Remembering History

“. . .We must try to learn from History. History is ourselves.”

--Kenneth Clark

One of the great truths of the biblical tradition in both Judaism and Christianity is that God is a God of history. God intervenes in history and acts on behalf of the chosen people at significant moments in time.

One such moment is the Exodus of the Hebrews from their bondage in Egypt. The biblical writers are at great pains to locate the Exodus event in time; and we know from historical records and archeological evidence that the Exodus does, indeed, have a strong basis in historical fact. There were slaves in Egypt at the time the Bible indicates; there were uprisings; and, no doubt, there were escapes.

For the later Christian community, it was also important to place the coming of Jesus in historical context. The Gospel writers, and the author of Luke/Acts in particular, set out to show that God’s action in the incarnation broke into history at a particular time and place and changed the course of the world--and of world history--forever:

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. . . . [Luke 2: 1-2]

Contemporary Jewish and Christian theologians, too, are at pains to locate God’s saving activity in historical time. Gordon Kaufman, a contemporary Protestant theologian and retired professor of theology at Harvard Divinity School, speaks of a “trajectory” in the history of human development in the direction of greater “humaneness.” This positive view, however, is more his hope than his certainty, and, at any rate, it can only be fulfilled by the activities of human beings acting on God’s behalf. That is to say, it is up to us--God will not do it for us, we must do it for ourselves and for God, or it will never happen. Kaufman writes,

The histories of the various cultures appear to be converging into one great historical stream, moving onward we know not quite where-- possibly toward the total annihilation of the human species and much of the rest of life on earth; possibly toward a technocratic totalitarianism; but also possibly, we may dare to hope, toward a more humane and just world where the wretched of the earth may gain some fulfillment in life.

Whether or not one subscribes to the linear view of history as moving toward some cosmic fulfillment or cataclysm--a view which has had multiple negative effects--what I appreciate in Kaufman’s work is his concern for finding “some grounds for hope” in the movement of historical events. I don’t know about you, but I need that. For all of its faults, the linear view of history has the advantage of being a goad toward ethical behavior. It implies that there is a goal and an end to life, and we have a responsibility to see that it is reached. In the linear view, there is a built-in motivation to do the right thing. And we are reminded that the cyclical view of history, for example as manifested in the maintenance of the Hindu caste system, has its drawbacks, too, by discouraging change, encouraging the status quo, and preventing the improvement of life for millions of people.

These somewhat weighty thoughts, believe it or not, came to me as I visited Washington, DC two weeks ago. The idea that history is moving toward some great and triumphant culmination and that we are its special instruments should sound familiar to most Americans, even if they don’t recognize its source. It is Manifest Destiny by any other name, and it drove the western migration just as it continues, in some circles, to drive the notion of America as “promised land” and Americans as “chosen people.”

Both liberals and conservatives have promulgated this notion, though sometimes in very different ways. It has been used to support both supremacist and inclusivist views, for example. While theologian Kaufman dismisses Manifest Destiny as a peculiarly western and American form of chauvinism, it is clear that he continues to think in terms of a God who acts in history. For him, it is a history that moves (in possibility, at least) toward some hopeful and ecologically grounded resolution for the greatest possible number of the world’s human population.

I was reminded during my Washington visit to the Lincoln Memorial and to Ford’s Theater that Abraham Lincoln came increasingly to view the Civil War as a punishment for the sins of the American people, especially for the sin of human chattel slavery. The awful war, he came to believe, was God’s way of purging and cleansing the nation. He trusted, though the victory was by no means certain, that the outcome was ultimately in God’s hands, that we would be better for it, and that it would of necessity come about through human means.

Of course, as they say, the spoils are ever to the victorious. And as victors in the march of history, we will usually read history as the triumph of right and truth, though we know for a fact that sometimes it is not so. But the question remains: is there a trajectory in history toward greater humaneness? Does truth ultimately triumph? Are we, as a race, really getting better with time, or are things actually getting worse?

Our Unitarian and Universalist forebears were extremely positive about the future. They were optimists who believed fervently in that ultimate triumph of truth and right, and they believed, of course, that they had it. They believed in a God, if they believed in God at all, who would lead them “onward and upward forever,” and they believed in a humanity which was, if not perfectible, at least vastly improvable.

