The Power of Remembering = Memories

Memories are the theme that perhaps best describes this week’s blog. Memories, good and bad, are important in that they shape how we feel, how we behave and what we might think the future could hold for us. These days, I often wake up early in the morning, and as I am more or less retired, I don’t have to leap out of bed. So, on many a morning, I will lay there and let memories run through my mind like a private film show of my life. Sometimes old memories from way back get mixed up with more recent ones, or sometimes, even with real life. Let me start with one such example.

I find it very sad that once again the long-running troubles between the Israeli and Palestine folk has once more erupted into a bloody conflict. Yesterday saw the deaths of two British women who were innocently caught up in the crossfire between the two groups. I find the situation poignant and sad for a number of reasons. It is, for many religions, an important and special time of the year. And these are all religions where tolerance, love, compassion to others is espoused and expected. Secondly, there is so much conflict in the world, that to reignite yet another one feels difficult to understand. I think the last reason is that a year ago J and I made our delayed honeymoon pilgrimage trip to Israel. It was a life-affirming and a very profound trip for us both.

Unlike J, I am not a deeply religious person. I was brought up by loving parents who practised Christianity. I went to church every Sunday, was christened and later confirmed. My early teenage years were spent regularly in the company of other church-going young people. Somewhere along the line, my faith grew dimmer and less important to me. Strangely though, and perhaps because there is Jewish ancestry in my long family line, over the years I nurtured a strong conviction that the good folk of Israel were constantly persecuted for their beliefs and simply for who they were as a people. The recent and excellent BBC Radio 4 programmes Nazis: The road to power (find it here) critically articulated this idea of a people being unreasonably persecuted.

Our pilgrimage trip to Israel challenged these long-held convictions. It wasn’t our belief that that Jews hadn’t been persecuted over the centuries that was challenged; the evidence that this is the case is clear to see, and irrefutable. It was more that our naive and perhaps uninformed sense of the rights and wrongs of the current situation were possibly given greater balance. Our wonderful guide during the pilgrimage, Bassam Abdalla, is a Palestinian Christian. He is passionate about his faith, his history and the history of both his people and that of his Israeli neighbours. But goodness, he, like many other Palestinians, has during his lifetime, suffered brutal persecution every day at the hands of those working for the Israeli Zionist state.

That said, and apologies if my words and thoughts don’t resonate with you, but that trip also holds lots of very special memories. We were there in the week leading up to Easter itself. We were able to visit many of the places we knew from The Bible and take time to reflect on the historical and religious significance of what we were seeing and experiencing. We were even able to re-enact some experiences. For me taking communion on the calm shores of the Sea of Galilee, and walking into Jerusalem down the Mount of Olives on Palm Sunday holding our palms aloft and singing were simply once in a lifetime experiences. Bassam was a brilliant and enthralling storyteller. It was one of the most memorable Easters I have every spent. And I have always liked Easter more so than Christmas.

Sadly, it seems that Easter has become as commercialised as Christmas. Recent reports suggest that Easter is worth some £2 billion to the British retail sector. John Lewis (there are other retailers) has seen a 266% rise in sales of Easter decorations and goods over the last 10 years. This year their online website listed 37 different Easter eggs and 69 different Easter decorations. I know this as I’m sometimes playing catch up when it comes to buying Easter eggs. In any event, many of their Easter decorations featured rabbits, chickens, spring flowers/garlands, and of course, eggs. I don’t know why, but I have lurking in my mind, a distant memory of understanding why Easter is symbolically represented in this way. So, this morning I’ve been compelled to look up how the non-religious and religious history of Easter became so entwined.

According to folklore, the Easter bunny originates from the German Lutherans. The rabbit was said to carry a basket of brightly coloured eggs which were given to the best-behaved children each year. However, I like the Anglo-Saxon story told by the Venerable Bede (a British monk living in the 8^th century). He told of the pagan goddess Eostre who was said to have rescued a dying bird and transformed it into a hare, giving it fur so it would survive the cold, but yet remarkably still able to lay eggs like a bird. And eggs are metaphorically important as they represent a sign of rebirth, and the potential for new life. Indeed, some say that Eostre is the namesake of the human reproductive hormone oestrogen.

Yes, I know I could go on...  Easter eggs were first sold in the UK in 1873, the egg’s hollow centre being seen by some as a symbol of resurrection, in that it perhaps emulates the empty tomb of Jesus after he was crucified on Good Friday. Eggs represent the possibility of new life, or in the case of Jesus, renewed life. Now I would never want to preach to anyone* but there is something in the simple message of renewal. Each new day presents an opportunity for us all to spread some kindness, to be there for others, and to look forward to a brighter more compassionate future. Maybe, let’s embrace our memories, good and bad, and recognise how they might shape how we feel, how we behave and what we might think the future could hold for us. We can make that future a better one for all.

* I have never had any thought on becoming a preacher man, but I do love those long black robes so many wear