The Importance of Remembering

Mr. Rogers wrote Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood himself. There was a team of people, of course, but Fred Rogers was creator, host, head writer, lead musical composer, and chief-puppeteer and voice talent. He studied children and childhood and scrutinized every word that was said.

One day, when they got to the set, one of the fish was at the bottom of the tank, lifeless. Mr. Rogers didn’t let them replace it quietly. Instead, he greeted his neighbors and discovered the fish in the bottom of the fish tank and invited them to see as well. Gently, he put water into a temporary holding habitat and used the net to move the lifeless fish to the clear plastic box. He shared that sometimes, when a fish is really sick, you can add salt to some water and it will get better. So, he tried it. It didn’t work. He took a paper towel, folded it, and gently transferred the fish one more time. He quietly said, “I guess we’d better bury it” and went out to the backyard with his spade. He dug a small hole, placed the fish in the paper towel in the hole, covered it back over with dirt and patted the ground. And looked directly at the camera, “When I was very young, I had a dog that I loved very much. Her name was Mitzi. And she got to be old, and she died. And I was very sad when she died cause she and I were good pals. And when she died, I cried. My grandmother heard me crying, I remember, and she came and she just put her arm around me because she knew I was sad. She knew how much I loved that dog. And my dad said we’d have to bury Mitzi, and uh, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to bury her because I thought I’d just pretend that she was still alive. But my dad said that her body was dead and we’d have to bury her. So we did.” Gently, matter-of-fact. And then he got up and went in. But as he sits down inside, he shares that his aunt and uncle gave him a stuffed dog after Mitzi died. And then he says, “ Even now I can still remember Mitzi’s prickly hair and her curly tail – she had a tail that went around like that. Would you like to see a picture of her? I think I have one here in the drawer. My dog Mitzi. I really missed her when she died.”

Mr. Rogers studied children and childhood, but he understood all of us. Pets die, loved ones die, and we are sad. We would like to pretend they are still alive, but they are not. After the show aired, Mr. Rogers received a letter from a mother. Her husband had recently died, and their daughter had not been willing or able to talk about her dad dying until she heard Mr. Rogers talking about death and his loss and his sadness.

Near the beginning of every funeral service I say, “Friends, we have gathered here to praise God and to witness to our faith as we celebrate the life of our loved one. We come together in grief, acknowledging our loss, and we begin a journey today of mourning and of healing as we remember and tell our stories. It is important that we keep telling those stories, stories of laughter and love, because through our memories our loved one continues to shape who we are. And as we tell those stories our sadness in our loss transforms to joy in the blessing of our loved one’s life.”

The journey of healing begins as we share our grief and remember with joy. It is a difficult journey. As he wrote to the church at Rome, Paul knew that they were facing difficult times. He writes, “The Spirit helps us in our weakness, helps us pray when we don’t have words, and ultimately, all things work together for good for those who love God.” God doesn’t cause our trials and our losses, but somehow through them, God works for good with those who love him, and we are more than conquerors.

When Fred Rogers was 14 years old, World War II was raging and a boy named Clay and his mother moved in with his mother’s parents in Latrobe while his father went to war. And one weekend, Fred invited Clay with his family to visit his grandparents’ country estate. They ran along the stone walls all over the farm the morning they arrived. That afternoon, they went swimming behind the waterfall, and as they listened to the water, Fred turned to Clay, “I know you worry about your father. I just wanted to tell ou that we mention him in our prayers every night.” “Thank you,” Clay replied, “It is fard for me to talk about sometimes.” And they quietly sat together listening to the water fall. Later they decided to go horseback riding. Fred and Clay laughed that Clay was from west Texas and had never been horseback riding before. Clay said, “You just never know what’s going to happen to you in your life, do you?” And Fred nodded, “No, you don’t, but I guess you need to be prepared for whatever it is.”

From the house, they heard the bell. “What’s that for?” asked Clay. “I think we need to go back to the house,” said Fred. He had a strange feeling that what was going to happen in the next few minutes was going to be difficult for everyone. “When the bell rings like that, it’s usually because somebody has something important to tell us.”

As they reached the back porch, Fred’s grandfather put his arms around both their shoulders. “You mother just telephoned, Clay,” he said gently. “I hate to have to tell you this, son, but your father has been reported killed in action in the Pacific.” He offered words of condolence. They would pack up and return home. Clay wiped a tear from his cheek, “Do you mind if I’m alone with Fred for a minute, sir, before we start back?”

When the two young men were alone, “Clay sat down on the ground and picked up a stick and started making lines in the dirt.” “Will you tell me again what your grandfather told you that summer just before you left to go back home to Latrobe?”

Fred took a deep breath. “He said, ‘Freddie, you made this day a really special day for me, just by being yourself. There’s only one person in the world like you. And I happen to like you just the way you are.’”

Tears were streaming down Clay’s face. “’Right before my father left to go to war, he and I went fishing. We had never done anything like that together before, and it was one of the best days of my life. He never talked to me a lot, and there were times when I thought he wished he had a son who liked the same things he did. But on that day, he really seemed to enjoy being with me.’ Clay looked directly at Fred[die]. ‘Tell me the truth. Do you think my father felt the same way about me that your grandfather feels about you?’

‘I don’t even have to think about that, Clay,’ came the reply. Without blinking, Fred met Clay’s gaze. ‘I know he did.’”

There are moments in our lives that stand still. This was one of those moments. Everything else is periphery, and we see.

New Testament scholar NT Wright compares Paul’s message here in Romans 8 to a hike he took in the woods. He had hiked these woods – lots of times – hurriedly getting his exercise so he could get back to work, and he had his favorite paths: the one that led around by the lake, the one to a little clearing where there were often woodland animals to watch, the one past the ancient oaks. There was one path that he had never taken. Its marker, like it, was covered in overgrown brush. Until one day, someone had cleared away the bushes, and he could see the letters, vertically announcing V-I-E-W. Not knowing fully what to expect, he took the path, “To begin with, it was as I’d expected: overgrown, with brambles and thorns in the way. It was muddy underfoot, as well; I wished I’d had my thicker boots on. But then it turned sharply through the trees and began to climb quite steeply. I was out of breath in a few minutes,” he says, “but after a brief pause, I kept going, getting more excited. Suddenly, instead of thick trees all around me, I saw clear sky emerging. Then I was out of the trees and onto a slab of rock. I scrambled up it and stood there…It was indeed a view.”

Our lives are much like that brambled path. We don’t know what to expect. There are points at which it seems too difficult. We may even think that we have lost the way or it is not worth the climb. And yet, when we come to the view we see: nothing in life or in death can separate us from God’s love.

Not even death. Mr. Rogers took off his cardigan at the end of the episode and reassured that when we lose someone we love, it helps to say that we are sad. “Often, it even helps to cry. Let people know how you feel.“ It is important to remember, to look at pictures, to share stories, to sit with one another.

As we continue to be socially distanced, our family gatherings may look very different. Holidays are a time that the journey of grief can be particularly difficult and having family and friends around often is the balm we need. In the absence of that balm this year, I encourage you to reach out to someone you know who is grieving. Call them. Text them. Send them a card or a note. Let them know you care. They may ask you whether God loves them like God loves you, and the moment may stand still as you reply without blinking, “I know God loves you, He gave him up his own Son for us all. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also praying for us. Nothing, in life or in death, can separate you from God’s love.”
Thanks be to God! Amen.