Prelude Air from Water Music Suite No 1 by George Frideric Handel
Two Minutes’ Silence
Our service this week will begin with the customary Two Minutes’ Silence, in honour and remembrance of those who have laid down their lives in war.
[silence]
They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning,
We will remember them.
Opening Words from Spirit of Time and Place by Cliff Reed
We gather to share our faith in the spirit of freedom,
our doubts, in the spirit of honesty.
We gather to focus our love in prayer,
to send it to those who suffer and grieve –
in our own community, and in the wider world.
We gather to strengthen the good that is in us,
that goodness may be stronger on the earth.
We gather to worship.
Chalice Lighting (you may wish to light a candle in your own home at this point. (words by Cliff Reed)
Out of the fires of war
let us kindle the chalice of peace.
Out of the fury of battle
let us create a passion for peace.
Out of the turmoil of conscience
let us weave the calm of peace.
In the one Spirit that we share
let us celebrate the vision
of a world made just and free –
and find the strength to build it,
a little at a time.
Opening Prayer
Spirit of Life and Love,
be with us as we gather for worship,
each in our own place.
Help us to feel a sense of community,
even though we are physically apart.
Help us to care for each other,
in this world in which the clouds
of war, poverty, and climate change hover,
and help us to make a difference,
starting where we are, with what we have.
May we keep in touch however we can,
and help each other, however we may.
May we be grateful for the freedoms we have
and respect the wishes of others.
May we hold in our hearts all those
who are grieving, lost, alone,
victims of violence and war,
suffering in any way,
Amen
Story: King Asoka’s Repentance by Stephen Shick
Victorious, but with a heavy heart, King Asoka looked out over the battlefield of Kalinga, a kingdom he would now annex to form his vast empire. He was the third Emperor of the Maurya dynasty, and he ruled most of the Indian sub-continent.
Asoka was moved to deep sorrow by the carnage he had inflicted, and the sight of 100,000 dead and 150,000 taken into captivity. In his meditation on the horror of what he saw, he mentioned the burning stick of anger that his Buddhist tradition warned against holding.
Asoka spent the rest of his life teaching that insight into oneself and respect for others were the essence of both religion and politics. He ordered his life, his royal household, and his kingdom by the Buddhist precepts of loving kindness, compassion, empathic joy, and equanimity. Edicts conveying these truths were carved in stone and placed throughout the kingdom. Asoka’s reign reflected his belief that moral practice could be elevated through meditation and insight.
A change of heart can change the course of a life and of history. It can move us to erect noble tablets at the borders of all we say and do. May it be so.
Alternative Lord’s Prayer
Spirit of Life and Love, here and everywhere,
May we be aware of your presence in our lives.
May our world be blessed.
May our daily needs be met,
And may our shortcomings be forgiven,
As we forgive those of others.
Give us the strength to resist wrong-doing,
The inspiration and guidance to do right,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
We are your hands in the world; help us to grow.
May we have compassion for all living beings,
And receive whatever life brings,
With courage and trust.
Amen
Reading Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
— Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
Prayer For Remembrance Sunday by Chris Goacher
Spirit of Life and Love, known by many names and none.
We gather in thankful remembrance of those
who have sacrificed their lives for the freedom and safety of others;
but also in shame at the wars we have failed to stop
and the actions taken in our name.
Bless those who mourn, and those whose lives are blighted
by such terrible memories, be they military or civilian.
Bless those who carry the scars of war with them
for the rest of their lives, and those who care for them.
Bless those whose safety is currently compromised through war
and violence at this time, no matter where in the world.
May forgiveness be found, personally and nationally,
that all can learn to live in peace.
We acknowledge that death recognises not the colour of uniform,
nor the age or gender of victim.
That death and destruction come because of
our failure – our greed – our indifference.
Let us dedicate ourselves to the greatest remembrance of all –
that war should be no more.
For a future to be possible. May our prayers be heard. Amen
Reading by Frank Walker, from Voices Speaking Peace (adapted)
We remember at this time especially all those suffering in the fighting in Gaza, the Ukraine, Yemen, Syria, and everywhere else in our conflicted world.
We pray for an end to the conflict and for a change in people’s hearts so that
they shall work together for a just and lasting peace.
We remember all those who have lost children, parents, relatives and friends in the fighting, who are full of grief and sorrow.
Give them strength to find the ways that reconcile and heal.
We remember all the victims of war and violence the world over; in Gaza, in the Yemen, in Ethiopia, in Burkina Faso, in Libya, in Iran, Iraq and the Persian Gulf, in North Korea and in Kashmir, to name but a few.