We may find their optimism and confidence somewhat naive in light of the events of the century just passed, and no less a Unitarian Universalist personage than theologian and ethicist James Luther Adams openly questioned our “lopsided” optimism about human nature in particular. From the perspective of the holocaust, Adams urged us to reconsider our optimism and to confront anew the whole question of the reality and existence of evil.

That caution aside--and I am certainly no optimist by nature, anyway--I must admit to being deeply moved and encouraged each time I visit Washington and its sites commemorating the history of our great country. And most of those memorials, we are reminded, are at least partly tragic in nature. That is true of the Kennedy gravesite, the Arlington National Cemetery, the Lincoln Memorial, and the various war memorials, the greatest among them the stark and spare Vietnam War Memorial, which, as far as I am concerned, is the greatest war memorial of all.

Perhaps God is working in history. It is surely my hope, if not my absolute conviction. Certainly, history does seem to have meaning, though the meaning it has often turns out on closer inspection to be quite different than we thought it was, and it may be we who are responsible for making that meaning in the first place. Would things be different if Lincoln had not been shot? What if the South had won the Civil War--which they almost did? What if Hitler had triumphed? Does right always triumph over might? (No, of course not.)

But is the general direction of history a positive one? I think the argument could be made that, in some senses at least, it is. Does that mean that we are the chosen people? Not by a long shot. Manifest Destiny may yet turn out to mean something quite different than our ancestors supposed, and it may not be American at all.

That is why it is important to remember history. And here I am not talking about having a false sense of honor. I am certainly not talking about a patriotism of the “our country right or wrong” variety. History, we are constantly being reminded, is full of ambiguity and paradox.

Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence and owned slaves. Washington also owned slaves, though he left instructions in his will to free them after the death of his wife Martha. He called slavery the “one great regret.” By contemporary standards both Washington and Jefferson were both fabulously rich. Yet their actions served to undercut the very aristocracy of which they were obviously a part. Lincoln penned the Emancipation Proclamation but did not hold particularly enlightened views on race. His response to the Indian question in the west was typical of his time: Indians had no rights.

To me such thinking about history is not a form of debunking; it does not lessen the stature of famous men and women; it is rather a recognition of the complexity of the world in which we live. This is a very imperfect world, a world where, after all, people kill one another over differing perceptions of reality. People are neither wholly good nor wholly evil. We, too, are part of that complexity. It is important to remember history so that we do not oversimplify this reality and this complexity.

I firmly believe that it is still possible to have heroes, but at the same time we need to recognize their flaws and their shortsightedness. In fact, it is much more meaningful in a way to do so, for it reminds me that I, too, am an imperfect and flawed being. But it also means that we can be great and flawed at the same time. Similarly, it is possible to see the good in events without ignoring the evil.

We can only try to understand reality from our particular place in time, and that time will inevitably be constricted and limited. But we have the tool of history, which if we choose to remember it, can help to guide us on our perilous way, and perhaps even prevent us from repeating those parts of it that we would rather not repeat. Alas, the history of the human race is replete with our failure to heed the lessons of history.

All of which brings me to the personal confession that I am at times deeply moved to be an American, to be part of its imperfect history; that I love this land, which is the true definition of patriotism; that I love its people, though they disappoint me about as often as I disappoint myself. It is not clear how it shall all end up. That is the mystery of life, and of existence. I have faith, which is to say trust, that it will end up ok for me and for the world, perhaps even for this country.

For there are moments when it does seem to me that history is revealing a pattern, a trajectory if you will, toward a more just and humane world. Too often, I know, it is two steps forward, one step backward, and sometimes it is even two steps backward for each one forward. But there are, I think, “grounds for hope.” That is what I learned, or rather relearned, during my recent trip, and it is why I try to remember history whenever I can.

May we all have that hopefulness that helps us to survive in the present, to live with the past, and to look forward to the future with optimism rather than regret. May we, every so often, catch a glimpse of life’s great meaning breaking on the horizon. May we stand firm in the struggle for right and truth, knowing that they are never fully revealed, but that they may be more so in the fullness of time. May we continue to work to make it so.Amen.

The Rev. Harold E. Babcock