Remembering Where We Have Been Helps Us Be Where We Now Are

“God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.” – James M. Barrie

J.M. Barrie might have been the tortured soul many modern scholars believe he was, but the truth is true even from such lips as his likely are. Finding this quotation not only fills me with gratitude for a simple joy, a built-in feature of the wondrous human brain, but it also brings roses from my five-year-old self to an at times December-ish feeling man in his forties. With the mention of Peter Pan’s author, James M. Barrie, I am transported on the wings of memory and a fiberglass flying ship. I’m five again, soaring terrified over Neverland in the Peter Pan boat at Disneyland in Anaheim, California. If you’ve never been on the Peter Pan’s Flight ride at Disney, or don’t remember when you were, insert your own Peter Pan related memory.

Memory is magic. Memory is precious gift. Memory is a sacred art if you practice. Memory makes and unmakes us. It is the building material of our stories about who we are. It is sometimes elusive, slippery. It is other-times intrusive, bossy. It is mutable, and thus unreliable, and yet where else can we stand but upon it?  

Most religions could be essentialized as common memory — a community that chooses to be shaped by the same story. Many of these stories overlap, and where they do they transcend. Memory making and keeping is the common cry of countless creeds, “Do this in remembrance of me.” “Remember this day in which you came out from Egypt, out of the house of slavery, for by a strong hand the LORD brought you out from this place.” Remember, remember…

On July 16, the sacred art of memory was my entire display for the Wellness Fair in the community auditorium of my workplace where I am the Spiritual Care Director. My sign said, “Charting Our Spiritual Roots.”

Someone asked me, “What are you giving out?”

I answered, “Oh no, I’m receiving. Tell me a story. Were you part of a church or synagogue growing up?”

From there we were off — remembering so many roses in December — thinking of names we hadn’t said in years, picturing street corners, walking down forgotten alleys, and telling living tales. For those who lived outside of the Philadelphia area, we wrote the name of their congregation on the whiteboard (see the picture above). For those who grew up local we found that church or synagogue, or where it used to be, on the real-live-paper map I had procured with no little difficulty from a Barnes and Noble in Marlton, NJ for this special purpose (see the picture below). For those who had no connection to a house of worship, we found their family’s house on the map. At times there was a line of people waiting to “Get on the map.” It was more fun than the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland!

I learned there is no limit to the time I could wisely spend in soliciting stories and listening. I hope you make that space for your friends and family, too. Even if you have heard that one a thousand times, let them tell it. I hope you also dare to dig that old stuff up. Even if you think your little story wouldn’t be interesting to others when it comes to mind because of what they said, say it anyway. I hope you decide to practice. Even when you aren’t quite sure if you made this up, it’s worth finding an audience for it. I hope you remember, remember out loud even more, because memory is a sacred gift, a sacred art.

Remembering where we have been helps us be where we now are. So many memories connect us to what we’ve lost. How many of the synagogues in Strawberry Mansion are no longer there? Making a life and a home at a Senior Living Community takes effort. There is almost always a lot of loss associated with moving here. I hoped that putting our stories actually on the same map together (and telling you that I did so now) would help each one reading take a firmer grip of the soil beneath their feet. Stand firm, my friends, on the ground made by all those many stories and the beautiful grounds on which we walk and share a common life.