Lost civilizations?  In his House of Rain, author Craig Childs tells a fascinating story of the years he has spent tracking down the remains of the Anasazi Indian tribe that occupied many parts of the American Southwest in the first and second millennium A.D.        The fascination is that although we have copious evidences of the Anasazis, we do not know why they disappeared.  While we can document the causes of the disappearances of other Indian tribes, we cannot do so for the Anasazis.  Their demise, like that of the Mayan civilization of Central America, remains a profound historical mystery.
     As I have been wrapping up my writing of a book about memory, I have thought often about the Anasazis.  We know of them, and we know about them.  But what we do not know is them.  Our memory of the Anasazis only extends as far as their artifacts; it does not encompass who they are.
     So it is for countless other bygone civilizations.  One after another, for thousands and thousands of years, they come, and they go, emerging, flourishing, and dying, often without any notice or clue.  How will we know them?  How will we remember them?
     We will only remember them as memory itself.  And memory will only remember if it is remembered in turn.  Absent a starting point, memory has no form.  Only as memory begins will it end.  And memory cannot begin unless there is a beginning of remembrance, a remembering God.
     Otherwise, one day, one day far into the future, no one will remember anything at all. And what will life have been all about, anyway?