Dear Friends,

 

‘Remember, remember the fifth of November,

Gunpowder, treason and plot….’

I think that November 5^th will be memorable for many of us in Wraxall this year, not for the reasons above, but because this is the date when our Bishop, the Right Reverend Peter price, is coming to visit us, and to preach and preside at Wraxall’s patronal festival of All Saints. I do hope that this service (at 6pm, followed by a party in church) will be well supported, not only by regular church-goers, but also by many members of the wider parish community. You will all be welcome. Bishop Peter is a powerful and thought-provoking speaker, always worth listening to, so do come along and hear him, and join us for a social gathering in church afterwards.

 

November has much to do with remembering, with its celebrations of All Souls’ Day (when we think of our loved ones who have died), All Saints’ Day (when we commemorate those in the life of the Church down the ages who have shone as lights in the world), and Remembrance Sunday, when we honour the memory of those who have given their lives in the service of their country. Elie Wisel, a survivor of the Holocaust, wrote that if we refuse to remember, we will be condemned to repeat the past. (Perhaps such wisdom needs to be attended to, in the light of the ongoing debate about the war in Iraq.) He still carries with him horrific and haunting memories of his experiences as a child.  We still watch films about the two world wars; we play and replay those events in our minds, as we seek to understand the past, and as we remember those who suffered and made sacrifices. We are both horrified by the depths to which human nature can fall, and at the same time, uplifted by the astonishing shining goodness that emerges from the darkness, against all the odds.

 

So we need to remember; but we need to bear in mind, too, that our memories shouldn’t lock us into the past. ‘Remembering’ can become unhealthy if it has the effect of constantly pointing us backwards, longing for what we have lost, so that the wounds of grief never get a chance to heal. (These wounds will always be with us, but if the grieving is a healthy process, they will become honourable scars, which we bear with pride, because they are part of our distinct identity.)

 

You may know Christina Rossetti’s poem ‘Remember me when I am gone away’. It is a beautiful piece of writing, ending with the words:

            ‘Better by far you should forget and smile

            than that you should remember and be sad.’

Personally, though, I have always found it rather a bleak poem, because it has no concept of the communion of saints – that wonderful, mysterious relationship we have with those who have gone before us, and who continue to touch our lives, in ways that we can’t comprehend – but are very real. Because of the reality of that interconnectedness between this world and the next, we can remember, but in a positive way which deepens understanding of the here and now, and gives us insight into dealing with it and moving on. Or as one helpful prayer puts it:

            Grant, O Lord, that keeping in happy remembrance

those who have gone before us,

who have stood by us and helped us,

who have cheered us by their sympathy

and strengthened us by their example,

we may use aright the time that is left to us

and seize every opportunity to do good,

as we rejoice with them in the promise of a glorious resurrection.

 

With love,

Rosey