Sermon for Remembrance Sunday
Christ Church and St Mary’s, 12th
November 2000
In October, 1917, a young Canadian soldier named
Talbot Papineau wrote to his mother about his experience in the trenches and
his love and concern for her and his family.
October 29, 1917
Dearest Mother,
After all, I have been able to write to you again before going over. We have been fortunate so far and all things are cheerful. I have even shaved this morning in a little dirty water. I was delighted last night to get two letters from you, and a box of candy which I have actually carried with me and have enjoyed. It was a cold night and I slept only about one hour. Also a noisy night, I can assure you, and the earth full of vibrations.
I hope by the same mail you receive another letter
from me to say all is successfully over. But of course it may be difficult or
impossible to write for a few days, so don't worry.
There seems so little to say when if only I knew what
was to happen I might want to say so much. These would be poor letters to have
as last ones but you must know with what a world of love they are written.
Always remember that I could not love thee so well, or you love me, did I not
love honour more. You have given me courage and strength to go very happily and
cheerfully into the good fight. Love to all and a big hug for thee, my dear
brave little mother.
Talbot...
Nov. 5, 1917
Mrs. L.J.Papineau.
Dear Madam:
In confirmation of my telegram to you of yesterday's
date I regret exceedingly to inform you that an official report has been
received to the effect that Capt. A/Major T.M.Papineau, M.C. PPCLI was killed
in action on October 30, 1917
Yours truly,
J.M.Knowles, Lieutenant
Today we remember that war is not a
concept, not an idea, but a story written in the lives of millions of
individual people. It’s a stabbing
wound in the hearts of many we pass in the streets. So what words can do justice to the pain of these brothers and
sisters? To the silent grieving of that
mother? To the horror of the last
century?
What difference can our two minutes
of silence make? Can our simply
remembering have any significant impact?
The reality of the last century is sometimes just too overwhelming to
contemplate. Flanders, Dieppe, D-Day,
Burma, Hiroshima, Auschwitz, Dresden, Korea, Vietnam, Kuwait, Rwanda,
Grozny. Just a selective list. Children have so often been the victims of
these conflicts. And it seems we are
now turning our children into soldiers who can commit atrocities. Maybe even two minutes to remember is too
much.
If we are honest, each of us has
conflicting feelings about war. On one
extreme we might celebrate the way in which war brings out the best in
people-heroism, sacrificed, commitment, bravery-all things that Christ demonstrated
on the cross. We might have a feeling
of “There but for the grace of God go I.”
We may even have sometimes seen a situation of injustice in our world
which stirs up feelings of anger within us-we may even have felt we would be
ready to fight ourselves to defend other people's rights. It is no good saying that we are removed
from the possibility of war. As we have
seen in Israel, a few incidents can bring people to the brink-events can have a
momentum of their own. So we are prone
to war whether we like it or not, and we need to repent as Jesus called us to
do, to examine our hearts, to root out hatred in ourselves.
On the other extreme we might see
the waste of war, its senselessness, its brutality, its seeming eradication of
all that is good in human nature, and we might be tempted to despair about our
world. We might feel that faith is hard
to come by. We might ask questions of
God which scare us. Don't you wonder
where God is when you see the footage from the concentration camps? Don't you wonder what this world is about
when you see children murdering each other?
Don't you sometimes want to scream at God, as that mother must have
wanted to do?
To be a Christian is to be allowed
to ask the difficult questions. To be a
Christian is to know that Jesus himself asked "My God, my God, why have
you forsaken me?” He is the high priest
whose entrance to heaven was through the door of this pain of war, this
agony. God knows because God has been
there. Any question we might ask he has
already asked himself.
These words were found on the wall of a cellar in
Cologne, Germany, where Jews hid from the Nazis:
I believe,
I believe in the sun,
even when it is not shining.
I believe in love,
even when feeling it not.
I believe in God
even when God is silent.
We can continue to hope in God,
because we know that God understands war better than we do. And we can refuse to give into despair,
because only by living for tomorrow can we make our remembering have any
integrity.
We have all heard of the young Anne Frank, whose diary
distilled for us the tragic experience of the victims of war. Exposed to the
most inhuman conditions and pain, she still refused to surrender her right to
life and future, and she maintained her faith and her hope that good would
overcome evil.
It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my
ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep
them, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really
good at heart. I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation consisting of
confusion, misery, and death.
I see the world gradually turned into a wilderness. I
hear the ever approaching thunder, which will destroy us, too. I can feel the
suffering of millions and yet, when I look up into the heavens, I think that it
will all come right, that this cruelty too will end and that peace and
tranquility will return again.
In the meantime, I must uphold my ideals, for perhaps
the time will come when I shall be able to carry them out.
We must refuse to let evil have the last word. We must follow Christ as he calls us from
our distractions to fight for peace in the world. Our fight is not with guns today, but we must fight for peace
with our prayers, with our energies, and with the determination that fuelled
that young soldier’s decision to go over the trench wall. Those who live in the dirt all around the
world call us to ensure that their sacrifice has not been in vain.
I know of no better words than those spoken by Martin
Luther King to sum up what repentance, remembering, and following Jesus, the
Prince of peace, can mean in this century.
“I refuse to accept the cynical notion that nation
after nation must spiral down a militaristic stairway into the hell of
thermonuclear destruction. I believe
that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in
reality. This is why right temporarily
defeated is stronger than evil triumphant.
I believe that even amid today's mortar bursts and
whining bullets, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow. I believe that wounded justice, lying
prostrate on the blood flowing streets of our nations, can be lifted from this
dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men.
I still believe that one day mankind will bow before the
altars of God and be crowned triumphant over war and bloodshed, and non-violent
redemptive good will world proclaim the rule of the land. "And the lion and the Lamb shall lie
down together and every man shall sit under his own vine and fig tree and none
shall be afraid." I still believe
that we shall overcome.