Lest We Forget!  A memorial walk through South Poplar, Greendale and Yarrow Cemeteries

Walking through a cemetery has never appealed to me as an enjoyable activity because cemeteries evoke in me memories of sad feelings, perhaps reminding me of saying good-bye to a precious little sibling in Coaldale, Alberta when I was five years old, and to a second one when I was ten, or parting with a teenage nephew whose life was suddenly snuffed out in a tragic car accident, or burying my beloved parents, two older sisters and a brother-in-law.  Six of my loved ones are laid to rest in the Yarrow Cemetery.

These feelings began to change in my heart and mind when I was invited to join a planning meeting to arrange a memorial tour of the three oldest Mennonite cemeteries in British Columbia – Yarrow, 1931; South Poplar (South Abbotsford) 1938; Greendale, 1947.  The plan was to select about a dozen persons (a representative group) buried in each cemetery whose tombstones would be marked with a stake, bearing name, row and number.  A family member – son, daughter or grandchild – would be asked to present a short heartfelt tribute at the gravesite.  The tour would begin in South Poplar, proceed to Greendale and conclude in Yarrow.  What would the purpose be of this memorial walk?  A rendezvous of families and friends on a beautiful sunny afternoon?  A walk through three Mennonite cemeteries exploring graves of known and unknown persons long departed or more recently?  Yes, all of the above, but much more.  It would be a walk of appreciation for those who have gone before us, who fought a good fight and kept the faith.

 If any one of us had misgivings about attracting people to participate in this cemetery tour, the enthusiasm of our chairperson, Lillian Toews, quickly dispelled any doubts.  Soon the local people in each community caught the vision and spirit of this new venture.  Cemeteries were revisited, cleaned up and beautified.  Cemetery lists were produced and updated for the Mennonite Historical Society of B.C. website.

Saturday afternoon, May 14th, 2005, was chosen for this first memorial tour.  At each cemetery the crowd grew as family members and friends, many carrying flowers, gathered to pay tribute to their loved ones.  One person came from as far away as Calgary, Alberta, several from California and one family had 22 members show up for the occasion.  As the tributes were given there was an amazing outpouring of love, of fond memories and appreciation of loved ones!  It was a joyous celebration on a beautiful sunny day!  Approximately 250 persons took part in this memorable event.

Faspa, served in the Yarrow M.B. Church, was preceded by an inspiring talk entitled “The Stones Cry Out” presented by Mennonite historian, Dr. John B. Toews.  (see article below)

The Stones Cry Out

On May 27, 2001, Lillian and I participated in the unveiling of a memorial stone dedicated to the memory of some 82 victims of the Makhnovite reign of terror in South Ukraine during 1919.  This particular massacre (there were others) took place in a village then called Eichenfeld and today known as Novopetrovka.  Following the massacre Mennonites abandoned the village.  It was later resettled by local Ukrainians.  Some persons in attendance that day were descendents of the very men who raped and murdered so mercilessly.

Also present were some of the descendents of the victims who came from Canada and the U.S.  By being in Novopetrovka 82 years after the massacre we were in a sense saying that the memories of former misdeeds were still very much alive.
We wondered – would the villagers show up?  Some people walked through the village before the ceremony – not a person in sight anywhere.  It was eerie.  We were in for a surprise.  Normally when we unveil monuments there is a moment when the cloth is pulled away.  In this case it was a bit different.

When we arrived the monument was already draped – not by a cloth but by field flowers, peonies and irises.  The Novopetrovka villagers had raided their gardens and offered this spectacular floral extravagance.  They – I think – were saying that they too had not forgotten.  Somehow all of us gathered there sensed that painful memories were healed, that past sins were forgiven and that reconciliation took place.

There were people who expressed concern that the sizeable stone monument might be damaged or vandalized.  We were reassured by a village lady who simply commented:  “Anyone who touches it has to deal with us, the women of the village.”  I told myself that I would not want to be that person because here was a force to be reckoned with.

