When Queen Elizabeth II of England was asked about allegations from her grandson and his wife of racist statements made by members of the royal family, she responded by saying “Recollections may vary.” As I age and hear numerous stories from siblings about growing up in our family, or from classmates about events when we were in school, or in parishes as different long-time members recall former pastors, nuns, or teachers, while reminiscing about days of old, I think of that phrase because their recollections seem to vary immensely.
My father drank a lot, but he never admitted to being an alcoholic. He said, “Alcoholics go to meetings.” It’s true that he never went to meetings. If he were labeled a drunk, one of my sisters would protest vehemently. Her memories focused more on a gregarious man who knew no stranger and loved to celebrate with his friends and who strove to be a good and likeable person. Each depiction represents a truth, but recollections vary. The reputation of particular priests, bishops, or nuns are also given various versions of praise or criticism based on storytellers’ perspectives. Frat boys tend to glorify events that might look rather stupid to more sober minds the morning after the night before. When it comes to perspective, former presidential counselor Kellyanne Conway’s famous phrase, “alternative facts,” resonates with many people.
The Gospels present various versions of similar stories about Jesus that portray a different Christ to different followers and readers. Whether the subject is a blind man, a sick girl, or a possessed person, there is wisdom in presenting various views of the same reality. For example, the Multiplication of the Loaves is the only miracle story that appears in all four Gospel accounts—and it appears twice in two of them. But the six descriptions of what occurred are a little different from one another. It probably happened more than once. In one report we’re told that there are a great number of people, in others we are given numbers: 4,000, or 5,000 without even counting women or children. Is it five loaves and two fish or seven loaves and a few fish? Are there seven baskets full of leftovers or twelve? Why are we told in one version that they are large baskets and small fish? Perhaps the authors are playing to different listeners or maybe recollections vary. Jews would value numbers like two (for the two pillars of faith: the law and the prophets) and five (for the five books of Torah) and twelve (for the twelve tribes of Israel) but, at that time in history, wouldn’t value women or children enough to include them in the count, while Gentiles honor alternative numbers like four (for the four directions or the four corners of the earth in a time that people believed the earth was flat), three (for the Trinity), or seven (pointing to the seven days of the week, seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, seven Sacraments of the church…). These various descriptions can help us focus upon a greater message contained in these narratives which remind us that Jesus came to nourish both the children of Israel and all people.
During election cycles, we hear contrary versions of candidates’ records or proposed constitutional amendments, and we vote according to the version we trust. One candidate may have good policies but a bombastic personality; another may be more likable but less suited for the task; amendments may be sprinkled with misleading language. Voters will see what they want to see while pondering candidate’s records—though recollections will vary—much as they peruse a proposal’s wording. But I think, far more important than elections, we go through life with memories that shape our current state of being and future hopes. It would be a good thing if we consider alternative facts and learn from other versions of what happened and what is happening so that, even though recollections vary, we can find a truth beyond our own—the kind of truth that is found in Christ: the way, the truth, and the life.
