I feel I never give the First Testament enough air time and it is so deserving! So this morning I’d like to begin with Joshua.
Joshua has gathered the people of Israel together at Shechem and he takes them back through their history. He reminds them where they came from, who their ancestors were, and everything God has done to bring them to where they are. He reminds them that their story didn't begin with them. They are part of something much bigger. They have inherited a history, a faith, a relationship with God, and the experiences and struggles of generations who came before them.
Then Joshua challenges them by saying: "Choose this day whom you will serve." He concludes by declaring: "But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord."
Now, Joshua isn't simply asking the people to remember their history. He's asking them to take responsibility for what they've inherited - to own their history and to live honourably in accordance with what has been given them. In other words, it's not enough to know where you've come from. You also have to decide what you're going to do with that knowledge.
Is this not also the message for Remembrance Day?
Today, and again on Wednesday, we remember people who lived before us. People who served, people who sacrificed, people who went off to war, and people who never came home. We remember the two great wars, the Korean War, and the many conflicts and peacekeeping missions that have followed.
One of the things Janice and I like to do when we're visiting a new town or city is seek out their cenotaph, if they have one. We'll usually wander off separately, taking our time to read the names and inscriptions, perhaps say a little prayer, and spend a few moments in quiet reflection.
I find these memorials rather grounding. There's something about standing in front of them, reading the names of ordinary people who once lived in that community, who had families, friends, hopes and dreams, and whose lives were cut short by war. For us, our visits bring history out of the pages of a book and make it very real. These weren't just names or statistics. They were someone's son or daughter, someone's neighbour, someone who grew up in a community just like ours.
Our Lakefield cenotaph was dedicated in 1930, just twelve years after the end of the First World War. Its inscription reads: "To the Glory of God and in Memory of Those Who Made the Supreme Sacrifice."
Twelve years after the end of that terrible war, people in this little village came together to ensure that those who had given their lives would not be forgotten. The community accepted not simply the responsibility of erecting a memorial, but of caring for it and protecting it, preserving it and, sadly, adding to it as future world wars unfolded.
With that said, here's a question I think Joshua would want us to consider, because it goes beyond mere remembrance: What does it actually mean to inherit the sacrifices of those who came before us?
We can remember their names. We can lay wreaths. We can observe two minutes of silence. We can sing O Canada and recite the familiar words of Flanders Fields. Yes, all of those things matter, but remembering our history isn't enough. We have to decide what we're going to do with it. We have an obligation to ask ourselves whether we're actually living up to the values that we associate with, and were earned by, those sacrifices.
For us as Christians, that means something more than simply protecting our own security, prosperity or national identity. It means choosing to serve our God — our God of justice, compassion, mercy and peace.
November 8th, today, is also Indigenous Veterans Day in Canada. Indigenous men and women from First Nations, Inuit and Métis communities served in significant numbers in both world wars and subsequent conflicts. Many volunteered to serve a country that, at the same time, denied them many of the rights and opportunities enjoyed by other Canadians. Some returned home to find that the recognition and benefits afforded to other veterans were not equally extended to them.
Here in our own community, our neighbours in Curve Lake First Nation have their own cenotaph, honouring the men and women from their community who served. I took a moment this week to visit the Curve Lake cenotaph and cemetery and what struck me most strongly was how many names were on the cenotaph and how many Canadian flags were waving in the wind at the cemetery. It seemed to me a disproportionate number compared to their population but, perhaps more importantly I was vividly reminded that, especially in those days, these were oppressed people fighting for our freedom, a freedom they themselves would not fully enjoy. Now that is a measure of sacrifice that is hard for us to comprehend.
I think this challenges us to think a little more deeply about how we remember, who we remember and why we remember. Whose stories do we remember? Whose sacrifices do we acknowledge? Whose stories we have perhaps overlooked or forgotten?
We cannot speak about honouring the sacrifices of previous generations without also being willing to acknowledge the injustices experienced by some of those same generations. This too, is part of what it means to inherit a history responsibly. Not to rewrite it or diminish anyone else's sacrifice, but to tell the fuller story. To listen, to acknowledge, and to continue the work of reconciliation by remembering fully everything, including and perhaps particularly our own errors and omissions through time.
With this in mind, we can find relevance in Paul's letter to the Thessalonians.
Paul is writing to a community that is grieving. They're worried about those who have died, and they're wondering what will happen to them when Christ returns. Paul offers them these words: "We do not want you to be uninformed ... about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope."
