Searching for our kindred dead isn't just a hobby. It is a

The words of James E. Faust — “Searching for our kindred dead isn't just a hobby. It is a fundamental responsibility for all members of the Church. We believe that life continues after death and that all will be resurrected.” — resound like the tolling of an ancient bell, calling the living to remember those who came before. They speak not of pastime or curiosity, but of sacred duty — the holy labor of connection between the living and the dead. For in these words lies a truth older than stone, whispered by prophets and poets alike: that death does not end the soul, but transforms it; that those who have passed are not gone, but waiting.

In every age, mankind has sought to bridge the divide between this world and the next. The Egyptians built their pyramids not as monuments of pride, but as gateways of remembrance, believing that through ritual and reverence, the spirit of the departed could live on. The Greeks told stories of heroes who journeyed into the underworld to bring back truth, light, or love. And in the teachings of Faust, this ancient yearning takes a holy shape — a reminder that to seek out our kindred dead is to honor the eternal covenant of family, the unbroken chain that binds generations together before the eyes of God.

To search for our ancestors is to remember who we are. It is to say, “I am not alone, for I stand upon the shoulders of those who came before me.” Every name recovered, every story rediscovered, becomes an act of resurrection — a spark of life breathed once more into memory. For to forget the dead is to let their lives vanish a second time, but to remember them is to raise them into the eternal light. This is why Faust calls it not a hobby, but a responsibility: because remembrance is a sacred form of love, and love is never optional.

There is an old story of a young woman who began to trace her lineage after feeling an unexplainable pull toward her family’s past. She found records of an ancestor who had crossed oceans in faith and hardship, leaving behind a journal written in trembling ink. As she read his words — prayers, fears, and hopes — she wept, realizing that the courage she needed in her own life was the same courage that had once burned in his. In that moment, she felt not only connected, but strengthened. The barrier between generations dissolved, and she understood what Faust meant: that our kindred dead live within us, guiding us still.

To believe in life after death is to live with both humility and hope. Humility, because our time on this earth is but a chapter in a vast and eternal story. Hope, because love does not end with the grave — it continues, refined and sanctified. When Faust speaks of resurrection, he speaks not merely of the body, but of the restoration of all relationships made whole in the light of eternity. The bonds between parent and child, friend and beloved, ancestor and descendant — these are not lost to time. They await reunion in the divine promise of everlasting life.

Therefore, the call to “search for our kindred dead” is also a call to become more human. It teaches us gratitude for the sacrifices that shaped us, reverence for the lives that prepared our own, and compassion for those who will one day call us their ancestors. To build a record of our lineage is to build a bridge across eternity. It is to say, “We remember you, and we will not let you fade.”

Let this, then, be the lesson passed to the generations to come: do not live as though you were rootless. Know your heritage, honor your ancestors, and tend to the sacred garden of memory. Visit the graves, speak their names, write their stories, and keep their faith alive. For in doing so, you fulfill the divine law of love — the love that reaches beyond death itself.

And when your own days draw near to twilight, may you rest in peace knowing that your descendants, too, will search for your name and remember your light. For in the grand circle of creation, remembrance is resurrection, and through it, all souls — living and departed — find their place once more in the eternal embrace of God.