We remember all those falsely and unjustly imprisoned on account of their political and religious beliefs, and we pray for their deliverance, that even in their time of suffering, the fruits of the spirit will grow richly within them.
We pray for all those who are working for the comfort and release of prisoners
of conscience.
We remember all who are working in the United Nations and in its specialised agencies for the health and healing of the nations.
Especially we pray for all those working in the United Nations for disarmament
and for the constructive, peaceful use of human talents and the world’s wealth.
We remember all in positions of power and responsibility, those in government who take decisions that affect the lives of millions.
We pray that they shall feel as a great creative force the longing of people everywhere for peace.
We pray that they shall seek not the way of pride and vainglory and purely selfish advantage but seek the ways that reconcile and build up the common good of all peoples.
Time of Stillness and Reflection Be Gentle by Richard S. Gilbert
Be gentle with one another
The cry comes out of the hurting heart of humanity.
It comes from the lives of those battered
With thoughtless words and brutal deeds;
It comes from the lips of those who speak them,
And the lives of those who do them.
Be gentle with one another. . .
Who of us can look inside another and know
What is there of hope and hurt, or promise and pain?
Who can know from what far places each has come
Or to what far places each may hope to go?
Our lives are like fragile eggs. . .
They are brittle. . .
They crack and the substance escapes. . .
Handle with Care!
Handle with exceeding, tender care, for there are
Human beings, there within.
Human beings, vulnerable as we are vulnerable;
Who feel as we feel,
Who hurt as we hurt.
[silence]
Life is too transient to be cruel with one another.
It is too short for thoughtlessness.
Too brief for hurting.
Life is long enough for caring,
It is lasting enough for sharing,
Precious enough for Love.
Be gentle with one another.
Musical Interlude The Askhokan Farewell by Jay Ungar
Address For Remembrance Sunday
I’d like to begin this Remembrance Sunday address by repeating some of the words of the prayer by Unitarian minister, Chris Goacher, which I used towards the beginning of the service: “We gather in thankful remembrance of those who have sacrificed their lives for the freedom and safety of others, but also in shame at the wars we have failed to stop and the actions taken in our name. … Let us dedicate ourselves to the greatest remembrance of all – that war should be no more.”
These few words really sum up what I want to say today: that we should be grateful to, and remember with respect, those who sacrificed their lives that we might have peace, but also in sad reflection on the indifferent use we have made of it. It is a desperate irony that World War One was called “The War to End All Wars”, and yet, more than one hundred years on, humankind still seems unable to stop the fighting, the bloodshed, the cruelty, and wars continue to be fought the world over, for reasons of fear, and misunderstanding, the hunger for power, and the despising of the other.
So how can we dedicate ourselves to that “greatest remembrance of all – that war should be no more”? How can we, as individuals, and as Unitarian communities, witness for peace? How can we ‘do our bit’? How can we make a difference?
I don’t find it at all straightforward, this witnessing for peace. The words of Ryan Dueck, the Mennonite pastor, ring uneasily true for me. He asks questions that I, that we, need to answer.
He writes, “Am I a pacifist? Well, yeah, I guess so. But what does it even mean for me — a middle-class white Canadian whose experience has never even remotely been affected by war — to say this? I am antiwar. OK, fine. I am also anti-cancer, anti-poverty, anti-racism, and, well, just generically anti-bad-things-happening-in-the-world. So what? Who cares about my shiny ideological artifacts shaped and preserved in a vacuum of privilege?”
Ouch. It is only too easy for privileged Westerners such as myself to be “anti-everything” when I have never been directly affected by it. There are still people living, such as my father, who was directly affected by war, who grew up in World War II, who did his two years’ National Service, and whose views on war and peace are very different to mine. For several Remembrance Sundays in recent years, he led the British Legion’s annual Service of Remembrance in Rugeley, to a congregation of seven or eight hundred. I cannot help respecting his witness, that war, particularly World War Two, was necessary to counteract a greater evil, that of Nazism.
So like Ryan Dueck, I am torn. I do have days “where I think Jesus can have his precious peace because it doesn’t work in a world like ours. Days where I think that, for the sake of the innumerable innocent victims of the violent whims of men, Jesus has no right to demand it of us. Days when I try to look at the world through the lenses of other people —people who have lived their whole lives looking over the fence of my privilege, people who are not afforded the luxury of theorizing or theologizing about peace and violence — and it just doesn’t fit.”
And it makes me angry. Angry with myself for not appreciating their points of view. Angry with our privileged Western society, whose governments seem to think of war as the go-to solution for all international crises. Angry with the arms trade, making money out of the misery of both sides of every conflict. Angry with the Western media, whipping up suspicion and fear of the very small minority of militant Muslims, to such an extent that the moderate, peaceful majority are hounded and attacked on the streets of this country. Which turns their young men into understandably easy pickings for the propaganda of such evil organisations as Islamic State.
