Fr. M. Titus Mohan –
The month of November is important in the Catholic Church as we commemorate both the value of human life and the meaning of a saintly life. Everyone wants to live, and no one wants their dear ones to die, even at an old age. Even people hesitate to talk about death. Joan Didion’s book The Year of Magical Thinking is a stark exploration of how the death of a loved one can expose the fragility of life. It details the inherent human need to cling to the illogical hope that things can be made right again. She captures this irrationality perfectly when she writes: “I stopped at the door to the room… I could not give away the rest of his shoes. I stood there for a moment, then realized why: he would need shoes if he was to return.” Her rational mind knew her husband was dead. However, a primal part of her brain was bargaining with reality. She was unable to get rid of the shoes because that would have meant accepting his death as final. By keeping the shoes, she maintained the illogical hope that his death was only a temporary absence. But nature dictates impermanence. Therefore, to accept and speak openly about death is the only way to retain life’s meaning.
My two experiences
It has been one year since my dad passed away, the first death among my blood relations. Though this loss brought a lot of pain, I am happy that the memories he left with us remain alive. As the Roman philosopher Marcus Tullius Cicero noted, “The life of the dead is set in the memory of the living.” Even though he didn’t leave behind any land or bank accounts, I worked to transmit his memory, focusing mainly on his values, good qualities, and his relationships with neighbours. Compiling all of them into a book titled, “Dear Loving Dad” (Anbulla Appavukku). The two things I cherished most about him were his ever-thirsting devotion to St. Anthony of Padua – a devotion so strong that a few minutes before breathing his last, he said, “St. Anthony is calling me, I am going” – and secondly, his simple nature, which allowed him to smile without ever intending to hurt anyone or create enmity. His values still come up daily in our conversations.
During the same period, another relative of mine died. After his funeral, I was shocked to hear his sons speak about him entirely negatively. “What has he left us? He spoiled everything by drinking,” they said. This was despite their having inherited sufficient land from their father and being in good financial positions themselves. They insisted, “Whatever we have is our hard work.” From these two incidents, it is clear what we value today and what truly gives meaning to our life. What one can leave behind is the memory. Even Jesus emphasized this concept, saying, “Do this in memory of me.” Today, with the development of AI, we risk failing to keep things in memory, comforted by the idea that anything can be collected within a click. This reliance is dangerous, not only to the individual but also to society. Since we fail to keep up the memory of aspiring people and high ideals, we tend to lose the underlying values that sustain us.
Family, the Power house of Memory
Catholic historian Warren H. Carroll says, “The historian is the guardian of memory. Whatever his personal sympathies, it is his duty to stand watch on the ramparts of time, and rescue the truth – however unwelcome – from oblivion.” This point is a valid one, and recent popes have spoken extensively about it. For example, Pope St. John Paul II focused on European history and cultural memory in his book Memory and Identity, arguing that individuals and nations must utilize memory to arrive at a keener awareness of their true identity (p. 14). Pope Benedict XVI, who often used the historical example of the saints and examined the theology of history in St. Bonaventure, also consistently viewed history as a crucial memory point.
Throughout his ministry as archbishop, Bergoglio repeatedly pointed to the elderly as a source of moral and cultural education for the family and the world. Reflecting on the family’s importance in the Aparecida Document, the future pope called the elderly “repositories of the collective memory of the nation and the family.” Speaking to Catholic businessmen in 1999, Bergoglio stated, “A family that neither respects, nor takes care of, its grandparents, who are its living memory, is a family that has come apart,” and “is unworthy of the name ‘family.’” This emphasis culminated in his assertion that the solution to contemporary societal problems lies in accessing historical memory. For him, this memory is accessed not just through historians, but primarily through the elderly, especially grandparents, who are the “living witnesses of the past” and “reservoirs of living memory.” He thus calls the family the “living memory of humanity” (Amoris Laetitia, 193). This view was later reaffirmed by our present Pope Leo XIV in calling the family the “cradle of the future of humanity” at the conclusion of the Jubilee of Families, Children, Grandparents and the Elderly (June 1, 2025).
Memory, Storytelling, and the AI Challenge
Tamil writer Maruthan says: “We came to know the past only through oral stories. Stories filled the void of memories. History and imagination became inseparably intertwined. Though the intensity may have lessened, both still continue to live dependent on each other.” Yes, we access memory through storytellers, and in the family, this is none other than the elders. Therefore, the family is, undoubtedly, the source and vital point of memory. Today, with the development of AI, we risk failing to keep things in memory, comforted by the idea that anything can be collected within a click. This reliance is dangerous, not only to the individual but also to society. Since we fail to keep up the memory of aspiring people and high ideals, we tend to lose the underlying values that sustain us. Pope Francis encapsulates this by stating: “The lack of historical memory is a serious shortcoming in our society … Knowing and judging past events is the only way to build a meaningful future. Memory is necessary for growth” (AL 193). In other words, we need to first learn our history before we can save our future. For that, we need the family.
The family is the original place where ethical and emotional values are shared between generations. Over time, it has also become the crucial link between the individual and society. A person’s life and the social community are closely connected, and the family serves as the bridge between them. However, society has for a long time tried to ignore, weaken, or even separate these connections. As a result, many problems we face today can be traced back to the weakening of family bonds. Generational gaps have widened, and children and young people often lack proper guidance and emotional support. This has led to increased social isolation, loneliness, and alienation, as individuals struggle to find a sense of belonging outside the family structure. Amidst this situation, we must ask ourselves: How can we measure the true value of a life – our life – when the world prioritizes power and wealth? The essential call today is not to focus on the wealth we leave behind, but the values we transmit. Let us take a moment to reflect on this timeless truth: “Quando finisce la partita il re ed il pedone finiscono nella stessa scatola.” (When the game is over, the king and the pawn end up in the same box.) The ultimate legacy is not what we accumulate, but the memory, character, and love we instil in the living. Let this be our central thought as we shape our families and our future.
Fr. M. Titus Mohan is from the Diocese of Kuzhithurai, India and an author of 52 books. He’s currently pursuing doctoral studies in Moral Theology in Milan.
A telling testimony