Memorial Day: Remembering and Reflecting

A few years ago Jodi and I sat next to an Israeli cardiologist on a flight from Tel Aviv. He was returning to his residency at Cedars Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. Our conversation flowed to the topic of differences in our culture and his perspective on American life. “Holidays,” he said, “are celebrated differently. Take Memorial Day as an example. In Israel, we pay our respects to the dead on Memorial Day. It is a solemn day, like the Sabbath. In America, Memorial Day is a sale at the shopping mall.”

Our cardiologist friend proved not only to be able to diagnose ailments of the heart, but also showed keen insight into the heart of our American culture. Memorial Day should represent more than just a sale at the mall, a camping trip in the great outdoors, or a chance to work on household projects that accrued over the winter’s dormancy. Memorial Day is about remembering and taking the time to reflect on things that are truly important—of eternal significance. Themes like freedom, justice, and compassion find their best and fullest expression when considered in light of those who sacrificed their life’s blood so others might experience life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

On Memorial Day, as at a memorial service, we should at least pause a few moments to remember and reflect. As a child, I recall Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day parades and watched the old men—veterans of World War I and even the Spanish-American War, slowly salute as they marched or rode through our small town. Today, the old-timers are the World War II Veterans, and the ranks of those members of the greatest generation are shrinking at the rate of 1,000 per day. I hope we will think about the ways those we are remembering on this Memorial Day influenced others through their lives and fulfilled their purpose and mission. For those we knew personally, it goes without saying that we do miss them, even though through faith in Jesus Christ, we do not sorrow as others who have no hope.

As a minister, I recognize that while a memorial service honors the departed, it is really meant to bring comfort to the living. Thus, we recognize the opportunity to speak to those alive and present, to hopefully influence them toward Christ and eternity. Influence is an important word and concept. In my mind it qualifies as the best single-word description for leadership. So let’s think about influence in the context of remembering and reflecting.

The biblical writer of Hebrews uses the word “remember” five or six times, depending on the translation, and asks us to remember the faithfulness of many of the Old Testament saints. We should remember those who have gone before us because they serve as an example of faithfulness to us. They remind us that as followers of Jesus we exist in more than just the present here and now—we are connected with those who have gone on before and with all of the people of God who make up the church for eternity—the body of Christ.

So it is fitting for us to appropriate recall the lives of those who served our nation during their lifetime. And it seems particularly that we honor the memory of those who paid the ultimate sacrifice in so doing. As we do, it is natural to remember those in our families who are no longer with us.

My mind goes back to the days of my childhood when my father called Memorial Day, “Decoration Day,” as it was commonly known to past generations of Americans. It was the day for decorating the graves of all departed family members. Rising early in the morning, my parents would go to the garden and pick the flowering blossoms of the snowball tree, iris, peonies, day lilies, rhododendron, or azalea blooms—anything that happened to be colorful and fragrant. Depending upon the weather patterns of spring in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, we might have an abundant or meager floral supply—but there was always something. These cut flowers were placed in mason jars and taken to the cemetery where they were lovingly placed on the graves of those we were remembering.

I must admit, I failed to recognize the significance of this ritual and tradition at the time. The noise of the nearby boat races on the Willamette River sounded much more exciting than the dead silence of a graveyard to my way of thinking. Over time however, I discovered my parent’s traditional genes also flowed through my blood. These days I consider it a privilege, if not a responsibility, to follow their ancient rituals in remembering loved ones from the past on Memorial Day.

In chapter 12, the writer of Hebrews encourages us to remember the great cloud of Old Testament witnesses, and to look to Jesus. In verse 3 he says, “For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls.” He is calling us to reflection—to “consider” and think about what Jesus did for us means to us, and how we should then live.

As human beings, we are prone to action more than reflection. We are human beings, not human doings, but we seem to love doing more than being. While remembering, it is good to pause and reflect on our own lives—to examine ourselves. I've never seen a group of people applaud a snowcapped mountain range or an exquisite, priceless painting, or a breathtaking sunset. Silence befits the profound, the awesome. Being in the presence of God invites adoration, praise, and worship. But it also invites silent reflection.

Reflection requires us to slow down, to wait, to think, to meditate. Growing up on a farm, I particularly enjoyed tasks that involved driving the tractor. It is a job that does not require great amounts of concentration, and provides you time to reflect. One thing I learned is that you can observe things at the speed of 7 miles per hour that you miss at the speed of 70 miles per hour. You notice the little things that have fallen by the wayside, and have time to think and reflect.

Speaking of reflection, memorial services and funerals always lead me to introspection and to reflect upon my own life. Who am I influencing? Am I making a difference? How will people remember me? What do I need to change today so people at some future point will have the memory of me I hope they will have?

