The Spiritual Function of Nostalgia
I was struck this week by the power of nostalgia. On Tuesday, I moved to a new house, which is always a time of excitement and anticipation. For some reason, a change of environment seems to signify new things, a new outlook, new opportunities...maybe I can even be made somehow new on the inside. Yet, as things calmed down after the initial adrenaline rush and I considered the immense work that still must be performed to make the new place habitable, I found myself longing for home--that is, for my bed and desk and nightstand at my old house--and realized that the place no longer existed for me. The thought seems ridiculous to me even as I write this because there is nothing about the old house that I rationally should be missing. It has perpetual foundation issues, the air conditioning unit is a money pit in cahoots with the power company, the locks on the doors can only barely be called locks, and I swore continually for a year and half that I would get out of that place at the earliest opportunity. Still, an overwhelming sense of loss crept over me as I recalled the countless memories that are tied to the old place.

Human nostalgia is intangible yet powerful. It is like a mist--it cannot be contained but trails behind, blurring our vision and making us susceptible to abnormal impressions. As such, it points to the spiritual dimension of mankind. Man is such a spiritual being that he can create intangible perceptions of objects that are purely physical. That concept is striking and fills me with fear. How am I using this power?

If I myself am a largely spiritual being, it means that other humans share this characteristic. If other humans share this characteristic, it means that there are things happening all around me that I seldom take time to notice. I wonder how my decisions are impacting the spiritual beings that comprise my community. I wonder if my impact is positive or negative. Most importantly, I wonder how the decisions I make resound with the greater spiritual entity to whom I am tied. Though my spiritual perspective is a Christian one, followers of other religions may ask the same question, which makes the question an appropriate one for humanity in general.

If two functions of nostalgia are to bring the past into the present and the physical into the spiritual realm, I believe that the progression can be continued from God's perspective. God, an eternal being, cannot exist in time as we understand it; there is no distinction between past and present for such a being. Similarly, the future cannot be properly distinguished from the present. Nostalgic feelings then provide a god-like perspective for humans where time folds over on itself. I wonder if these times additionally provide a glimpse of future glory, a longing for the future, since all are the same to God. Also, if humans are able to "spiritualize" the physical things that they have created, such as houses, it is an encouraging thought that God can do the same thing with his creation, mankind. How much greater would our transformation be than that of our houses when it is God doing the transforming?