My Memory That's Not Mine

When I woke up this morning in San Francisco, a memory quickly came to my mind.

You may not know that I lived in San Jose, CA from ages 1-5.  My family would on occasion head from home to nearby San Francisco to see the sights.

Because of my age while here, I don't have that many memories of California.  I remember a bad dream, making snow angels somewhere in Northern California, waking up to see a snow flurry (it was a rarity in San Jose), riding my bike on a construction site (and the ensuing scolding for getting myself and bike so dirty), walking through a mud patch on a shortcut to school and my shoe being sucked off by the muck, jumping off of the jungle gym behind my house and knocking the wind out of my lungs, and a bug bite from what I thought was a friendly bug until I felt the burning in the center of my palm.

But sitting in San Francisco, it is another memory that comes to mind.  It is a memory of me but not mine, and yet in its own way, it is as vivid as if it were my own.  It is a part of me even though I don't remember it in the traditional way.

It is a family memory, repeated to me so often it has the concrete feel of personal recollection.  We were on our way for some sight-seeing in San Francisco.  I was getting on the bus and the driver asked me where I was headed.  In a cute fashion (that I haven't been able to pull off in 40 years), I looked at him with adult seriousness and told him "San Fran Sicko."  This seemed to be the highlight of the driver's day as he asked me several times to repeat my destination.

This makes me reflect on the importance of corporate memory.  We are made not only of our own memories, but of other's memories of us and the memories of our community.  When we tell our stories to each other, we invite them to join us as a possessor and even a participant in the recollection.

Essentially the church is a community defined by it memories of itself and the memories of those who went before and those canonized in the scriptures.  When we enter into the sharing of these corporate remembrances, they become our own, even if we don't/can't remember them ourselves.