Remembrance Sunday: Friendship is Theological
We are cutting against the grain at the moment. We are told constantly that we must cut out everything that is not essential. Don’t leave home, don’t go on journeys, unless absolutely necessary. Nothing should happen that does not contribute to the economic life of the country. We are, in lockdown, absolutely homo economicus.
It’s pragmatic – like those wise virgins. People have to feed their families, pay their rent, their mortgage. The nation must keep on, but keep safe. We’re constantly told of the difficult playoff between keeping the economy going and our preventing more deaths. And who would blame any politician for having as his priorities:
1. Keep deaths as few as possible.
2. Keep the economy alive.
Who would argue with that?
But we humans are not homo economicus. There are things that matter more than risk. I think I wouldn’t be alone in thinking back in July that the people who wouldn’t be coming back to church would be our more elderly, more vulnerable, But it turns out that, for many, society, music, church is worth the risk. It is those with children, worrying over harm caused, that have kept away.
Now I am not encouraging anyone to take any risks. I worry constantly, and feel the pressure between what can be done, what should be done, how to make life richer, more beautiful, better, more meaningful, and the risk that may arise. How as Christians church is the most important thing we do, and yet as Christians, our first concern is to protect the vulnerable. But I know that the soul needs feeding as much as the body. People need company. They need a reason to live. They need to know there’s a bridegroom coming, and a feast to attend. Sometimes the non-essential is also the difference between life and death.
Of all the stories I encountered in the army – and there were many – The one that stays with me was from the battle of Arnhem. 2PARA have a strong sense of history and while I was with them, veterans from the Falklands war came to share their experience with the battalion. Among them was Chris Keeble who took command of the battalion after the Commanding Officer was killed in action at Goose Green. One of Keeble’s stories, however, came not from the Falklands but from meeting a veteran from Arnhem, where the battalion suffered enormous casualties including the padre and CO, as documented in ‘A Bridge too Far’ – with the late lamented Sean Connery. The man was asked: ‘What made you go on fighting when the battalion had been largely destroyed, the cause lost, and defeat inevitable?’ The man paused and replied quite simply: ‘they were my friends’.
Our armed forces are an unusual case. War – especially total war – is the unusual case. But for the generations we are remembering today neither money nor health was the highest priority. Love of country makes people do remarkable things. But it’s friendship which most often makes people capable of the most remarkable sacrifices. Friendship is prized, held above all. Greater love hath no man than this – that he lay down his life for his friends. This love is never commonplace but certain generations have proved the truth of this in ways and to an extent that few of us will ever be called to.
It’s the crucible in which the Church was formed since Jesus called his disciples not servants but friends. Friendship for Christians is theological. It comes before money, health and risk. Rarely, is it required of a nation but it was in the Wars we remember today, and today, in these different but difficult times, it challenges us to look after our neighbours in a way that honours the generations we succeed. To be a friend, where we are able. That is all the Gospel. Amen.
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Act of Remembrance Introduction
Until the Second World War the national acts of Remembrance were held on 11th November each year. During the war they moved to the Sunday before so as not to disrupt the vital war effort. After the war they moved to the second Sunday of November as a commemoration for both wars.
Perhaps it’s the passage of time and peace in Europe that has made remembrance less urgent; perhaps it’s the diminished role and size of our armed forces; it’s notable, though, that even under the threat of Spanish Flu, rockets and bombing, this year is the first that has curtailed commemorations of the Armistice. Despite the severe terror threat and COVID, it is at least unlikely that we will be threatened with rockets this morning.
But despite our small event, with a scattering of spectators, I would not wish a year to go past without the acknowledgement of what we owe those generations, who at war and at home endured hardships we still cannot know, despite our present difficulties.
Remembrance is about retaining the memory of who we are; which is a people built on the faith, the work, the suffering of generations untold. In all this grimness we are learning what really matters, what we prioritise, what can we do without. We are here this morning to say that this does not include remembering the sacrifices of former generations.