Food For The Journey

FOOD FOR THE JOURNEY Week of August 10th, 2009

Sacred Memory…

When I was a kid, sometimes when my mother would listen to the radio, after some particularly meaningful song, she’d tell me some background about a place or time, or a person that the song reminded her of. She’d sometimes tell me about an uncle, or a cousin, or a story about when she was at school. I didn’t think it was ramblings, but I certainly didn’t see it from the same “eyes” of memory that she had. I certainly didn’t have the same appreciation for the song that she had. To me, that song was just an old song.

I can remember as a child hearing my grandparents talking about some of their experiences back in World War II, or other events in their lives. Looking back, they would talk with such meaning, as if they were seeing these events again, as if they were trying to describe them to a person that couldn’t see those events with the same eyes of experience. It was almost as if they were trying to convey to me the feelings and perceptions they had as they were living those events. The thing is, they weren’t trying to tell me about a memory… they were trying to tell me about themselves through that memory!

But, I was too young to appreciate what they were doing. I didn’t get it. I lived primarily in the moment, or if I looked anywhere it was to the future. The past wasn’t something I looked at too much, probably because there might not have been too much of it in my life to be very reflective about it.

Then years later, I’d do my clinical chaplaincy work in a retirement home/assisted living center/nursing home complex in Gaithersburg MD, called Asbury Methodist Village, in the summer of 1996. At the time I was all of 30 years old. During our first week there, we were greeted and briefed by a number of staff members, who talked to us on a number of things related to work and ministry among the elderly. We had nurses and social workers come talk to us about what life is like as an older person, what they might be going through emotionally, intellectually, physically, etc. We had people come and talk with us about various infirmities and diseases that are related primarily to the elderly – like Alzheimer’s disease.

I remember one particular social worker who came to talk to us. She talked with us about the power of Reminiscence… that thing people do more of as they get older. To the young, “reminiscence” is pretty much remembering. And reminiscing is pretty much talking about old times. But the social worker talked about this as a natural process, as something people do; either to make more sense of the present, to make peace with the past, to anchor the living process in something. It’s a natural part of our aging process, she’d say. And as she spoke about this process, it sounded almost like something holy. She described something that naturally occurs in us as something that took on the feel of a Sacred Pilgrimage to a sacred place… but the sacred place is in our history, in our psyche, in our souls.

Well, as it turns out, I’ve noticed I’m doing this more and more. I hear a song that I’d heard back when, and it brings back all kinds of memories. And I find my self telling my kids about this or that event in my life. And once I figure out what I’m doing… I realize it’s more than just a story. And I see they don’t get it. How can I put in words – although it’s a story… it’s not just a story. I’m telling you about myself, about who I am, about my pilgrimage through this life so far. How can you say this on words? How can you convey meaning of your life as a story-teller, a teller of stories… about yourself, only told in pieces… one story at a time? But to them, they’re just stories.

For about four years, my father enjoyed writing poetry. They weren’t the most sophisticated poems, nor the most articulate pieces… but they represented a piece of his memories… which unfortunately are fading now more and more with each passing day. He’d write about his past, places he went to in his life and career as a Foreign Service Officer, he’d write about his growing up years, about his father, etc. unfortunately he hasn’t been able to do this for about a year now. He’s developing a form of dementia that’s stealing his memories. So his poems mean more to me now that I know what they’re really about… now that I’m beginning the process of reminiscing myself.

One of my professors at Seminary used to say – “The bible does not reveal its secrets to disinterested passers-by.” Maybe it’s not all going to be spelled out for us… maybe we have to dig a little. I wonder if this isn’t what our spiritual journey’s are like. I wonder if all the important things we need to know about living well, about forgiveness, about God and grace, about faith and hope… are already there? Is it a matter of just getting that stuff out… in the right way, at the right time? Maybe it’s about Remembering… about looking back on our lives, reading between the lines, and seeing the sacred between the empty spaces of our journey, about having the courage to seek deep within and shine the light in those dark corners we haven’t looked at in a long, long time… Maybe it’s the same way with our growth as healthy people – maybe we have to take time to look inside us, in our journey thus far… in our memories, our Sacred Memories… memories handed down to us from ages ago, memories that were introduced to our spiritual DNA a long time ago. This has led me to believe in something that really does exist… Sacred Remembering.

There is a scene in the movie “The Legend of Bagger Vance”, about a gifted golfer who returns from WWI psychologically wounded. He is struggling with some demons that prevent him from living as a whole and healthy human being (sound familiar?). Well, this character Bagger Vance comes along to help him in his journey. Basically it’s a movie about living well, using the game of golf as a tool for doing so. Here’s a scene that speaks about Sacred Remembering

Bagger Vance: Yep... Inside each and every one of us is one true authentic swing... Somethin' we was born with... Somethin' that's ours and ours alone... Somethin' that can't be taught to ya or learned... Somethin' that got to be remembered... Over time the world can, rob us of that swing... It get buried inside us under all our wouldas and couldas and shouldas... Some folk even forget what their swing was like...

Watch it here:
This scene is a more full scene, but it’s subtitled in some other language, and the sound quality isn’t all that great.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nna6BpU8i2I&feature=related

Here’s the same scene, better quality sound (without the sub-titles) but it’s shorter.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eH4oOnh6DyI

It’s all there… we just have to Remember!


Peace,

Pr C-