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Reflections
for Remembrance
Silence.
Silence is
as much a part of our Remembrance rituals are as the poppies
that we see all around. Silence as a mark of respect and silence
to give us all space to think and to reflect.
And after the
extraordinary week that we have all lived through, I cannot help
but think a pause for silence and reflection would be a rather
good thing.
Silence was
of course, the response of many of the men who fought in the
first - and even in the second world wars. The horrors they had
witnessed and taken part in defied words for many of them. Maybe
only in the long sleepless nights and in their worst nightmares
did they relive the experiences that brought many of them back,
broken and shattered men. Some visibly so, but many more with
hidden psychological wounds. I am old enough to remember how
this impacted on my own family. Two grandfathers deeply wounded
in different ways. Neither of whom ever spoke freely of what
had happened to them.
And to be fair,
the world to which they returned did not want to hear much from
them anyway. Silence seemed to be the only response of a world
shocked to the core at the carnage and waste of war on such a
monumental scale. There were no forms of social media, begging
them for their blogs or recollections. No means of ordinary soldiers
photographing themselves and broadcasting smiles or tears to
loved ones back home. Just long letters - blueys as they came
to be called later. Letters that were censored and in which most
tried to hide the reality of the terrible nature of war. Silence
reigned.
After the first
World War, the silence only began to be broken by the rise of
National Socialism in Germany. By a noisy Austrian- one who had
little to recommend him, but who had a neat turn of phrase and
managed to capture the mood of a people who had been defeated
in war, but were then defeated far worse in peace. A people who
began to feel that life offered them no hope. So when the noise
of Hitler and his storm-troupers began to be heard; when he offered
them scapegoats and minorities to blame, they responded through
the ballot box and elected a man whose bluster and noise went
on to cost Europe and the World dearly.
In our silence
today we remember those who fought, and those who died, that
we might enjoy the many freedoms and liberties we have today.
And we tell
ourselves that we respect them and honour them and remember them
through our silence, through our poppies, through our parades
and through our prayers.
But do we?
Do we really?
On Wednesday
much of the world reeled at the news that the most powerful nation
in the world - the guardian of democracy and freedom had elected
a man who - it has to be said, shows many of the same characteristics
as that noisy Austrian and the many demagogues who have followed
in his wake. Certainly Trump has plenty of bluster and makes
many wild promises. Only time will tell whether he is also able
to follow through on them and at what cost. Many will say that
the state of the economy of the United States provides much of
the explanation for what happened. That - much the same as Germany
in the 30s - people feel that they have no hope, no power, no
voice, no future. So when someone appears to espouse their cause
and offers them a way back to prosperity and pride, they will
take it - without too much thought of the consequences. ....
No words...
So where is
God in the silence and the suffering?
Well, God, we are told by Paul, is never more to be separated
from us and so we have to remember - in our silence - that God's
love will always -ultimately, trump hate and fear. That perfect
love casts out fear. And that God intends a future for us where
all crying and mourning have passed away.
So let us keep
our silence by all means to remember and honour the dead. But
then let us make an almighty noise to protect the living from
hatred and persecution and all that threatens to diminish our
freedom. Amen.
Silence
November pierces with its bleak remembrance
Of all the bitterness and waste of war.
Our silence tries but fails to make a semblance
Of that lost peace they thought worth fighting for.
Our silence
seethes instead with wraiths and whispers,
And all the restless rumour of new wars,
The shells are falling all around our vespers,
No moment is unscarred, there is no pause,
In every instant bloodied innocence
Falls to the weary earth ,and whilst we stand
Quiescence ends again in acquiescence,
And Abel's blood still cries in every land
One silence only might redeem that blood
Only the silence of a dying God.
©Malcolm Guite
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