Memory: The Lost Skill
A Lenten reflection
*This article originally appeared on RealClear Religion.
In the 1980s, Pierce Brosnan — famous for playing James Bond — starred in an action-adventure show called Remington Steele. As a fan of Bond and film in general, yours truly has explored the franchise’s history: from watching the behind-the-scenes featurettes to the 2012 documentary Everything or Nothing: The Untold Story of 007. In the latter, Brosnan talks about how Remington Steele was instrumental in landing the role of the famous British spy, but also, temporarily, kept him from wielding the Walther PPK until 1995’s Goldeneye.
Anyone who knows me would probably say, “Of course you’d know that.” But one night at the Milford Irish Club’s Trivia Night, I could not recall the show for the life of me, except after several excruciating minutes where I felt I was emptying every metaphorical drawer in my mind.
Now, I either have early memory loss (doubtful) or I didn’t train my mind enough to instantly recall that bit of trivia. Or maybe I have undiagnosed ADHD. Whatever the cause, I have recently discovered if I don’t write down a task for work or in general, that item simply slips away as I carry on blissfully unaware to the next goal. It’s the Dr. Henry Jones-syndrome: “I wrote them down in my diary so I wouldn’t have to remember.”
In short, my memory skills — short and long — are not as strong as I’d hoped. And between my siblings and friends, I know I’m not alone.
Yet the stakes at the Milford Irish Club’s Trivia Night are a gift card and a free drink for every teammate — which are considerably lower than the soul of the nation or a person (although it’s still very satisfying to win!). In fact, memory is central to the American and Judeo-Christian traditions.
What I do mean?
While serving on the Milford Board of Education, the administration and curriculum writers often stressed problem-solving versus memorization — favoring the “big picture takeaways” rather than the minute details. Now, there is nothing wrong with the former. Students should learn to problem-solve and generalities are more easily recalled than the minutiae. But de-emphasizing memorization is not a necessarily new scholastic philosophy as teachers, in some circumstances, told anxious students when I attended school (I graduated college in 2015) to not worry about remembering exact dates, quotes, or formulas. Anecdotally, this differs from what my parents’ generation practiced. For example, my mom was assigned to memorize and recite President Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address to her colleagues, and by golly, after 40 or more years, she can still do it with limited slips.
More than preparing students’ public speaking prowess (and more than making a student anxious), deeper lessons are being taught in that example: the ability to recall; the skill of remembering; and reinforcing what we need to remember.
In a world where all human knowledge is accessible in our pockets, one does not need to memorize Lincoln’s speech commemorating the “brave men, living and dead” who “gave the last full measure of devotion” in the Pennsylvania farmland during the American Civil War. Nor does one need to remember their lives with their own eyes, instead recalling through the lens of a phone’s camera. One can simply ask Siri. While accessibility is a good, the human mind’s tendency is not to commit easily found information like so to memory — in short, “why bother remembering when I can look it up whenever, wherever?” Ironically, Lincoln stated how future Americans would “little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.” This brings up another more troubling point: does the average American student know what happened at Gettysburg?
A 2015 survey by the American Council of Trustees and Alumni found that “only half the American public could correctly identify when the Civil War took place and just 18% knew the Emancipation Proclamation meant slaves were free in areas still in rebellion.” Furthermore, “When asked to match Lincoln with the famous phrase from the Gettysburg Address ‘that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth,’ more respondents chose a passage from the Declaration of Independence than the lines from Lincoln’s pen.”
Even the “big picture takeaways” are not remembered by the next generation. This has serious implications for the future of a country whose identity is not necessarily based on land or class, but on the creed “We the People.” To forget the ideas to which a people subscribe is to forget their connectivity and commonality to each other. No wonder there has been increased polarization or why only one-third of Americans would pass a U.S. Citizenship Test. The higher ideals protected and enshrined by the blood, sweat, and toil by the thousands of Americans at Gettysburg seem contemptible to post-modernists since the United States promulgates imperialistic, institutional atrocities as accused by “The 1619 Project” and other DEI prophets. One must know, however, that a utopia is unachievable and that man is a fallen, broken creature; but there is honor in hoping, striving toward those Jeffersonian words that “all men are created equal.”
However, a collective memory for a nation’s founding pales in comparison to remembering the Creator from whom our inalienable rights were gifted. Memory is not only crucial but a necessity in the Judeo-Christian life.
After toiling for centuries as slaves in Egypt, God — through Moses — broke the Israelites out of captivity into freedom and, after 40 years, to the Promised Land. Throughout Exodus, Leviticus, and other Old Testament books, the Jewish people are reminded time and time again to know that God is the one who “brought you out of the land of Egypt.” While the chapters regarding the construction of the Tabernacle, Lampstand, and Ark of the Covenant may seem dry, they highlight how God desires the Jewish people to commemorate their liberation.
For Christians, Jesus Christ establishes a new covenant at the Last Supper when, after breaking the bread, he tells the Apostles, “This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me.” At Mass, Catholics commemorate this seminal event in the Eucharist’s consecration, when the bread and wine experience Transubstantiation — which means “the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ and, therefore, the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially contained” in the bread and wine. In the Eucharist, Catholics remember how Jesus Christ, the son of the living God, suffered and died to redeem the world.
In both the Jewish and Christian traditions, memory is central to worship — and what is worship but remembering God’s love for us? But worshipping God requires patience, diligence, repetition, and, indeed, recall. That means physically, mentally, and spiritually taking the time to reflect on the blessings He has bestowed on us.
However, what happens to a people that refuse to worship, thereby, refusing to remember Him? Naturally, there is a collapse in practice or knowledge of core beliefs. For instance, the most troubling to Catholics is how a majority do not believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. This year, the U.S. Church is launching the “National Eucharistic Revival” to reverse that trend for if one does not remember Christ’s sacrificial love or the divinity in the Eucharist, why would they fulfill their Sunday obligation? Hence the rise in religious “nones” — or those with no religious affiliation. Even though generations of Americans now adhere to the “I’m spiritual, but not religious” mantra, they endanger themselves of becoming neither. That is the harsh reality. Spirituality needs discipline and persistence, which is only found in religious rigor. Put in another context, one could say “I love my parents” — but if he or she doesn’t act upon or show that feeling then their assertion means little. They then simply become words built on nothing. Acting and showing our love reinforces that love and even enriches it.
Ultimately, a society that has no collective memory — or fails to teach how to remember — will become untethered from each other and God, swayed by the winds of whatever influence comes its way. And even in our personal lives, when we meet our end, the memory of our loved ones may be all we have left to cherish; which is much more precious than a correct trivia answer.