The Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington DC Notebook
Martin Delaney
Some years ago while living in the Washington DC area I had an opportunity to visit the Vietnam Memorial Wall. The monument is a long black granite wall with thousands of names of those who lost their lives in the war. As I walked slowly through the memorial site a number of things struck me.
Firstly it was the silence. Even though there were crowds of people a hushed reverence imbued the atmosphere. Secondly, I noticed a number of people obviously searching for a particular name. When they found their loved one they moved very slowly as if approaching something very sacred and would then touch the name. As if to embrace their loved one some very gently moved their fingers over the letters. Some just wept while others even knelt in prayer.
Rituals
As I reflected on this scene and the sacred intimate rituals that were unfolding before my eyes, I wondered about the relationship that had existed between the living person and the name on the wall. It had to be something very special or it would not have created such a reaction. There were hundreds of people at the memorial that day, most of them just spectators or tourists like myself. They could touch lots of names and have no reaction whatsoever. But to others, those names, or rather, this name was a cause for emotion and many tears.
I was reminded of this scene a few weeks ago when we had our annual Memorial Mass here in the parish. We were remembering eighty people who had died in the last year, either in the parish or connected to someone in the community. As each name was called a loved one came forward and placed a lighted candle bearing the name of the deceased before the altar. Just as at the Vietnam memorial many had tears in their eyes as they came forward. I was particularly struck by one woman who came forward to light a candle for her brother. Michael had gone to England forty years ago and lost all contact with his family.
Circumstances
By an extraordinary set of circumstances the family discovered this year that Michael had died in 2012 and his ashes had sat on the shelf of an undertaker’s office in London for almost five years. Just a few months ago Michael’s family were able to bring him home and reunite him with his parents in the family grave here in the parish. As I watched his sister come forward to light Michael’s candle there were tears of sadness yes but also tears of joy that her beloved brother was being remembered with reverence in the place of his birth.
The month of November is the month when the Christian community throughout the world remembers its dead. We do not remember to be sad or nostalgic about those whom we have loved and lost. We remember in HOPE and in FAITH a hope and a faith which allows us to know that the death of those we love is not the end of their story or the story of our relationship with them.
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A Full Confession
In the days when many people went to confession a priest turned up late to celebrate the sacrament with his parishioners. There was quite a queue waiting for him and as he had Mass in a short while he did his best to hurry along the penitents. One older lady was taking her time over her sins and the priest was becoming agitated as he looked at his watch. In his frustration he said to the penitent; “Are there many after you” The woman answered with some surprise; “Well Father, not now that I’m 80 years of age but when I was in my 20s, half the parish was after me!!”
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Is there a leaf upon the tree
The Father does not see.
Leaves fall, so do we all
Return to earth, to sod.
Sparrows and Kings,
And all manner of things
Fall, fall into the hands
Of the living God.