This morning we began our service with a solemn commemoration of those of this parish (and beyond) who lost their lives in wars in defence of this country. While “just” wars may be heroic and result in the victory of right over wrong, they are also at their core tragic, with countless lives lost, with futures marked by loss or brokenness, hardly something to be encouraged or celebrated. Wars are a sign of human failure in which innocent human beings get caught up and either rise to heroism or are marked by death or, often, both. The Christian ideal is peace and harmony among all God’s creatures, including all races and nations. Thus, early Christians refused to participate in the Roman army. As Christians, we cannot celebrate war but only regret that sometimes it seems a necessity and behave as Christians in that context.
I find it hard to preach about war and peace without reflecting on my own experience of it. I was born when my father was overseas in North Africa and Europe in World War 2 and did not see him until I was 18 months old, though I grew up looking at his photo albums of his wartime years, which ended in the liberation of the Dachau concentration camp which, as I ask him to remember, clearly marked him.
Much later, having left graduate school, I was conscripted (“drafted”) into the US Army in 1968 during the Vietnam War. I considered other options (including running away to Canada as some of my friends did) but decided the best I could do was to train as a medic, not wishing to kill anyone. So, after eight weeks of basic training (in which, by the way, I failed the grenade throw and had to be sent to remedial basic training) and ten weeks’ medical training, I spent 18 months working in a septic wounds ward in a US Army hospital outside Tokyo. (Luckily I was not posted to Vietnam or you would not see me here this morning.) Day after day, night after night, I dressed the wounds of those severely injured in Vietnam before they flew back to the mainland. Quite a few of my patients died and at least one fellow medic died from an infection contracted from a patient. It was a very difficult time in my life – I would rather have been elsewhere – but in the long run it gave me relationships and experiences that I would not have had otherwise.
I came home rather numb and dazed, joined in anti-Vietnam War protests down Woodward Avenue in Detroit and tried to put my life back together, still feeling a call to ministry and theology. It was not until I came to Canada a couple years later that I began to feel safe and human again, that I was in a less warlike environment. Even though I did not participate in combat, I was marked by its results and when, many years later, I visited the Vietnam War memorial in Washington, I was overcome with emotion, and tears rolled down my face.
Now, almost 50 years later, I realize I still am marked and Friday when I came into the church to do some work and saw the small floral bouquet with the helmet I had a mild flashback and some emotions I had not had in awhile. (Yesterday, when I came in, I suppressed an urge to kick it.) If I, who did not directly experience combat, still have such emotions, I can relate with those who have experienced combat and the ways it has impacted their lives, from loss of communication skills to post-trauma stress, to long-term disability, to the greatest sacrifice, death; and how all that has affected their loved ones. Such sacrifice is heroic and those who have died are remembered on memorials in churches and in town and city centres across the country. I only hope we provide the human and material support and care for veterans that they often so badly need, rather than putting them on a pedestal once a year and forgetting them the rest of the time. So, if I am not very good at remembering to wear a poppy it is only because sometimes I feel a bit like that poppy, attempting to bring some beauty out of death and destruction.
In and out of all those experiences, from graduate school when I was confirmed, indeed until today, I have participated in a weekly Eucharist; indeed, I was sustained and kept in one piece through even the worst experiences by inclusion in the re-presentation of Christ’s death and resurrection in this sacrament and the grace given through it. And it is very appropriate, given the history of this parish as the regimental church of the Royal Hamilton Light Infantry, that our altar is framed by two battlefield Holy Communion sets, that of Canon Wallace in World War 1 and that of Lt. Col. Foote in World War 2 (one an Anglican, one a Presbyterian). It is moving to reflect on how many hands and lips of soldiers have touched those communion sets and been helped and sustained by the Sacrament in difficult and deadly situations. Again, there is the theme: rich life amidst and emerging from death.
Most of us have some experience of the military or war in our lives, whether through our own participation in it or that of family members and ancestors or perhaps even as victims of militarization. And it is not bad to reflect on how we have been shaped by it, for good or ill. But whatever the case, as Christians, we all called to try to bring forth love and peace out of the contradictions of war and conflict: resurrection out of death.
My apologies for that long personal digression but it gives us some context. Now to today’s lessons. How might they speak to these issues of war and peace, of heroism and tragedy, of death and resurrection?
The Gospel today makes it very clear that Jesus too lived in a time of war in which the very centre of Jewish worship, the Second Temple, was brought to the ground in ethnic and religious conflict with the Roman Empire. In times of war and conflict, indeed, in times of social unrest and rapid change, many voices are heard. In our North American context, some claim to be Christian but are voices of hatred and destruction. Jesus declares, “beware that you are not led astray” by false prophets, those claiming to proclaim God’s word but are inwardly ravenous wolves and purveyors of hatred.
These false prophets fill the social media and the cable news networks and we have seen the result of them in a deeply flawed United States presidential election. And those voices will continue, louder and louder. Jesus’ advice is not to be overwhelmed with fear but continue to testify to what is true and good, despite persecution, betrayal and even the breakdown of relationships. We pride ourselves that those we remember today fought for a Canada that is humane and tolerant. If we are not careful, ours too could be a society of hatred.
Today’s epistle, from 1 Thessalonians, commends hard work over idleness and urges its readers, “do not be weary in doing what is right”. We do not know the exact context of these words but the complaint that some have become “mere busybodies” suggests that some have both money and time on their hands and are using that power to harass others. Again, addiction to the social media and the television come to mind today in which we are stimulated by every piece of false news and every troll and tempted to become trolls and purveyors of false news ourselves. In difficult times like ours, it is wise to listen to the right voices and even turn off the wrong voices (“keep away from believers who are living in idleness”), and to reflect deeply and act with love and integrity. And that action should be towards justice, peace and reconciliation, not towards hatred, war and conflict.
Why? Today’s prophesies from Isaiah, in both the first reading and the psalm, speak of the Messianic community of love and justice that is God’s desire for us, where war has ceased and all God’s creatures live in peace and harmony. That goal is not reached through war or conflict or harsh words but through God’s initiative of the promise of a Messiah who will usher in that rule through the transformation of humanity from fighters into lovers. As Christians, we believe Christ is that Messiah and we are called to live the love and justice that he lived and proclaimed. Part of that commitment is moving away from war to peace.
So, through God’s grace, we try to build Christian communities, churches, including our parish, that are forerunners of that Messianic reign, reflecting its values and relationships. We welcome and love all (or, at least, I think we try to). We share in ministry. We challenge and question one another. We bear one another’s pains, burdens and vulnerabilities. We listen to each other’s stories, even if they sometimes become boring. We work hard. We laugh and cry together. We plan and implement. And we remember with love all who have gone before us, including those we commemorate today. But we move forward to the Messianic reign, not backwards.
Beyond all that, we too need to be prepared to prophesy, particularly when the values of the Messianic reign are challenged, whether by the state or by groups (even religious groups calling themselves Christians) who put hatred before love. We shall see much good Christian challenging in our neighbour to the south in the next four years; and others will loudly proclaim hatred, even in the name of Christianity as has been the case over the past few months. But we are in Canada and our task is to make sure Canada grows more and more into a place of genuine justice and love where all nations, races, creeds and personalities can live together in peace, especially in a good and just relationship with the aboriginal communities whose land this was first. We have work to do; let us not be idle.
“Sing the praises of the Lord, for he has done great things, and this is known to all the world. Cry aloud, inhabitants of Zion, ring out your joy. For the great one in the midst of you is the Holy One of Israel.” Thanks be to God!
What a lovely, thoughtful homily Terry. Thank you.
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