The Old Testament is particularly rich in stories for children, because

it was formulated in a period when the Hebrew nation was a child nation.

The men and women of Israel were grown to adult stature, but they had

the hearts of children. They thought concretely, as the child thinks,

and consequently their literary expression is concrete and illustrative.

This, added to the facts that they, like all other orientals, loved

the story and brought it to a high artistic point, and that the Old

Testament heroes are not refined to the point of æstheticism, but are

strong, rugged, elemental men, thoroughly human and far removed from

goody-goodies, makes it an ideal book for the child. Gideon and Joshua

possess virtues, but they possess faults also. They are punished and they

are rewarded, and because they have much in common with children, the

lessons learned through their victories and defeats are more valuable

than a thousand admonitions.

In advocating the use of Bible stories a word of caution seems

necessary, lest the narrator, actuated by the laudable desire to enrich

the intellectual and spiritual life of the child, may harm instead of

benefit. The Hebrew people were in a state of advanced barbarism when

their tribal achievements grew into an epic, and the deeds of their

heroes are often so bloodthirsty and revengeful that they cannot be

reconciled with modern views. Boys and girls are quick to realize this,

and consequently many of the Old Testament tales must be softened by the

elimination of objectionable features, just as many fairy and epical

tales must be softened.

Nor are gore and revenge the only elements we must cut away from these

old tales. Those who give the narrative of Israel to boys and girls of

twelve and fourteen should be careful to eliminate from it everything

that may be suggestive of the vulgar, for which, at this age, many

children are on the lookout. It is better to omit than to veil and

modify questionable portions of a tale, because young people are very

discerning, and to see through gossamer is to arouse curiosity. Dr.

Bodley cites instances of youths in the romantic period reading the Bible

because of lewd thoughts. This danger leads some persons to decry the use

of Bible stories by the average narrator, in whose hands they believe

them to be dangerous. However, if he uses judgment, if he makes it a

rule to omit whatever awakens a doubt in his mind, even the amateur may

tell Bible stories with beneficial results. It is possible to eliminate

from many an Old Testament narrative without breaking the thread of the

story, just as it is possible to give boys and girls a clear idea of the

man Chopin without introducing the George Sand episode. So much of the

Old Testament is pure adventure tale that the story-teller may use the

portion that feeds the elemental hero love without touching upon what

might arouse morbid curiosity or desire, or that which sanctions gore and

revenge.

Those who have not had training in gathering and adapting story material

from the Bible will be aided greatly in their work by Frances Jenkins

Olcott’s book, _Bible Stories to Read and Tell_. Miss Olcott gives the

stories as they are given in the King James Version, preserving all the

beauty of language of the Hebrew story-tellers, but she has excluded

everything that might prove objectionable; and with this book as a guide

there is little danger of making a mistake in telling the Hebrew hero

tales to children.

Bible stories should be graded as carefully as fairy stories are graded.

In choosing for little children, select those whose heroes are children,

and give to the boy who craves the heroic the incomparable tales of

the Hebrew wanderers, those men whose lives were a varied succession of

adventures. For the child of each period there is a wealth of material.

The stories of the baby Moses, little Samuel, the boy Joseph, the boy

Timothy, the boy David, and the baby Isaac are very appealing to six-

and seven-year-olds. They love also to hear of the mother and the

baby Samson, of Ishmael and Hagar, and those other mothers and babies

of long ago, and especially dear to them is the story of the Babe of

Bethlehem. This lovely narrative is a part of the birthright of every

child, and is exquisite enough to merit careful preparation on the

part of the story-teller. The Bible itself should be the storehouse to

which the narrator goes for material, but those not especially gifted

in visualizing and imagination will derive much help from the work of

modern literary artists who have told again the story of the Christ

Child. The eleventh and twelfth chapters of the first book of _Ben Hur_,

the creation of a man whose reverence was as great as his talent, should

be re-read by every one who attempts to tell of the song and the star

in Judea, and the works of Henry van Dyke, Selma Lagerlöf, and John of

Hildesheim will aid greatly in giving color and atmosphere. This means

time and labor, but no amount of preparation is too great to put upon

the world’s noblest stories. The narrator should approach them, not

arrogantly, and satisfied of his ability to tell them because he has

known them from childhood, but as the artist approaches the masterpiece

he aspires to copy, willing to labor that he may be worthy of the task,

willing to read them over and over again and count each reading a return

to the fount of inspiration. This should be the attitude toward all great

stories, but especially toward the immortal ones of the Bible.

