Might the fact a supposedly Christian Europe devoted four
years to self-destruction be our greatest sadness as we gather on the
Centennial Anniversary of the Somme?
The sadness that flows down the last century from that
conflict lies of course in the families and descendants of the 72,200 whose
names are recorded at Thiepval some of whose names are replicated on our own
memorial.
The Somme commemoration began on 1st July this
year which was the day of the first offensive by our troops. Fighting was focussed
in the area close to the village of Thiepval and the valley of the River Ancre.
Thiepval was captured in late September 1916 although it fell back briefly into
German hands during the spring offensive of 1918 just before the final end of
the Great War.
Thiepval today is famous for its Lutyens memorial to the
missing, an enormous brick arch that stands on a ridge, a canopy over Lutyens
classic stone of remembrance which is a common feature of larger war cemeteries.
The stone and arch recall the traditional altar and covering ascended by many
steps as to be found in Westminster Cathedral which has a feature on Thiepval
in its November Magazine.
On Remembrance Sunday we ascend the altar of God in heart and
mind through such images for, in words uttered at this altar earlier this
morning, although death comes to us all,
yet we rejoice in the promise of eternal life; for to your faithful people life
is changed, not taken away; and when our mortal flesh is laid aside an
everlasting dwelling place is made ready for us in heaven.
It is Christian faith that the sadness of death gives way to
the bright glory of immortality as expressed on that Somme memorial stone Their name liveth for evermore. There is
reverent ambiguity about whether that evermore
is on earth or in heaven. This leads me to an aside, if we are talking about
the earthly memorial side, to salute
those who work with the Royal British Legion and Commonwealth War Graves Commission
in this village to maintain our war memorial, the Knapp grave and ensure the
peaceable beauty and good ordering of our Churchyard. It is a considerable
burden to our hardy group of volunteers led by Hilary Nicholson and is worthy
of not just the voluntary but the civic support it receives and sorely needs.
Back to the ambiguity about how we see those words on the
Somme memorial their name liveth for
evermore. Our scripture readings give insight and indeed challenge
concerning the otherworldly sense of that statement about the honourable dead.
The reading from Ecclesiasticus is a prayer of entreaty which could well be
imagined as from a battle field: My soul
drew near to death, and my life was on the brink of Hades below. They
surrounded me on every side, and there was no one to help me; I looked for
human assistance, and there was none. Then I remembered your mercy, O Lord, and
your kindness from of old, for you rescue those who wait for you and save
them from the hand of their enemies. (Ecclesiasticus 51:6-8)
How could such a prayer be unanswered by a merciful God? Even
through death, being taken to God, since the ultimate victory is beyond armed
conflict but the one over death itself. This is the frame for our Royal British
Legion service hosted on the Lord’s day, the day of resurrection. As our second
reading expresses this: Listen, I
will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed… For
this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put
on immortality…. thanks be to God, who gives us [the] victory [over death] through
our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Corinthians 15:51, 53, 57)
Here
is the full sense of Lutyens’ altar stone inscription. It’s not evident to the
intellect unaided by the gift of faith to listen
as Paul invites to Jesus Christ and take him at his word as the death
defying Lord he is to us, through whom, indeed, our name
liveth for evermore.
To
know you have eternal life through openness to Christ’s gift is wisdom, for the
greatest knowledge you can ever find must be about what defies death, since all
of us live in its shadow.
Such
knowledge doesn’t exclude sadness. Christians, someone said, are sad people
saved from despair by the Cross of Christ. Looking at the world this Somme
Centennial weekend there’s so much you might
despair about a century on, not least at the scenarios our armed forces are
engaging with in the Middle East, God bless them. Yet to know a love that’s overall and in all the hearts who’ll welcome its embrace is to draw the sting
of despair reducing it to residual sadness at man’s inhumanity to man.
Today
we have such sadness but it’s something we need to search deeper into inasmuch
as we’re able. Premature death in war, or even the self-pitying thought of our
own death is saddening but we’re called to search deeper into sadness. As a
country priest I’ve been drawn to the French writer George Bernanos Diary of a Country Priest which covers
the bearing of sadness in the priesthood. You could summarise his book as a
statement that the only sadness worth having is sadness about not wanting to be a saint. To want to be
anything less than holy and see the full flowering of all that you are into
what God intended is very sad indeed. Many people believe wrongly that to be
holy is to be stifled, less free, less themselves and how sadly wrong they
are!
Lack
of holiness, lack of self-possession, humility and love is at the root of the
self-destruction of warfare, which is why we have it in ourselves to act counter to this vanity, which is why
the Royal British Legion Service invites us to make a commitment to responsible
living and faithful service part of this morning’s commemoration.
God desires to
give us the desires of our
heart (Psalm 37:4). His call for us to be holy is for us to come close to
him in regular worship and prayer and be fulfilled, which is not to repress but
rather to expand our deepest desires.
You can
become a saint. No one and nothing can stop you
- and your choice, besides reducing your sadness, will impact the peace of the
world over the next century and beyond.
