Remembrance

Well I do hope that this is the first of many blogs from my new laptop.

Today is for me one of the most difficult days of the year.

I find Remembrance Sunday quite harrowing. I prefer doing a Service in the open air at one of the village memorials, rather than one in church which requires a sermon - lazy me you might think. But speaking about remembrance to a church full of people, young, old, very old, and service men and women in uniform, is daunting, they will have all come with their own thoughts and expectations.

Well this year I had a full service to do.

Normally when preaching I prefer to speak from the chancel steps, but a formal occasion such as todays service requires nothing less than the pulpit.

Up I climbed - a sea of faces all upturned in my direction waiting with expectations which I just hope I can fulfil.

I spoke about my memories of past Remembrance times. going back to my childhood, listening to my Grandfather telling me stories of his service in the Boer war when in Africa he was in charge of the horses, and then him tellingh me stories of the first World War. My Grandmother ast his side telling him off, "Bill do'nt tell her such things", I would have been about six or seven. I adored my grandfather and I remember watching the service of Remembrance with him on his little black and white telly coming from the Royal Albert Hall, pointing out to him Peter processing with the choir into the arena, and watching the poppies descending, and landing on Pete's shoulder, "thats the man I hope to marry Granddad " I remember telling him. He died very soon after that, he and Peter never met, but it was Peter who comforted me in my loss.

And of course my father fought and was horrifically injured in the last  war the only man of his anti aircraft gun to survive after is took a direct hit. This was in Gibralter, he was badly burnt and blinded for some while, after being airlifted back to England, to continue with his treatment of many skin grafts, which included new eye lids, he was sent by the War Office to work in the local Borstal young offenders institution until the war ended.  My father was in fact more severely disabled mentally than physically he was never the same man again I understand. He was in my childhood memories of him a hard, often brutal man who could often be very unkind to those closest to him. All |I| am sure due to his experiences endured in the war.

The dean of Westminster I once heard say, that Remember is the opposite of Dismember. War dismembers so many in so many ways, and that in Remembering we are making them whole again, in our minds and our thoughts.

Jesus on the cross being crucified along with two criminals, was exhorted by one of them, "When you come into your kingdom remember me". He may not have realised what he was asking Jesus to do, but what he was actually asking was for Jesus to make him whole again.


In summary (if anyone is still reading), some of my thoughts that went into my sermon today, but in I might add a more cohesive manner. Its late!