The average British soldier is 19 years old.....he is a short haired, well built lad who, under normal circumstances would be considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, and just old enough to buy a round of drinks, but old enough to die for his country - and for you. He's not particularly keen on hard work but he'd rather be grafting in Afghanistan than unemployed in the UK . . . He can march until he is told to stop, or stay dead still until he is told to move.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation but he is not without a rebellious spirit or a sense of personal dignity. He is confidently self-sufficient. He has two sets of uniform with him: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never forgets to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts. If you are thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food is your food. He'll even share his life-saving ammunition with you in the heat of a firefight if you run low . . .
He is the latest in a long thin line of British Fighting Men that have kept this country free for hundreds of years. He asks for nothing from us except our respect, friendship and understanding. We may not like what he does, but sometimes he doesn't like it either - he just has it to do. Remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
I started with that quote, because it reminds us today, Remembrance Sunday, that those we remember from past wars, and those who are there to fight on our behalf today are people; real people. People who feel afraid; people who get hurt, and make mistakes. People who are courageous, resourceful, loyal, obedient, and even heroic.
The readings today are those for today in the church calendar, the Third Sunday before Advent, but the Gospel theme of Jesus calling the first of his disciples seems to me to connect with that image of the soldier. Jesus too called ordinary guys; but what he saw in them and called out of them was obedience, loyalty, immediacy of response, resourcefulness and courage.
One of the hymn books we use in our group, though not at this church, is so anxious not to glorify war that it removes any possible military reference from any hymn. So “onward, Christian soldiers” becomes “onward, Christian pilgrims.” I think that rather emasculates some fine hymns: the analogy between Christian service and warfare is one that goes back a long way, and it’s one that works. Nearly all the first disciples were, we think, martyred, put to death for the faith they proclaimed. They needed the same courage, and the same spirit of sacrifice, as any soldier.
But they, and we, are soldiers in the cause of peace. Today though, one hundred years from the end of what was called the Great War, and by some hopeful people The War to End All Wars, we can’t help but have war in mind. A poem read at a concert I attended on Friday night included the line “every poppy worn stands for a soldier dead”. We remember those who died in defence of our freedom, many of them with the hope of peace and a new world in their hearts.
When you reduce it to the level of real people, war is always a bloody and horrible thing, whatever stories of heroism and service may be told. But the fighting man or woman isn’t there to glorify war. They know too well the reality of it. There's a job to be done, and they do it: not because it's a good thing, and certainly not because God blesses or applauds the wars we fight, but because in the mess that is human life in the real world, sometimes the alternative is even less possible to contemplate. That was certainly true in the two great wars of the last century.
Our God calls us to peace: Jesus is called the Prince of Peace, and at his birth angels sang 'Peace on earth, and goodwill to all.' But what kind of peace? There’s a sort of peace when spears face each other, but are not driven home, or when loaded guns are levelled, but not fired. We remain at peace in this nuclear age just so long as no-one presses the button. That may be the best peace we can manage, but it’s a lot less than the peace God desires for us, and that Jesus called his disciples to teach. Peace in the real world may require the appeasement of tyranny, or that we turn a blind eye to injustice: but such peace can never be God's will.
The peace Jesus calls for begins when we love one another as he loves us. It will rest on foundations of justice and righteousness, in which we aim to be like him. It will require us to care for our neighbour, who might well be on the other wide of the world, or else might be the stranger in our midst. It will need us to be firm in our opposition to all that enslaves, disables or discriminates. It will happen when I refuse to seek my own wellbeing without also seeking the wellbeing of others. The Bible speaks of spears being beaten into pruning hooks: the things that destroy becoming instead tools for creative activity.
Is that an illusion? In part it is, this side of heaven. But it’s a declaration of the kingdom of God. It’s what Jesus called those first disciples to do. In the real world of real people, it's a risky endeavour, leaving us open to the jeers of those who call us fools. But when Jesus said "Blessed are the peacemakers" he meant it. He called his first disciples, and he calls us too, to build the foundations on which true peace can stand.
The names we read as we fall into silence today deserve the same of us. They helped to oppose and beat back a great evil. And we honour the dreams they had - of peace, and of a better world, and of an end to war. May our godly passion for justice and peace be worthy of their service and sacrifice. Amen.
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