Thursday, September 12, 2013

Hope and History

In memory of Seamus Heaney: Hope and History

I am an avid reader of the New York Times. I have a subscription on my Kindle and I read the Times most every day. Part of my attraction to the New York Times, frankly, is their technology. On the Kindle, the Times arrives electronically everyday before 5:00 a.m. and it is very easy to read, easy to navigate, it is beautifully organized, and there are no ads. Maybe more important, I like the New York Times because of the writing. The writing of the New York Times is outstanding. I aspire to be a writer; and I deeply admire good writing. I have this fantasy that maybe if I read good writing I will be able to write good writing.
            On August 31, last Saturday, there was an obituary on the Front Page of the Times for Seamus Heaney. I had never heard of Seamus Heaney. Obviously, Mr. Heaney was Irish. He was awarded the 1995 Nobel Prize for literature. Mr. Heaney was a poet. In Ireland, Mr. Heaney, this article reported, achieved almost rock star like celebrity because of his poetry which named the Irish predicament. Mr. Heaney has been quoted in speechs by President Clinton and recently by Vice-President Biden when he spoke after the Boston Marathon bombings.
            Vice President Biden used these verses from Mr. Heaney’s poem titled The Cure of Troy:

History says, Don’t hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.

            Those words jumped off the page, or I should say out of my Kindle, at me. Those words sent me scurrying to my computer to google on Mr. Heaney and read more of his poetry, and find out more about his life.

            Hope and History.
            I have thought a lot about hope and history. In our Presbytery, we are really good at history. Our Great Conewago Church was a civil war hospital, and this old sanctuary carries us back in history. I rejoice at the depth of historical passion that I feel every time I come here. Our Gettysburg Church has that famous historical name “Gettysburg” front and center in its identity. History lives in our Gettysburg Church as if Presidents Lincoln and Johnson were there last week, instead of generations ago. Our Big Spring Church in Newville is one of the oldest churches with one of the oldest cemeteries in Cumberland County. The pastor there is repeatedly almost weekly called by people from all over the world asking for help with their genealogical research. Our Silver Spring and Paxton Churches have authentically maintained their colonial meetinghouses. I walk into those holy spaces and I am blessed by the power of Presbyterian heritage; but, my goodness, those old straight back, wooden pews are terribly uncomfortable. Our Derry Church, one of the oldest churches in Pennsylvania, has kept an authentic structure of an old Session house, protected under glass, and now in their parking lot. This old structure is original and dates from the 1730s. During the summer, it is visited almost daily by the tourists that are in town to visit Chocolate World and Hershey Park. Our Presbyterian Church is on the tourist circuit. In our Presbytery, we are good at history.
            But what about the other end of Mr. Heaney’s verse; what about hope. Hope, at times, seems to be a challenge for us. What are we going to do about hope? What are we going to do about the future? I imagine sadly that no new members will enthusiastically get excited about joining the Gettysburg Church because Lincoln sat there for an hour 150 years ago. I imagine sadly that no new members will enthusiastically get excited about the Great Conewago church because of the many civil war soldiers that were cared for in this space. What are we going to do about hope? What are we going to do about the future?
            It was reported that Mr. Heaney’s poetry, over his life time, helped heal the nation of Ireland. Really? Wow! How can poetry heal a nation? Is it possible for us, in these old churches, to find a new hope? Is it possible for us in these old churches, to claim our history in such a way that a glorious, bright new hope springs forth? Is it possible for hope and history to rhyme.
            Once again, Seamus Heaney:

History says, Don’t hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme.