Remembrance Sunday

Preached at the Civic Remembrance Day Service at St Alphege Church, Solihull following the 11am Act of Remembrance at the War Memorial.
Remembrance Sunday, 9th November 2008

Why is it that we feel such a compelling need to remember those who have been killed or injured by war? Why is it that this annual time Remembrance in November is so important to us?
Well these are deep questions. But, we need periodically to remind ourselves of the great sacrifices made for us by other people. We need to remind ourselves of our history, and how we came to be the people we now are. We need to show our respect for the fallen and to give thanks for what they have won for us. And this annual reflection in November is not simply about looking back. It has profound implications for the way we live our lives and for the future that we seek to bring about.
I would like to share with you a story about Remembrance Sunday 1999 and about the changes that that it brought about for me personally. 1999 was before my priesthood days. I was working for British Gas on Homer Road, here in Solihull. We lived in Shirley, and we worshipped at St James the Great in Shirley where Fr Michael Caddy is the Rector.
Some weeks beforehand, Fr Michael had asked my wife Elaine to sing a song at the 9.30 service on Remembrance Sunday. The song was “Green Fields of France”. The song recounts the words of a weary traveller who sits down beside the gravestone of a Great War soldier and starts talking to the dead Soldier.
In the days building up to Remembrance Sunday Elaine was practising her singing around the house. As this went on I began to find it more and more annoying! It’s not, I am sure you understand, that my wife is bad at singing; quite the opposite in fact, but I realised it was a particular line from the song which was annoying me. The line was “I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean.” I pondered this line, “I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean” and I realised that the reason I did not like it was because it seemed to me that to hope for a quick and clean death, is rather a limited hope. Certainly I found that my own hope for the dead soldier was much bigger than that, much fuller than that.
First of all I found that I wanted to hope that the soldier was now enjoying eternal life. I wanted to hope that as he died on the battle field he was met by the angels and saints and led away to a heavenly reward in Jesus’ eternal kingdom.
Then I wanted to hope that the value of his sacrifice was properly recognised. Surely, his sacrifice makes up for a multitude of sins, and helps humanity to be reconciled to God. Surely his sacrifice contributed towards the winning of the war, and the securing of freedom for this nation. I found I wanted to hope that it also contributed to reconciliation between nations, and towards the building of peace and justice in the whole world.
Then I found I wanted to say thank you to the soldier for the great contribution he has made. To thank him for his sacrifice, to recognise and value the great cost that was paid. To recognise and value the loss borne by others; by the parents who mourn, by the sweetheart who perhaps lost a future husband, by friends and comrades and those who had lost a brother.
As I said, I pondered these things and wrote them down and discussed them with Fr Michael. Fr Michael invited me to share these things with the congregation after Elaine had sung the song. I did that, and I suppose, in a way, it was one of my first ever sermons.
In my reactions to the song I said that “I wanted to hope”. And I think that this is the situation for many of us on Remembrance Sunday. We want to hope in these things. We profoundly want them. At the same time, we have to admit that it can be difficult. In this day and age it is hard to have faith. It is hard to see value in suffering. It is hard to have hope that the world is guided by a God who is good, that it is getting closer to a destiny that is good.
And that was the strange thing; the truly remarkable thing. As I worked through the Remembrance process in 1999, I discovered that despite all the difficulties, despite all the suffering, I really did believe in these things. I really did hope for the eternal life of the soldier. I really did value his sacrifice. I really did believe that it brought closer the peace and unity of the world. I really was thankful for the difference the dead soldier made. I did feel some real empathy with the great cost that was paid.
After the remembrance service of 1999 my wife asked when I was going to get ordained; that is to become a priest. I laughed it off, but just seven weeks later I had an extraordinary dream. I realised that ordination was indeed the way forward for me, the way that God calls me, personally, to make my own small contribution.
So the process of remembrance in 1999 made a huge difference to me. It is my hope that in 2008, and indeed in every year, the Remembrance process that we go through will make a difference. I hope that it will remind us of the blood, sweat and tears, and above all the many, many lives that have been invested in the freedom of our nation today. I hope that it will encourage us to value that freedom, and to give thanks for it. Above all I hope that it will give us courage to face the future, not bowed down by fears and disappointment, but with hope, because through the extraordinary horror and suffering of the world wars, a new and better world was born.