Healing Memories

“Healing of Memories”

Mark 9:30-37

September 24, 2006 Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Preached at Kingston Road United Church

* * *

Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, ‘What were you arguing about on the way?’ But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, ‘Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.’

* * *

I found out this week that Kevin, the Sexton, Eric, the organist, and I share the same birth year.
The quilters and their friends celebrated Elizabeth Carnaghan’s 100th birthday at KRU on Thursday morning. Sharon Hick remarked that “there is lots of history in the room.” It is true that there was so much history in the room.

There were people anywhere from Elizabeth, celebrating 100 years of her life, to Emilia, Lloyd and Jean’s granddaughter, who is 2 years old. There were laughter and remembrance of memories. We looked at the faded photos of Elizabeth as a toddler being held by one of her brothers. We saw a card from the Queen Elizabeth II congratulating Elizabeth of reaching 100 years of life.

We learned that Elizabeth was born in Agincourt, Toronto. She slept on the very bed she was born in on her last day of 99th year. Bill, Elizabeth’s son, told us that his mom went to bed on the bed and woke up as 100 years old.
We also sang “Happy Birthday to Irene Maguire” as well as she was about to turn 80 the very next day.

Memories.
Memories are wonderful. Memories provide our connection to the past events and lives we journeyed. Sometimes I feel that life is nothing but memories. Memories carry our life’s worth of hope and challenges, wonders and disappointment. Through memories we see traces of footsteps of our lives.

“What would Emilia, the bright-eyed 2 year old, remember when she sees herself in the photo when she is old enough to attach meanings to her memories?” I wondered as I saw her smiling at Elizabeth.

I felt that the quilt is a poignant symbol of the KRU quilters’ memories of friendship and life threaded together. The quilt, I thought, retains and contains jokes, laughter, and various hues of life’s moments the quilters wove together. I would always associate Elizabeth and the quilters at the party with the quilt that Elizabeth was working on.

Memories, as we well know, are not just made up of wonderful things. There are wounded memories we carry through our lives as well.

Some of us carry childhood memories that still haunt us. Some memories are painful and destructive, and still holds us from living fully. There are those in our community who are so burdened by the past memories that continues to immobilise them. For some in our world, life is nothing but a process of wounding or being wounded.
What do we do with such memories – memories of pain and hurt?

Today’s passage in Mark continues to share the cognitive dissonance between Jesus and his disciples on what being Messiah means.

At least two generations after the death of Jesus, as they were enduring the persecution of Roman Empire for being followers of Jesus, early Christian Church remembers bits and pieces of memories of Jesus and records them.

One of the stories they remember is a story of how disciples were arguing about who is the best of them all and the answer Jesus gave them.

Disciples were perhaps enthralled about the impending future when the fruit of their struggle will be handsomely rewarded. After all, they were the core of the Jesus Movement. They were the ones who were making the movement happen. Someday, there will be a time when they would own the world. Jesus, however, tells his disciples that “whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” He further asserts that “whoever welcomes the most vulnerable in his name welcomes him, and whoever welcomes him welcomes not him but the one who sent him.”

In our competitive market place of life, being the last would be the least valued notion. Why would anyone choose to be the last when there is a good chance of making it big?
We are conflicted when we hear Jesus telling his disciples that the world he envisions is a world that values and cares for the least and the vulnerable.

I came across Father Michael Lapsley through sad news one day when a bomb exploded on his lap on April 28, 1990. He was living in Harare, Zimbabwe at the time of the bombing.

In 1990, three months after the release of Nelson Mandela, the De Klerk government sent a parcel containing two magazines. Inside one of them was a highly sophisticated bomb. When Lapsley opened the magazine, the explosion brought down ceilings in the house and blew a hole in the floors and shattered windows. The bomb blew off both of the priest’s hands, destroyed one eye and burned him severely. The bomb was intended to kill him but somehow he survived the attack.

This is what the Toronto Star article, “Living with Apartheid’s Scars,” written by Leslie Scrivener on May 18, 1997 says.

“Michael Lapsley, an Anglican priest, was born in New Zealand and went to South Africa in 1973. He arrived as a committed pacifist, but after the Soweto uprisings in 1976 and the deaths of hundreds of school children, he became immersed in the anti-Apartheid struggle.” … “What do we do with our anger, our bitterness, our rage?” he asks. We have every good reason to feel that, but those feelings will destroy us. The issue is how do we deal with memories that are life-giving and leave behind that which destroys us.”

Michael Lapsley has worked at the Trauma Center for Victims of Violence and Torture in Cape Town which has assisted the Commission for Truth and Reconciliation that was headed by Archbishop Tutu.

