Saturday, July 10, 2021

Family Cemeteries

 

Then he charged them, saying to them, 'I am about to be gathered to my people. Bury me with my ancestors—in the cave in the field of Ephron the Hittite, in the cave in the field at Machpelah, near Mamre, in the land of Canaan, in the field that Abraham bought from Ephron the Hittite as a burial site. There Abraham and his wife Sarah were buried; there Isaac and his wife Rebekah were buried; and there I buried Leah— the field and the cave that is in it were purchased from the Hittites.' When Jacob ended his charge to his sons, he drew up his feet into the bed, breathed his last, and was gathered to his people.–- Genesis 49:29-33

July 4th always brings me memories of celebrations back home, most of all, those with family and friends, both living and dead. Although my family never made trips to the resting place of many of our relatives, both close and extended, we did go a few times each year to visit, plant or replant flowers, tidy up the area around the gravestones, and tell stories. Even though many of our relatives did not attend the then-tiny church where the cemetery was, it was important for many family members to rest there among their parents and relatives. I notice that the church has grown in size, and the number of relatives interred there has grown as well.

This morning's Eucharistic Reading finds the Israelites still enslaved in Egypt. Jacob, the patriarch of a large and growing family, was dying and called his sons and their offspring to his deathbed to bless them and to give his final wishes.  He wanted to lie in with Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, and his first wife, Leah, in the place Abraham had bought from the Hittites.  The place was named Machpelah, near Mamre, in Canaan. It was like the family cemetery.  

Joseph then went to the household of Pharaoh and asked them to request that Pharaoh allow him and his family to take Jacob to his desired resting place with his ancestors. With permission granted, Joseph, his brothers, and many Egyptians undertook to travel to Machpelah. Joseph and the others stayed there seven days, mourning and weeping, then returned to Egypt. I find it interesting that so many journeyed to a land that was to be their homeland, yet they returned where their children and herds had remained. They stayed there another 110 years before it was time for them to go and claim Canaan that God had promised Abraham.

One sentence in this passage touches me: "When Jacob ended his charge to his sons, he drew up his feet into the bed, breathed his last, and was gathered to his people." Somehow the image of drawing up his feet and peacefully dying has such a poignancy about it. To me, it represents a death many of us would wish. Yet, it has been denied to so many, especially in the time of the continuing pandemic, war, and violence. 

This passage caused me mentally to revisit the family cemetery back home. I have even found it courtesy of Google and can see it and the list of those buried there. I can mentally walk down the row of gravestones marking my adoptive family, from Mama and Daddy to my brother and an aunt and uncle, with room for my sister-in-law when her time comes.  It is comforting to know just where they lie, and to be able to visit them, even virtually. It must have been comforting for Joseph and his kin to know that Jacob was laid among his ancestors as Joseph would be himself. 

Do you have a family cemetery? Do you visit on occasion? What does "Gathered to his ancestors" mean to you? Is it even important these days? 

As dearly as I love my family, it becomes less and less critical to me where my ashes will lie. I do pray I will be able to draw up my feet and die peacefully. My faith teaches me that it is less important where I will be buried than it is that the promise of Heaven and a single small room in a mansion with those I love. Somehow that is comforting – even if I'm not in any great hurry to get there. I want a few more visits to the family cemetery, even if I have to do it from a couple of thousand miles away.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, July 10, 2021. 

Sunday, July 4, 2021

Looking and Overlooking

 

It was just an ordinary day. The boys were doing catly things: Phoebe sleeping in a cool part of the bedroom, Dominic sleeping on the floor, and Gandhi watching me chew on tortilla chips. Undoubtedly he was hoping for a nibble or two as he sat staring at me with his tail curled tidily around his feet, its tip hovering over the floor near the vent that blew out cool air. Naturally,  I couldn’t resist, so I broke off a small piece of chip and tossed it in his direction. After a slight bounce, somehow, it landed right at the very end of the slightly upraised tail. It was so light he didn’t even notice it—at first.

I had to laugh as I watched him look and sniff around his immediate area, knowing there was a treat there somewhere. Meanwhile, a white chip was still lightly sitting on the end of his jet-black tail, as evident as a single star in a very dark sky. As I watched him, I remembered the times when I put something down and a few seconds later spent minutes looking around to find where I’d put it. Keys, the lid to the jar I make iced tea in, a screwdriver, my phone, the proper sized knitting needles – all of them at some time or other have been marks for me to find after laying them down for just a second or two. Thinking of that made me wish I had a nose like Gandhi’s, one so eminently suitable for sniffing out things for which he is looking.

That led me to think about how easy it is to overlook things. I’m still looking for a ring box I mislaid a couple of years ago. I’m glad my glasses are a pretty much permanent part of my face, or I’d be searching for them (and with my eyesight, probably overlooking a dozen times before I put my fingerprints all over the lenses and recognized I’d found them). Gandhi’s nose wouldn’t help with those, I’m afraid. Maybe if I put them on top of a bag of cat treats, it might help, although I don’t find the scent of those nearly as appealing as my boys do.

If I so often overlook things for which I’m searching, how many things I’m not looking for or even thinking about escape my notice? I mean, something like homeless people, an errand I could run for a neighbor who doesn’t get out much or taking the time to listen when I’m with someone who really needs an ear to hear whatever they need to talk about.

I have to consider the story of the woman in Luke 15:8-10 who loses a coin and then sweeps the whole house searching for it. I’ve been there and done that, thinking that the search would be much easier if I decluttered a bit.  Sometimes I’ve found whatever it was, many times I haven’t, although the house is definitely cleaner than it was. I’ve been known to clean the same area half a dozen times because I remember seeing it or running across it in that area sometime previously. Poor St. Anthony must think I have him on speed dial, but more times than not, he does help me out in finding the phone or the keys, if not the ring box. Unlike the woman, though, I don’t run outside, inviting all and sundry to party with me because I’ve found something that was lost. I have resolved to be more careful in the future with whatever I’ve recovered, and I’ve remembered to thank St. Anthony (and God).

Maybe I should remember that often I find things I wasn’t looking for at the time but had been searching for a day or so before, like the little needle markers for my knitting or some lotion I know I had somewhere, just not where. Maybe I should spend more time praying about essential things than where I put my favorite pen. Perhaps I should remind myself frequently to pay attention to the world around me and what needs I could fill if I just noticed them?

For what have you been overlooking or searching? What have you done to find whatever it is? What would make you see the things that you may have overlooked?

Oh, Gandhi did find the chip after a minute or two. I guess persistence pays off.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, July 3, 2021.