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Sermon preached on Remembrance Sunday, November 8.2009 in Enniskillen Cathedral
Sermon preached on Remembrance Sunday, November 8.2009 in Enniskillen Cathedral
by the Right Reverend Michael Jackson, bishop of Clogher
Readings: 1 Samuel 17:31-37; psalm 56; Philippians 3.10-16; St Mark 12:38-44.
1 Samuel 17.37a:
Go then, said Saul, and the Lord be with you….
To gather on Remembrance Sunday in this cathedral church is both an
intimidatingand an
inspiring thing to do. It is
intimidating because we are surrounded
in Enniskillen Cathedral in a very particular way by all the visual reminders
of what Enniskillen itself has been in history - an island fortress; the
home of the Inniskilling Regiment which raised armies for generations and
fought worldwide with bravery and loyalty and cherishes to this day such
a heritage; a place which gathers and garners history. This is a weighty
heritage. It is equally inspiring because of the depth of commitment to
community carried in the name Enniskillen today and in the humanity which
lies within it, in terms of service and sacrifice. We remember with sadness
and thanksgiving that tradition here this morning and marvel at the willingness
to risk everything shown by so many in such far away places. We remember
also more specifically today those from this parish who lost their lives
in two World Wars in the last century, a time beyond recall but not beyond
remembering. Also in our hearts are those who lost life and limb in The
Troubles in Northern Ireland and whose memory combines with the continuing
mourning for those killed and maimed in mind, in body and in emotion in
The Bombing. The Bomb – still un-owned by its authors and perpetrators
- across the world carries the name of this island town of Enniskillen
and the sorrow of us, its people.
One of the noteworthy things which has happened over the year past is that
two of the most venerable veterans of World War 1 in the United Kingdom have
died, aged well over one hundred years. Prior to their deaths, they both
spoke eloquently and with an authority bred of the entitlement to speak the
truth which real experience gives. Their consistent plea was for peace and
for war no more or ever again. This is an important perspective as once again
we consider the purpose and the outcome of two World Wars. It may not, however,
be something which any of us regards as entirely realistic. Facing totalitarianism,
confronting power which is little more than nationalized greed, standing
up to an ideology which systematically and scientifically sets out to annihilate
whole categories of human beings and races simply because they exist – if
this is what war is, then there is in my opinion an argument for preventing
the forward march of such destructive and inhuman regimes particularly when
they are immune from self-criticism and impervious to criticism from without.
The twentieth century I am sure never set out to be the century of war,
but it succeeded in earning that title by the time we rang in the millennium.
And in its first decade, the twenty-first century has had more than its fair
share of warfare right across the globe. Many, I am sure, will echo the sentiment
contained in the characteristically gentle words of the archbishop of Canterbury
on October 9th, almost a month ago, marking the end of military operations
in Iraq: A time to reflect on the unexpected qualities of people like ourselves
who, caught up in the confusions of a great international upheaval, simply
got on with the task they were given because they believed that order and
justice mattered.
Of the three Readings from Holy Scripture which we have read and heard this
morning, the first began with words of blessing to a young man going to war:
Go then, said Saul to David, and the Lord be with you and the third concludes
with a poor widow dropping two tiny coins into the Temple Treasury. This
Gospel Reading highlights for all eternity the importance of never ever dismissing
the generosity of those who possess next to nothing, but have a sacrificial
heart. And the Reading in between takes us to the eye of the storm with the
one who, in facing death, draws us in and through the gate of death to resurrection
from the dead, Jesus Christ himself. Young men and young women; old widows
and young widows: these are the weave of war. Both carry deep echoes and
profound resonances for us here today in Enniskillen. It would be all too
easy to see David as a headstrong young man, cocky and articulate. But if
we listen to what he himself says, we can discover that what he is doing
is putting at the disposal of king and country the skills and expertise which
he has already proved to be effective. Many young men and women have done
this in wars ever since. It would, once again, be easy in a world of dazzling
materialism to see the contribution of the widow to the Temple Treasury as
nothing more than small change. But the problem here is the distortion of
values. Time and again, we have no context of understanding out of which
we can really judge what others do, what others give, who others are, why
they are the way they are.