For the child in the heroic period the Old Testament is a gold mine,

and it is a pity that its superb adventure tales are so little used by

story-tellers, since they are so fascinating to boys and girls. Even when

told as separate stories they arouse interest and hold the attention, but

they are most valuable when given in a sequence, because then the child

regards the Old Testament as a great human drama, the epic of a people.

A good plan is to begin with the call of Abraham, as related in the

twelfth chapter of Genesis. Picture the patriarch, with Lot and Sarah,

going into exile out of the land of Haran, through Canaan to the plain

of Moreh, building there the altar under the soothsayer’s oak, and

journeying southward over the desert to Egypt. Tell of the banishment by

Pharaoh and the return to Bethel, of the strife between the herdsmen and

the survey of the land, of the captivity and rescue of Lot. Paint vividly

the highway along which they traveled, now over the desert, now across

the fertile plain skirting the sea, often footsore and weary, often

suffering from heat and thirst as wanderers in the East suffered, and the

story will cause children to turn from the cheap adventure tale of today

as music lovers turn from ragtime to a Chopin prelude.

Then there are tales of those other Old Testament wanderers, Isaac, “the

Ulysses of the Hebrews,” and Jacob, whose life was so eventful. Take the

boys over the routes these men traveled. Let them share their exploits

and adventures, resting in fertile places where the wanderers rested,

now by the well outside Nahor, the servants praying beside the kneeling

camels as Bethuel’s lovely daughter came down the hillside with the

pitcher on her shoulder, now moving as the caravan moved, over roads

the Hebrew armies traveled on their way to war, along which tradesfolk

journeyed in times of peace. There is marvelous color and romance in

these Old Testament thoroughfares, and they are highways of fascination

even today. Still across their yellow sands turbaned Arabs go up and

down, singing praise to Allah just as men sang to God in the remote time

of Israel. They bear with them skin bags filled with water from the pools

and streams, dates, figs, and dried goat’s flesh, such as formed the

noontide repast of Isaac and his men, for in the changeless East life is

today as it was in the beginning of things. When the caravans rest, they

sit under the palm trees in some oasis, telling stories their fathers

told, and using the Old Testament forms of speech. Still in that land of

nomads to see is to “lift up the eyes,” and maidens go to draw water when

the day’s heat is over just as Rebecca went to the well of Nahor.

The book of Joshua is a glorious adventure story. The siege and

destruction of Jericho, the victories of Joshua, the slave boy from Egypt

who became the first soldier of the Hebrews, the distribution of Canaan

among the tribes of Israel, and Othniel’s valor and reward satisfy every

desire of the child who craves hero stories. They satisfy now as they

satisfied two thousand years ago, because they grew out of the life of a

people and run the entire gamut of human emotion as only racial tales can

do.

The book of Judges is a collection of incomparable narratives. The

enslavement of Israel by Jabin, the defeat and death of Sisera, and

Gideon’s deliverance and victory never fail to hold boys and girls who

crave the heroic. Moreover, these stories will arouse interest in perhaps

the finest ode known to any literature, the song of Deborah in the fifth

chapter of Judges. Give the children some idea of what it has meant to

the world. Ruskin said the memorizing of it in his boyhood shaped his

taste for literature, and Macaulay declared it inspired him to write

“Horatius at the Bridge.” Read the work of the English poet, and bring

out the lovely pictures in the great Hebrew ode, for it is not fair to

our young people that we allow them to go through life without knowing

this gem, without leading them to see the beauty of these exquisite words:

Speak, ye that ride on white asses, ye that sit in judgment and

walk by the way.

They that are delivered from the noise of archers in the places

of drawing water, there shall they rehearse the righteous acts

of the Lord.

