A good listener

In Scotland’s Year of Stories, Jackie Macadam learns about the faith journey of storyteller and author Donald Smith.

FOR a man whose life has been intertwined with the art of storytelling, there’s a strong urge to start any conversation with him with the immortal words, ‘Once upon a time’…but there are times when Donald Smith’s life almost reads like one of his own stories.

Born to a single mum from Ireland who had fled to have her baby in secret, Donald and his birth mum were swiftly transferred to a Church of Scotland Mother and Baby home, and after a few weeks, baby Donald was adopted into a Church of Scotland manse family.

Perhaps best known for his long involvement with the Church of Scotland’s unique Storytelling Centre on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile, Donald says that his church involvement was there, right at the beginning.

“My mother’s whole situation arose because of a climate of moral and religious condemnation. Decades later, my birth mother told me that the women were made to feel ‘they had been bad girls’ and that their babies should be brought up by respectable people, ie given up. In fact she was 31 and in a good job; there were painful family circumstances in the background; and she was never able to return home.”

Tragedy struck the family when Donald’s adoptive mother died when he was just a toddler.

“That brought a childcare challenge, a second marriage, and quite a lot of stresses and tensions, to which young children are very sensitive. One of the things I have discovered is that storytellers are often people who have experienced dislocations in their personal lives. They want to help people make connections – to fill the gaps.

“By a lovely coincidence, years later, I took part in Jamie Stuart’s The Glasgow Gospel , and he asked me out of the blue to tell the Christmas story in the memorial garden at Rotten Row. That was quite a ‘full circle’ moment for me.

“My upbringing in a manse put me in the centre of social life in Scotland. I was encouraged to take every opportunity to learn and develop through local and national connections. You could honestly say that the Church in which I was brought up was a community of learning, and I benefitted enormously from those values, which in turn led me to question a lot of inherited conventions and attitudes.

“One of the perks of being a manse child was access to church events! From the start I was a consumptive reader. Pretty early on I twigged that if I volunteered for the book stall at jumble sales, there were rich pickings to be had. I have never lost the second-hand habit, as my house and various offices prove. But I was also chatty, and a good listener. I did not understand that as ‘storytelling’, though actually stories were what I was soaking up.

“Reading and listening gave me a foundation for understanding things that has continued through my life. Explore the backstory to human experiences and problems, on the individual as well as the community levels. Get people talking and sharing, and then you can move forward. Go in with your ‘management plan’ all devised, pretend to ‘consult’, and then enforce what you want to do regardless….. that is the source of repeated disasters in communities, churches, and nations.

“I vividly remember my first visit to adoptive relations in Ireland at seven years of age. People in those communities lived through their stories, and I felt the magic of that – retelling life in all its fullness and challenge. Events of yesteryears appeared new-minted. From then on I was a regular visitor to Ireland, feeling myself to be moving between related but quite different cultures. It was a bit like having a second language, which was to stand me in good stead later in my professional work.”

Donald claims to have been a ‘terrible swot’ at school.

“I will always be thankful to the great teachers I had, especially at Stirling High School, but generally the society in which I grew up placed too high a value on academic achievement as an end in itself. Fortunately, I learned a lot of other things through school too, and eventually, as the hormones really kicked in, I got a proper social life.

“But the church also gave me another dimension. As a teenager, I was within reach of the St Ninian’s Centre in Crieff, Scottish Churches House in Dunblane, and Stirling University which offered a lot of public lectures and artistic events. From age 15, I got involved in summer and parish missions, experiencing different communities in Scotland. When I went on to Edinburgh University I made contact with the Netherbow Arts Centre, and I found a locus at the University Chaplaincy Centre which was strongly ecumenical. I remember going with a group on a retreat to Nunraw Abbey (in East Lothian), and experiencing different ways of worshipping and thinking.

"You could honestly say that the Church in which I was brought up was a community of learning, and I benefitted enormously from those values, which in turn led me to question a lot of inherited conventions and attitudes.

“Edinburgh University in the seventies was a game changer as I was able to spread my wings across lots of disciplines, travel abroad, and realise that there were big shifts underway in Scottish politics and culture. I felt that religion had to be part of all that, yet a lot of the official church voices were still talking about ‘the permissive society’, as if they could hold back the tides of change and continue to call the moral shots. I realised that people were no longer going to defer socially to the religious institutions.

“That became central in due course to my decision not to become an ordained minister, which had been a longstanding personal goal. It was a difficult change of direction for me, but I landed on my feet by joining the School of Scottish Studies, where everything was in the melting pot. That was where I first encountered traditional storytelling as a defined artform.”

That was to be pivotal in Donald’s life. “Two practical things helped me a lot through the decades. First, I became involved with new artworks and other changes to church buildings. It was about space, stained glass, limewash and war memorials. But what a route that became into the experience of faith through the generations. More recently too, inspiring expressions of faith have come from artists and musicians. It’s about allowing ourselves to be nourished by lifeenhancing religion – truth and beauty.

“Secondly, ecumenical endeavour became central for me, especially in the 1990s and then through the millennium celebrations. I learnt a huge amount from lay people and clergy of other traditions about forms of social action and spirituality, while representing the Church of Scotland in a lot of shared programmes and big events. I was also responsible for liaising with governments and local authorities about the millennium – speaking for the churches as a new civil society emerged in Scotland post-devolution.

"My learning journey was also a pilgrimage into the future. I realised how Christianity was still two thousand years young, and that at its core is the freedom to do and be what is really important, not a litany of ‘thou shalt nots’.

“It was a time of hope, as I saw that what united was much greater than anything that divided. My learning journey was also a pilgrimage into the future. I realised how Christianity was still two thousand years young, and that at its core is the freedom to do and be what is really important, not a litany of ‘thou shalt nots’.

