Lessons I continue to learn
27/04/24 00:51
At last night’s worship service that was part of the Pacific Northwest Conference of the United Church of Christ, our preacher reminded us of the Adinkra symbols from Ghana that represent values revered in the culture there. Adinkra symbols are often represented in the bright Kente clothing worn by people of African descent around the world. The Adinkra symbol our preacher highlighted was Sankofa. Sankofa is a value that treasures the unity of all time. Like many other symbols and values, it can be trivialized by oversimplification. It might be interpreted by saying, “in order to understand our present and ensure our future, we must know our past.” Sankofa is expressed in the symbol of a mythic bird that flies forward while lookingbackbward. In the image, the bird carries an egg in its mouth as it moves forward without seeing where it is going. The egg symbolizes the future. It might be interpreted as the understanding that in order to move forward and secure the future, it is necessary both to know and honestly speak of the past while trusting an unknown future in the present.
I’m sure that this explanation falls far short of the deep meaning of the value, but it was a powerful illustration in a powerful sermon that I am not able to fully articulate in a single journal post. Part of that power was the critical reminder that often when we think of African-American history, we begin with the story of slavery. Slavery is, indeed, part of the history that needs to be taught with clarity and passion for truth-telling. However, it is not the beginning of African-American history. In reality, slavery was a point where the history of African-American people was stripped, entangled, and hidden through the brutal process of treating such a large number of people as less than human. In the process, many Americans fail to recognize that there is a rich cultural heritage going back thousand and thousands of years that is also part of the story of African people. The Adinkra symbols of Ghana are only part of that enormous story. Learning a bit of them reveals part of the story.
I connected with the sermon and the story of the bird that flies forward while simultaneously looking back and nurturing the future in part, because I have benefitted greatly from several Lakota elders who taught me bits of Lakota culture by sharing the seven cardinal virtues of the Lakota people. They reminded me and others that the story of indigenous people on this continent did not begin with settlement. It has origins far deeper than first contact with European peoples. One place where I learned a great deal about Lakota culture and values was a youth camp called Waohola that was held years ago. Waohola is sometimes translated as “respect.” As a cultural value it embodies respect for self, for family, for all of life as a unified community. The old are respected for their wisdom. The young are respected as the future. Lakota values teach that all people and all things are relatives. The phrase, Mitakuye Oyasin are the words spoken as one enters the sweat lodge or Inipi. “Everything is one.” “All of my relatives.” It is an expression of respect.
The sermon also reminded me of a powerful poem by Amanda Gorman titled “Pre-memory.” In that poem Gorman speaks of the process of tuning unarticulated memory into art. We carry within ourselves important history that shapes us regardless of whether or not we are conscious of that history. Memories must be explored, explained, and expressed in order to understand the fullness of their power. Gorman tells of research that illustrates that the children of Holocaust survivors carry within them deep memories of the trauma of the near genocide of their people. That trauma shapes them whether or not it is consciously known or articulated. Exploring and expressing that trauma can be a critical element in moving forward. Gorman, in her powerful poetic style, writes “Grief is the grenade that always goes off.”
It is a lesson that I am learning from the bees I observe in the hives I tend. Bees do not have brains. Inside of their tiny exoskeletons they are liquid. The closest thing they have to what we recognize as organs in humans are five structures that keep that liquid in constant circulation. Some have referred to this as bees having five hearts, but they are not hearts in the same way as the muscles in other creatures that contract to circulate blood through a system of vessels. The liquid insides of bees slosh and circulate. Bees do not remember in the same sense that humans do by accessing elements stored in our brains. Bees do, however, possess the ability to create queens who lay eggs and insure the future of the species. They have the ability to “remember” how to nurture eggs, to gather pollen and nectar, to create honey, to forage over large areas without wasting energy, and much more. When scientists removed all of the nurse bees from a colony, other bees from the colony, including guard bees and forager bees, became nurse bees. When they did their DNA was altered in patterns that could be recognized as the same DNA that previously was present only in nurse bees. Bees “remember” their responsibilities through their DNA.
We, however, share both that genetic memory and the power to remember through thought and storytelling. We remember with our brains and we remember with our bodies. Becoming conscious of the roots of our memories and faithfully reporting the truth of our history can be liberating and empowering. Like the bird in the Sankofa symbol, we move forward with full and honest understanding - and with respect for - the past.