Visualize the scenes in those lines: sumptuous, haughty Hebrews,

traveling as only the prosperous traveled; men in the fine linen of

lawgivers, holding places of power in the land; vagabonds lounging along

the highways, begging alms of passers-by; husbandmen tilling fields far

from the sound of conflict; men in every walk of life, widely separated

by material conditions, yet brothers in a common weal, rejoicing in a

common blessing, the victory of Barak over the foe of Israel. It is as

rich in color as a canvas by Titian, and pupils in the upper grammar

grades will grow to love it if it is presented as it should be, through

the medium of the story.

The books of Samuel, with their tales of Saul and of David, of the

shepherd boy from the Hebron hills making music for Israel’s king, his

meeting and slaying Goliath, Saul and the Witch of Endor, and all the

eventful life of David are glorious materials for the story-teller. Here

again inspiration may be obtained from the work of a modern writer.

Browning’s “Saul” will greatly aid the narrator in telling the story of

the boy David, for the picture the poet gives of the afflicted monarch

in his tent, the son of Jesse standing beside him singing the Hebrew

gleaning songs, is as vivid as it is exquisite.

Where can we find a more splendid narrative than that of Solomon, in the

second book of Kings? Where is the boy or girl who does not delight in

listening to the account of the visit of Hiram, king of Tyre, when two

sumptuous monarchs met; of the collection of materials and the building

of the temple; of the visit of the Queen of Sheba, the adversity and

death of Solomon, and that succession of events that led to the captivity

of Israel? Here, too, we find the great story of the invasion of Judah

and the destruction of Sennacherib; and Byron’s poem will vivify this

tale just as Browning’s “Saul” vivifies that of the boy David.

The only reason why children look upon the Bible as a dull, ponderous

book is that they are not familiar with the Old Testament adventure

tales, and it is a mistake to think that present-day boys and girls will

turn away from them. If playground and settlement workers would give

more time and attention to the stories of the Hebrews, they would have

less difficulty in reaching hoodlumish boys. It is necessary to use tact

in presentation,—“sense,” as Lilian Bell says, “of the brand commonly

known as horse,”—for to preface a narrative with, “Now I shall tell you

a Bible story,” might mean an insurrection. The only way is to bring the

hero on the stage and tell his tale so vividly that the listeners are

held by it to the end. After they come to know such men as Gideon and

Joshua, they will regard the Bible as a great storybook.

A settlement worker had this experience not long ago. She told the tale

of Joshua to a group of young ruffians, who sat through it as if held

by a spell, and at its conclusion the leader of the band remarked,

“That was some story!” Other Old Testament heroes were then introduced

with excellent effect, and the lads were amazed to learn that the Bible

contained such stories. But results of this kind cannot be obtained

without effort and preparation on the part of the raconteur.

Bible stories, being the perfect tales of the world, should be told as

nearly as possible in the language and style in which they were written.

Some modification is necessary for the purpose of clarifying, but the

Biblical expressions should be used frequently. Quote freely from the

original or follow the story with a Bible reading, that the child who

hears the tales may catch something of the majestic beauty of expression

of the Hebrew story-tellers. There can be no more pitiful mistake than

to tell these matchless narratives in the vernacular of the street. To

use modern slang in recounting the wanderings of Isaac or the passing of

the Children of Israel through the Red Sea is to profane a marvelous

artistic creation, even though it had no religious significance, and

unfortunately story-tellers sometimes do this, thinking they will make

the tales more interesting to children. That sort of narration will amuse

and hold young folk only as long as it lasts, and leaders of children

are not working merely for the here and now. Their effort is for time

and eternity, and they should have sufficient vision to see beyond the

present, sufficient sense of proportion to estimate values. The Old

Testament tales need no modern strokes to make them attractive, because

they abound in color and incidents that lead to superb climaxes, and

never fail to fascinate when given with sincerity. Therefore they should

be told in simple, dignified language, as the men of Israel told them

when the world was young, and while they fire the imagination, they will

lead children unconsciously to an appreciation of beautiful English,

which is one of the cardinal aims of every story-teller who is worthy of

the name.

