Rector’s Letter

REMEMBRANCE

November is the month for remembering. We begin with the celebration of All Souls when we remember those whom we love but see no longer, and All Saints when we remember all the saints; the big ones and the little ones, the ones we meet in our daily lives.

With a display of colour and noise. We remember the attempt on Parliament of November 5th 1605, the Gunpowder plot, a bonfire is lit to burn a guy, Guy Fawkes and amidst the hot dogs and cries of wonder, few I expect bother to reflect on how close Britain came to a violent takeover of royalty and government of Britain. The remembering event foremost in all our minds, however, is that of Remembrance Sunday when, as a nation, we pause to remember all whose lives were sacrificed in the pursuit of war. Remembrance Day began with the armistice declared on the 11th day of the 11th month, which ended the conflict of World War 1. And it is celebrated nationally on the Sunday closest to the 11th day.

As a nation we stop, pause and remember in silence all who lost their lives defending their county, all the families who lost a husband, a son, a father. We remember the wives and mothers who struggled to cope with their losses and with raising their families single handed. We remember all the children who were never to be born, and we remember the tragic human waste of war. We remember too that we never learn from the lesson, the history of the world is one of wars, and continues to be so today. Our prayer must be one of thanksgiving for all whose lives, usually young lives, were sacrificed for a noble cause in defence of their country and also to remember with compassion all who are still affected by war today. We remember those in our own country who live their lives missing limbs as a result of conflicts, or who have been traumatised by events they have witnessed.

We remember those throughout the world who are in conflict today the civilian populations who suffer bombardments, loss of life, homes, infrastructure such as in the Ukraine and Gaza.

As the autumn leaves fall and the evenings close in, let us remember those who gave everything, and let us remember to the one who gave his life on the cross in love for us all.

Dulce et decorum est
Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

With my prayers and very best wishes