This morning I got an e-mail that made me feel rather concerned. It was part of an announcement from my “local” congregation that reminded us to pray for a group of mostly older people who had made no specific prayer requests but had longstanding chronic health problems and they did not wish to be forgotten. I felt compelled to reply to this message, to show my concern, as I was told that the people listed did not make prayer requests often because they did not wish to be a burden on others. Being someone who despite my distance from my brethren who tends to think often of them, even of brethren I have not seen for many years, I felt a bit indignant about that. Despite whatever problems I have in expressing my care and concern about others, I feel rather deeply, much more than I generally show.

In fact, most of the people listed in the e-mail are people I have known personally for a long time. One of them is a woman who has suffered a degenerative nerve disorder and been stuck at home for years. Whenever I would see her husband at church, I would often ask how she was doing, because even if there was no change in her condition I wanted him to know (and hopefully her as well) that she was not forgotten. Another older couple on that list had been on a secret gift exchange program my congregation had done when I was a teenager between teens and elderly couples to help break down the generational boundaries. I had bought them some spice jars, and they bought me some books. I hope they appreciated my gifts as much as I appreciated theirs. Suffice it to say that they are not forgotten.

I don’t know why anyone should feel like a burden. The value of our lives does not depend on how young and energetic and economically productive we are. The value of our life depends on the extent to which we have acquired the character of God through a lifetime of following God’s way with the indwelling of God’s Holy Spirit. We are all created in the image and likeness of God, and our worth is therefore incalculable. At some parts of our lives we help others with their burdens and at other parts of our lives other people must help us to bear our burdens. And no matter how righteous or godly someone is, the end of life generally presents a long list of health woes as our bodies decay. It is not a burden to help those in such a position, regardless of how little they can do for us in return, and it is certainly no burden at all to think of such people and to pray to God for their well being and peace of mind.

It makes me feel a bit indignant that people would expect to be forgotten. For better or worse I have a rather tenacious memory, which is often both a blessing and a curse. So much of our lives are a fight against oblivion. We know at some level that we must eventually die and be buried, but we do not want to be forgotten. We do not want to feel as if our lives have been useless and remembered by no ones. So we engage in a lot of rituals to remember our own loved ones and to seek to ensure that we too will be remembered in our turn. Death may be inevitable, but oblivion is an even worse tragedy.

Perhaps the desire to commemorate the dead is one reason I have always written a lot about the dead, whether it has been poems, obituaries, or even my own epitaph [1]. Perhaps I am just too morbid and gloomy of a person, but being someone who has never been in excellent health at all during the course of my life, I have never been one of those people lucky enough to feel immortal. I have always been aware that death and suffering were ever-present in human life, even if we can enjoy plenty of moments of happiness and enjoyment and fun in the meantime. It is little wonder that so many of us do everything we can to forget the fate that comes to all flesh.

Of course, I have my own selfish reasons to care about this subject. Being far away from home, I appreciate those reminders that I have not been forgotten myself. Perhaps the reason I feel so fiercely about those who do not wish to be forgotten is because of my own fervent desire not to be forgotten, not to be consigned into oblivion. When we are alone and distant from others, it is vitally important to know that others care about us and want to see us again, to know that we are wanted and appreciated not for what we can do for others, but because of who we are. I would hope that all of those homebound people fighting against the feeling that they are forgotten realize that they are remembered by others and not forgotten.

[1] http://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2011/06/03/mi-epitafio/