Angry … but what does this accomplish? Nothing.
Again like Dueck, I do not believe that war is the answer – as he remarks wryly, “war has not accomplished much. To almost no one’s surprise, freedom and democracy — those wonderful words we love to throw around — have not been realized through violence. Shocker, I know. Violence breeds violence. It always has and it always will.”
Even World War Two, which started out as a Just War, rapidly escalated into violence against innocent civilians with mass bombings of cities on all sides, cumulating in the twin horrors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Ah, it’s hard to be proud of being human, sometimes.
Once again, I ask the questions: how can we dedicate ourselves to that “greatest remembrance of all – that war should be no more”? How can we, as individuals, and as Unitarian communities, witness for peace? How can we ‘do our bit’? How can we make a difference?
I think we have to start where we are. It’s all about compassion – trying to empathise with other people by imagining ourselves in their shoes. Pretty darn difficult, I know, yet the attempt should be made. There is a lot of nasty anti-refugee sentiment in this country at present – people who know little about what the refugees are fleeing from, yet are full of self-righteous NIMBYism – not in my back yard. Yet can you blame them – the refugees, I mean – for trying to escape from conditions of violence and starvation, for being willing to risk everything for the chance to keep themselves and their children safe? I’m sure we have all seen the horrific pictures on the news of the conditions in places like Gaza, where people are starving, desperate. No-one deserves to live like that.
I would like you all to stop and think for a moment, about how desperate you would have to be to leave everyone and everything you know in the slim hope of a better life in a foreign land. [silence]
I am not naive enough to believe that we can “make it all better” by witnessing for peace and compassion. But we can at least try to be compassionate, where we are. I love the words of Frederick Buechner about how we act towards strangers can have a real knock-on effect. He writes: “As we move around this world, and as we act with kindness, perhaps, or with indifference or with hostility towards the people we meet, we are setting the great spider web atremble. The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn touches another, until who knows where the trembling stops, or in what far place my touch will be felt.”
So let’s try to be kind to each other, to our fellow human beings. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Yet how often do we fall short of this ideal, in the words we say, in our actions? Because, as I was once told, there are always three sides to any argument (or, indeed, any situation): your side, their side, and the right one.
I believe that only God can see the whole picture – we as imperfect mortals can only have a partial view. But, we can at least try to see, to understand, the point of view of the other, rather than becoming entrenched behind our own viewpoints, which can easily lead to us acting out with prejudice, fear, distrust and even hatred.
And this applies not only to people of other countries, other faiths, but also to our neighbours, the members of our local community. Whose views may be very different from our own. Who are we to say that their views are invalid, wrong? Who are we to say that we have the only correct view?
I guess I’m saying that we ought to at least try to listen to the views of other people, before instantly leaping to judgement. Because if we had their life experiences, our views might also be different. Or perhaps to realise that even people whose views are different from our own are still “unique, precious, children of God,” as the Quakers have it.
Perhaps we can each make a resolution to reach out in friendship to our neighbours, to our friends, and even to casually-met strangers. Perhaps if we witness for peace in our own lives, this might have a knock-on effect such as Frederick Buechner describes. What might Unitarians be able to achieve, if we live with this aim in our minds and hearts? Who knows what we might be able to achieve, if we are brave enough to reach out in friendship, reach out in compassion, witness for peace?
I would like to finish by repeating part of Richard Gilbert’s beautiful meditation, which formed the background to our time of stillness and reflection:
Be gentle with one another
The cry comes out of the hurting heart of humanity.
It comes from the lives of those battered
With thoughtless words and brutal deeds;
It comes from the lips of those who speak them,
And the lives of those who do them.
Be gentle with one another. . .
Who of us can look inside another and know
What is there of hope and hurt, or promise and pain?
Who can know from what far places each has come
Or to what far places each may hope to go?…
Life is too transient to be cruel with one another.
It is too short for thoughtlessness.
Too brief for hurting.
Life is long enough for caring,
It is lasting enough for sharing,
Precious enough for Love.
Be gentle with one another.
May it be so, now and in the days and months ahead. Amen
Benediction by John Philip Carter
Our time together is ended,
we have heard that ancient call to be a people united
in love, in peace, in joy,
to be a people of vision, seeing a world
where peace and justice rule
where all are welcomed and celebrated
where love governs.
We have heard this vision, and now we go forth to make it our reality. Amen
Postlude Benedictus from The Armed Man by Karl Jenkins