I know that we have not normally had a sermon at these said Evensongs during the interregnum but I thought it would be remiss not to say a few words on this Remembrance Sunday. It seems particularly appropriate to pause for thought this year in particular as we recognise the 80th anniversary of the Armistice in 1918 that brought that most brutal and vicious of wars, the Great War to a merciful close.
Much has been written and broadcast over recent weeks about the First World War and the horrors of trench warfare. The passage of 80 years begins to wipe the experience from the consciousness of the population as those with direct experience are now a very few and will soon be gone altogether. We therefore rely on written memories to keep fresh in our minds the true horrors of that war - and it is right that we should remember - for it is only by remembering that we can hope to learn and avoid the same mistakes again.
There can be few better ways to remember than through the words of the poets of that war - men such as Seigfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen and I thought I would read a short poem by Sassoon that brings to life the fear and terror that was the daily experience of the men in the trenches of Flanders. This poem is called ‘Attack’.
At dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun
In the wild purple of the glow’ring sun,
Smouldering through spouts of drifting smoke that shroud
The menacing scarred slope; and, one by one,
Tanks creep and topple forward to the wire.
With bombs and guns and shovels and battle gear,
Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire.
Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear,
They leave their trenches, going over the top,
While time to ticks blank and busy on their wrists,
And hope, with furtive eyes and grappling fists,
Flounders in mud. Oh Jesus, make it stop!
I read a fascinating article in the paper a few days ago which said that the four years trench warfare that made up the Great war could never happen today - not because the weapons have changed - which they clearly have, but actually because the people have changed. We now live in a very different society than existed in 1914. The concept of deference has gone from our lives. The belief that someone in authority must know best has been replaced by a questioning and doubting that puts our leaders down rather than puts them on a pedestal.
We now know with the benefit of hindsight that Haig and the other generals fought a futile war and sacrificed the lives of many and if it were happening today with live BBC and CNN reports from the front it would not be tolerated. But in 1914, such thoughts existed only in the minds of a tiny minority and the authority of the generals was absolute.
Now no amount of historical analysis of the tactical shortcomings of the campaign on the Western Front can detract for one moment from the heroism and courage of those that lived their lives in those miserable trenches and then summoned every residual drop of strength to haul themselves over the top and into the horrors of the battlefield that Sassoon so graphically described for us in his poem. Sitting here in the comfort and security of the late 1990’s we cannot begin to imagine what went through the minds of those men as they made that ultimate sacrifice for our sakes, their children and their grandchildren.
These thoughts of sacrifice should for all Christians bring us back to the ultimate sacrifice that Jesus made for us all on the battlefield of Calvary. Jesus gave his life not only for his friends but also for his enemies. As God, he had no need to experience human suffering but he did for all our sakes.
The former Bishop of Birmingham, Bishop J L Wilson, who was a Japanese prisoner of war in the Second War recommends three thoughts for us all to carry in our hearts on Remembrance Sunday and I commend them to you now.
· Thankfulness for our deliverance and the sacrifice of others
· Penitence for human sin and evil
· Dedication to work for peace and justice in the world
This applies both to the lessons of war and to the war against sin and the devil and the great victory of Jesus Christ.
I started with a poem by one of the great First World War poets and it seems apt to finish with another - this time by Rupert Brooke. This is one you will I’m sure know and it is called ‘The Soldier’
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth's a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Tom Crotty