Holocaust Remembrance Day for a Non-Jew

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day. It’s a day when many people I know reflect on the horrors that happened in Nazi Germany, but also on the state of antisemitism up to and including today. I have to say, as a non-Jew, I see and hear it more today than at any other era of my life. Which means it must be pretty loud if I can hear it and it’s not targeted at me. Right? Is it more prevalent or are people just feeling bolder about expressing their hatred? Maybe it’s both. 

This morning, I had a meeting with someone who is wearing a necklace that they won’t take off until all the hostages held by Hamas are released. This person worships in a synagogue that was fire bombed in 2021 – which is not that long ago – here in Austin, Texas. That’s the same year that our community saw antisemitic graffiti pop up around town and some neighborhoods were littered with antisemitic leaflets. 

And it is happening still. 
Our community is not unique. 

It is important to remember the Holocaust, not only to honor the people who suffered and died and those who survived, but also to remember what happens when hatred runs amok. The victims of Nazi hate were not only Jews, although we should never forget that Jews were uniquely brutalized. Other human beings not considered worth living also went to the camps and the ovens. 

As a white Southern woman, I know this kind of remembrance is important. My ancestors perpetrated a different kind of hatred run amok. Their racism and classism caused untold (well, thankfully some of it is told) harm to particular human beings and whole cultures – and to themselves as well. No one fares well in the end when hatred is the governing principle. 

It shouldn’t take a family tie, but I also have Jewish people in my family. When antisemitism flares up, I know they are afraid for their safety in a way that I am not. It is a peculiar thing to be tangentially related to the danger faced by someone so close to you. Peculiar, but not unfamiliar. There are people in my family who are members of other hated groups.

Remembering is a way to re-member people who have been cut off from the community by injustice, fear, hatred, violence. Remembering is essential if we are to restore wholeness to the human family.

One day soon, I hope, my friend will take off her necklace because all the hostages will have been released (although, to be clear, some will be in body bags). One day soon, I hope, antisemitic graffiti and online hate mongering will die down. And still we will need to remember. 

Until that day and all the days after, I try to keep in mind that every person, every household, every community has a role to play in creating, maintaining, and promoting justice. We know from experience that neutrality is not an option. We know from history that when some groups are targeted – Jews, Muslims, women, people of African descent, indigenous people in colonized lands, trans-people, and so many other groups – when these are targeted with violence the rest of us will eventually be enveloped. 

God believes in us

When I was in my mid-20s, I moved across the country from my parents. In part this was an exciting statement of independence. I packed up my Ford Escort and drove more than 1,000 miles from Houston to Charlotte, North Carolina. Granted, I was moving close to cousins, aunts and uncles, but it felt independent – and more important, I thought it made me look independent. 

In my new city, I found a job, got a place to live, connected with college buddies, and made new friends. I felt like I was becoming the adult me. The real me who was different from the old me, leaving behind the me from high school, college, and living in my parents’ house. 

After a couple of years though, I hit a rough patch. My job was unfulfilling and the company was being bought out. I had broken up with a boyfriend and felt lonely. I was not going out with my friends as much, not even my roommate. 

At one low point, I called my mom to complain about my life. She listened to me say how I was the least interesting person in my friend group, I was no fun, my life was not going in the direction I wanted. I felt lost.

My mom could have offered advice on how to get a different job, or lambasted my friends for making me feel like an outsider. Instead, she said, “But you’ve always been so fun and funny. What happened to that Mary?”

That got my attention. She reminded me who I was.

She reminded me that I was known – that even when I forgot myself and felt lost from my dreams and ideals, or even my quirks and practical jokes, there were people who knew me and could call me back to myself. My mom believed in me. 

It worked. I did remember. My journey to become a new, adult Mary circled around to remembering the person I already was. 

I’m thinking about that story today, the sixth anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood. The journey to get there was long and involved a lot of forgetting who I was, and then being reminded by loved ones, by life around me, and by God. 

Losing yourself can feel like a failure of belief. Am I believing hard enough? Is my sense of where I am going just fake news? At times like those, it might take a “call from Mom,” a reminder of how we are known and loved and believed in to get un-lost. 

Last Sunday, the words of Isaiah reminded me of that call: 

Thus says the Lord,

he who created you O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel:

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; 

I have called you by name you are mine. (Isa 43:1)

Over the course of decades, as the sense of my vocation came to me in various voices, it became clear to me that no matter how lost I felt or how distant from that path I wandered, people around me believed in me. And their belief reminded me that God believed in me. 

Here is something interesting about the word “believe.” It comes from the same root as the word “belove.” There is a relationship between believing and beloving. That makes belief more than an assent to an idea. It makes belief holding something precious. 

And it isn’t just about OUR belief. God believes in us, God beloves us. That belief, that belovedness, goes all the way back to the beginning of everything and stretches across time. 

It is because of that belovedness that none of my wandering and doubt have been wasted, they are part of a beloved life. It is because of that belovedness that I can see the loveliness of all those around me, not only those whom I pastor, but those I encounter everywhere. 

Ordination is a rite that sets some of us apart for specific ministry. But my experience is that, because it was an answer to the beloved voices of my community, it feels more like taking my place among them. 

As I enter another year of priesthood, I remember that no matter how sidetracked I get God is always calling me – and all of us –  back to ourselves. God believes in us. We are all beloved. 

Did we know this was coming?

On a recent morning, I woke early to see a landscape covered in snow. It was a winter visit to see my mom and the first time I had been to her home for this kind of winter weather. 

