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’ve being doing this for a number of years now myself. I hear a song that I’d heard back when, and
it brings back all kinds of memories. I find myself 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.
About eight years
before he died, my father got more serious about poetry. Over a few years, he ended up writing quite a
few poems. They weren’t the most
sophisticated poems, nor the most articulate pieces… but they didn’t have to
be. They weren’t meant to be published
by one of the big Houses. They were
meant for him. They represented a piece
of his memories… which unfortunately had started fading by that point. The memory loss started small, and over the
following years, little by little, his life lost its past.
But his poetry was
perhaps a conscious link to that slowly diminishing past. He’d write about where he’d lived, which were
many places! He wrote about the places
he went to in his life and career as a Foreign Service Officer. He wrote about his growing up years, about
his father, etc. Unfortunately, as the years progressed, his dementia
slowly stole his ability to remember his own story more and more.
One of the last times
we were able to remember together, I walked with him to a local coffee shop –
something he used to do a lot of when we lived overseas. There I ordered for us, getting him a coke
or a coffee, and I began asking him about some places he used to know from when
he was a kid. I asked him about his
neighborhood in Baltimore, about the Baltimore Colts (his favorite team), and
about some of the players he was fond of.
I asked him about Y.A. Tittle.
And because his disease had diminished his ability to control his
emotions, that name brought up some tears of remembering – made me remember again… events, people,
situations, do indeed leave their emotional imprint on us... that memories are
their own form of poetry.
On that last walk to
and from the coffee shop, I was in a
way the father then… helping him walk, starting conversations, and being
patient when words didn’t come right away, making sure to move at his pace, and
just feeling his presence and loving it, and him. So his poems mean more to me now that I know
what they’re really about… now that I’ve started 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 journeys
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 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' thats got to be remembered. Over time, the world can rob us of that
swing. It gets buried inside us under
all our wouldas and couldas and shouldas.
Some folk even forget what their swing was like…
May your Lenten Journey
bring you to that place of Sacred Remembering… that places where your life
catches up to your time, and your time makes a space for your life. Make some time to remember those Sacred
moments… those people, and places, and words, and events… let them just come upon you, like when you
turn the corner and there’s someone right there already. Let them bring up what they bring up… trust
that they’re there for a reason… a messenger come to bring you an important
word. And, interestingly enough… it’ll help us be more in the present too.
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