House of Life & Memory

Upon close inspection, anyone born of family will see that within its dark shadows and bright lights, there is a living house of life and memory... And from it, the collective seeds of soul from which identity, personality, and faith have budded forth. Though it is not the only tree from which we grow, it is as dominant a factor in the formation of our psyche as any other, and we are what has become of its pollination.

When we are born into family, we are born into a community of folks that we may have never chosen ourselves. We are made to know individuals that, given a greater sense of choice, we may have decided were not of interest, or perhaps not of benefit to our sense of direction in life. And it seems to be either the work of a creative process or the irony of fate. In either case, the course of our existence becomes destined to flow out of this house.

As the years go by, we learn the stories and patterns, the expectations and myths, and the miniscule habits and characteristics of these individuals and this oddball quilt of kinship tattered by wear and weather, held together loosely in places by a withered thread here, a woven square of pattern there. Life in such a house promotes the sort of development of self which only could manifest from this one structure, with all its credos and with the dance of its members. And out of this crucible, life etches into memory and personality.

Thomas Moore (Care of the Soul, 1992) wrote, "At a certain level...it doesn't matter whether one's family has been largely happy, comforting, and supportive, or if there has been abuse and neglect. I'm not saying that these failures are not significant and painful or that they do not leave horrifying scars. At a deep level, however, family is most truly family in its complexity, including its failures and weaknesses."

In my family, as in Moore's, it has remained an irony, for instance, that "The uncle who was my ideal source of wisdom and morality was also the one who drank excessively and who scandalized the rest by refusing to go to church." And, in fact, even much of the pain and scandal, anxiety and abuse that occurs in the experience of family is redemptible in such a way that works together for a good that is beautiful and sacred. And though we would rather much of it have never happened, somehow it may become the fertile soil out of which God chooses to bring wisdom, transformation, and calling.

I turn to Moore again and again because of his penetrating wisdom on this issue. "When we encounter the family from the point of view of the soul," he wrote, " accepting its shadows and its failure to meet our idealistic expectations, we are faced with mysteries that resist our moralism and sentimentality. We are taken down to the earth, where principle gives way to life in all its beauty and horror."

And it is at this point, Mark, that I must explain to you a piece of the significant shaping of my family on the formation of my faith. It is through the community of individuals that represent to me HOME that I have come to respect the cosmic imperative to work out my faith through love by bearing one another's burdens (as Paul wrote in Galatians) and that, ultimately, the entire Law unto the transformation of our spirit can be summed up in one single command: "To love my neighbor as myself" (these found in Galatians 5 & 6).

I have learned through a community of elders that include personal folk heroes such as Grandmommy and Aunt Judy that the mystery of faith cannot be made incarnate through outward shows of religiosity but only substantially through the incarnation of faith that is found in love; that, in fact, a fixation on our own appearance or reputation is an obstacle to this sort of love, which requires vulnerability. But even when vulnerability is lacking, in the least, it requires a will to pursue a good, loving, and open relationship with God and others despite the obstacle of my own awkward, anxious, neurotic sinfulness and a repulsion to theirs.

Somehow God uses what, at the time, may seem like the insignificant details of our past and family and even the unconscious memories and myths of family to drive home a truer view of life... Reminding us to slow down a bit and rock on the porch and wave to our neighbors and enjoy each other, and Creation, and God... In order to be reminded that moving along too quickly impedes our view of the spiritually transformative marrow of life, awaiting in Relationship. In that crucible of trial, temptation, and transformation, Christ sharpens us and forms within us a new identity, a new center: faith. Which can only come from Him through each other.