John F. Myslinski | “Reflections on Memory”

John F. Myslinski

“I hate to blame this on getting old, but what else can I blame it on?

I can’t remember who told me this… it may have even been one of you.

Someone recently told me about a friend who had to be treated for depression—actually, for very serious depression. My friend told me that the procedure they offered this person was one that had serious risks, one of them being that it might erase certain memories. On hearing that, he immediately said, “Find me another procedure! I don’t want that!”

I chimed in and said, “PLEASE SIGN ME UP!” Of course, I was being facetious. I actually cherish my memories. I can go back there and meet friends and encounter situations that inevitably bring a smile to my face.

So often, as a priest, I’ve said to those suffering through grief that we can meet those who have gone before us in memory and prayer. Sadly, for so many people, memory seems to be focused almost exclusively on past hurts and wounds—many of which, I think, are exaggerated, though some are certainly true. I guess we all need to do a little spring cleaning every once in a while, even in regard to our memories.

It’s unfortunate that so many of us, and I include myself, don’t use the good memories more often—living out of the riches of those memories rather than focusing on the dark ones we all have. We should simply allow those wonderful, fun moments to “shelter and bless you again.” I have always believed that is exactly what memories do—they bless us and the people we remember.

I never pray for things—I never have. I believe that the God I place my faith in unites all of us in a very mysterious way to everything we need. I think the most powerful prayer is simply, regularly whispering quietly to the Almighty the names of those we love. And just the memory of those names—just the whispering of those names—are powerful, healing, and loving moments.

When I say, “I’ll remember you in prayer,” I mean it. My prayer is not asking God to take care of you, or me, or cure us from some fatal disease. Rather, my prayer is just a whisper of your name to a God that unites all of us. Remembering those we love or those who ask for prayers is the most powerful and productive form of prayer.

This time of quiet reflection and the use of memory allows us to encounter the supernatural realm that exists here and now and that ultimately will claim all of us completely. So, I hope when I say to you, “I’ll whisper your name to God,” you know—first, that I will, and secondly, how powerful this really is. I’ve seen it over and over again!

I’d like to return to that whole concept that I’ve been thinking about recently and want to share with you in this reflection: memories.

Here in the Berkshires, we’ve had such a cold winter—I mean really cold, zero and below—that many nights I spend more time in the living room in front of the big fireplace. Sometimes reading, sometimes listening to music, sometimes talking on the phone, but most of the time, just sitting there. Especially at night, when it’s dark and cold outside. No lights on except that beautiful glow and warmth of the fire. Something happens—something almost magical, or at least inexplicable.

Most of you know—actually, all of you know—I am an enormous fan of the theologian-poet, John O’Donohue. A good friend of mine recently sent me an unexpected gift last week: the whole set of audio talks by John O’Donohue! What a wonderful gift!

The O’Donohue says in his book Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom, “In everyone’s inner solitude, there is that bright and warm hearth.”

A fire takes us back in time to that place O’Donohue links to the unconscious—the part of us that’s unexplored, off-limits. I believe being in the presence of a flame, even the small flame of a candle or sitting in front of a roaring fire, will—if we allow it—bring us into that realm of the supernatural… that dimension we are all destined for.

And so, this is where I have spent many a cold Berkshire night. And, you know what? This is one more reason I love the cold Berkshire winters! Maybe I’ll just follow Richard Nixon’s example and, regardless of the season, have a blazing fire all year round. Why not…”