Memory Is Where I Live

I was telling a friend this evening that possibly the best sign that I shouldn't do a PhD program anytime soon is that I think most PhD programs sound really exciting and cool (at least for a minute!).  My inability to focus on any one - NT? OT? Hermeneutics?  Theology and the Arts?  Sociology of Religion? - is a good indicator that I'm not ready to dive into any single track for the next 4-7 years.  I'm also not ready to continue to be a full-time student; I just need a break.

However, the one idea for a program that has stuck with me since my second semester at Divinity School would be to do a theological account of memory.  My Medieval Theology professor gave a lecture on John of the Cross and his tripartite division of the soul, and how he related each bit of the soul to one of the three theological virtues: the will to love, the intellect to faith, and memory to hope.  Ever since then I have wanted to write a poem / book that centers on the phrase "The currents between memory and hope are longing..."  It's possible that John of the Cross relates those two because they both have to do with time, but I think memory and hope are similar because they are both primarily about longing. 

One of the reasons this topic sticks out to me as an exciting ground for further study is that memory is usually a degraded concept in the culture as I view it.  Practices of memory are rare, and everything is focused on the now or the near future rather than the past.  Nostalgic is term used to insult those who can't deal with the present, the ones who would rather live in the past.

It's not living in the past, but I do often find myself living in my memory; or, rather, living from my memory.  Certainly, everyone makes it through the day (as Joseph Butler talks about in his Analogy of Religion, the only point I really remember from that dense text) because of the patterns and habits and expectations they form from remembered experience.  More than that, however, I find the energy to build new relationships because I remember the rewards of old ones.  I speak my prayers with the hope of prayers answered in the past.  Memory at every moment influences my present and helps me dream the future.

I write this post tonight because I'm lonely and nostalgic, which have put me in a certain mood; but I don't think being in this mood is a bad thing.  Melancholia is part of who I am, part of who I choose to be, part of what makes me (and everyone else) unique.  But let me say more about what I mean by being lonely...

The reason for my nostalgia in this case is that at the Divinity Drama show tonight, the final sketch was about a senior's angst about what comes after graduation (and the constant stream of people asking him what he was doing after graduation!).  As he and his friend took a moment to slow down and remember all the experiences that made their time at Divinity School so valuable, I realized that I couldn't necessarily pick which friend I would do that with.  Both my previous graduations involved tearful goodbyes to friends I didn't think I knew how to live without - thankfully, I learned I didn't have to, even if I did have to adjust to missing their daily presence in my life.  Those times in my life were marked by a practical intimacy forced by the constant friction of being in each others face every day, whether for meals or classes or worship or homework or conversation and fellowship.  It was difficult at first, but grew to be as comfortable as a security blanket, the source from which all my achievements drew confidence, courage and joy. 

Now, though, I don't know that I have a friend that close at the Divinity school.  Part of it is the unique set of challenges that come with making relationships during graduate school, or so I tell myself.  But I realized another part of it as I prayed my way home tonight: my loneliness is the existential weight of my overcommited toobusy schedule.  I'm taking 5.5 classes, I have two internships, and in case you forgot I'm also married.  A friend I have tried a similar schedule last year and failed to maintain it - he had to quit something.  I can name my schedule as "unsustainable" or even "insane," but I won't quit anything.  Is it pride?  Arrogance?  Graduation requirements?  Ambition?  I'm not sure.  All of these, certainly.

I think it also represents something I vowed in high school would never be true of me: the "adult" change from a focus on relationships to achievements.  I have unaware made a set of choices that will let me graduate with a very impressive resume, but have taken away from my ability to invest and be invested in by my peers.  If I'm not sure how I feel about the effects of that choice on a daily basis, I know it is not the methodology I want to use to make decisions in the future.  That isn't who I believe I am, but it seems to be who I have been being.

Well, my wife has just arrived home, so I shall end my post here.  I didn't expect to come to this place at all, but I'm not surprised to find myself here.  This moment of self-realization / confession is one I hope to remember as I move forward into the next phase of my life (whatever that may be).

For now, know that I am longing.  Longing for rest in God, and longing for the deep fellowship of intimacy with friends.  Go in peace, and pray for me (a sinner).