It is, indeed, possible for the spirits of the living and the dead to
meet unconsciously in many ways, and also consciously only on one side.
Who can pursue and trace out this whole line of communication? Let us
say briefly: they meet together when in mutual consciousness, and the
dead are present wherever they are so consciously.
One means there is of attaining the highest conscious meeting between
the living and the dead; it is the memory of the living for the dead.
To direct our attention to the dead is to awaken theirs to us, just as
a charm which is found in a living person encourages a corresponding
attraction toward the one perceiving it.
Although our memory of the dead is but a new consciousness, in
retrospect, of the results of their known life here, yet the life on
the other side will be led conformably to that in this world.
Even when one living person thinks of another, a conscious mutual
impulse may be aroused: but it is inoperative because of the still
present confines of the body. Once released, however, by death, that
consciousness seeks its own realm and is then borne upon a current the
more swift and strong, as it has previously been exerted and manifested
with frequency and power.
Now just as one and the same physical blow is felt at the same time
by the giver and the receiver, so is it but a single shock of
consciousness that is experienced on both sides when one recalls the
dead to memory. Realizing alone this earthly side of consciousness,
we err because we fail to discern the other: and this failure brings
results of error and loss.
One beloved person is parted from another, a wife from a husband, a
mother from a child. In vain do they search in a distant heaven the
part of their lives that has been torn from them; in vain they reach
out into the void with eye and hand after that which in reality has
never been taken away from them; because out of the exterior relations
of mutual adjustment and understanding, the threads of which are now
broken, has sprung out of the depths of interior consciousness a deep
and unobstructed union, as yet unfamiliar and unrecognized.
I saw once a mother anxiously seeking through garden and house for her
living child which she was carrying in her arms. Still more mistaken
is he who seeks for his dead in a remote and deserted place, when he
had but to look within to find him still present. And if she does not
find him wholly there, did the mother then completely possess her child
even while she was carrying him in her arms? The satisfactions of the
outward relations, the spoken word, the glance of the eye, the personal
care, she can no more have or give; now for the first time she has
those of the inner life; she must simply recognize that there is such
an interior relation with its advantages. No word is spoken, no hand
extended to the one who we think is not present. But if we knew all,
a new life is to begin for the living and the dead, and the dead gain
thereby as well as the living.
If we think of the dead rightly, not merely holding him in mind, he is
at that moment present. If you can deeply summon him, he must come,
if you hold him fast, he must remain, if sense and thought are strong
enough to bind and retain him. And he will perceive whether we think of
him with love or with hatred; and the stronger the love or the stronger
the hatred, the more clearly he will discern it. Once, indeed, you had
a remembrance of the dead--now you are able to use that remembrance;
you can still knowingly bless or torment the dead with your memories,
be reconciled to them or remain in a state of conflict--not alone
consciously to you but also to them. Have the best constantly in mind,
and be careful only that the memory that you yourself are to leave
behind shall be a blessing to you in the future. Well for him who
leaves behind him a treasure of love, esteem, honor, and admiration
in the memory of men. Such enrichment is his gain in death, since he
acquires the condensed consciousness of the whole earthly estimate
concerning him; he grasps in full measure the bushel, of which in life
he could count but a few kernels. This belongs to the treasure which we
are to lay up in heaven.
Woe to him who is followed by execration, cursing, and a memory full
of dread. Those whom he influenced in this life will not release him in
death; this belongs to the hell which is awaiting him. Every reproach
that pursues him is like an arrow which, with sure aim, enters into his
inmost soul.
But only in the totality of results which evolves itself from
good and evil alike is justice fulfilled. The righteous who were
here misunderstood must inevitably suffer from it there as from a
misfortune; and to the unrighteous an unjust reputation will serve
as an outward advantage; therefore, keep your good name as pure as
possible here below and “hide not thy light under a bushel.” But among
the spirits in that other sphere even misunderstanding shall cease;
what was here held as false shall there be found true and by increase
be given additional weight. Divine justice overcomes at last all human
injustice.
Whatever awakens the memory of the dead is a means of calling them to
us.
At every festival which we devote to them they rise up; they float
about every monument which we raise to them; they listen to every
song with which we praise their deeds. A life germ for a new art! How
antiquated had these old dramas become, produced over and over again to
the weary spectators. Now all at once, above the ground floor with its
expanse of old onlookers, there is revealed, as it were, an encircling
realm from which a higher company is seen to be looking down, and
straightway it becomes the highest aim of men to grow into the likeness
of those above rather than those below, to realize, not the desires of
those below, but of those above.
The scoffers scoff and the churches contend. It is a question of a
secret, irrational to some, rational to others, both because to one and
the other a greater mystery remains unrevealed, from the disclosure of
which comes quite clearly and obviously the rock upon which the mind
of the scoffer and the unity of the church have been wrecked. For it
is only a supreme example of a universal law in which they discern an
exception to and above all laws.
Not alone through the consecrated bread and wine does Christ reach
His followers at the Holy Supper; partake of it in pure remembrance
of Him, and He, with His thought, will be not only with you, but in
you; the more deeply, as you hold Him more closely in your heart; the
more vitally, with so much the more strength will He fortify you; yet,
without communion with Him, the sacrament remains but meal and water
and common wine.