Situations of war reduce those with and those without earthly goods to the
same level of human need and suffering. There is nothing but the coldest
of comfort in the misty memory of something grander. And central to these
human pictures is the human Jesus Christ. Paul is setting priorities, speaking
in the first person and marking out the territory for all who have ears to
hear. His concern is that people will fall back into ways in which they were
comfortable before Jesus Christ met them. For Paul the present which makes
sense of the future is being formed with Jesus Christ, marching in death
to resurrection. This is a radical message and, sitting here as we are, probably
sounds abstract and theological. But Paul is at his most emotional when he
is talking in this way. Paul is offering to those who are wide open to confusion
a straight path, a way forward and a goal to attain. The solidarity of the
dying and the risen Christ with the rest of humanity has itself sustained
and inspired, encouraged and angered, many a serving soldier as the connections
with what I quoted from Archbishop Williams become clearer: they simply got
on with the task they were given because they believed that justice and order
mattered.
A few areas seem to me to be important in engaging with the legacy of service
in the cause of order and justice, as Archbishop Williams described it. Every
year, around this time, anxieties are voiced as to whether or not generations
will continue to remember, in the way we understand Remembrance Sunday. In
the wake of media sophistication, complexity and confusion tend to destabilize
any sense of what we can readily understand as well as introducing footage
which does in fact record and present what is happening right now in the
arena of war. Documentary investigation gives us a deeper understanding of
the context in which, historically, decisions were made and of the intention
of those who made them. But obedience also lies at the heart of service,
and this too the archbishop is careful to point out as follows: The modern
serviceman or woman will not be someone who has accepted without question
a set of easy answers. Their obedience is anything but mindless. But it is
obedience all the same, obedience that comes from recognizing that others
have been given a clear responsibility for certain difficult decisions.
One area which seems to me to matter is that we remain connected with the
strong and principled sense of duty of those who ‘went to war.’ Decisions
are made at national level. Decisions are also made at individual level.
The pledge is that the state will do its utmost to protect those who go to
war for good reason and the pledge is that the individual will do his and
her best to fulfil the task and duty as entrusted. The level of self-understanding,
the range of skills, the willingness to take both orders and initiative are
attributes which we must not ever forget and must always remember. A sense
of duty requires a living respect for all involved and that rare quality
in today’s world, the recognition that there is a higher good, and
that such a higher good dictates the flow of our response.
A second area is keeping alive the truth that love is stronger than death;
that hope is stronger than fear; and that service is not futile. You might
call it the battle for morale - but it is more than that. It takes everyone
to the point where self-belief hits the brick wall and gnawing questions
of self-doubt rise to the surface with ever-greater intensity. We must never
underestimate or diminish the commitment to something beyond themselves which
those who served - however long or short – in two World Wars showed.
All of them served in places which they did not know. Many of them were imprisoned
among people whose language they could not understand. Many of them never
returned home and yet they kept alive the sense of direction and the singleness
of purpose which made it possible to understand in a deep way that love is
stronger than death and that ideals and practicalities can and must meet,
and in meeting interact with one another. Some of you may have read, or seen
as films, some of the Harry Potter books. In Harry Potter and the Goblet
of Fire there is the violent and cruel death of a pupil at Hogwarts School
called Cedric Diggory. At the end of term, the headmaster utters the telling
words to all assembled in the Hall: If ever you find yourselves faced with
the choice between what is good and what is easy, remember Cedric Diggory.
Note that it is not: the choice between what is good and what is bad, but
between what is good and what is easy. The choice between what is good and
what is easy does not present itself to those who serve in war and the rest
of us do well to remember that too.
As David in the Old Testament stands on the conviction that victory over
Goliath the Philistine is his because this Goliath has defied the ranks
of the living God, so those who believe that order and justice matter stand
with principle as their defence. As Paul presses towards the finishing
line,
he is not so much competing against others as offering his pledge to complete
the task to which he has set his hand, so those who offer military service
in any of the three Forces keep before them the goal of finishing the job.
As the poor widow drops in her two tiny coins un-noticed and un-appreciated
by everyone other than the Saviour, so no act of courage is insignificant
or taken for granted.
Remembrance Sunday is a day of mixed emotions. It is a day of piercing memories
and of vivid pictures. We gather to remember those who for the sake of freedom
and for order and for justice gave more than time; they gave life itself.
Once more in silence and thanksgiving we remember them in a spirit of sorrowful
gratitude.
St Mark 12.42, 43: Presently there came a poor widow who dropped in two
tiny coins, together worth a penny. Jesus called his disciples to him and
said, Truly I tell you: this poor widow has given more than all those who
are giving to the treasury.