Superheroes have origin stories. That’s the part of the narrative that recounts how they got their powers and how they came to decide to use those powers for good. Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and began to use his powers to keep New York City safe after his Uncle Ben was killed, becoming Spider-Man. Natasha Romanova was trained to be a Russian spy but defected to the U.S., becoming Black Widow. Bruce Wayne was a millionaire with access to really cool gadgets and martial arts training, determined to rid the streets of Gotham City of violent crime after his parents were murdered in a dark alley, becoming Batman.
Communities have origin stories, too. They’re the memories we tell, the histories we repeat, because they teach us and our children who we are as a community: as small as a household or as big as a nation.
The Israelites, God’s chosen people whose story makes up the bulk of the Old Testament, had an origin story, too. For generations, they had been enslaved in Egypt. Then one day, God called Moses to tell Pharaoh: “Let my people go.” The Israelites were free– but they didn’t have an easy journey to their liberty. After setbacks, arguments, getting lost, hunger, and the general frustration of wandering around in the desert for a whole generation, they finally reached the land God had promised, called Judah or Palestine or Israel. And as they arrived, Moses made sure to remind them of their origin story:
“Israel, listen! Our God is the Lord! Only the Lord!
Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your being, and all your strength. These words that I am commanding you today must always be on your minds. Recite them to your children. Talk about them when you are sitting around your house and when you are out and about, when you are lying down and when you are getting up. Tie them on your hand as a sign. They should be on your forehead as a symbol. Write them on your house’s doorframes and on your city’s gates.
Now once the Lord your God has brought you into the land that he swore to your ancestors, to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give to you—a land that will be full of large and wonderful towns that you didn’t build, houses stocked with all kinds of goods that you didn’t stock, cisterns that you didn’t make, vineyards and olive trees that you didn’t plant—and you eat and get stuffed, watch yourself! Don’t forget the Lord, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” (Deuteronomy 6: 4-12)
Remember. Remember who you are and where you came from and everything God has done to get you where you’re going. Tell this story again and again. You were enslaved, but God brought you to freedom. Now keep your God of freedom and love first in all things.
The way we tell our origin stories matters immensely. If we focus on all the stories of overcoming hardship, we may shape a community of resilience but also defensiveness. If we share all the stories of success, we may grow confidence that turns a blind eye to the problems that remain. If we center on the stories of loss and hardship, we become possessive and fear what scarcity might bring. If we constantly tell the stories of God’s faithfulness and liberation, we become people who put our focus on God’s work and who trust that God will act as always: for God’s people, with mercy and steadfast love.
I was thinking about these “origin stories” because today is September 11. For some Americans, that moment became part of our shared origin story. I was ten when the planes hit the towers. There has never been a time in my life when that wasn’t part of the way I thought about the world. To my kids, though, including my son who is nearly ten himself, 9-11 is a piece of history, alongside the Kennedy Assassination and the Boston Tea Party and Juneteenth and all the other moments that will no doubt turn up in his U.S. History class when he gets to high school.
So I asked myself if it was okay for 9-11 not to be part of the way my kids and their cohort of kids see America’s origin story. For me, the answer is yes; for others, it might be no. The point of my reflection isn’t to tell you what stories matter for our civic lives. The point is to remind all of us that the stories that matter to us might not matter much to others, and that the stories we choose to repeat shape the way we think about ourselves. With my kids, we tell the story of aspiration for liberty and the pursuit of happiness found in the Declaration of Independence alongside the reality that it took another 89 years for that liberty to be declared to every last enslaved person on Juneteenth, 1865. I want them to value the noble ideals and recognize that there’s often still work to be done to make those values a reality. What do the stories you tell about our common life convey about what’s important?
Moses knew how important it was to repeat an origin story. I mean, look at those instructions. “Tell these words to your kids. Talk about them when you sit around. Put them on your doorframes as a reminder when you come in and go out. Remember them when you wake up and when you go to bed. Our God is the one who brought us out of slavery into freedom.” He wanted the people to focus on what God had done above any focus on immediate troubles or successes.
As Christians, we have got to repeat our own origin story. Whether it’s like mine: “I was baptized as a newborn and raised at church every week” or it’s more like “My grandpa insisted I get baptized, but we never took church seriously until I was an adult” or maybe “I don’t really know a thing about the Bible but I know there is a hole in my heart that’s only filled in worship” or simply “I was lost, but now I am found.” These stories tell us where we started and what God has done to bring us where we are now.
And in all these stories, the story of Jesus Christ shines through. It’s an origin story we all hold in common. He was born. He was baptized. He was crucified. He rose to life again. Now, we, too, are born and baptized and die and rise to new life through him.
That’s a story that’s definitely worth repeating.