The Importance of Remembering

Yesterday I finally got around to seeing “The Butler.”  While I had mixed thoughts on the film overall (although it was absolutely worth seeing solely for Forest Whitaker’s performance), I really appreciated how it invited the audience to remember.  Part of the story follows Whitaker’s son, who is a key player in the Civil Rights movement, as he journeys through the fight for equality.  Even though I have by no means forgotten that the Civil Rights movement happened, it comes to life so much more when it appears in a film.  It is devastating to see the way humans treated other humans.  It is hard to believe that this was the norm in many places in this country 50 years ago.  I think that the easy place to land is this assumption that we’re so much more enlightened today.  However, I can’t help but think what a dose of perspective would lend us as we explore our own present.  Were people just evil till the 60’s till they suddenly evolved and became more tolerant?  Of course not.  I think being reminded of these atrocities in our past also brings a warning.  Humans are capable of utter evil.  Not just humans in a removed way, but you and I.  I often find myself asking the question: what makes me different from those who sought to segregate African American people, or those who interned and killed the Jewish people in World War II?  I hope that I would stand against injustice, and I hope that I do today.  But when we remember, we realize the chilling reality that it could easily be us.  What a humbling thought. 

There’s the often quoted adage, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" (Side note: upon looking this up, I was able to find who first wrote that (Click here if you’re interested for more on George Santayana).  I hate to be cliché, but there is such sturdy wisdom in that idea.  Remembering our past acknowledges that we do not have all the answers.  That progress is not the answer to every problem. 

During my travels to Syria we visited a town called Hama.  Before arriving, our group leader explained how the previous president had attacked a neighborhood in this town in order to quell rebellion back in 1981.  Many people, including many innocents, died in the massacre.  The neighborhood, which quickly had become a massive grave, was demolished and the government built a fancy hotel on top. That night we walked through the hotel.  It was without a doubt one of the fanciest buildings we’d seen, but knowing the history of this place made us sick with despair.  We prayed as we walked this burial ground, a literal symbol of a place forgetting its past.  Our group leader told us how the older generations were so ashamed of the Hama Massacre and as a result, never spoke of it.  Often, the younger generations had no idea it had happened.  Yet, as we see the fighting and tumult in Syria right now, it seems clear that the truth will remain buried only for so long.  

Yet, I find as a human that remembering is so flipping difficult!  I forget all the time.  It’s no wonder that God continues to call the nation of Israel to remember.  He has them build memorials and much of the Psalms call Israel to remember who God is and what he has done.  One of my favorite passages continues to be Joshua 4, when Israel crosses the Jordan and the Lord tells Joshua to have the people build a memorial (Josh. 4:5-7, ESV):

And Joshua said to them, “Pass on before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and take up each of you a stone upon his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the people of Israel,  that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’  then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it passed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever.”

These stones are a memorial to what God has done.  So, memory is not just used as a cautionary tale of what could happen, but also a calling back to truth.  

I think when we take the time to remember, we have the invitation to step into humility, to acknowledge that we do not have all the answers.  We are invited to see truth, which is often haunting.  We can try to avoid our past, but humans weren’t built to do that long term without serious side effects. 

What do you need to remember today?

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Next post I’ll explore the opposite side of the spectrum, when we get stuck in the past.

Remembering Syria

Last Sunday, Pope Francis called the Catholic church together to pray and fast on behalf on Syria this Saturday, September 7.  I may not be a baptized Catholic, but I plan to join in on praying with my Catholic brothers and sisters.  I've been praying for this dear country the last few months and it has been awful to see how the fighting there has only increased.  The news of the chemical warfare is disheartening and horrifying.  To be honest, I don't know what needs to happen there.  I'm back and forth on whether or not I support air strikes.  But I do know that something needs to shift.  

In May I posted about my experience visiting Syria in 2006.  I'm re-posting this today, if only for a story to be out there that paints a different picture of the country.  Let's continue to pray for the Syrian people.

On Syria

“I hope you know that we are not all terrorists,” she said, staring me straight in the face.  I cannot remember my response back, but her statement changed me. 

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Today I had plans to write about Summer movies.  I even had a great quote prepared for “The Great Gatsby” (I left feeling projectile vomited on with glitter – and yet somehow enjoyed the movie more than I expected).  But on my way to work this morning I was listening to the news and was reminded of the fighting in Syria.  I couldn’t help but think back to my time in that country, almost seven years ago.

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Back in 2006 I visited Syria and Lebanon.  I suppose it was a “mission’s trip”, but it was unlike any trip I had been on.  We came with very simple goals: to pray for the land, the people, and to love them.  It was the culmination of a year spent working with a church in England.  I still remember telling my mom that our end of the year trip would involve going to the Middle East.  This is not what any parent wants to hear when your home country is fighting in multiple wars in the Middle East.  I give my mom a lot of credit.  She remained calm on the phone.  I can only imagine the conversation with my dad following that call.  Here they sent their daughter off for a year in England.  Safe, tea drinking England.  She even said to me before I left, “At least you’re not going to the Middle East.”  Oops. 

