New Crosses Growing Still

November 11, 11am

… hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, of people in villages, towns and cities across this country make their way to a cenotaph. As veterans, soldiers, first responders, RCMP officers, cadets march by we clap and cheer. Then, around the cenotaph we stand in solemn reverence. The trumpeter begins the last post, all heads bow in silence, and we remember.

Do we remember …?

What is it that runs through the minds of those who stand here? Is it the story of war, with battles lost and won? Is it the perceived victories as conquerors take control and the enemy retreats? Or do we call to mind the countless men and women whose lives were cut far too short because of fear and hatred? Do we remember their commitment and courage? Do we remember their dream of a better way, a world of peace and freedom? Do we remember what happens when we counter hatred with hatred, and do we learn?

The Day is Bitter Sweet

I imagine that for each of us gathered what we remember is different, but I also imagine that we share a desire for peace and freedom. This day is bitter sweet. There is much to be thankful for – the freedom to speak and pray; to live and love as we feel called to; a country that embraces and holds up the rights of each individual; communities that support and nurture, challenge and provide spaces for learning, growing and changing. Then there is the bitter piece that we still live in a world where fear and hatred directs and controls. When WW1 came to an end people of the land viewed the destruction and said “never again”. Many did not return home and those who did carry the effects of war with them every day. Every year we gather and say we will not forget but we have not remembered well. Peace has not come and we live in fear. This fear lands us, yet again, in a place of war and we dream of a better place and a safer way.

As I prepared for Sunday worship I found this poem written by Bill Mitton:

The Crosses

I stood there before the crosses
Glowing white in row on row
Everyone a young life cut short
As the names upon them show

The dates they died below the names
Tell of wars now passed and gone
Passchendaele, the Somme, and Mons
Of battles fought, and lost and won

History remembers, as it should
These men who fought and died
Whilst for their families left behind
A dull sorrow tinged with pride

The faces of boys held now in Sepia
Who died in days long gone
Yet living on in memories
And hearts, still holding on

Yet despite the hurt and grief here
What horrors make me fill
Is that when I look behind me
There are new crosses growing still

Blessings
Valerie