WHY MEMORIES MATTER

When your memories outweigh your dreams, you are old (at any age), and when “what-used-to-be” gives you more joy than “what-might-be,” you’ve reached a place… where you don’t even try to build or envision. The measure of our youthfulness lies in our anticipation of what is yet to come, and not in the number of our days. If we’re 102… and still invest in high tech stocks, or plant saplings to beautify our property, we are young… because we’ve set our faces toward the future. I’ve always believed this, and as a shepherd, I continue to embrace the most of it… but over the course of time, I’ve come to see how much we are “one” with the events and people who wrote much of our own personal stories… and with one another, through our shared stories-as a church, as a nation, and as a people. Over time, I’ve grown old enough, or spiritually mature enough, to see that I’m part of a whole- unique within it- but affected by all of it, and that I’m neither self-made nor all alone.

In recent years, I’ve come to believe that I am spiritually and deeply connected with those who lived before me. I feel a deep connection with the boys who died at Gettysburg, and I feel the same connection with those who died in the winter of 1620-21 at Jamestown. A handful of my direct ancestors died there, but beyond that, I feel “connected” with the Pilgrims and the bold entrepreneurs, with their journeys, their sacrifices, their dreams, their quest for religious and political freedom, and their (yes, old-fashion) work ethic. Many of my ancestors were Pilgrims, many were Quakers, several were preachers, and a couple of them were tried as witches in Salem, and I can… feel… their resolve and their tears. In recent years, I’ve become more and more impressed with our Founding fathers and mothers, and more and more certain of the faith in which they were grounded. I am connected to all of this, and you are too! The past is not dead, but lives within us today, even as we are molding a way of life for, and passing on genes to those who will live in the future.

My father was a pilot in WWII, and he saw a lot of action. He didn’t have anything good to say about Franklin Roosevelt- ever- but he didn’t put his life on the line for him. I doubt if he voted at all…but he knew that there were far worse things than dying. This, I pray, is part of my legacy, as are the soup lines of the depression and the freedom marches of the sixties. I am connected to all of this, and much, much more. You are too, and who among us can walk through the Viet Nam Memorial or the graves on Arsenal Island… without feeling connected with something powerful and sacred. Maybe I’m getting wiser, maybe I’m growing old, but I’m in touch with a debt that I owe to people I never met, and even more, to the men and women…who shaped my life. Just last week, as I was driving home from an unusually good round of golf, I felt a tinge of excitement when I thought about sharing my joy with my brother… but Larry’s been in heaven for some time now.

Friends, people whom we love- or who have just left an imprint on us- they never, ever die. Thus, as we live out our own lives, we owe a debt to those who’ve gone before us… and we have an obligation to those who are on their way. We are not a nothing in a nowhere, but part of God’s ongoing creative work… and therefore, we must honor those who have left their marks on us, even as we invest in those who will make up… the future. Like the Roman god, Janus (for whom January is named), we’re called to face both the past and the future, as we live in the present. As Joshua (ch. 4) knew so very long ago, it is very, very important to remember… officially… and with ceremony… because memorials and ceremonial rituals… give people a chance to connect. They give our kids a forum for questions- who gave these stained glass windows, who was Mr. Schroder- and who are George Shumaker, Bob Coatney, Jim and Helen Peak, Craig King, Max and Rachel Fisher, Don Sale, Addy Heitzman, Thomas Cheney- and why are their names on our patio, our benches, or in front of the trees that make our grounds beautiful? They give us a chance to answer these questions, and our ceremonies give adults the affirmation that we need to keep on going. Our memories serve to etch our identities deeper and deeper. Yes, I am an America… a pilgrim… a warrior. I am a Christian, and I am related to martyrs in all times and place. I’m a Midwestern boy, and the land means a lot to us. I’m a Presbyterian, even though I know nothing about John Calvin or John Knox. I look around and I see the pulpit and the communion table, and I know that I’m connected to James Reid and William Oglevee. I see the liturgist, the ushers, and the ladies in the back… and I know that I’m connected with all of them, and that they have- or will- affect my life and my sense of self.

 

Thus, it is very important to remember, and on this All Saints Sunday, we will officially honor those who’ve died within the past year, and also remember those who passed on… before then. In the Protestant church, we’re all saints “in Christ,” and thus, as Christians, we’re connected with the men and women we will mention in a moment… in deep ways. This is also a Communion Sunday, and we believe that in a powerful (yet mysterious) way, when we come to the table, we come with Christians in all times and place (period). Finally, when we’ve completed our liturgy of Remembrance, I encourage you to thank God for those who touched your lives and made you who you are today. Please open the insert entitled, “Remembrance of the Deceased.”