SERMON FOR REMEMBRANCE DAY

Rev. Meg Grieve

November 11, 2007

            On April 11, 2007, the anniversary of the Battle at Vimy Ridge, the CBC aired this documentary called “Buttons and Bones.”  It made a big impression on me, enough that I put what I remembered into my computer.  Today, I tell you the story.

              The story began in the recent past, maybe 5 years ago, or thereabouts.  Development was happening on one of the Vimy battlefields.  After all these years, that scene of unbelievable bravery and bitter loss was to become a new housing development.  As the land was being surveyed, prior to the onset of the bulldozers and cranes, remnants of the actual battle of Vimy Ridge were found.  The remnants were buttons and bones, a small number of human remains, and buttons lost from a soldier’s uniform.

             The buttons identified the soldier as a Canadian and the relics were returned to the Canadian government.  In the department of Veterans’ Affairs, there are employees whose life work is to identify dead Canadian military personnel.  I never knew that we, as Canadians, were committed to this much respect and dignity.  It was a good learning for me.  At first, the Canadians were going to take the bones and bury them without a name.  The grave would have been marked with the familiar and poignant phrase, “Known only to God.”  But, because there were also the buttons, and there was some information to go on, the Veterans’ Affairs employees decided to try and make the identification.

             A forensic expert, with all that modern technology has to offer, took a look at the bones, and, surprisingly, divided them into two piles.  The first great discovery was that they were not from one soldier, but two.  The buttons identified at least one of the  soldiers’ regiment as one from Calgary.  A genealogist examined the regiment’s records and found that 16 of its soldiers did not return from Vimy.  A long search began for the families of these 16 men.   The goal was to see if the DNA from the bones could be linked to the DNA of one of these families.  Just when the forensic scientists and the genealogists were about to give up on their search, they found relatives of one of the soldiers in the Lethbridge area.  They were able to talk to the soldier’s brother and his nephew. 

             Suddenly, the soldier came to life, after all these years.  His name was William Simpson.  His brother told of childhood memories, and what kind of man William had become.  There were memories of the good-bye day, when Simpson shipped out-such pride and regret all rolled up into one human moment.  There were memories of the telegram, missing in action, and the agonizing wait for the inevitable.  There was that moment of terrible finality when the word came home to Canada that there would be no return, no welcome, no future.  It was over.  Death did have dominion, and I can scarcely imagine what kind of death was suffered on that primitive and cruel battlefield. 

             Why would our Canadian government spend many thousands of dollars to bury one long-ago soldier with his name?  Some might name it a waste, and others might wonder about how kind it was to stir up old, painful memories that cannot be changed.  Let me tell you that there was no regret on the part of the Simpson family.  And, because of our Government’s work, something happened for all of us.  What happened for all of us was that the soldier became a person again when his name was spoken and his story was told.  His sacrifice was acknowledged and honoured, and gratitude flowed for the great gift he gave for the sake of freedom and a future. 

             This is exactly why we mark Remembrance Day here at Munn’s United Church.  Every precious memory honours those who offered up their innocence, and their future for the cause of peace.  Every November 11^th reminds us that we are indebted to those who experienced the unimaginable, whose excellent adventure turned into hell.  I don’t think we can even imagine the cost that was paid for our freedom, the cost that was paid for our living in a country where human rights matter.  Every November 11^th puts peace back on our own agendas, and it needs to be there.  Every November 11^th we are reminded of the price that war exacts, and we have the opportunity for gratitude that some paid that price on our behalf.

             There is another chapter to the William Simpson story.  As the forensic scientists examined the bones, they determined that Simpson was carrying the other soldier over his shoulder.  Knowing that his comrade was wounded, Simpson tried to get him back to the Canadian line for medical help.  The two were killed before they could get to whatever safety looks like on a battlefield.  Apparently, the other soldier was either dead, or near dead.  It would not have been wrong for Simpson to leave him in the fray so he could save himself.  Simpson chose to carry his comrade, and it cost him his life.  Posthumously, Simpson was honoured for his bravery, and honoured again when his brother and nephew flew to France for the re-dedication of the Vimy memorial.  Naming the name, and telling the story is a simple way of honouring the sacrifice.  It’s what is required of us each and every Remembrance Day.

             Remembrance Day tells a story from the past, but it doesn’t leave us in the past.  Its work is present tense, and, believe me, there is work for us to do.  There are two things that this Remembrance Day requires of us.  There are two ways to continue the honouring of those who went to war for us.  And they are important things.  The first is to get our theology in the right place.  And the second is to work for peace, wherever we are. 

             Let’s begin with our theology, what we believe about God and Jesus.  Let’s begin with the big picture.  God has a dream for our world, and that dream was read for us this morning.  In God’s dream, enemies are reconciled.  The wolf and the lamb, the leopard and the baby goat, the calf and the lion will co-exist, will lie down together.  The vulnerable, and there will always be vulnerable ones, and the powerful, and there will always be powerful ones, will live together in safety.  It’s easy for us to nod our heads to these pastoral pictures of peace in nature.  Let’s put the animal world in human terms.  The weakest, the least able, the youngest and the oldest, the marginalized, the poor, the homeless, all these will live comfortably with the strongest, the people with the power of position, the people with weapons, the nations with armies and with nuclear capability.

            The people whom you fear most in your life, perhaps in your workplace, perhaps on your street, perhaps in your own home, will no longer be the source of terror and anxiety.  God dreams that we will live together in peace.  That’s the big picture.

             It is also the small picture, the one that Jesus painted during his lifetime.  Jesus lived in a time of war and upheaval. Rome and Caesar dominated the rural landscape we call Galilee.  The Roman plan was to assert power over the Jews, to force them to bow down to Caesar, and to abandon their own God. After Jesus’ death, the Romans attacked Jerusalem, destroyed the Temple, and drove all the Jews out of the city and into the countryside.  Jesus saw this coming.  Did he advocate resistance to Rome?  No, he did not.  Did he advocate becoming an army of the faithful?  No, he did not.  Did he make himself the leader of a revolution or at least, and insurrection?  No, that was not Jesus’ goal.  Jesus taught that God would not abandon the people, and would return in non-violence, would return in peace. In the midst of systemic violence, Jesus proclaimed the realm of God.  His response to Rome was a deepening vision of a nonviolent transformation of his people.  Jesus taught us about a new humanity of blessed peace-makers, turners of the other cheek,  lovers of one another.  Jesus taught us that the greatest are the least, and that unless we become like children we will not be welcome in God’s realm.  Jesus tried to animate God’s lion-lamb dream.  He would have been singing “Give Peace a Chance” if he had known the tune.

             Do not be naïve about the state of this world of ours.  It is often dangerous.  We have the terrible potential to hurt one another.  Do not be naïve about the great dream that God has for us, or the hard work that Jesus did to teach us that peace can come in the midst of conflict.  Take the newspapers and God seriously, and make a difference for peace wherever you are.  We must act where we have influence-at home, at work, at Munn’s, in our committee meetings, in our book clubs, on our sports teams, in our recreation groups, in our study groups, in our most intimate relationships.  We must diffuse conflict, rather than escalate it.  We must lovingly offer second chances.  We must accept one another across difference.  We must give peace a chance.

              The story of William Simpson reminds us that those we remember with gratitude today require something from us.  We are given this image:  the peace making torch is being passed to us for the work of peace.  We are asked to continue the quest for dignity and safety, for security and for a decent life.  Let’s make this Remembrance Day an active one, a day of decision, a day of commitment to the goal of the past:  peace, peace, deep everlasting peace.