My bishop of blessed memory, Robert Sherwood Morse, often said that we Christians are people of reality. We are unafraid and even eager to find and face the truth, or we learn to be so over time, with regular self-examination, confession, and absolution. This command to honestly examine one’s life, thoughts, words, and deeds, done and undone, is a blessing, growing us into who we are meant to be.
We also desire to build a life upon a firm foundation, not lies, not wishes, not fantasies.
To face reality we must practice observation. We watch, we listen, we sense. We taste, touch, smell. We use all the senses that we have been given to breathe in the world around us, a world created for us to live in and love one another. Today some call this mindfulness, but it is an old Christian virtue, a child of gratitude and grace. And when we train our senses, we also train our wills to step outside of ourselves to see better, to pay attention, and to abjure the opposite, the sinking into the despair of one’s own private world. It is a step toward learning to love.
Observe my cat, for instance. What an amazing creature! Angel is a jumper (perhaps she has wings), able to leap tall bookcases in a single bound. She is in the American History section in this photo, for she has learned how to get my attention. Her next move will be to knock the nearby icons off the wall with her paw. If there is a small book she can maneuver, she will send it flying.
We adopted her at Christmas 2020, hence her name. We named her brother Gabriel. He looked after her in her new home, but tragically succumbed to a feline virus and is waiting for us in Heaven now. So we lavish lots of love on Angel.
We faced Gabriel’s early death, a reality we see too often in today’s world of violence. We are given a short span of life, making each moment precious. We hold close the living, remembering those who have gone before us.
And so memory is another gift of grace. As I wrote this I suddenly remembered that my bishop died on this day, May 28, in 2015. He lives in my mind and heart, and he touched me with this sudden memory. Memory brings him into the present. This is not to say he isn’t fully alive where he is now residing (a mansion in Heaven’s hill country), but memory bridges Heaven and Earth on this cold wintry afternoon.
Now, observe our recent outdoor visitors, beautiful creatures, young bucks, with magnificent fuzzy antlers to be worn off in the fall if not sooner. They are baby antlers, I’m told, and I’m not sure of their purpose, but they will be replaced by the adult ones later, perhaps like our baby teeth.
We are graced with a marvel-ous world, a world of marvels: all the world of the present and all the world of the past. We are textured by time, and the weave of years through our lives, hearts, and minds, teaches us how to live today and tomorrow. We learn from these remarkable threads of memory woven through the past into the present. We mourn our sins and celebrate our virtues. We reject the evil and embrace the good. How else can we grow without memory, without a true telling?
And so it is a tragedy today that reality is made up by those who wish power or are afraid to face truth, or both. History disappears, erased and rewritten. Statues tumble. Public names are painted over and renamed. Truth dies on the cross of modernity.
Yet this weekend we celebrate Memorial Day, a day of memory, a time to remember the true heroes of our world, those who stepped out with brave hearts and practiced courage to keep us free. Where are those heroes today? Those who face the truth of our world, our fallen world, and those who remember the past, both the unrighteous and the righteous. Where are the men and women who will keep us free, who honor faith and family and friendship, life and love?
Today we also celebrate the Birthday of the Church, Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended upon the disciples in Jerusalem, at a time of a major Jewish festival, bringing in faithful from all parts of the world who spoke many languages. The description of the event is dramatic, for “there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting… cloven tongues like fire, upon each of them… they were filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues…” (Acts 2:1+) They would speak to the many foreigners in their own language of the “wonderful works of God.” Christ Jesus had foretold this event, promising that “the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost… shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you… Let not our heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:15+)
These are words worth remembering, bringing the past into the present. We fear not, we trouble not, we enjoy the peace of Christ. For with memory, the Holy Spirit fills us up, overflowing, with the love of God.
For as my bishop of blessed memory often said, “Do not worry. All is grace.”
Christine Sunderland
Christine Sunderland 