Now, I think it's important to understand what Paul is saying here. He's not suggesting that Christians shouldn't grieve. He's not saying that faith somehow makes death less painful. Rather, he's saying that grief and hope can coexist and the beauty of this is that Christian hope doesn't eliminate grief. It gives grief a place — somewhere to go.
Of course, this reaches far beyond our reflections on Remembrance Sunday or the loss of life through war. It speaks to every experience of death and loss we encounter in our lives but today we do think particularly about those who died in war, and the grief carried by those they left behind. We remember not only those who died, but those who came home carrying wounds that weren't always visible. Those who struggled with what they had experienced. The families who waited, the parents who never stopped grieving, and the generations whose lives were forever changed by war.
As Christians, we must never sanitize the reality of war in order to express our hope in God. We can acknowledge the terrible tragedy of war while holding onto the Christian conviction that we believe that life does not end with death.
Which brings me to the Gospel reading. Jesus tells the parable of the ten bridesmaids. Five are wise and five are deemed foolish. They're waiting for the bridegroom, and when he is delayed, all ten fall asleep. When he finally arrives, five have enough oil to keep their lamps burning, while the other five discover that they've run out. Jesus concludes with those words: "Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour."
Now, the interesting thing about this parable is that all ten bridesmaids fall asleep. The difference isn't that some stayed awake and others didn't. The difference is that some were prepared for the delay and others weren't. The message we can take from this today on Remembrance Sunday is this: We cannot take peace for granted. Peace takes preparedness and awareness.
It's very easy to think that because previous generations fought and sacrificed for the freedoms we enjoy, those freedoms will simply continue. Now, I don’t want to be a fear monger, but I am trying to make the point that peace is not something that can be inherited and then left unattended. Peace requires constant attention. It requires the willingness to stand up against hatred, prejudice, injustice and the dehumanization of others. We cannot wait until the darkness arrives to start looking for the light. It is our responsibility to always keep the light burning.
We see what's happening in Ukraine, Iran and the Middle East, and in other parts of the world. We see the images of destruction, the suffering of innocent civilians, the displacement of families and the loss of life. For the most part, dare I say we’ve become a little desensitized to the harsh reality of these persistent wars. So today I challenge you to never become so accustomed to the suffering of others that it no longer moves us.
That's what Jesus is getting at with the parable of the lamps. The things that sustain peace – the lamp oil of the burning heart – compassion, understanding, justice, tolerance, reconciliation – are not things we can suddenly manufacture when a crisis arrives. They have to be cultivated, “refueled” and kept burning, in our homes, with our children, in our communities, our schools, in our churches, and in the way we relate to one another every day.
Joshua reminds us that we inherit a history, and that we have choices to make about the kind of people we will become.
Paul reminds us that we can grieve those we have lost, while holding onto the hope that death is not the end of life.
Jesus reminds us that we cannot simply take the future for granted. We have a responsibility to keep our lamps burning.
I believe that the greatest tribute we can offer those we remember this season of remembrance, is not simply to remember what they did, but to take seriously our responsibility, what we must do beyond remembering, to honour their sacrifice: To work for peace. To stand up for justice. To refuse hatred. To seek reconciliation. To recognize the dignity and humanity of every person.
I think we’ve come full circle to where we began, with Joshua's challenge to the people of Israel: "Choose this day whom you will serve."
Ultimately, that choice is about how we live in response to what we have inherited. Remembering our history requires humility. It reminds us that we are not the masters of our own destiny, that the freedoms and opportunities we enjoy are costly gifts, not entitlements, and that we have a responsibility to honour those gifts by the choices we make and the lives we lead. No nation, no generation and no individual should ever take them for granted.
As I was writing this homily I was reminded of Rudyard Kipling’s poem called Recessional, written in 1897 for Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. Although written at the height of the British Empire, it is actually a warning, similar to the one given by Joshua. Kipling’s inspiration is actually from Deuteronomy 6:12 which reads: Then beware lest thou forget the Lord, which brought thee forth out of the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage. Its central message is a reminder that human power is temporary, pride can lead us astray, and ultimately we are accountable to something far greater than ourselves.
It is a particularly fitting message for Remembrance Sunday, and it is from this scripture and subsequent poem where we borrowed those familiar words: "Lest we forget."
As a close to this homily I would like to read Recessional, Kipling’s words, as prayer, let us pray:
Recessional, by Rudyard Kipling, 1897
God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word—
Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord!
Amen.
Rev. John will be attending the Warsaw Remembrance Day ceremony on behalf of St John’s. If you wish to join him at that service, you can find all the details on the Douro-Dummer Township website here.