“Memory”
The Eighth Sunday
after Pentecost – Proper 10
14 July 2013
The Episcopal Church
of Our Saviour
Mill
Valley, California
Deuteronomy 30:9-14
Psalm 25:1-9
Colossians 1:1-14
St. Luke 10:25-37
INI
Memory and Formation
I went looking for this on the Internet after I read the
lessons for this Sunday. It was a
small green book, maybe 4 x 6, that dominated my first six years of elementary
school. It was known as the
“memory book”, and it contained in a graded order, from the simple to the
complex, verses from the Bible that were to be memorized. It was a parochial school, and each
week my classmates and I struggled to memorize the verses assigned to us. I hated it, but I treasure the resource
that was given me and that is kept in my heart (and God knows how many brain
cells).
One more instance: It was a diocesan conference for clergy,
and we had gathered in the evening for a banquet. The program said that we were going to say Evening Prayer at
the end of the banquet, and when that time came, there was the harsh
realization that no one had brought Prayer Books so that Evening Prayer might
be said. There was an uneasy
silence, and the leaders attempted to locate Prayer Books – but none were
found. There was a low level of
mumbling as time passed. Finally
one of the leaders looked at the assembled people and said, “The Lord be with
you” and automatically we responded “And also with you.” Then she said, “O God, make speed to
save us,” and without missing a beat those assembled replied, “O Lord, make
haste to help us…Glory be to the Father…” And thus it went, the whole of the
prayer office being said from the resources of our hearts.
This surprises none of you, for it is this memory of
liturgical phrases, hymns, bible passages and sayings from grandparents, and
parents that buoy us up when times are difficult. All of this sacred memory exists along side memories of
Loony Toons, and Disney cartoons, advertisement jingles and bumper sticker
wisdom. We have the capacity to
retain so much. You may be
wondering, “Why is he talking about this today?”
Listen to what the Deuteronomist has to say from this
morning’s first reading: “No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for
you to observe." As Moses observes the prosperity of Israel, he
also reminds them of their real wealth, their commonwealth in the Word and Law
of God. However, his real
observation of the intimacy of that relationship, of God’s very breath and word
to the people is what takes my breath away. Moses comments that the Word and the Law are as close as the
words of our own mouth, and the emotions of our own hearts. That is what will make us alive in God.
Memory before memory
Listening to the radio one time, I heard a ballerino discuss
the recreation of a particular work.
It had not been noted down in notation, but had been recreated from
muscle memory. Muscle memory is
how I can play “To A Wild Rose” on the piano – my finger muscles remember the
movement, notes, and fingering. I
don’t really read the music.
Memory allows us to live life in context and to learn from
what has gone before. In his book,
England, England, Julian Barnes begins with these words,
“‘What’s your first memory?’ someone would ask. And she
would reply, ‘I don’t remember.’ Most people assumed it was a joke, though a
few suspected her of being clever. But it was what she believed. ‘I know just
what you mean,’ sympathizers would say, preparing to explain and simplify.
‘There’s always a memory just behind your first memory, and you can’t quite get
at it.’[1]
Yes, there is always something within us that always
remembers, even if we forget to remember.
It’s tied to our senses.
Smell port wine and I think of my first communion, hear the “Witches’
Sabbath” from Symphonie Fantastique,
and I think of my father taking his six year old son to his first
symphony. Earlier peoples had this
sense of “memory beyond memory”, and in it centered their spiritual and religious
lives. This is the memory that is
not sharpened by old photographs, or television. This is the approximate memory that guided Abraham and
Sarah, and that wrote the Bible.
Fuzzy, sometimes unclear, fleeting – these memories were the gifts of mothers
and fathers to succeeding generations.
It is the memory to which Moses alludes in his comments on the Law of
God.
These memories always place in the presence of those who
have gone before us, and they most certainly place in a place of wonder before
God. It is true, they all compete
for our attention, but they are indeed the potential source of whatever
thanksgiving we can make to God.
Peter Menkin puts it well in his poem, “Discovering Christ in Words of Faith”[2]
“A lingo
known to me but sadly not a written language,
so I
feebly clung to English, which I’d known but now forgot.
No doubt
about it, that lingo known is but sadly
Not a
written language, and how to cling mightily so
To English
which I’ve known but forgot.”
Memories may be a
conundrum, but they are a source and foundation of faith – so now what do we do
with them.
The Practical Application of Memory
A lawyer comes to Jesus,
in today’s Gospel, and wants to know how to be saved – how to attain heavenly
life, and Jesus throws the question back to him. “What does the Law say?” The lawyer knows his stuff and recites back the passage
about God, love, and neighbor. He
proves nothing by this, only proving to those standing with Jesus, that he has
done his homework, and knows the Law.
It was not only the Law that comes back to him from his memory, but his
creed as well. He and all of
Israel would and did say:
“Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone! Therefore,
you shall love the LORD, your God, with your whole heart, and with your whole
being, and with your whole strength.
Take to heart these words which I command you today. Keep
repeating them to your children. Recite them when you are at home and when you
are away, when you lie down and when you get up. Bind them
on your arm as a sign* and let them be as a pendant on your
forehead. Write them on the doorposts of your
houses and on your gates.”[3]
Remember the part that
the lawyer recalls about loving the Lord your God, about loving your neighbor,
about loving yourself. Because of
the way it is phrased we often forget to remember that last one – “love your
neighbor as you love yourself. That’s an important part – remembering
to love our selves. It makes the
other part – the neighbor part – possible. But then the lawyer goes too
far. The answer he receives in the
Parable of the Good Samaritan will enlighten all who are within hearing
distance about the real intent and practice of the law, but the lawyer’s true
intents will be stripped bare.
“And who is my neighbor?”
The neighbor is the one
who stirs our memory, who brings up into our consciousness what others have
taught us about what God would have us do. Jesus comments on it in the Gospel According to Matthew in
his discussion with the disciples about the end time.
“Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come,
you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the
foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty
and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and
you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’[4]
Of
course they remember none of this.
“Lord, when did we see you hungry, thirsty, naked, sick, in
prison?” Would you remember, and
where and when would your memory kick in?
“When you did it to the least of these!” Then the memory before memory should come to mind, the
example of saints, and family, or grandparents, and those known to us or
unknown, all of who served Christ in service to others. In your heart is a memory of what
Christ has done, and what you still can do.
In
Germany one Advent, Arthur and I went to hear a concert at St. Nikolaus Kirche
in Berlin. The church had been
secularized in the late 50s, and now it served as a museum of what role the
church had played in the governing of Berlin, and later in its acquiring
freedoms and liberty. The choir
sang Advent hymns that you would remember, and sang some secular songs as
well. At the end, after bows had
been taken and applause offered, the conductor went back to the podium in front
of the choir and asked the audience to join with him in singing Nun komm der heiden Heiland (Savior of
the Nations, Come). There were no
hymnals, or words printed in the program – just the invitation to join in
song. And they did. Rising from their seats, they sang the
hymn from memory, from their hearts, from the memory before memory, all seven
verses. There in that place that
had taken faith from the pew out into the streets and byways, they sang and
remembered.
Now
then, what shall we do?
SDG
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