I have just returned from an Act of Remembrance in Ore Village, my nearest community. Around 350 people including young children in uniformed organisations have gathered today to remember. Standing around a war memorial during the two minutes silence I was moved to think of ordinary people who went to war and gave their lives in horrific circumstances and now all we have of them is on marble.
I went to the Imperial War Museum North in Salford Quays this week while on holiday and was pleased to find the place full of school children on educational visits, hearing and interacting with history. The museum was really excellent and I recommend a visit if you are in the North West anytime. I was moved most of all this morning by hearing children's voices say the response to the prayers loudly "Lord, give peace." We need to remember in order to try and not make war any more in our modern world.
I am off in a moment to lead a reflective time of worship in Ninfield, one of our rural chapels, about the personal cost of conflict and the personal responsibility we have to try and live in community, harmoniously. I found this picture on the internet moved to do some digging after reading personal stories of soldiers at the Imperial War Museum, especially of those who went excitedly to the enlisting office as World War One began. None of those men knew the horror that awaited them, none of them at that point thought they would not come back. The war would be over by Christmas!
I am using this picture in worship this afternoon. It is of a group of young men going off to the war in 1914. My Grandad, Harry Smith, is on the cart standing above the lad on the far right, with a cap on. I don't remember much about him really, he died in 1981, aged 86. He was head of a family building firm and I certainly don't remember him talking about his wartime experiences. But in 1978 Gran and Grandad Smith had their Diamond Wedding and were interviewed by the local paper. Grandad said of his time at the Battle of the Somme, "a bullet went through my shoulder and out the other side, but fortunately didn't break any bones. I'm lucky to be alive at all, let alone celebrate a Diamond Wedding." You wonder how that experience marked Grandad for the rest of his life. He was lucky, but did he ever "get over" what he experienced? I doubt it. War maims for ever, and it still maims today.
So what on earth do we say on a day like this? What is it for? Yes, it is to remember the fallen and to remember difficult parts of our history. I've been to lunch at the Miller's Arms. The veterans in Ore Village invited all the clergy, the councillors and the police to join them after the service this morning. Sadly only a few police officers and me accepted the invitation. The man who did the "when you go home" line this morning was slightly worse for wear by the time I got to the pub. But it was important for him to raise several glasses to his comrades!
But today is more about I think trying to create community where we are. We cannot influence world events in the main, but we can make a difference where we are. Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me, says the song. I hope some of those little children in church this morning and at the museum on Tuesday thought about getting on together. I still see too many battles between people, too many misunderstandings in relationships, too many words said in haste, too many occasions where people are unwilling to enter into dialogue but will lash out instead of investing time trying to understand the other, too many times of unacceptance of the "different", too many people making themselves ill because someone else has been horrible to them, too many times when we have gone to war rather than pursuing peace. There is no point of today remembering unless we resolve to live differently, otherwise it is empty ritual and meaningless.
We need to reach out to people where they are, and that can be messy. But life is fuller if we do it rather than be judgmental or get on a coat to get our own way against the people we encounter. Perhaps then there was a parable about how we might live differently at the end of the service over coffee this morning.
As we came back into church for refreshments a young Mum and her friend approached me. The Mum, Samantha, wanted to know if I did christenings. She thought I was the Vicar (we were in the Parish Church) I told her (knowing the Vicar would not christen her little girl because he is quite strict about what they need to do before he'll agree) if she wanted to come to my church up the road I would happily do it for her. Her face lit up. Then she looked sad, "my partner isn't with me anymore" she said, thinking I would now say no. I told her that didn't matter, that life happens, that we would talk about it, and that we could be there for her and her little girl. We had a lovely chat and I look forward to a nice time with that family in February. The encounter with me could have been awkward, but I was prepared to enter into life, even though it isn't straightforward.
I wonder what Grandad, Harry Smith, and his mates were thinking as they set up from The Folly in Wheathampstead, Hertfordshire nearly 100 years ago, into the unknown.
I wonder what people have been thinking today as they have gathered around war memorials and have laid poppy wreaths.
Most of all, I wonder when we are ever going to learn to reach out and work at community, so that one day men and women do not suffer and fall at the hands of those who want their own way. A day when evil and prejudice is defeated.
