Memorial Day — bivouac of the dead: hallowed, haunted Gettysburg

May 24, 3:57 PMPhoenix Spiritual Pathways ExaminerMaryEllen O'Brien

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Memorial Day was first celebrated in 1868 as way of honoring the Civil War dead on both sides of this country’s bloody and painful war of brother against brother. Union and Confederate dead lie in common ground in our national cemeteries and remind us of the cost of war, and the cost of the union of this country.

Memorializing, or keeping memory of our war dead in a sacred way, is a deeply spiritual practice and one that shows us the true spirituality of humanity apart from any particular brand of religion. A special day of remembrance sprang up organically when some southern women decided to decorate the graves of the Civil War dead, Confederate and Union, on a day set aside for this.  Originally the day was called Decoration Day because of this, and it so inspired the nation that it became the national holiday we now know as Memorial Day.

My own memories of Memorial Day go back to my hometown of Whitinsville, Massachusetts, where my father’s name is inscribed on the WWII memorial in the town center.  All the veterans of that war, those who lived to come home as my father did, and those who died, are inscribed there. I have memories from high school as the head majorette in the band of solemnly marching through the town cemetery to the staccato beat of drums, nothing more, and standing in silence as our local veterans and war dead were remembered.

I have seen many memorials in my lifetimes. It is our nature as humans to erect them in stone—solid and lasting, to engrave memory in our minds and in our landscapes. I have been to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, a city of full of memorials. I have been to Arlington and to battleships that float in memoriam.  But the most profound memorial I have ever been touched by, has been the battlefield at Gettysburg, a Civil War memorial of the most extensive and dramatic kind.

I spent a summer working at a retreat center near Gettysburg five years ago. We had weekends off and I spent all my weekends in Gettysburg. I was drawn there again and again, with companions and alone.  I’m a Civil War buff, that’s true.  But I find the experience of Gettysburg difficult to put into words.  It affected me deeply.  The site of horrific carnage is now a place that feels deeply sacred and peaceful.  The battlefield and the town, which turned into one large field hospital with every available building used for treating the wounded, are said to be haunted. I think what it is there is the deeply imprinted memory of what happened, one that might “leak” across time.  It quantum physics are showing us that time and space as we think of them are not so fixed after all, is it possible that time wavers in and out of reality in places like Gettysburg where the intensity and magnitude of what happened is so great that it’s imprint never leaves? Thus apparitions manifest on the battlefield, in the college building, and in homes throughout the town. Memories.

I also spent time at another nearby battlefield memorial — Antietam, its carnage its own fame. Again, a place that evokes deep reverence. But there is something about Gettysburg that seared itself into my spirit. Something of a deja vu to it too. Maybe we've all been here before. 

 Bridge at Antietam 

I stood in the Gettysburg National Cemetery at the very place where Abraham Lincoln gave his Gettysburg Address, and I felt the power, the sorrow, and gravity of what took place there. Memorial.  These are some of my photos.

I stood on the Battlefield, walked the paths and fields, viewed memorial stone and tower and sculpture, one after another — a vast, never-ending sea of memorials, it seemed. Remembering officers and regiments, state after state, Union and Confederate brothers in arms.

Somehow, despite the carnage, this place felt like one of the most spiritual locations I’d ever been too.  Humanity at it’s deepest, most visceral reality. A crossroads in this nation’s history.

Memorial Day is important, and though it is a civil holiday, it is true spirituality — calling us to memory, and calling us to peace.

Photo: Bivouac of the Dead Plaque from Gettysburg National Cemetery, by MaryEllen O'Brien. Quotation on plaque from the poem by Theodore O'Hara. 

Photo: Bridge at Antietam, by MaryEllen O'Brien

Photos in slideshow, all by MaryEllen O'Brien