While I cooked our breakfast, she wondered at the icy trees and sidewalks. “I was not expecting this! Was it predicted?” Yes, it was. 
We sit down to eat.
“Did you see all that snow?! Did we know it was coming?”
Yes. We watched it fall yesterday. 

My mom has dementia. It has been a mix of emotions (and tasks) going through it with her and my siblings. No one in our family has had it before and I sometimes joke that we’d be better equipped to handle cancer or heart disease. 

It turns out many, if not most, of our friends and family are similarly perplexed. It may be because dementia can affect people differently, or because people are so busy managing their family member’s needs they don’t have time to reflect on it, or any number of other reasons. But once you open the topic, it turns out there is a mix of stereotypes, unfocused sympathy, and “oh, gurl, I’ve been there.”

Mom has been in a plateau for some time now. Her short term memory is…well she can’t remember if it snowed yesterday. But she can do things that I never realized were a measure of health: bathe and dress herself, make her own breakfast, walk to and from a friend’s house without getting lost, remembers the number code to get into her home. She remembers close family names. She is physically and socially more active than I am (for real!) with classes, dances, outdoor walks, and shared meals. She loves to work a puzzle.

There are some very strange things about dementia that I was not expecting and I often get a shared laugh from those in-the-know. She invents stories about her neighbors, how they are divorcing and how their house is being joined with the two next to it. Then the couple walk happily by with their dog. 

But there are elements of her personality that are more evident now than ever before. She is always asking if you have what you need (water? food? a blanket?) or if you need help with whatever you are doing. Always ready with a hug. 

There was an early stage when she could tell what was happening to her mind and that caused a lot of fear and anger. Now, she no longer panics when she realizes her memory is slipping and is more content to exist in the moment. She is almost never anxious about the future or regretful about the past. 

Every night at dinner she said grace from memory. And when she asked if I wanted to say it instead, I always let her because it is a grace to hear her say grace from memory. 

One day her situation will start declining again. We know what the options are and are ready to move to an escalated level of care. For now, her healthcare providers say she is safe and better off where she is with the help she has. 

This journey is a tough one for me and my siblings. We balance the need to attend to all her “business” with the desire to be with her in person as much as we can. (We are grateful for all the helpers that see her every day!) Often it means we see less of each other as we take turns visiting from our various homes around the country and the world. 

Things are not easy and will get harder. We sort of know what is coming, but when it does, I have a feeling we’ll ask, as my mom did this morning, “I wasn’t expecting this! Was it predicted?” 

Family

I remember a family friend once noticing (with a laugh) that the story of Jesus’ family not missing him for three days shows that Jesus, too, came from a dysfunctional family. That story occurs when Mary and Joseph and an extended group of their kin travel from Nazareth to Jerusalem for the Passover and on the trip back discover that their 12-year-old son is not with them. 

I can’t even imagine the panic! 

But aside from the anxiety of the lost child, I wonder about the size of that caravan of people, the siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles that helped look out for one another, that celebrated holidays together. But also a sizable group that might make it easy not to notice the absence of one. 

When they find the tween Jesus – idealized but also realistic – he’s a little bit cheeky (“Why didn’t you know where I’d be? Duh!”) and also naturally expressing a little independence. He’s starting it understand who he is and telling his parents who he is. 

Part of what Jesus reveals – and that Luke’s Gospel starts to reveal to us in this story – is what family is. The Gospel of Luke starts with Jesus’ close family – with Elizabeth and Zechariah and John who will become the Baptist. It starts with Mary and Joseph – Jesus’ immediate family – traveling to Bethlehem because of who their ancient family is, because of their lineage back to David. 

And when Mary and Jospeh find Jesus in the Temple, where they all traveled together with extended family, he expresses an understanding of being part of an even larger family. He is in his Father’s house. The Temple gives him an understanding of being part of a family that includes these teachers studying Torah.  

Later, as an adult, Jesus will further broaden the notion of family. From his biological family to the family of faith, he will expand his understanding of family to those who were considered outsiders. Family now includes all the world, especially sinners, the “impure,” people who worship differently, women, children, all sorts of leftist people. 

If we look around the world today – including and maybe especially in our faith communities – maybe we are all part of a big dysfunctional family. Perhaps the idea that we connected by bonds of family to everyone else might challenge us to think about family in new ways. 

For those of us who are part of worshipping congregations, it can feel familial. Being a member of a congregation is often the first way we experience being close to people outside our households. These are people we might not choose as friends but sit next to and pray with. People who we might love dearly – and also have to forgive for being imperfect. 

Not everyone comes from a family that is loving, and sometimes that makes the image of a congregation as family problematic. I’ll admit, with a title like “Mother” I have concerns that people will think of me in a parental role in a congregation and that’s probably not healthy. And yet the image of us being family can be helpful. These are people to whom we have connections, responsibilities, and obligations. 

Another challenge is how to extend the concept of family beyond the congregation. What counts as family grows from immediate (parents and children) to extended to companions in faith to…

All humanity. 

There are hints of this sense of belonging together right from the beginning of creation. Our tradition is clear that all humans are made in the image of God and share in God’s love. 

From that beginning humans break off into tribes and nations. And yet there are messages throughout human history that we are to welcome strangers and show hospitality to all. 

Families are not perfect and not meant to be perfect. What they are meant to be is together. 

I hope that when you are in the company of your various kinds of family families you might find yourself in the company of kin. People who help you feel connected to larger and larger circles of responsibility, obligation, and love. 

I hope being in these families helps you see yourself within a big, extended family of God.