What about your legacy? Do you have aspirations about the image you leave behind? How do you want people to remember you? Wouldn’t it be interesting to know what people will say about you following your demise? Morbid thoughts scare or offend some people, yet follow along with me for a moment. I promise not to intentionally frighten you. What if you could catch a glimpse of that far off day way down yonder in the future, look in the newspaper, and read your own obituary? Would that insight about some distant tomorrow motivate you to change your behaviors today?

Many years ago, Al, a prominent chemist, engineer, and international business executive, received that very opportunity by way of a mistake in identity. Al’s brother Ludvig died, and a prominent French newspaper erroneously printed Al’s obituary by mistake. Further contributing to the faux pas, the obituary was very unflattering. In fact, it was a complete condemnation of Al’s life and work. “The merchant of death is dead,” the obituary said. “Al, who became rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before, died yesterday.”

Alfred Nobel, inventor of dynamite, read his own obituary, and was so upset that he determined to change his legacy and the public’s perception about him. He re-wrote his will about a year before he died, and intentionally made a statement by signing it at the Swedish-Norwegian Club in Paris. He left 94% of his assets to endow five Nobel prizes, in physics, chemistry, medicine, literature, and peace. Rather than leaving a lasting legacy of war, suffering, and pain, he chose to honor and celebrate humanity’s greatest accomplishments and achievements.^[1]

Reading his own obituary before he actually died and reflecting painfully upon what it said motivated Al to change his life, and his legacy forever. More than 110 years following his death, we do not remember Alfred Nobel for inventing dynamite, we remember him as a philanthropist. Even more to the point, had he not established the Nobel Prizes, we probably would not remember him at all.

Today’s Seattle Times contains a story about a Long Beach, Washington woman who passed away this month at the age of 98. By all accounts, Verna Oller lived an austere life, refusing to spend money for anything but absolute necessities. Childless, she spent her final years in the Circle of Life Retirement home, and never spent anything extra on herself. When friends told her that her coat was threadbare and she should buy a new one, she walked to the thrift store and purchased one for $2. She then removed the zipper from the missing lining and used it for shoelaces. Among her effects was found a package of shoe laces, unopened.

In her last will and testament, Verna left more than $4.5 million to the local school district, including $3.5 million to the city of Long Beach to build a public indoor swimming pool. Her fortune was made by frugal living, and careful investment. Verna’s bequest will hopefully leave a lasting legacy, but there is a caveat she did not consider. The city must decide if they can accept the gift because while they appreciate the gesture, they do not know the cost of finding a suitable building site, construction, and eventually maintenance of a swimming pool for which no tax dollars are available.

No doubt Verna’s motives were good, but perhaps she could have enjoyed life more herself—who really wants to use an old zipper for shoelaces if you have $4.5 million dollars sitting around? The paper reports she feared others would take advantage of her if they knew how much she was really worth. Maybe by collaborating with someone other than her attorney, the only living person who knew of her true financial circumstances, she could have together with others provided a workable solution to benefit the residents of Long Beach that she obviously cared about.

In contrast to Alfred Nobel’s desire for fame and Verna’s well-intentioned but not well implemented benevolence, is another story about influencing others, taking place in May of last year. Just before the commencement ceremony at Azuza Pacific University, three graduating students were called to a special reception. At the reception were John and Nancy Ortberg, 50-year alumni from the school, and the president along with a few faculty and distinguished guests. These students thought they were there to be commissioned and sent off with a blessing because each were leaving to spend the next two years ministering to the poorest of the poor in India.

But then something happened that they did not know was coming. President John Wallace turned to them and said, "I have a piece of news for you. There's somebody you do not know—an anonymous donor—who is so moved by what you're doing that he has given a gift to this university in your name, on your behalf."

John turned to the first student and said, "You are forgiven your debt of $105,000." The student immediately started to cry. John turned to the next student: "You're forgiven your debt of $70,000." He then turned to the third student: "You are forgiven your debt of $130,000." All three students had no idea this was coming. They were just ambushed by grace—blown away that somebody they didn’t even know would pay their debt. The whole room was in tears. An unknown donor chose to provide an anonymous act of kindness. Who knows how many people will be influenced by his decision to give?

So as we think about those gone before us on this Memorial Day, their stories leads us to the story of the greatest giver and influencer that ever lived. The influence of Jesus is still felt today, 2,000 years after his ascension to heaven. We remember his overwhelming generosity and amazing grace as he paid a debt he did not owe, so that we might experience eternal life. His followers recognize the hope of heaven, provided by his sacrifice. As you remember and reflect, remember the one who said, “I am the resurrection and the life.” And remember to express your appreciation to the living, especially our veterans and aged loved ones. And treasure the moments that remain while never forgetting what we already know: freedom isn't really free--others paid the price for the freedom we enjoy.

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[1] Garrison Keillor, The Writer’s Almanac, October 21, 2009. American Public Media, accessed online 10/21/2009 at http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/.