What Comes of Remembering?

There a numerous posts on Facebook today that say "Remember," accompanied by images of the twin towers or first responders or simply the date, 9-11-2001. It's hard to imagine that many who were much more than infants don't remember. I was getting ready to teach the first weekday Bible study class of the fall in a congregation where I was the "new" pastor. A person arriving for the class shared the first, confusing reports of a plane hitting one of the towers.

Many people can remember exactly where they were when they first heard the news of a terrorist attack, a phenomenon similar to previous generations recalling the shooting of JFK or the bombing of Pearl Harbor. It is seared into our memories. Remembering is not something difficult. And so the real question is, what comes of our remembering?

I attended a funeral today. There was a great deal of remembering there, and most all of it brought smiles to people's faces. There were tears as well, but the remembering was a comfort. I expect that those who lost loved ones on 9-11 do some remembering of this sort today. They recall those taken from them too soon, and they hold tightly to their memories.

Remembering can also give us wisdom and help us not to repeat mistakes. One would hope that our nation learned some things from 9-11 and its aftermath. Hopefully we will not repeat some of the intelligence failures that preceded it. And hopefully we will not repeat some of the foolishness that followed because we were hurt and angry and wanted revenge.

Remembering also has an unseemly side. Being in relationships with others requires a certain amount of forgetting, at least of the pain another has caused us. As Harriet Ward Beecher once said, "I can forgive, but I cannot forget, is only another way of saying, I will not forgive. Forgiveness ought to be like a cancelled note - torn in two, and burned up, so that it never can be shown against one." Holding on to old hurts and grudges is a destructive sort of remembering that can make life bitter and joyless.

So what sort of remembering is our remembering on this anniversary of 9-11? No doubt it is a mixed bag, but I want to urge and pray for remembering that does not stoke anger and bitterness and fear, because this sort of remembering is toxic, especially so to those who practice it. We should remember and honor those who died, as well as remember and draw wisdom from those events and the way they have changed us. But remembering that seeks to hold onto anger and hatred makes us no safer, and it diminishes us and crowds out more helpful remembering.

As a follower of Jesus, I am called to a life of love, not one that is captive to anger and fear and hatred. I do no honor to Jesus, or to those who died on 9-11, if my remembering helps me fear my Muslim neighbor or hate someone who wears a turban. I only rob myself of the joyful life Jesus invites me to live.

I will remember 9-11. How could I not? I will recall those who died because of others' unwillingness to let go of hate and anger and fear, and I will weep. But I will not let my remembering cause me to  hate. One of the things I remember clearly from those days after 9-11 was a service at the National Cathedral where the preacher cautioned us not to be drawn into the darkness that had assailed us, "lest we become the evil we deplore." And I will not let my remembering lead me toward the darkness, for in Jesus, I am called to be a child of light.

And so, as I remember the horrific events of thirteen years ago, I will also remember that the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it. I will remember the wonders of creation, the kindness and love I have received from others, the wonderful relationships with family and friends, and the love of God that surpasses my wildest imagination and is stronger than all darkness, even death itself. And I will live, and I will love, and I will appreciate the all the good in my life. And I will not hate, and I will not be afraid.