SEARCH SERMONS

 

ARCHIVE

2018
December (1)
November (3)
October (3)
September (2)
August (2)
July (2)
June (4)
May (4)
April (4)
March (3)
February (3)
January (3)
2017
December (3)
November (4)
October (5)
September (4)
August (1)
July (5)
June (4)
May (4)
April (7)
March (6)
February (4)
January (4)
2016
December (4)
November (4)
October (4)
September (3)
August (2)
July (5)
June (3)
May (5)
April (4)
March (4)
February (1)
January (4)
2015
December (4)
November (4)
October (3)
August (3)
July (3)
June (3)
May (4)
April (5)
March (6)
February (3)
January (4)
2014
December (4)
November (5)
October (2)
September (2)
August (4)
July (4)
June (3)
May (4)
April (6)
March (6)
February (3)
January (4)
2013
December (6)
November (4)
October (3)
September (5)
August (5)
July (4)
June (4)
May (4)
April (4)
March (7)
February (4)
January (4)
2012
December (5)
November (5)
October (4)
September (2)
August (6)
July (6)
June (4)
May (5)
April (5)
March (1)
February (5)
January (4)

Sermon for Remembrance Sunday 2018

11th Nov 2018


Sermon for Remembrance Sunday 2018

Wisdom 3.4  ‘Our hope is rich in immortality’.

 

The readings which have been set for Remembrance Sunday this year seem a little strange, and they seem only to provide subtle hints on the meaning of our Remembrance commemoration this morning. But if we are to see biblical literature in broad brush strokes, two of our readings, from the Old Testament the Book of Jonah and the New Testament Letter to the Hebrews represent an expression which is direct and unyielding. Jonah is a Jesus like figure in that for all time his rescue from the belly of the whale offers a signal pointer to the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. The writer of the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the Cross is the one true sacrifice which emerges out of God’s own love and from which all other loves depend.

 

For Christians the figure of sacrifice is not just a figure of speech but central to our identity as human beings. Our understanding of God is that in sending his own Son to die on the Cross we come to know what ‘the full extent of his love’. We cannot speak of God or of Jesus without recourse to the language and the acceptance of real sacrifice for the sake of others. Remembrance Sunday dares to imagine that human sacrifice on such a great scale must never be forgotten, must be always remembered, since it has the power to reconcile ourselves to ourselves and the world as it is. It is the hope of life which emerges out of death.

 

On Thursday of this week I was in the company for some eight hundred primary schoolchildren at the Quaker Meeting House on the Euston Road. The children had spent some weeks immersing themselves in all the material out of which this Remembrance Sunday draws its abiding strength. Out of their own witness came a great commemorative event in which wreaths of poppies and origami birds, cranes, were laid at their own giant cenotaph, after which they held their own two minutes’ silence, pledging that they become peace makers and that they walk confidently into a future in which dedicated peace-making was to be actively pursued. The schoolchildren of Camden paid homage to the dead and at the same time drew strength from the enormity of their example and sacrifice.

 

On this piece of paper is written the seventy-two names of mostly very young men from our own small parish who died during the Great War. We can hardly imagine that the deaths of these young men, who had no doubt come to Sunday school here at Holy Cross, and perhaps joined the Church Lads’ Brigade impacted upon this small community in King’s Cross. We may imagine the parish priest, Fr Baverstock and his curates visiting the bereaved wives and offering help to the families in their loss. The life of this parish would have been devastated by such a great dense amount of local grief. The lives of the young men who had hardly begun really living; literally cut down even before they  entered their prime. And the Church had to continue to proclaim Christ and live out its God given vocation in the midst of it all.

 

With all the remembering of the dead the numb feelings of grief and the feeling of the utter waste of it all, which was so well and necessarily expressed by the war poets. As it is hard to imagine how it was, so it is hard to imagine the great gap between the lost hopes and dreams of the dead young men of the trenches and the hopes of the schoolchildren of present day Camden. And yet a thread runs through them which is a strong thread of hope for our common humanity and in which the grim events of the past give way to the persistence of faith and of hope. Above all the willingness to serve the greater good in the giving of oneself to the tough maintenance of active and self-sacrificial peace in whatever shape or form that might take. Discovering this vocation in our own lives in our own way and in our own sphere of activity and involvement.

 

A Remembrance Sunday sermon could so easily give way to pious words or empty theological assurances. This is perhaps why a silence forms the centre piece of our Remembrance Sunday observances. A silence shared by so many millions across the world and which proves more eloquent than all the words which surround it, even though these words can be important and help us in understanding of things that are very difficult to fully fathom. But the pledge and the expression; the hope for our future must be expressed and enjoined even while we remember the dead.For our hope is as the Wisdom writer reminds us, 'rich in immortality'.

 

Let our prayers this morning be joined with those who have gone before us and particularly our parish men who laid down their lives over one hundred years ago. May our prayers echo the hopes of today’s Camden schoolchildren, and may our own prayers today reflect something of the Christian call to diligent service and sacrifice which is the mark of the One God and of His Son Jesus Christ, who with the refreshing Holy Spirit are one God, world without end. Amen.