MemChurch Daily
March 30, 2021
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PRACTICING HOPE
The daily newsletter of the Memorial Church
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Dear friends,
This week our daily newsletter, On Pilgrimage, will feature ecumenical reflections from Affiliated Ministers and Harvard Chaplains. Today we bring you the Holy Week reflection of Professor Emily Click, Assistant Dean for Ministry Studies and Field Education, Lecturer on Ministry, Harvard Divinity School.
We also bring you a reflection by Madison Trice '21 of Kirkland House in our Virtual Senior Talks series of 2021. Senior Talks are a beloved annual tradition in which each House at the College is invited to nominate a senior to offer a Morning Prayers address. We are honored to continue this tradition virtually this year by way of uplifting their reflections in our Daily Devotional. Thank you Madison, today we celebrate you and all your fellow Kirkland House seniors!
For the latest news from the Memorial Church check our website and calendar listings. Click below to see our Holy Week Services.
The Memorial Church of Harvard University
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SENIOR TALKS
Kirkland House's Madison Trice '21
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By Madison Trice '21
Something about the ornateness of Harvard makes me feel at home and in awe of it at the same time. Certain places and experiences amplify that feeling: crossing by Memorial Church in the yard or heading there for Black Convocation, getting placed in Kirkland, a house I’d dreamed about before I came here, sitting in Cafe Gato Rojo and listening to people speak in different languages, while a voice in my head whispers excitedly about how lucky I am to be here, in this place that has seen so many stories.
My senior year obviously looks different than I’ve expected it to. Instead of being in Kirkland as the Hicks librarian, walking to and from classes in Sever, or preparing for graduation, I’ve spent three-fourths of this year at home, away from campus. What does that mean, in a space where time is so incredibly precious that students who wish to study abroad are cautioned to avoid doing so during term time, because “you only have eight semesters?” in a place where my sense of belonging was so grounded in the physical space that surrounded me? It means I’m trying to fit all of the yearning and love I have for this place into the little bit of time I have left.
Tonight, I said goodbye to one of my dearest friends before they returned home. I’ve just returned to campus, so, in person, we only overlapped by a week. Still, that was enough for us to stay up late having one of the deepest conversations we’ve had, so happy that we took a moment of silence afterwards just to savor the moment. It reminded me of the song Hometown Glory by Adele - “all the people I have met are the wonders of my world,” and I think that speaks for Harvard more widely too.
In these last moments, I’m struck by how lucky I am that God let me come here. I return to the realization that of all the wonders I’ve encountered here, the beat is the home beyond these walls, in the loving friendships I will carry with me wherever life takes me next. I trust that when I return to my memories of Harvard, it is this overwhelming sense of love that I’ll draw upon when I’m away, to keep me going.
Madison Trice is a senior concentrating in Government with a Theater, Dance and Media secondary at the College. She’s grown up between Clarksville, Md. and Houston, Texas. She considers herself a devout Christian, and deeply values the ways she’s been able to grow in her faith here at Harvard. She hopes that the friendships she has made here will last a lifetime.
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HOLY WEEK REFLECTION
"Are We There Yet"
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By Professor Emily Click
Assistant Dean for Ministry Studies and Field Education, Lecturer on Ministry, Harvard Divinity School
 Anyone who has taken a long-distance drive with young children can tell you their four most dreaded words: “Are we there yet?” In pre-GPS days, the answer was ethically easier because one was fudging real uncertainty about the true answer. The question itself also raises dread because it captures the distinction between childhood and adulthood: children live in the in-between times, expecting that one asset of adulthood is enhanced certainty about things like: are we there yet. The adult, in forming their response, has to juggle the actuality of uncertainty, the challenge of discovering how to disappoint children at a rate they can stand, while also shielding themselves from the awful truth the drive is taking much longer than anticipated.
I would nominate: “Are we there yet?” as a slogan for this pandemic year. We are living suspended in a world filled with the kind of uncertainty that smashes and yet also necessitates hope. We long for someone to provide us with definitive but also satisfying answers. Are we near the conclusion of this thing? We want to ask someone to tell us a story that paints pictures filled with promise, for then we can hold on a bit longer. Tell us about waterfalls, fishing in a stream, skinny dipping, naps in a hammock, sleeping under the stars. Tell us what it will be like when we get there.
I recently attended a “zoomemorial” for a loved one who died of COVID. People signed on from Latvia, Germany, and across the United States to remember our loved one. There was a crowd of witnesses. No one really mentioned COVID-what would be the point? However, as at any good memorial, stories were told of this person’s long life. We laughed, we remembered things like skiing too fast at too old an age, towing targets behind your plane in WWII for training purposes, and someone rollerblading when they were 80 years old, just to be with the grandchildren. These were stories of the past but for an hour or so, they also provided a taste of what it will be like when we “get there.” We will ski with abandon, take courageous risks again, and buddy up with much younger/older generations. There is joy ahead. We must live in faith.
Holy week is a time to remember that this is the hallmark of faith: we do not know how we will get there nor do we know when, but we still hold on to hope. Torment like the cross may be ahead, and when we find an empty tomb, we may be plunged into utter confusion. Yet there will be barbecues on the beach, there will be times of breaking bread and passing the wine while candles flicker and stories fill the air. These pandemic times are hard for all of us, though we all know they are harder for some. We have a common task: to reassure each other when one of us just has to ask, “Are we there yet?”
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