Remembered

I will make your name to be remembered from one generation to another . . . 

 - From Psalm 45

There's a curious and cruel aspect to human sin: the erasing of the memory of another human. 

We are a fallen race. We know we're sinful. We see the inevitable ending - death - that awaits every single one of us. The ultimate fate of our bodies is corruption. And, a corruptible thing must be, by default, corrupt. 

We're corrupt and we know it. We have been alone with our own thoughts, the things that we never share publicly, and we know the wickedness, the selfishness, the emotional turmoil and decadence. For that reason, it is impossible for one human ever to be completely open and candid with another. 

Only God knows what goes on between our ears, and thank God He never reveals it to others. 

To address this sin within us, we try a myriad of remedies: work, hobbies, relationships, physical fitness, busy-ness. We create religious systems and rituals. We join up in causes that only "good people" would appreciate. We get bumper stickers and signs. We join marches. We do whatever we can, to at least build a facade that says "I am good."

But our thoughts, and deepest motivations, our fears, our hates and our emotions, remain our master.

In the past few weeks, society has advanced a new way to distract us from our own personal sin: the removal of memorials of people that went before; the toppling of monuments; the canceling of anything that makes us uncomfortable. 

Frailties, and faults of others, especially famous people, are reminders of our own failings. We choose heroes and craft them into mirrors of ourselves. 

Cal Ripken is my hero. Therefore, I am like him, for I want to be like him. 

Problem solved?

No. Because one day, Cal Ripken will be shown to be human, and fallible. At that point, we must topple his monument. We must forget him. We may even need to erase him. 

And find a new hero. 

One of my life missions, is to promote the memories of extended family members from my family tree - those that never married, nor had any children. I create narratives about them. I put life into the dry records left behind by them. They were loved by their nieces, nephews, cousins, siblings, parents, and must not be forgotten. 

It is cruel, and profane, to erase the memories of those that went before. 

Be not surprised when they are found to be fallible. That's the whole point. It's easy to remember only what makes us feel good. But everybody, everywhere and anywhere, eventually, does or says something to make us feel bad. There will be awkward memories. But as my cousin, Mary Louise Miner once said "I don't care. They're family and I love them."

We're supposed to focus on the positive, right? It's unhealthy to drill down on a person's frailties. 

Right?

Let's do it, then. Keep the good stuff. And remember.