Little Noted nor Long Remembered (Abraham Lincoln)

In the last line of the movie “About Schmidt.” (Jack Nicholson) laments:

Relatively soon, I will die. Maybe in 20 years, maybe tomorrow, it doesn't matter. Once I am dead and everyone who knew me dies too, it will be as though I never existed.

There are millions of people, perhaps even billions, who could say the same thing. They fade into obscurity when they are gone. Like Schmidt, we all wish to be remembered. Perhaps we do not feel extraordinary, but we would like those who follow us into mortality to know who we were. We would like to avoid the desperation of mortal anonymity.

Schmidt’s greatest concern was that he would, fairly quickly, become anonymous and unremembered. We like to think that our lives were worthwhile; we would like our lives to be recorded in the earth’s consciousness. Some cultures without a written language do record the lives of ancestors in legends and stories told for generations in their gatherings around evening fires. They regard it as a great honor to be the keeper and teller of these histories, but only those who do some great thing get remembered. Henry David Thoreau said:

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation.

There are, of course, many ways to achieve a “mortal” kind of immortality. You can do something so heinous that you will be forever hated (Adolph Hitler? Stalin, and many others?), or you can do something so sublime that you will be forever revered (Michelangelo? Shakespeare?). You can be a public philanthropist with your gifts named for you. You can be a great scientist or inventor. Any of those and other things will probably ensure that you are remembered throughout recorded history.

But only one person had the opportunity to create the mural on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Only one person could invent the telephone. Only one person could paint the Mona Lisa. Most of us live our lives in relative obscurity. We do great things that go unnoticed and are often disdained by the world at large.

We raise families, we live the gospel, we take a loaf of bread to a friend, we plan the ward Christmas party, we gather with family for love of each other; we do our best to live moral, Christ-centered lives. Sometimes we fail, sometimes we are successful, but always we continue to do as we have been taught by our own progenitors and by the most remembered being in or out of history – our Savior.

The converse of Thoreau’s statement is this: A great many men and women lead lives of quiet happiness. They are not resigned to their circumstances, however modest they may be, nor do they despair because of their lot in life. They go outside themselves; they serve others; they do not seek recognition because they know the true nature of immortality. Though they are confronted with sorrows and even tragedies, they remember the Lord and His promises.

So perhaps the best way to achieve “mortal” immortality is to consider connecting ourselves to our ancestors and our descendants through genealogy and written history. If we record the ebb and flow of our lives, if we tell our “story”; if we write about our successes and failures; if we can offer some advice based on hard experience; if we can help others to avoid some of the pitfalls that were ours; if we can offer insight about our true joys, then perhaps we (and our descendants) can see that our lives have worth, not only in mortality, but in eternity.

I believe that we are encouraged to write about our lives and to seek our ancestors through genealogy so that we can connect ourselves to that great eternal family that will be formed in the hereafter. I believe that we, you and I, need to know where we fit in the eternal scheme of things. We need to know our place in the great and unbroken chain of antecedents and descendants that will comprise the Celestial kingdom. We need to know our ancestors personally and our descendants need to know us. Thoreau also said:

If you can speak what you will never hear, if you can write what you will never read, you have done rare things.

This thought needs no converse. Rare things indeed. Speaking and writing about ourselves and our lives may seem difficult, even vain. Certainly, we write about ourselves and seek our ancestors to help those who cannot do the work for themselves, but in so doing, we join ourselves with them in an eternal way. In the end, genealogy and family history are as much about us as they are about them.

What does it matter if we are not revered and remembered by the rest of the world? Turning from Thoreau’s pessimism and hopelessness about the mortal lot of most of mankind to the eternal hope of the scriptures, we read in Matthew 6:19-21:

Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

Sadly, there are millions on the earth who cannot even identify their own parents or grandparents. Perhaps Schmidt was one of them. Of course, those people will be genealogically connected in eternity, as they are judged worthy. But how much richer could their passage through mortality have been if they had some connection with other family members?

One parting thought: Though you may pass entirely from the world’s view, though the world may “little note nor long remember” (Abraham Lincoln) you, the Savior will never forget you. He knows you; He knows your name; He knows who your ancestors and descendants are; He knows your history; He atoned for you. He was resurrected so that you might live again. The very hairs of your head are numbered (Matthew 10:30). Your achievements in the world may fade, but your eternal opportunities and possibilities are endless.