I travelled back to my cousins farm in Norfolk last night after preaching at a Portuguese speaking service, listening in the car to Radio 2 broadcasting from the Royal Albert Hall, a poignant and moving occasion.
This morning 14 years ago I gathered with other denominational leaders and representatives and met with Members of the Cabinet and Opposition parties and Ambassadors prior to standing by the Cenotaph, observing the two minutes silence, and the laying of wreaths watched by the large assembled crowd representing Allied Nations, the Armed Forces, Military personnel, past and present and their families. A moving, solemn occasion of commemoration and remembrance mingled with thanksgiving for those who gave their lives sacrificially that we might have our lives.
As we gathered this morning, at the war memorial in the town, following the service where I preached at Dereham Baptist Church, the remembrance ceremony that was being held throughout the country ending with the words penned by John Maxwell Edmund in 1916, “When you go Home, tell them of us and say, For your Tomorrow, we gave our Today”
Tomorrow back home in Northallerton I will attend the laying of a memorial stone dedication on our housing estate to remember the life of Ben Hyde, a young man, an only child, from the town, who was one of six Royal Military Policemen killed on 24th June 2003 in Southern Iraq. A Lance Corporal, a peacemaker who lost his life so others could live in peace.
I remember standing with my younger son Joshua back in 20006 as we visited the battlefields of the First and Second World War and reading the thousands of names of young men who had died, like lambs to the slaughter, in a war that was meant to end all wars but didn’t.
I remember watching those remarkable scenes from Berlin back in 1989 as the wall dividing East and West Germany came down and the nation was re-unified, the fruit of which was to see, in due course, a remarkable German Chancellor, the daughter of an East German pastor, Angela Merkel, at the forefront of European life. Her words yesterday so needing to be heard for the times in which we live. See:
Angela Merkels’ speech: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d533-6m7i5o
In the midst of disturbing, turbulant and dangerous times, a Day of Remembrance and Reflection during which I read this evening my friend, Malcolm Duncan’s poem that he wrote in 2014, on the centenary of the First World War.
“Remember Me” by Malcolm Duncan
Ten decades ago
the World went
to war
in the War
to end all wars
but the problem is
it didn’t.
16 million lives
lay poppy-strewn
on fields drenched in blood.
Futures stolen.
Dreams lost.
Lives seeping
into soil
at Ypres,
the Somme,
Verdun,
Cambrai,
Marne.
A quarter
of a million
boys went
to war,
‘For King
and Country.’
They went
to change
the world.
Those who returned
came back
hollow eyed.
Their hope
eaten by
the teeth
of the trenches.
Such a
bloody
waste
of life.
That Great War
was not
a great war.
It was a Great Slaughter.
Aren’t all wars?
Isn’t slaughter
a better word
even if it is more
offensive?
So I stand
holding a poppy.
Small,
red
poppy.
Beautiful
in it’s simplicity.
Blood red….
birthed in fields
where once young men
became old before
their time.
Its leaf
pointed to 11
to remind me
of the moment that it stopped.
I want to meet the parents
who lost their children
and tell them
I admire them.
I want them to know
they had more courage,
more valour,
more everything than me.
What would I have done?
Saluted my boys as they walked away?
Stood proud and tall?
Or would I have
Gripped their sleeves?
Begged them not to go?
Pleaded with them to stay?
That war
made heroes
of mothers
who lost their boys,
fathers
who lost their friends.
It did not
matter whether
you were
French
or German
or British
or Australian
or Italian.
Humanity trumps nationality,
at least it should.
The enemy lines reached into
homes from Derry to Dusseldorf
From Sydney to the Seine.
The world was shrouded in sorrow,
Drenched in blood.
What then
of the hope
of Christ
that swords
would be ploughshares,
that chains
would be broken,
that peace
would reign?
That hope lay buried
in the dark soil of men’s hatred.
But look further back.
Not ten decades
but ten times ten
and ten times nine
and see the answer
to this blood-letting there.
Another young man’s blood
seeped into the soil.
It soaked the ground,
saturated the earth,
changed the world.
Innocent.
Beautiful.
Perfect.
Son.
Loved by His Father.
Cherished by His mother.
Betrayed by His friends.
Butchered by His own.
Bearing a weight
not His to bear,
He sank His love
into the soil
and cried
for forgiveness.
He carried the very hatred
that we have held onto.
He emptied the gun.
He defused the bomb.
He took the bullet
for us,
for the world.
The darkness
was absorbed
by Him
but we
have loved
the dark
more
than the Light,
so we
continue
to plunge
the world
into darkness.
We do it with our words.
We do it as nations.
We do it as people.
But God has borne this pain.
He has carried this weight.
He has cracked the seal on our hatred.
It is us that will not let go.
So today
if you remember
the sons
and daughters
that died
remember this Son.
This beautiful perfect Son.
This One who bore it all
and offers His life
to you and
to me.
Let your tears
be offered
at the foot
of His cross
because His suffering,
His death,
His pain is deeper
than anything
we have seen
or known.
And in it
we find hope.
His pit was
deeper
than Ypres,
deeper
than the Somme,
deeper
than Verdun,
deeper
than Cambrai
deeper than the
trenches at Marne.
His love
is the only love
that can break
this curse of hatred.
His cross
stands
still.
Offering life.
Offering hope.
Offering peace
to all.
‘Remember me.’
‘Remember me’
‘Remember me’
© Malcolm Duncan
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