Lord, make me an
instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me bring love.
Where there is offence, let me bring pardon.
Where there is discord, let me bring union.
Where there is error, let me bring truth.
Where there is doubt, let me bring faith.
Where there is despair, let me bring hope.
Where there is darkness, let me bring your light.
Where there is sadness, let me bring joy.
O Master, let me
not seek as much
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love,
for it is in giving that one receives,
it is in self-forgetting that one finds,
it is in pardoning that one is pardoned,
it is in dying that one is raised to eternal life.
(Prayer of St. Francis)
On this day we, like other churches and communities of faith, stop whatever we normally do, to fall silent for a few minutes to read the names and remember those who gave and lost their lives in wars of the last century-and-a-bit.
It’s quiet here – not the eerie depth of quiet that was felt that first Armistice Day, on the battlefields of Europe when the guns after four years of warfare suddenly felt silent at 11 am, or the next year in 1919 when in the hustle and bustle of post-war cities, at 11 am all activity paused, cars and buses and trucks stopped, and people stood – just stood where they were, for 2 minutes – to recall and remember all that needed not to be forgotten.
But still, it is quiet enough here – no noise of war overhead or around – and among the many reasons for that, one of them is the ultimate sacrifice made years ago by those we remember today.
Reading: “In Flanders Fields”
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Scripture Reading: from John 15
I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit … My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples … If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love….
“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you… I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last …
Meditation
"No greater love has anyone, than to give his life for his friends” – Jesus said this to his friends, on the night he willingly was arrested, tried, and put to death to save them -- and others -- from death as well.
As I mentioned earlier, it’s quiet here. No sounds of war. And among the many reasons for that, one of them is the ultimate sacrifice made years ago by those we remember today. As well as the multitude of other, only slightly less ultimate sacrifices made by thousands and millions of others during the war years.
For that, and for them, we lift up to God our humble and grateful thanks.
We are, however, also aware that the world and our life within it are not yet really free of battles. There has not yet been a war to end all wars. Many battles we face today are different than the great wars of 1914-1918 and 1939-1945. But both the language of warfare and the reality of battles still shape how we live. We are not yet at peace – the way peace is meant to be.
I think of the way we talk this year about the war against COVID-19, and how we must win it. And for some time how the battle against poverty, or the war on homelessness and hunger have for some time been part of our vocabulary and political agenda. And now we face something as big and critical as the battle against climate change – or, to be more accurate, the battle against the practices and policies and attitudes that threaten and put at risk the life of Earth as we know it.
I wonder …
In
the war against COVID, is it helpful to recall the lesson of the great wars,
that greater love has no one than this – that to lay down their life as they
wish they could live it, for the sake of others being able to live – that they
lay down their liberty, their right to self-determine, and even their right to
party – to wear a mask, to keep distance, and to follow the protocols for the
well-being, the peace of mind, maybe even the life of their friends, their
family, their neighbour … for any stranger they might meet along the way? And no, a single mask worn by any of us will not turn the tide or decide the fate of the world, but is there an accepted attitude, a shared practice, and a common commitment that does? And that we all are called to share, and have a part in?
I wonder …
In the war on poverty, is it helpful if we learn to ask what sacrifices are helpful and needed and by whom? What ideas and ideologies, what things or practices we or others might have to give – or give up – for the sake of really serving and saving the lives of others, of ensuring and enshrining their hopes, their equal dignity and their opportunity for a good and free life?
I wonder …
in the battle against climate change and for the life we have in this broken home we call Earth, what can we give up, what sacrifice is possible, what great sea change can be made, what battle plan might we need to dream up and commit ourselves to, to win what needs to be won for the good of all?
And of course, in the midst of all this, the sounds of battle – real battle – are still very real in many parts of the world: the sounds of machine guns and rifles; of tanks rumbling in the streets and fighter jets screaming overhead; of incoming missiles and explosions rocking and obliterating the lives of cities and people in Lebanon, Syria and India; in Iran, Afghanistan, Armenia and Azerbaijan; in Mexico; in the (not-so) United States of America; in Caledonia and the disputed lands of the Haldimand Tract.
So many conflicts still. So far from peace. So many men, women and children, armed and civilian still dying and having their lives destroyed.
I wonder …
what kind of sacrifice, what kind of giving and giving up will open a way today towards peace, towards new and good life for all who through God’s eyes we either already see, or are invited to see as friends.
It is quiet here. We are the beneficiaries of much love, both human and divine. Thanks be to God.
There is no greater love than this, than that some lay down their lives for their friends. We have been, and we are well-loved.
And as we remember today those who paid the ultimate price for our and others’ well-being, and the multitude of others who made only slightly less ultimate sacrifices – I wonder …to whom, or to what in the world by the grace of God we shall be great friends, and shall act as friends, in love giving and giving up what is needed of our life for the well-being of all, in the name of God, father and friend of all?
Thanks be to God.
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