I am privileged to be part of a few groups. The focus of the groups varies rather widely, from an emphasis on leadership to ones dealing with spirituality and things that may seem more esoteric. In some cases, I know quite a bit about what the group will discuss and in other cases, I am one who brings almost no background to the discussion. Of course, that means I learn quite different things. Some things I can put to use in what I teach or speak about. Other things may be quite interesting to me, but I have no clue and no intent to try to make it useful in anything I do.
In one recent group conversation, a Catholic nun shared a favorite one-liner of hers. She said she learned it from a Senegal teacher, but with a little sleuthing, I also see that it is often called an African proverb. I like the version she shared with me. It says that “when a person dies, a library is burned.” I see alternative versions say the “library is lost,’ and a couple other takes. I can’t believe I have never heard this, but I love it. And it provokes me to do a little background poking around and offer a few comments.
The obvious thing about the one-liner is its affirmation that older folks who die have a life experience and some wisdom they take with them in their death. This is their library. Those of us who know this have often visited their “libraries.” In most cases, they did not give us a book to read. But they did offer a bit of their life experience and allowed us to learn from that experience. Sometimes their life experience was a story about a mistake or blunder they committed. If we can learn from this, then we don’t have to repeat that mistake.
In my poking around, I saw an interesting little piece by Dennis Sparks, whom I do not know. Sparks shares something from various obituaries he has read and from which he learns. In fact, he confesses, “for decades I’ve been a regular reader of obituaries.” He continues, “I read them not so much to find out who has died or whether they are younger than me, but to appreciate and learn from the mini-biographies they offer and the social history they provide…” I laugh because I do the same thing. I will go to some city where I know no person and read the entire obit page in the local paper.
I value that Sparks shares a comment from Bruce Weber who writes obits for the New York Times. Weber tells us his approach to writing an obit. “The general outlook of the obituary department is that our articles are about lives that have been lived, not deaths that have occurred. The idea is to appreciate the character of the subject to the degree that that’s possible, usually based on what we know that person has accomplished and on what we can glean from interviews with family members and others. You . . . want to appreciate eccentricities, record unusual events and relay humorous incidents or comments. In that way, a good obituary can be like a good eulogy.” There are many things to like about his comments.
The first thing I like is his focus on sharing and celebrating the life that has been lived. All of us who die, first have life we have lived. It is our life---our unique life. Even if we thought what others thought and did things others did, no one did it like we did. It is easy to see how this remind me of my conviction that God created us all in the divine image. We are all make in this divine image, but we “image” it in our own unique way. I am part of the mass of humanity, but I am human in a way unlike any other human being. A good obit is a good eulogy.
I like the root meaning of the Greek word, eulogy. It literally means “good words.” Lived lives create reasons to someone to remember and offer good words. Sparks next goes to the work of William Ferris, one-time chair of the National Endowment of Humanities who encouraged the young, especially, to become oral historians of the living---get their stories before they die. I think this is a wonderful idea. For example, I remember countless conversations I have with my two grandfathers. Both were born in the 19th century and had access to an earlier time that I never would know. I wish I had taken some notes and had this to pass on to my kids and grandkids. And of course, I wish I could pass on some things I learned from some brilliant folks I had as teachers in college and grad school.
I have had some amazing experiences that will be lost when I die. It makes me wonder how to give some care to my own ripple effect. There really is no way a short obit notices in some paper or online notification will convey all that my ripples could promise if someone wanted to know. We often hear about things that “are too good to be true.” Rightfully, we ought to avoid most of those temptations. But I and so many others have things “too good to be lost.”
This old African saying has given me a new way to see an older person and to imagine valuing his or her “library.” Again, it makes me think about the early Christian community. I think about the women who went to the tomb and experienced an amazing thing they were not prepared for. They did not write the account of the resurrection. Somehow their “library” was remembered, written and passed down to us in the form of the four gospels endings.
Maybe it is time to cultivate the curiosity, remembering and preserving all the libraries being lived in the interesting lives around us. We can do this before they die, and their library burns down. Let’s cultivate the ripples around us---before death.
http://www.annarbor.com/passions-pursuits/when-an-old-man-dies-a-library-burns-to-the-ground/
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