the end of memory

one of my favorite books in recent memory is miroslav volf’s the end of memory. the question he poses in that book is: how ought one remember injustice and violence? most (including myself) would say that you should always hold on tightly to the memory of wrongdoings – to honor the victim(s) and to hold the perpetrator accountable for their act. but volf says something remarkably different: he says that the proper goal of the memory of wrongs suffered is the formation of the communion of love between all people — including victims and perpetrator. love is the goal of memory; when the goal is reached, the memory of wrongs itself can also end; it can be forgotten. in other words, love is the end of memory.

many of my own memories came flooding back today as i flipped through old photo albums at my parents’ house, and the picture above captured my attention. there’s my brother, tough and valiant, looking forward with jaw clenched and rifle in hand. and there’s me. looking up toward him, wearing my potato suit + socks, holding onto my absolute favorite kinda toy growing up: my parents’ kitchenware.

i’ve been thinking a lot about the ending of this story

Salvador Late or Early | by Sandra Cisneros

Salvador with eyes the color of caterpillar, Salvador of the crooked hair and crooked teeth, Salvador whose name the teacher cannot remember, is a boy who is no one’s friend, runs along somewhere in that vague direction where homes are the color of bad weather, lives behind a raw wood doorway, shakes the sleepy brothers awake, ties their shoes, combs their hair with water, feeds them milk and cornflakes from a tin cup in the dim dark of the morning. 

Salvador, late or early, sooner or later arrives with the string of younger brothers ready. Helps his mama, who is busy with the business of the baby. Tugs the arms of Cecilio, Arturito, makes them hurry, because today, like yesterday, Arturito has dropped the cigar box of crayons, has let go the hundred little fingers of red, green, yellow, blue, and nub of black sticks that tumble and spill over and beyond the asphalt puddles until the crossing-guard lady holds back the blur of traffic for Salvador to collect them again. 

Salvador inside that wrinkled shirt, inside the throat that must clear itself and apologize each time it speaks, inside that forty-pound body of boy with its geography of scars, its history of hurt, limbs stuffed with feathers and rags, in what part of the eyes, in what part of the heart, in that cage of the chest where something throbs with both fists and knows only what Salvador knows, inside that body too small to contain the hundred balloons of happiness, the single guitar of grief, is a boy like any other disappearing out the door, beside the schoolyard gate, where he has told his brothers they must wait. Collects the hands of Cecilio and Arturito, scuttles off dodging the many schoolyard colors, the elbows and wrists crisscrossing, the several shoes running. Grows small and smaller to the eye, dissolves into the bright horizon, flutters in the air before disappearing like a memory of kites.

thinking positive thoughts

i’ve never been someone who put much stock in the power of positive thinking, which in my mind amounted to little more than tricking yourself into believing things are better than they appear. of course, if i just so happened to have a positive feeling regarding a generally negative situation, that’s okay; i just preferred my thoughts to be a natural reaction rather than a decision i consciously made.  

well, the other day, my cohort and i had a study session with our faculty advisor. he must’ve thought we were really stressed our and panicky over our impending master’s exam (gulp), because our study session quickly turned into a full-blown pep talk. you can do it, he said. you already know this stuff, just relax, and think. and perhaps he wasn’t convinced his pep talk was doing much to assuage our anxiety, because he then told us that we should prepare for the master’s exam by hurrying to the nearest blockbuster video and renting bowfinger, starring steve martin and eddie murphy. not only is it a funny movie, he assured us, but it’ll model for you how you ought to be approaching the exam. with positive thoughts.

president barack obama

when i was rooting for john kerry four years ago, i remember being blown away by a young senator from illinois, so much so that i actually prayed he would one day run for president. i did so never believing america would actually elect a black man who’s last name rhymed with the most infamous in american history. as i read earlier — today, barack obama is the first son of africa to ever lead a nation-state outside of africa. i couldn’t help but feel really happy for a teary-eyed jesse jackson, as he watched a man achieve what he fought his whole life to make possible. while i’m normally too skeptical to get emotional watching a political figure give a speech, i was moved by the moment, and moved by what barack obama could represent. i may be a total sucker, but i must confess: obama inspires me, my heart is full of hope, and i’m truly proud to be american.  

it has been a terrible last eight years. we endured the worst president in american history. our country has been thrown into an unpopular war and an economic depression, and we lost the respect of the world. so the euphoria i feel tonight is tempered by reality: obama has set unrealistic expectations for himself and he will inevitably let us down; he will at some point make an unpopular decision, and his supporters will second-guess him. he has an enormous challenge ahead of him; still, i am nevertheless confident that there is no one in the world better for the job. rather than painting a fairy tale about how much easier life will be if he becomes president, he asks for all americans to give their best. the solemnity with which he spoke tonight, his humble posture toward those he disagrees with, and his unflappable demeanor all give me hope that we have indeed turned the page on a dark period of our history.  

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in my cgroup, we reflected on the idea that the kingdom of god is a subversive society here on earth, where small, insignificant people conspire with god to transform the world. and so while i choose to fully participate in the political process, i must take the time to affirm that my allegiance is always with god’s kingdom, the only true hope of the world; so i will follow through with what i resolved to do before this election was decided: no matter who is president, no matter how upset or euphoric i may feel, i will continue to conspire with god, know my calling, and be faithful to it.