“I became fascinated by Scotland’s pilgrim routes because the St Margaret’s Chapel Guild asked me if I would help organise the 900th anniversary of St Margaret in 1993. That led to St Columba’s and Ninian’s anniversaries in 1997, and then the millennium effort. Meanwhile, the origins of the Netherbow in the post-war Gateway Theatre, got me interested in the revived Scottish National Theatre debate, and the Church’s little-known contribution. Soon there was a campaign to organise, and then a committee to Chair, eventually establishing a National Theatre for Scotland.”

Storytelling and the Arts in general was beginning to establish itself as a major part of Donald’s life and hitherto, unplanned as such, career.

“The point of storytelling is that everyone is interesting, if they can find the right stories to tell! That said there were a few defining storytellers that really inspired me – George Mackay Brown in Orkney, Naomi Mitchison in Carradale, and across in Ireland on the Dingle peninsula, Peigi Sayers (though I never met her in person). In each case they were living out their storytelling. Peigi breathed a faith and life wisdom in her stories without ever resorting to religious jargon.

“But there was a whole special group of storytellers that I formed firm friendships with. These were, and are, Scotland’s Travelling People, for whom story and song together defined their values, their education, their way of living. Without their support I would never have pushed forward into a Scottish storytelling renaissance. Betsy Whyte, Duncan Williamson, Sheila Stewart, Stanley Robertson, Willie McPhee, and Jess Smith, to name a few. They became a kind of storytelling family, sharing their culture generously, despite centuries of prejudice. They knew in their bones that what counts most in life is love and respect. But the travellers also have a great sense of humour and you need that in storytelling as well!

“The Storytelling Centre is a connecting thread through this whole tale. In 1971 I was at a vocational weekend at St Ninian’s Centre in Crieff. There I met Bill Shannon, the Warden, who spoke about literature and faith, Douglas Nicol who got me involved in local missions, and Gordon Strachan who opened my eyes to what he called ‘religious imagination’. It was through Gordon that I first arrived at the Netherbow Arts Centre.

“Then came my switch from New College to the School of Scottish Studies, where I encountered Scotland’s acknowledged storytellers. Next it was back to the Netherbow, where the opportunity arose to welcome those storytellers into the contemporary arts scene. I was able then to start an annual Storytelling Festival.

“But the decisive step towards founding the Scottish Storytelling Centre happened in the mid-90s in Derry – the home of Columba. I went there with David Campbell to represent Scotland at a gathering of storytellers from across Britain and Ireland. We all resolved that we would establish storytelling centres in our different regions or nations. George Mackay Brown gave impetus to this effort when he lent his wonderful name in support.

“Like good Presbyterians, we came home from Derry, and followed through on our commitment. To its eternal credit the General Assembly unanimously backed the idea, and the necessary partnership with public funders. Realising the new building took several years of planning and construction, but from the moment the doors opened in 2006 people took it to their hearts.

“The Storytelling Centre shows that culture is for everyone in our society, and that we all have creative abilities. It also makes connections and brings people together locally, nationally and internationally. And, critically, the Centre is the hub of storytelling groups and networks across Scotland – its job is to enable others to share and grow their narratives. In times of change and challenge that becomes more important than ever.

“People say that stories are ‘great for getting across the message’ – religious, moral or perhaps political. But actually stories are the message. They work through pictures, emotions and ideas integrated together. They enter into our imaginations and consciousness and work through time. Moreover, storytelling can only happen when the listeners become part of the process – absorbing and re-shaping what they are hearing for themselves.”

But the Storytelling Centre was not without its financial problems and at times that fell heavily on the Church of Scotland to bolster up. The decision to move to a more business-like model didn’t sit well with Donald, and he found himself at odds with the Church.

“I was very disappointed to leave my role at the Storytelling Centre, where my job was to hold church and arts together.

“Sadly, this was part of a pattern in which, despite all the hope and energy of the millennium, the big denominations turned inwards to confront their own problems, at the very moment when Scotland went into a maelstrom of change! I tried to trace that dramatic story in my book Freedom and Faith.

“One by one all the non-congregational, ecumenical centres of learning and mission were shut and sold off – St Ninian’s Centre, Carberry Tower, St Colm’s College and Education Centre, and Scottish Churches House. Each time rational arguments were advanced for closure, but no-one seemed to notice we were closing down part of our collective future. ‘We have to focus on the parishes’, people would say, conveniently forgetting that the Reformers were also committed to institutions of learning, locally and nationally, for laypeople as well as professional ministers.

"The Storytelling Centre shows that culture is for everyone in our society, and that we all have creative abilities. It also makes connections and brings people together locally, nationally and internationally.

“I was able to go on supporting the work in practical and artistic ways, through my new roles with TRACS (Traditional Arts and Culture Scotland) and the Scottish International Storytelling Festival. More recently I helped raise emergency Covid funding for SSC that prevented the inevitable operational losses falling back on the Church. There are new partnerships in the making that will take the Centre forward into fresh decades.

“My most recent project Folk Tales from the Garden celebrates our relationship with nature by following the gardening calendar through a year of lockdown. I have two special projects for the Year of Stories, one about Argyll and its international seaways, and another looking at the Norse influence on Scotland.

Donald married Alison, a school friend from Stirling, in 1978 and they have five grown up kids and four grandchildren (so far).

“I do need to slow up though, and I intend to spend more time in one of my favourite occupations – chatting with folk, not least my grown-up kids and my expanding team of grand bairns. A good storyteller must first be a good listener – and that is something we have all come to truly value.”