The teller of Bible stories should draw from music and art, as well as

from literature, because to follow a tale with a picture or musical

number inspired by it is to heighten enjoyment and strengthen the

impression already made. If children see Bendemann’s masterpiece, “By

the Waters of Babylon,” after they have heard the story of the captivity

of Israel, they will have a sympathy for the exiled Hebrews that they

cannot have otherwise. Saul, David, and many other Old Testament

heroes will seem more than ever like living, breathing men when viewed

as Michelangelo portrayed them, while Giulio Romano’s frescoes, “The

Story of Joseph,” or Pellafrino da Modena’s “Story of Solomon,” will

intensify their color and romance and help to lead to an appreciation

of art. Cheap reproductions bring these and other masterpieces within

the reach of the narrator, and he should travel every bypath in which

he may glean materials that will help children to love these old tales.

He should keep ever before him the thought of how they have enriched

the world, and how powerfully lives are influenced by stories heard in

childhood. When Bertel Thorwaldsen was a blue-eyed boy in Copenhagen,

he heard a tale that long afterward became the inspiration of “The Lion

of Lucerne,” and young Richard Wagner, playing in a Dresden street

one day, crept into a group to which a strolling bard was telling the

medieval legend of “Parsifal.” It was a seed planted in a creative mind,

and years afterward it flowered in two noble operas of the Holy Grail.

So it was with Goethe, with Browning, with Byron, and many other great

men. Perhaps in your group of youthful hearers there may be a boy or a

girl who will listen as gifted children of the past have listened to an

old, old story, and perhaps your telling it may result, long after your

work is ended, in his giving to some branch of art a creation that will

enrich the world through generations yet to come. But even though there

be no budding genius among your auditors, sincere, artistic telling of

the Bible stories cannot fail to produce great results. It will develop

the emotional nature of the average child; it will broaden his sympathy

and increase his capacity for feeling, make him more sympathetic, more

responsive to the joys and sorrows of his fellow men, and better fitted

to become a useful citizen.

SOURCES OF MATERIAL FOR BIBLE STORIES

ABBOTT, LYMAN: _Life and Literature of the Ancient Hebrews_.

AGUILAR, GRACE: _The Women of Israel_.

BARING-GOULD, S.: _Lives of the Saints_.

CANTON, WILLIAM: _A Child’s Book of Saints_.

DEARMER, MABEL: _A Child’s Life of Christ_.

DOANE, T. W.: _Bible Myths_.

FISKE, JOHN: _The Myths of Israel_; _The Great Epic of Israel_.

HODGES, GEORGE: _A Child’s Guide to the Bible_.

HOUGHTON, LOUISE S.: _Telling Bible Stories_; _Hebrew Life and

Thought_.

KENT, CHARLES FOSTER: _Heroes and Crises of Early Hebrew

History_.

LAGERLÖF, SELMA: _Christ Legends_.

OLCOTT, FRANCES JENKINS: _Bible Stories to Read and Tell_.

SANGSTER, MARGARET E., and YONGE, CHARLOTTE M.: _Stories from

the Best of Books_.

SMITH, GEORGE A.: _A Historical Geography of the Holy Land_.

SMITH, NORA A.: _Old, Old Tales from the Old, Old Book_.

VAN DYKE, HENRY, ABBOTT, LYMAN, and OTHERS: _Women of the

Bible_.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

STORY-TELLING AND THE TEACHING OF ETHICS

The function of education is not only to give the child knowledge and

a capacity for acquiring further knowledge that shall equip him for

the life struggle and make success a possible attainment, but also to

give him an ethical standard that shall make him fit to live among his

fellows and a respect for the rights and feelings of others, or, as

Goethe says in _Wilhelm Meister_, “Reverence for what is above, reverence

for what is beneath, reverence for what is equal.” He must be taught to

realize that he is part of a great unit and that individual desires must

often give way to the welfare of the many. He must be taught that as an

individual he owes to society obedience to the laws that govern society

and allegiance to the principles that make possible a harmonious family,

civic, and national life. Consequently it is required of every teacher

that she give ethical instruction, that she endeavor to bring children

to an understanding of what is generally accepted as right and wrong,

and implant in them convictions strong enough to cause them to adhere to

those standards.

In establishing ethical standards, as in establishing standards in art,

literature, or music, we must appeal to the emotional side of the child

as well as to the intellectual side. We must lead him to feel that the

right act is the one that he wants to do, and this cannot be accomplished

by a presentation of dry facts and precepts. Every teacher knows that

the time spent in admonishing a child what he _ought_ to do brings no

gratifying results. He is not swayed to repugnance for one act or to

admiration for another by being told “Thou shalt,” or “Thou shalt not.”

