Santa Clara storytellers reflect on how the act of telling a story expands connection and themselves

Storytelling is as old as humanity itself. It’s how our ancestors passed down wisdom and survival tips and forged bonds. What we read today as classics were, in some instances, epics and sagas told fireside as spoken-word stories, laying down cultural norms around welcoming the stranger and foundational legends and values for society.

Stories help us connect. And help us define ourselves and our place in the world. Here are three Santa Clara storytellers on what the practice means to them.

The Poet

Assistant professor of English Daniel B. Summerhill has led a senior seminar on self-excavation through storytelling. This poet calls stories “empathy machines,” designed to help us understand each other better.

“We’re a copycat people, so we’re wired to empathize and wired to tell stories,” he says. This isn’t just about entertainment; it’s about tapping into the fundamental human desire to be seen and understood—a survival skill, if you will. Stories act as a mirror, reflecting our own emotions, and as a window, offering glimpses into the lives of others, Summerhill says.

When someone shares a tale about losing their job or dealing with anxiety, the listener might recognize elements of their own life. That moment of shared experience is a powerful antidote to loneliness. And it doesn’t even require identical experiences. Summerhill emphasizes that stories connect us through shared emotion, not just shared facts.

Stories create a ripple effect, inviting others to reflect, relate, and even begin their own healing journeys. “The act of storytelling is an act of connection—a way of saying ‘I see you’ and hoping you see me back,” Summerhill says. And with a society that’s been called “too individualistic,” storytelling reminds us that humans were never meant to live as islands.

The Author

For Kai Harris, an assistant professor of creative writing and published author, storytelling isn’t just about connection but also visibility. Harris says her acclaimed novel, What the Fireflies Knew, draws on her experience growing up as a Black girl. With so few stories told from that perspective, she knew her narrator could open doors of understanding and empathy for her readers.

“I was proud that by sharing something personal, people from all walks of life discovered something about themselves,” she says.

“The power of story isn’t dependent on shared identity, but rather on shared emotion and reflection,” Harris says. You don’t have to live the same life to feel the same feelings. All it takes is the willingness to listen and share—the ancient recipe for belonging.

Writing is like a dialogue for Harris.

“My hope is to say something meaningful to the world while giving readers the freedom to interpret it for themselves,” she says. It’s like handing someone a key and letting them decide which door it unlocks. That trust in letting others interpret as they may can foster a sense of belonging.

The Jesuit

SCU Vice President for Mission and Ministry Matthew Carnes, S.J. reflects on the spiritual side of storytelling. Homilies and sacred texts have long created spaces where people come together to find meaning.

“Homilies can spark personal insight and communal understanding,” he says. Stories told in churches, temples, or mosques aren’t just sermons, they’re threads that stitch people into something larger than themselves in a disconnected age.

Fr. Carnes says that stories, particularly those found in spiritual traditions, touch on universal human experiences, including love, loss, and happiness, which help people feel less alone.

“When you realize that something is universal, all of a sudden you’re not alone,” he says. The Jesuit worldview of “something sacred is going on in every single person,” fosters an openness that builds community across differences, Carnes says.

Maybe the gift of storytelling is that it slows us down. For a moment, we step outside of ourselves and in that pause, we remember that we’re not meant to do this alone. For the Santa Clara community, storytelling, faith, and shared meaning are transformative, offering hope and connection.