The word “souvenir” comes from
the French word meaning “to remember.” At least once a summer I have the
opportunity of browsing through the crowded Nantahala outdoor shop near Quiet
Rest while waiting for my son-in-law, Mitch, to meet up with me after his run
of the class 4 waters of the Nantahala river.
I am always tempted to purchase a shirt from the overstuffed racks of
t-shirts, hats and the such but then my very cold “up-side-down” experience and
rescue from the same river, at sixty nine years hits my memory and I
intentionally pass the opportunity of the purchase. I don’t suppose that I will ever have the
same memory of romantic encounters that my son-in-law will have years from now.
And I think he enjoys the souvenirs I purchase for
him as Christmas gifts or on other occasions.
Each time I dawn the long sleeved T I purchased four or five years ago, bearing
the word Nantahala, now, only serves to remind me of a another time when I had
visions of conquering white water and falls or maybe feeling like I've sold
myself out as the prototypical, easily-targeted, junk-buying tourist when
someone says; “I like your shirt” or “I've been there!”
Then I was reading an article in
the doctors office the other day where the creators of a souvenir shop in Buchenwald , Germany Buchenwald concentration camp where an
estimated 56,000 people were murdered at the hands of the Nazis. Their
souvenirs range from plaques embedded with stones from the camp to sprigs taken
from the surrounding forest to be planted elsewhere. Moneymaking was never the
point, the founders maintain; the project has always been about building bridges
of memory, actively confronting history, and hoping to extend the somber
lessons of the Holocaust to future generations. The original article came from the New
York Times. From outrage to appreciation, reactions have
been understandably varied. My own are admittedly mixed. Can materialism be set
aside in a souvenir shop? Can history only be “actively confronted” with an
object in hand? More notably, how might I best go about the vital act of
remembering?
Last Sunday, I attended mother to the chapel at the facility where she resides. There was a small crucifix standing on the
table in front which I assumed was left by the catholic chaplain after the
previous mass proceeding. As the
chaplains of the day entered, without hesitation the crucifix was removed and
put with clutter on a back shelf. I
immediately was struck and glanced around the room, observing resident’s faces. On one particular ladies face was a distant
wondering, frown, head and eyes intently moving and searching for the crucifix now hidden among stacks of paper, flower arrangements, pictures, etc. of the back shelving. I saw her
later in the hallway and asked if she were Catholic. In her ten minute personal, elegant, and committed, elder voiced answer, I was freshly reminded of the power of remembering.
I’m finding there to be a great
amount of Christian Scripture calling the world to the act of remembering:
remembering the story every person is a part of, the moments God has acted mightily,
the times humanity has learned in tears. “Remember this,” God uttered in
history, “Fix it in mind, take it to heart, you rebels. Remember the former
things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there
is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times,
what is still to come,” Isaiah 46:8-10. The story of faith is
one that requires memory. God has moved; God is moving. Remember.
But how?
“Actively,” the answer seems
to come, and with great weight, for it is possible to forget. “Hear, O Israel:
The LORD our God, the LORD is one. You shall love the LORD your God with all
your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. These
words that I command you today shall be on your heart. Teach them diligently to
your children, talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by
the way, when you lie down, and when you rise. Bind them as a sign
on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. Write
them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.” Deuteronomy
6:4-9. Memory plays a vital role in the story God
continues to tell.
Father, God, I thank you for
the provision of memory. By the precious
Holy Spirit quicken my memory so that I might fulfill Your command during this
season of life. Amen
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