Finding Solace in the Memorial Garden

On Sunday, October 27th, I found myself reflecting at a Panera Bread in Grosse Pointe's Village. Like Trader Joe’s on a Sunday afternoon. Panera has become a perch for Unitarian Universalists. I usually am about to leave when a few knitters from the congregation arrive to knit in a circle with friends.
At the risk of sounding outré, I had just come from a moving ceremony in the Memorial Garden of Grosse Pointe Unitarian. Three years ago, one of our parishioners passed away. The family had kept their loved one's ashes at home, awaiting the right moment to inter them on the grounds of the Memorial Garden. After the worship service, many of us gathered among the trees.
Mitra, our interim minister, presided with the gentle words of comfort we have all come to expect from her. In early fall, our garden looked beautiful. The leaves of the red maple had mostly fallen, carpeting the raised bed at its roots. The crabapple tree still held its yellow leaves, where birds and squirrels were busy foraging. The squirrels worked the branches rather hard, vaulting from limb to limb. I have to wonder how a bird or a squirrel can consume such a tart crabapple.
The interment was announced after the sermon, and I happened to be walking toward the street when I noticed the gathering. I entered through a wrought iron gate, arriving a little late, and only heard part of Mitra’s remarks. I had to remind myself to remove my cap and set down my coffee. I looked at the faces of the people I worship with regularly, and then I noted the friends and relatives who had come to mark this final passage to the earth. The ashes rested in a decorative urn on a retaining block.
Quite simply, Mitra raised the silver dish with its crystal cover and walked over to the small hollow prepared for them. With both hands, Mitra gently introduced the ashes to the earth. A few flowers were set on top. Later, it will be the sexton’s job to fill the space. Perhaps they will rake red leaves over the covering—a comforting sight for anyone who goes to look for the place.
Just as Mitra completed the ceremony, a cardinal flitted through the air of the garden. I spotted another bird working the grass, though I could only tell it wasn’t a robin. An enormous peace came upon me. I knew that if I asked, I too could one day reside here, my name added to the plaque of nearly 200 parishioners who sought their final rest close to where the congregation gathers.
Grosse Pointe Unitarian meets in an architectural marvel. It isn't a Frank Lloyd Wright design, but the architect created a distinctive church with a high ceiling that rises to a convergence point, where a sun window channels the light on a day like today. Through the great windows on the north side of the sanctuary, it’s possible to gaze out upon that very garden.
I pondered the ceremony as I walked toward the village. I walked a little more slowly, feeling the need to savor the moment. My mind also turned to a modern thought: I had taken pictures of the memorial plaque and found that artificial intelligence could pull the names and dates into a database. I haven't shared this with the congregation yet; I'm not sure how appropriate such an act would seem. For now, the walk and the memory were enough.
I’m certainly not going to upload the database to Find a Grave or Questers without express written permission of the board. The board and the Department of History are engaged with weighing how to handle the sacred data of our members who have walked on. Right now, I reach out to Jerry Herron, board president, for guidance.
Deborah Connelly approached me with a fascinating request regarding the Memorial Garden database. Connelly and I talked out in the garden, studying the marker exhibited on a support post. Connelly belongs to the community that cares for the garden. To paraphrase, “Which one of our beloved community was known as a famous pianist? Couldn’t we build a musical program around the musicians who shared their musical talent with us?”
The AI query wasn’t very hard to write. It helped Connelly remember the name of a music teacher of a dear friend. The result looked like this list, which leaves out the names. These names can be restored when Herron and the board give guidance. In fact, after sharing the results with Connelly, I called President Herron.

• A noted ragtime pianist who gained fame later in life ….

• An American composer, pianist, and teacher who was an active and respected figure in the Detroit music community.

• A highly regarded Detroit-based jazz pianist and composer, known for her influential work in the local jazz scene.

• A prominent musician and piano teacher in the Detroit area, recognized for her dedication to musical education.

• A respected piano teacher in Detroit who contributed to the city's local arts and music education community.

The board has to wrestle the question. If biographies are easily written by artificial intelligence, should we? Will the knowledge help us build inspiring programs for our services? Would we be able to attract visitors to our sanctuary, some spiritual seekers who would join our membership rolls? Can this process be conducted in a tasteful manner with due regard and respect?
In the meantime, let us gaze out into our garden and contemplate the meaning of eternity.