I want to let you in on a secret.  Syria is amazing.  It is one of the few places I’ve traveled to that doesn’t feel touched by the West.  I’m sure there are other places in the world that have held onto their culture, but with the growing accessibility of technology and communication, the world seems to become increasingly homogenous.  It was refreshing to be in a country that had zero McDonalds.  I’m not exaggerating.  McDonalds does not exist in Syria (or at least it didn’t 7 years ago).  The shops would close in the heat of the day and everyone would go home to rest.  I remember sitting in a courtyard with a fountain, covered overhead by layer after layer of leafy ivy vines.  As I walked the streets, twisted down the various alleys of the markets, I had a glimpse of a place that echoed its past.  It was like visiting another era in another world. 

On one of our days we were at the local university.  It had been a strange day for the team.  We were taken to university officials when we entered the campus (note: all of the university campuses we visited had guards at the entrances).  We sat nervously in an administrative building.  At one point, our bags were searched.  I was especially anxious as my back pack contained all of the Arabic New Testaments (getting caught with Bibles in Syria didn’t mean a trip to prison, but it was a possibility that we could get kicked out of the country).  We tried to play it cool, but I held my breath and quietly prayed as my bag was searched.  The guard didn’t stop at my contents.   Exhale.  We were moved to another room and waited more.  Eventually we spoke with a university official.  He showed us around the campus and introduced us to a few English speaking students.  We spoke briefly as the official politely ushered us off the campus.  As we were about to get on the bus, the young women began to ask me about my thoughts on George W. Bush and the war.  Then, she looked at me and said those words that stopped me:  I hope you know that we are not all terrorists.

Those words stopped me because I realized in the moment that some parts of me believed that most of the people there were terrorists.  My assumptions and prejudices slapped me in the face.  I came to love the Syrian people, but these beliefs revealed parts of my heart that shocked me. 

As the trip went on, these beliefs were constantly challenged.  I was overwhelmed by the hospitality I received from strangers repeatedly.  I was invited into house after house for tea and refreshments.   It felt so surprising, especially since this is not a cultural value in the U.S.  When’s the last time a stranger invited you into their house?  At a certain point, I had this desire to shout, to proclaim to the world: These people, whom you have called terrorists, you’ve missed them completely.  They are kind, they are welcoming.  They are normal people just trying to live their lives.  Why doesn’t this make the six o’clock news?  Why is the only view we see of the Syrians tied into war or violence?  With a gun or a bomb strapped to their chest? 

I had missed them. 

My eyes were opened. 

My time in Syria was the final exam in a year of having my cultural beliefs challenged.  It was a humbling year, but I am continually grateful for the ways that experience helped me to begin to see outside of myself and my home culture. 

That year didn’t eradicate my tendencies to make snap judgments or generalizations.  I still make them.  I still cling to assumptions that are just plain wrong.  I think I am able to see them more for what they are though.  And sometimes I’m able to pause and ask questions, instead of pretending I have the answers. 

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People are usually surprised when they hear I’ve visited Syria.  They cautiously ask what it was like.  I know what they’re really asking.  Was it scary?  Was it awful?  Why on earth would you go there?  To be honest, I had a couple of scary moments, but what shouts the loudest was my experience of the kindness of the people I met.  I’ve been saddened as I’ve followed the reports out of Syria.  My heart breaks for the Syrian people.  This is not the first war they’ve known, nor most likely will this be the last.  There are deep reasons for the wars and violence there.  I don’t know what needs to change there, but I so badly hope that something shifts. 

As I listened to the radio this morning I knew I needed to share my little story.  I struggle to name my hope for those reading this post.  Awareness is good.  But deeper than that is a desire that you would see beyond the generalizations.  And pray.  

It's Too Hot Outside to Write

It's Jen, the delinquent poster, here.  I'm sorry, but the combination of coordinating an overnight retreat and hot, humid (for California) weather, results in no legitimate post from me.  Instead I chose to hibernate in my room last night next to the air conditioning watching "Call the Midwife."  Later, my roommate and I caught up, ate popsicles, and sang a few karaoke songs.  Then, more "Call the Midwife."  And if you've never watched "Call the Midwife," here are the reasons why you should.  

So, here are a few interesting articles that I'm reading right now/thoughts I'm thinking:

A run down on Syria - I've been keeping tabs on the situation there, since I had the honor to visit the country back in 2006.  This is a great way to get caught up on the fighting in Syria and to catch a glimpse of the history that is fueling the fight.

This is awful! - Who turns "Les Mis" into a lawyer drama?  Fox, that's who.  

Bill Murray, but not Bill Murray - I recently discovered that @BillMurray on Twitter is not actually Bill Murray.  This is sad, but whoever is tweeting under that handle is hilarious.  Well done sir, well done!  For real Bill Murray hilariousness, click here.  Also, I have been delighting in The Most Interesting Pastor (@Most Pastor).  Here's a taste from the other day: While on a road trip through the Chihuahuan desert of Mexico, he discovered the one thing that will make Joel Osteen stop smiling.

Fascinating series on submission - Rachel Held Evans has dedicated this week on her blog to issues of submission and household codes within the Bible. I'm dreadfully behind, but am excited to catch up on my reading.

I'm debating on whether or not I want to see "Austenland." The reviews are not looking so hot, but I do have a gift card to the movies. Darn my love of Jane Austen which at times makes me want to see ridiculous movies (Note: not all Jane Austen movies are ridiculous; some are fabulous).

Have a great Labor Day weekend!

Jen