Bible Text: James 3:13-4:3 | Preacher: Rev. Jenn Geddes
When Jesus died on the cross he died and rose again for people whom he did not know. He performed a sacrifice that would benefit many, MANY, generations to come. I know that there are few people in this world who would risk their lives for complete strangers. But this morning we recognize some of those people. I am very lucky that my life has been relatively peaceful. There are many places in this world where war is very much a reality. However, through the sacrifice of the generations before me I have never known anything but peace in my country. As a result, how could I have any authority on the atrocities of war, the sacrifices of men and women, soldiers and civilians. I do know that it is important that we do not forget, because forgotten history is history doomed to repeat itself. Admittedly I struggle to find a place for this kind of remembering in our services of worship to God. But I want to share with you a story by Robert F. Prette who was 9 years old at the time of the invasion and liberation of Holland. It comes from the veterans Affairs Canada website. This story is particularly close to my heart because the liberation of Holland is a part of my family’s history. Grandpa rarely talked about the moment he walked into his first Dutch concentration camp. I imagine that it took decades for him to try and reconcile those images. However, from such atrocities came a friendship- a friendship with a Dutch family with whom we have remained in contact for over 70 years. It has been amazing to grow up knowing that I have a Dutch family who always sends letters and Christmas cards, and whenever they visit Canada they know they have multiple places to stay and we had the great privilege to spend time with them this summer while we were in Europe. Third generation friends gathered around a table joyfully enjoying each other’s company but also acknowledging that it was a time of war that bound us together.
Here is Robert Prette’s story:
“We were in a whirl of excitement, it was all so overwhelming – especially for a boy of 9 – it was all so different from before. “They’re here!” you could hear repeatedly over and over again, as if to say – we knew they would eventually come and now that moment had arrived. And so it happened, at least for me, that April 2 1945 turned into a very important day.
In Lochem there was definitely “something in the air” in the weeks leading up to that memorable second day of April – people were uneasy, the German soldiers were tense and aggressive, the enemy was coming. But for us the enemy was our friend. Allied planes started to get busy in the air and citizens began to stock up on supplies and making their cellars habitable.
As a precaution my parents decided, together with a neighbouring family, that we should all go and hide in the cellar under our house – there were nine of us altogether. The cellar had actually been made quite comfortable with layers of thick straw for sleeping on. It even had its own exit to the outside which could be useful, because the house could take a hit and collapse.
That Saturday evening, suddenly the first sounds of whistling grenades – the Allied artillery had started firing from Barchem on the Germans north of the Twente Canal. We were almost starting to get used to the sound as we waited in the spooky light of the small kerosene lamp in our cellar. Around four, that Monday morning the firing stopped and a sinister silence descended upon us. After about half an hour we suddenly heard footsteps – the footsteps of just one person. No one moved a muscle. We remained huddled together anxiously hardly daring to breathe, when the sound of footsteps stopped right in front of our cellar door.
Then, after some seconds that seemed to us more like hours, we heard those words of freedom which I will never forget as long as I live: “Hello, are you alright?” In tears my mother, with me following hot on her heels, rushed up the steps. And there stood a Canadian soldier, his face partly blackened, eyeing us up anxiously. He stammered something like “Are there any soldiers around?” but my mother threw herself into his arms while his gun clattered to the ground. We were free, we were really liberated! Shortly after, we could hear the sound of caterpillar tracks on the road in front of our house. It came from a couple of low, light armoured reconnaissance vehicles that were open at the top. My father lifted me up and as I looked down into its dark interior I could see the small dashboard lights gleaming. Full of excitement I yelled out the one and only English sentence I knew and had been taught by my father some months earlier: “Do you have any chocolate for me?” Out of the dark emerged a hand holding a bar of chocolate, an unknown treat for so many years; now I could even taste the liberation.”
Robert Prette’s stories remind us that war is not something we should aspire to. The passage from James’ letter does the same. James, letter is similar to the wisdom literature found in the Old Testament which often focuses on the question, “How can I live a good life?” But often in the Hebrew Scriptures this question is answered with insights on how to avoid living a bad life. For example of the Book of Proverbs always talks about wisdom by identifying foolishness. What makes this New Testament letter unique is that James declares that wisdom cannot be found unless it is pursued in a spirit of meekness. When we really think about this concept we realize it is counterintuitive. One would think that it takes confidence and a feeling of importance that leads to wisdom. James reminds us that yes, this could be called wisdom but it is not the kind of wisdom that comes from above. Wisdom is an ingredient to Christian living that is given by God through faith.
How might this relate to Remembrance Sunday? It relates because true remembering requires humility. We remember the victories but we also remember the losses and we declare loudly that by remembering we see that peace is what should ultimately be pursued. By remembering with humility we acknowledge our mistakes while also giving gratitude for sacrifices made. True wisdom follows the path of peace that comes from above. James reminds us that peace encompasses those who practice it.
I have another resource that I would like to share. It is part of a poem written by a grade 7 student entitled, “I don’t remember ”. In many ways this poem expresses how my generation and younger feel about Remembrance Day. It also demonstrates the humble gratitude that is expressed by those of us who have not served in ways to protect the lives of innocent people, people whom we have never met, but for whom great sacrifices were made.
I don’t remember the sound of guns ringing in my ears.
I don’t remember soldiers, buried in the mud.
Or not knowing if my husband or children are gone forever.
I don’t remember a time without freedom, peace, or loved ones nearby.
I remember peace and freedom.
I remember the warm feeling of having friends and family greet me, when I come home from a hard day.
I remember the joyful laughter of friends and family.
As long as I live, I will never forget the people who gave me this freedom,
To all that helped me get this freedom and peace, whether they lay in the fields of poppies, or they live today, thank you.
Thank you for the love, peace, and freedom that you risked life and limb to give me.
Amen