I am not just the sum of experiences that have been accumulated since the day of my birth. I carry also the experiences of my parents and grandparents and their parents and grandparents. And collectively, we weave the community of the church from the heritage of all who are called together to do the work to which we are called.
I will carry with me the memory of that powerful sermon and mull it with the thousands of other powerful sermons that have shaped my life and my faith. Each invites me not to dwell in the past, but to move forward toward a future that is yet to be revealed. I do not need to see the future in order to move ahead, but I do need to remember the past while flying forward.
I’m sure that this explanation falls far short of the deep meaning of the value, but it was a powerful illustration in a powerful sermon that I am not able to fully articulate in a single journal post. Part of that power was the critical reminder that often when we think of African-American history, we begin with the story of slavery. Slavery is, indeed, part of the history that needs to be taught with clarity and passion for truth-telling. However, it is not the beginning of African-American history. In reality, slavery was a point where the history of African-American people was stripped, entangled, and hidden through the brutal process of treating such a large number of people as less than human. In the process, many Americans fail to recognize that there is a rich cultural heritage going back thousand and thousands of years that is also part of the story of African people. The Adinkra symbols of Ghana are only part of that enormous story. Learning a bit of them reveals part of the story.
I connected with the sermon and the story of the bird that flies forward while simultaneously looking back and nurturing the future in part, because I have benefitted greatly from several Lakota elders who taught me bits of Lakota culture by sharing the seven cardinal virtues of the Lakota people. They reminded me and others that the story of indigenous people on this continent did not begin with settlement. It has origins far deeper than first contact with European peoples. One place where I learned a great deal about Lakota culture and values was a youth camp called Waohola that was held years ago. Waohola is sometimes translated as “respect.” As a cultural value it embodies respect for self, for family, for all of life as a unified community. The old are respected for their wisdom. The young are respected as the future. Lakota values teach that all people and all things are relatives. The phrase, Mitakuye Oyasin are the words spoken as one enters the sweat lodge or Inipi. “Everything is one.” “All of my relatives.” It is an expression of respect.
The sermon also reminded me of a powerful poem by Amanda Gorman titled “Pre-memory.” In that poem Gorman speaks of the process of tuning unarticulated memory into art. We carry within ourselves important history that shapes us regardless of whether or not we are conscious of that history. Memories must be explored, explained, and expressed in order to understand the fullness of their power. Gorman tells of research that illustrates that the children of Holocaust survivors carry within them deep memories of the trauma of the near genocide of their people. That trauma shapes them whether or not it is consciously known or articulated. Exploring and expressing that trauma can be a critical element in moving forward. Gorman, in her powerful poetic style, writes “Grief is the grenade that always goes off.”
It is a lesson that I am learning from the bees I observe in the hives I tend. Bees do not have brains. Inside of their tiny exoskeletons they are liquid. The closest thing they have to what we recognize as organs in humans are five structures that keep that liquid in constant circulation. Some have referred to this as bees having five hearts, but they are not hearts in the same way as the muscles in other creatures that contract to circulate blood through a system of vessels. The liquid insides of bees slosh and circulate. Bees do not remember in the same sense that humans do by accessing elements stored in our brains. Bees do, however, possess the ability to create queens who lay eggs and insure the future of the species. They have the ability to “remember” how to nurture eggs, to gather pollen and nectar, to create honey, to forage over large areas without wasting energy, and much more. When scientists removed all of the nurse bees from a colony, other bees from the colony, including guard bees and forager bees, became nurse bees. When they did their DNA was altered in patterns that could be recognized as the same DNA that previously was present only in nurse bees. Bees “remember” their responsibilities through their DNA.
We, however, share both that genetic memory and the power to remember through thought and storytelling. We remember with our brains and we remember with our bodies. Becoming conscious of the roots of our memories and faithfully reporting the truth of our history can be liberating and empowering. Like the bird in the Sankofa symbol, we move forward with full and honest understanding - and with respect for - the past.
I am not just the sum of experiences that have been accumulated since the day of my birth. I carry also the experiences of my parents and grandparents and their parents and grandparents. And collectively, we weave the community of the church from the heritage of all who are called together to do the work to which we are called.
I will carry with me the memory of that powerful sermon and mull it with the thousands of other powerful sermons that have shaped my life and my faith. Each invites me not to dwell in the past, but to move forward toward a future that is yet to be revealed. I do not need to see the future in order to move ahead, but I do need to remember the past while flying forward.