At the time the command is given, fear may cause him to obey it; but

conduct that is the result of force does not strengthen the character or

teach high standards of action. It tends instead to harden the child and

make him determined to act differently at the first opportunity. Ethical

training does not mean to attempt to control the child, but to enlighten

him and direct his volition to the point where he will attempt to control

himself. As Ella Lyman Cabot says, “Its aim is to make the best there

is so inviting to the child that he will work eagerly and persistently

to win it.” The ideal that is held up to him must be so beautiful that

he will be willing to sacrifice and endure hardship in order to attain

to it, and through story-telling he may be led to see this ideal more

vividly than in any other way, because the story makes right acts

appealing and wrong acts repugnant. Moreover, through the narrator’s

art the child lives the experiences of the tales he hears. He suffers

with the evildoer and is rewarded with the virtuous, and because he is

powerfully moved by a narrative, his character is lastingly affected by

it.

In giving ethical instruction, it is necessary to use the right material.

Tales selected for this purpose should be suited to the child’s

particular period of mental development, they should contain a lesson

the boy or the girl ought to learn, and they should be strong and virile

and true to life. Much harm is done by telling stories of unusually

good children. Such young folk are unpopular with boys and girls, and

the story about them is as distasteful as is the “goody-goody” that is

met with in real life. Instead of being an influence toward commendable

action and the acceptance of a higher standard of right and wrong, the

over-idealistic tale antagonizes the child and goads him toward that from

which we would have him veer aside. Perhaps this accounts for the fact

that girls often enjoy boys’ stories more than those written especially

for girls. The normal girl wants to read and hear about live, natural

young folk, and the heroine who has drawing-room manners and nothing else

is very far from her ideal. Story characters that influence children

must be human, full of human faults and virtues. From their failures and

successes young people will learn many valuable lessons, but they will

learn no lesson from one who poses as an unnatural young saint.

Moral training should begin with the babe, and therefore the mother and

primary teacher need stories that have ethical values as early as they

need Mother Goose tales and jingles. Very early in life the child must be

brought to realize that there is a higher law than that of its own will

or desire. It must be taught obedience, cleanliness, kindness to animals,

consideration for the rights of others, truthfulness, industry, honesty,

and courtesy, and these lessons can be inculcated more effectively by

means of story-telling than in any other way. The tale of “The Little Red

Hen” doing the work and reaping the reward of her labor is a sermon on

industry that little people do not forget. The story of the farmer boy

who rolled the stone out of the highway because he feared it might cause

injury to some one, and then of the compensation that came to him at the

hands of the lord of the village who placed it there, will help to make

children thoughtful and kindly.

In telling stories of this type, the narrator should emphasize the fact

that the greatest reward is the mental satisfaction that follows a good

action, because the child who hears much of material reward sometimes

thinks chiefly of the money or picnic or good time commendable conduct

may bring, and if it happens that he does not receive remuneration,

decides it is useless to perform good deeds. A case of this kind that

came under my observation was that of a boy in a country school, a lazy,

thoughtless little fellow. One day when a man drove through the school

yard, his brother, who was very considerate, ran to open the gate. The

stranger tossed a penny to the child, and the teacher, thinking to give a

lasting lesson in consideration to the thoughtless boy, dwelt at length

upon the stick of candy the money would buy. Several days later another

man drove through the school yard and the thoughtless boy ran to open the

gate. He received a smile and a “Thank you” but no money, and he could

not be persuaded to open the gate again.

It is well to give stories in which children are materially rewarded, but

they should be taught to see that material reward is not the only reward,

and that desire for it should not be the motive that prompts a good

action. The fireman who risks his life in saving the property or life of

another is not bountifully paid, and seldom does he receive a purse for

bravery. But he is true to his duty. He is giving to society the thing

that he owes it, service, and his greatest guerdon is the satisfaction

that comes from being steadfast to a trust. Examples of this kind are of

great value to the child who is inclined to be selfish, and they are very

effective in bringing all children to realize the truth of Alice Cary’s

words:

Educating by story-telling · 第 9 / 28 段