This event said something about the significance of a monument to the dead, the importance of a stone.  On that May 27th we declared that the Eichenfeld Mennonites of long ago were not forgotten in death, that their memory was sacred and instructive, that remembering brought healing and forgiveness.

Each year I try to go back to my birthplace, Coaldale, Alberta, in order to visit my sister, sister-in-law and friends.  Yet I always take time to visit the Mennonite cemetery next to the former Mennonite Brethren Church, now the Gem of the West Museum.  You know why I go there?   Some of my past lies buried there.  In a sense those grave stones cry out to me.  They evoke memories of the past – memories of grand parents, of mother and dad, of my sister and brother, of aunts, uncles and cousins.  I walk past the grave stones of my parent’s friends and the many ministers who served the Coaldale congregation during my childhood and youth.  Here lie the people who shaped my young faith by their friendship, encouragement, teaching and example.  A Mr. Heidebrecht lies buried there.  I have a teenage memory of standing alone in that large church unnoticed by our church caretaker who was singing hymns as he cleaned the church.  It was a sacred experience.  I felt I had been in God’s presence.  When I see his gravestone I say:  “Thank you Mr. Heidebrecht.”  That stone cries out to me.

During our memorial tour most of us were in some way shaped by the dead whose graves we visited today.  In our innermost being we cannot forget or ignore these people because they molded and formed us.  I think past generations understood this far better than we do.  Yearly they celebrated a Totentag.  It was a Sunday during which the departed saints of that year were remembered.  Their names were recited, passages of Scripture read and prayers spoken.  Unitedly the congregation affirmed that they had fought a good fight and kept the faith.

We have tried to do that this afternoon.  But we can’t simply say we walked through three cemeteries and accomplished three things.  A commemoration, a Totentag simply does not work that way.  Each of us brought private memories to this occasion.  Some were uplifting and encouraging, others possibly hurtful.

God put all of us in a place, in a locality.  In a complex way we interacted with others in that locality.  The church and community molded us.  Today you walked past the grave and graves of a person or persons of importance in your life.  Perhaps it was the person who pointed you to Jesus, who nurtured your infant faith and set an example of discipleship.  It doesn’t really matter what languages he or she spoke or to what cultural ethos they belonged.  They shaped us and if we can embrace them and the past they represent it can be a wholesome healing experience.  If we reject that past and run away from it, it will haunt and incapacitate us.

Unfortunately graves and grave stones seem to have little meaning in today’s North American society.  There are modern thinkers who argue that life as we know it has no deeper purpose, no set principles, no beginning, no end.  There is no need to search for or find truth.  Simply affirm everyone and tolerate all views.  I’ve heard expressions like:  “chill, let it be, hang loose or why not just float.”  Most certainly in this line of thinking the past and persons of the past have no relevance in our lives.

Yet how can we ignore the grave stones we saw today?  Here are voices and lives from the past that called us to commitment, to hear the Gospel.  It’s a Gospel that is frightening and offensive because it wants to change us and transform our lives.  From the standpoint of modern thinking it’s so threatening and indigestible.  But the grave stones cry out remember, recall, learn.
Paul in 1 Timothy 1:3 writes:  “I am reminded of your sincere faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice.” For us it could be a grandfather or a father or an uncle or aunt or caring neighbor or Sunday School teacher who lived the Gospel and cared for our souls.

Some years ago the Anabaptist Foundation erected a special monument in the Coaldale Mennonite Cemetery to the memory of Maria and Benjamin Janz.  It commemorated their efforts in bringing some 20,000 Mennonites from Soviet Russia to Canada during the 1920’s.  Almost all the Janz family was there – three surviving children, grandchildren, great grandchildren. We sang, we talked, we prayed.  Tears were shed.  For the younger generation that memorial stone was their only contact with the past.
In a sense it cried out saying:
*you belong
*you have a heritage of faith
*you have a past and a direction for the future

Gravestones make us pause to give thanks for those who were faithful.  Perhaps in the words of Psalm 78 they urge us to “tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord and the wonders he has done.”