Michael Lapsely now works as the Director of the Institute for Healing of Memories in South Africa. One of the stated missions of the Institute is “redeeming the past by celebrating that which is life giving and laying to rest that which is destructive.”

I met Michael Lapsley when he visited Church House on May 15, 2006. I saw a man full of life. He was not only sharp and thoughtful but also humorous. It was clear that the bombing affected his body. He uses two mechanical hooks as hands. His face still has vestiges of the scars from bombing. He has lost a bit of hearing. Michael, nontheless, seems to be more alert and full of energy than most people I know.

“I think in a small way I can be a sign that the farces of God, of life, of justice, love and gentleness are stronger than the forces of death, violence, torture and hatred. Victory is inevitable!”

These are some of the notes I jot down as I listened to him.
“There is a difference between acknowledgement and knowledge.” “In order for people to find healing and reconciliation, there has to be an acknowledgment of what happened was wrong.”
“When trauma happens, there would be those who need long term intervention, others may not; however, all have unfinished business.”
“Every person has a story to tell and every story requires a listener.”
“Every context in the world is different but pain is a pain is a pain.”
“Story telling does not automatically bring healing. There has to be a journey of a process of redemption.”
“Everyone has a choice to keep the wound alive or to transform the wounds.” “How do you transform the memory?” “Healing of memories leads to healing of individuals and communities.” “You move from a victim to a survivor to a victor of hatred and anger.”

Moving from a state from a victim to a survivor to a victor of hatred and anger.”
This phrase really struck a chord in me.

Michael states in his biography.
“I am no longer a victim, nor even simply a survivor. I am a victor over evil, hatred and death.”
I find myself that I would rather carry wounds and pain than to resolve them. There were times when I was too afraid to even take a peek at into myself for fear of experiencing the pain once again. It is not easy to move away from anger and hatred when we feel victimised.

I had this fascinating thought as I was reading today’s passage from Mark once again after reading articles on Michael and some of his sermons.
Recounting and re-telling the memories of the past for the early Christian Community that was experiencing persecution, was a form of healing of memories for them. Remembering and re-telling of stories of their pains in relations of the times of Jesus within the safe environs of the faith community contexts, just like the individuals and communities have shared through the Truth and Reconciliation Committee in South Africa, helped them to endure the persecution and keep their faith.

Such remembering and healing of memories within a context of faith community helped them to hope and heal. Remembering and recounting of life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ gave early Christians a sense of hope and healing so they were able to continue their struggle and keep their faith.
They not only remembered the violent torture and death Jesus went through, as they were facing a similar fate as they were living through the persecution under Roman Empire, they also remembered the calling of the resurrected Jesus to transform and renew the world through God’s compassion.
Bible is full of healing of memories if we could read the stories from such perspective.

How do we embody Jesus in our own life context? What would that mean for us as church – Kingston Road United Church?
How do we get enough courage to open the lid of wounded memories and look inside so we could start a journey of healing memories?
How do we begin a journey with our neighbours and begin a journey of healing memories of others so that we could also be healed in the process of mutuality?

This is what Michael Lapsley says in his interview in San Francisco.
“There are important parallels between the experience of people in South Africa and people in the United States, in Australia, in Canada, in New Zealand, in the sense that all these countries have indigenous minorities as a consequence of colonialism and racism. There’s an interlinking of issues that we share. This is a time in the world of confronting the genocidal effects of colonialism and racism. This confrontation is happening during our generation, our time on earth. I think it calls us to be part of acknowledging the truth of what happened, and to find ways to heal the memories and to create something different for future generation.”

I learned this while I was working at Church while struggling to make sense of the complicity of our church’s role in Indian Residential School.

We, as Church, have barely started a process of listening to our sisters and brothers from the First Nations in our country. There are so many painful stories of violence and persecution. Some of us do not want to listen. Some of us do not want to acknowledge that there are any truths in the stories we hear from the First Nations. Some of us wish that the stories will simple go away.

Some of the Church officials talk about the diminishing numbers of congregations in Canada as if increasing the membership will solve the fundamental question of making peace with our First Nations brothers and sister within our faith community.

What does it mean to follow Jesus when we are feeling so small in the world?
We are not only passing by a path called life as bystanders. We are creating stories, memories, and meanings to each and every story we create in our lives.
Michael Lapsley states that “All people share responsibilities for the past of their countries and all people have a responsibility for creating a different kind of future.”
Jesus told his disciples and continues to tell us ‘Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.’ 36Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, 37‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’

May we all join in the healing of memories so that we will all be healed and become one in Jesus Christ.
Amen