slippery, inescapable slope that causes one to hurtle into post-modernism? No. It isn't.