Remember.

In the Hebrew Scriptures there is a handful of stories where people build a physical monument to mark an event. Well, not so much “build a monument” as “name a rock” or “pile rocks on top of rocks.”

The first of these stories is about the patriarch Jacob. He builds his first monument in Genesis 28, when Yahweh affirms in a dream that the covenant promised to Abraham will extend through Jacob. On waking up, Jacob “took the stone that was near his head and set it up as a marker.” He pours oil the stone and calls the place “Bethel,” meaning House of God. Jacob later returns to Bethel in Genesis 35, where Yahweh repeats an affirmation of his covenant and of Jacob’s new identity as Israel. Jacob sets up a stone marker yet again, anointing it with oil and pouring out a drink offering.

The next stone monument isn’t built until hundreds of years later. The whole nation of Israel, the ancient people of Yahweh descended from Jacob, are about to cross the Jordan River. I learned recently that this kind of event is called a liminal space. Liminal spaces are those times in our lives when we’re between one thing and another - transitioning to a new place or job, grieving and not ready to move on, engaged and not yet married, pregnant and not yet parenting - these are liminal times. They’re often places where God loves to find his people.

So back to Israel: they leave behind their wilderness wanderings and prepare to enter the Promised Land. The Jordan river is cut off so that the people cross on dry land. Yahweh commands Joshua that family leaders take stones from the middle of the Jordan and set up a monument in their camp. Joshua explains: “In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ you should tell them, “The water of the Jordan was cut off in front of the ark of Yahweh’s covenant.”

They call this place Gilgal, and it gets an honorable mention in the story of Ehud, judge over Israel, who faces the wicked King Eglon. This story has a missing chunk. Ehud brings a tribute to Eglon, planning to assassinate him. Suddenly, we find Ehud at the stones of Gilgal, having chickened out. From our perspective, Ehud pretty much teleports from the throneroom to Gilgal. But at Gilgal, his courage returns, and goes back to the king to carry out his murderous mission. What is it about the stones of Gilgal that prompted Ehud to turn around? Most likely, that monument served its purpose like Joshua said it would: a future generation saw the stones and was reminded of Yahweh’s ability to deliver his people.

The last stone in the Hebrew Scriptures is set up by Samuel. When Yahweh gives victory to the people of Israel over the Philistines at Mizpah, Samuel “took a stone and set it upright… he named it Ebenezer, explaining, ‘Yahweh has helped us to this point.’”

Here’s the part that I love the best of all. Right before the Bible’s story shifts from the judges-era to the kings-era, we get one final tidbit about Samuel’s life. I wonder if this will give you goosebumps like it does for me.

“Samuel judged Israel throughout his life. Every year he would go on a circuit to Bethel, Gilgal, and Mizpah and would judge Israel at all these locations. Then he would return to Ramah because his home was there, he judged Israel there, and he built an altar to Yahweh there” (1 Sam 7:15-16).

Of all places for Samuel to make a yearly circuit, he visits the only three locations where we find stone monuments. These weren’t impressive cities; they weren’t geographically convenient.

Bethel was where Jacob set a stone to remember Yahweh’s covenant. Gilgal was where Joshua piled stones to honor deliverance into the Promised Land. Mizpah was where Israel saw military victory. Each of the three key monuments is part of Samuel’s yearly circuit. Like Jacob who anticipated the covenant and Joshua who crossed from wilderness to home, Samuel embodies a liminal space for the people of Yahweh. He stands in the gap between judges and kings, between one era and another. It’s from this threshold that Samuel’s affection for monuments is beautifully told in this brief snippet of his biography. By embodying that circuit, Samuel is regularly reminded of the covenant, deliverance, and victory Yahweh has given to his people. By judging Israel in these locations specifically, Samuel’s presence would have pointed the people to remembrance as well. He acts here like the human version of a Gothic cathedral, designed to draw the eye upward toward God. Bethel, Gilgal, Mizpah. Bethel, Gilgal, Mizpah. Remember, remember, remember.

I am quick to forget. Monuments jog my memory of how God has taken care of me, of my people, of his people, time and again. I have a few monuments - a piece of art, a journal entry, a specific song, an image inked on my shoulder, a stretch of shoreline - where a physical reminder marks the kindness of God. I think it could be good to specifically practice remembrance. That’s something the people of Yahweh have done, historically, and I don’t know that I still embody that as a ritual habit. I need to think on that further.

How about you? What are you invited to remember, remember, remember, and what kind of monument can help you mark God’s kindness?