Deep Breaths Re-membering We are at the intersection of seasons, memories, and rituals—living echoes of those who have transitioned from this life. Though modern society often avoids or fears death, many cultures still hold sacred space for remembrance. This is the heart of re-membering: not just recalling the dead, but reassembling the spiritual, emotional, and cultural threads that keep them near. During this season of Allhallowtide—All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day—and celebrations like Día de los Muertos, we find rituals that name death not as an end but as a transformation. In Día de los Muertos, families create ofrendas—altars filled with photos, candles, marigolds, food, and favorite items of the departed. It’s not mourning—it’s celebration. It says: They are still with us. Their stories, laughter, and love remain. In the Africana tradition, this re-membering is ancestral. Across the African continent and the diaspora—from pouring libation to calling names during Black funerals—honoring the ancestors is not just a ritual, it is a responsibility. In many West African cultures, the dead are believed to live among us, guiding and protecting. In African American traditions, especially through spirituals, storytelling, and homegoing services, we pass down memories as a legacy. This year, I am grieving the loss of my father. Nothing prepared me for this depth of pain. But in these traditions, I have found language for both grief and grace. Scripture says, “To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:8). So I ask: what if death is not disappearance, but transition? What if legacy is a form of eternal presence? This season, I choose to re-member my father with joy and reverence—through story, song, and sacred pause. Because love, like spirit, never dies. Rev. Moya Harris, Senior Director of Programs, Sojourners
|