All Saints brings up in me someting I call Indigenous Remembering. I look at the Indigenous cultures that I'm aware of... American Indian, South American, African... and in the traditional parts of these cultures there is a strong sense of honoring the Ancestors, the Ancient Ones. This Ancient-ness seems to in some way connect one to the Begining... the Origin of it all. Each generation behind us was closer to this origin.
Allow me to ramble here... it helps me make sense of the things that are bouncing around in my spirit...
I've recognized these cultures seem to have a very different understanding of time. The idea of "time" is to a degree culturally influenced. In our culture we often see time as a river that flows in one direction, it never slows down, and it doesn't stop. Drop a leaf in a stream, and this is what we expect our lives to be like with respect to time. Our lives start at a specific place in that steam, and, as the leaf, we begin to move "down stream", until we die.
However I'm facinated how this idea of "time" isn't necessarilly shared in Indigenous cultures. Time may not so much be seen as a "river" or "steam". I'ts often seen as circular, or certainly not always linear! I've participated in some rituals where there is a real sense of being part of something ancient, something Holy. Don't get me wrong, I've felt that in some moments during Christian rites and prayer times. I'm not trying to "glamorize" Indigenous ceremonies as "closer" to nature or the Spirit or something. I've been in ceremonies on the reservation where, thougth no fault of theirs, I didn't feel anything like that. It just didn't "happen" for me. And that's okay too.
But my point is this... have you ever been part of a prayer service, or some rite or ritual in the church (or otherwise) where you felt that somehow, some way, you had entered some mystical place where time wasn't perceived the same way? Where not only was time experienced differently, but you felt perhaps in touch with something very Holy, and very Old? That's what I'm talking about. One person told me -- what if we don't move through time... what if time moves through us!?
I remember the people that died as I was present with them. I've never been present with anyone that has died in trauma. They all died peacefully, most with family and/or friends around them. They just kind of slipped away. Very Sacred, very Holy, and... as I say this, I'm not trying to wrap this with psycho-babble or mumbo-jumbo (I'm trying to express this in a manner that conveys what I experienced)... very ancient.
I was there when my maternal Grandmother died. That side of my family is from South America. Before she died she saw her mother, my Great Grandmother , twice that I know of. In fact she told us a little bit about the experience, and what she told my Grandmother. Both times were very close to her death. In fact the last time I knew she was seeing her mother was just moments before her death.
There is a "tradition" in my family down there that when someone in the family dies... those who have preceeded them in death come and help them as they cross over. There are stories of a few people from the family who wer able to talk on their death-beds, and they said there's so-and-so, or something like that. Well, my grandmother was one of those that was able to confirm this "tradition". I must tell you, this was one of the most sacred experiences I have ever had. Sounds ironic, but it's true.
It's not that time stood still, or anything like that. I was acutely aware of time... she was slowly leaving this world with every breath that escaped her lips. The time between her breaths grew more and more... until she exhaled for the last time. But I almost missed it... there was so much time between breaths by that point, that I kind of expected one more. One more. Then I looked at the clock. Time of death 1PM... 1300 in military time.
(Just as an aside... My mother was born on the 13th of September. She is 13 years older than her brother. He is 13 years older than I am. I'm 13 years older than his daughter. And my grandmother died at 13oo on the 13th of December. -- And... My daughter was born on the 12th of September, and she is 12 years older than her brother... and the cycle continues...)
Although I took notice of her "time" of death, in actuality I perceived it as a process that may have started as much as days prior. In retrospect, I see how my Grandmother was preparing herself for this moment. So, her last breath here just meant she was finishing her birth in another place. I've said before that it was like the veil between worlds parted just a little. But maybe it wasn't so much that the veil between worlds parted, as much as at that moment I was totally present and clued-in to the sacredness of every moment.
The last person I had the honor of being with as theydied was a friend of mine. She was a mother of three, the youngest of whom I Confirmed. She died of cancer. I think she was 48. And the thing that I remember most was her last breath. She slipped away too.
Her children and her fiance were there. Not long after I arrived, I did the Commendation for the Dying (Last Rites). I said the prayers from the book. As I was saying that, her oldest daughter kept sdaying..."It's okay Mom... you can go now... we love you", in a soft, loving, comforting tone. And just a few moments later... I recognized that familiar extension of the breaths... more and more time between inhilation and exhilation... until... she exhaled for the last time. That's when I said, "She's gone".
I remember watching this again with a real sense of awe! This in no way is to minimize the loss her family felt. And certainly it is difficult to see a friend die as well. But there was that Ancient and Holy place again. I saw someone leave this place as they were being born in another.
"Time" was different. It's not like I was going through time... but that there was an ancient and holy "moment". It certainly did not feel like the "river in the stream" sense of time. My very first Sweat Lodge experience was the same kind of thing. It was like a prolonged, holy and ancient moment.
Having said all that... how can this be "experienced" in a service like... say... All Saints Sunday? You certainly can't "control" how it comes out, how people actually experience what happens in worship. I guess one thing I take away from this is to remember to be conscious of, and open to, that sense that"time" isn't always how we think of it. I should remember more that the Ancient and the Holy is always there. And maybe part of my call is to remind others that we're living in this holy and sacred and ancient Moment.
And in those moments of awareness, we can look back, behind us, to those who have gone before with a sense of connection to our ancient ones, speaking words of gratitude... words of the heart. But we can also look ahead to those generations not yet born... and speak to them words of hope... words of Spirit... all in that same Holy and Ancient and Eternal Moment.
We just have to remember!
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