Sermon for November 12, 2023 – Remembrance Sunday
The readings appointed for Remembrance Sunday are the same readings we heard at our All Souls chapel service. Each in their own way speaks to our relationship with death and the hope of eternal life after death. They touch on our fears of what happens in and through death. The author of Wisdom allays our fears as they write, “In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died, and their departure was thought to be a disaster and their going from us to be their destruction, but they are at peace.” And in our gospel, we too can find ourselves standing with Martha, wondering if Jesus had somehow been present, then Lazarus would not have died, our loved ones would not have died. And it is in that acute moment of deep loss that Jesus reminds Martha that death is an end, but not the end as he says, “Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”
We hear these readings about death and life because they help us to remember the ones we love but see no longer. We remember that death is indeed an end, and we remember that it is also a beginning. We remember the great sacrifices that people made in offering their lives to combat evil. Though this day of remembrance was born from the triumph of good versus evil in the wake of the Great War, the battles against the evil darkness in the heart of humanity continues to this day, so we remember. We remember to honor those who choose to fight for the commonwealth. We remember in order to never forget, so that we try not to repeat the mistakes of the past. We remember that peace can be achieved.
How do you define peace? Is it purely the absence of armed conflict? How would you describe how peace feels?
It is a word that Jesus uses often, especially as he greets his friends after his resurrection, “Peace be with you.” Jesus says “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” Even the traditional blessing we use from Paul’s letter to the Philippians, “And the peace of God, that passes all understanding…”
Peace, shalom, is at the heart of God’s creation and the heart of Jesus’ teachings. The peace of God is harmony, wholeness, completeness, prosperity, welfare, and tranquility. Peace is physical, emotional, even spiritual. Would we recognize peace if saw it? If we felt it?
When I made my first pilgrimage to the Holy Land almost twenty-five years ago in the early summer of 1999, there was a real sense that a lasting peace could finally be achieved. Since its inception as an independent democratic Jewish state in 1948, Israel’s history has been marked by violence, death, and destruction. In fact, even before the founding of the modern state of Israel, the land has been conquered and reconquered by the major civilizations of the day from the Assyrians and Babylonians to the Romans and the Ottomans. Since its founding as King David’s capital, the city of Jerusalem has been completely destroyed twice, besieged twenty-three times, captured and recaptured forty-four times, and attacked fifty-two times. From the time Joshua and the Israelites crossed the Jordan into the Promised Land up to this very morning, the history of this Holy Land is written in blood. And for the first time in a long time, there was genuine hope for peace.
As we traveled in the footsteps of Jesus, there were no walls and only a few checkpoints. People moved more freely between Israeli and Palestinian controlled territories making it relatively easy to visit holy sites in the Palestinian controlled West Bank. This was before the Second Intifada, so we were not only able to freely visit the Temple Mount, but non-Muslims were still welcome to enter the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque. I remember visiting a newly created collaborative craft store just outside of Bethlehem, where Palestinians sold varied crafts from clothes, to handblown glassware, and of course the usual hand carved olive wood pieces. There was a real hope that they would all benefit from the constant flow of pilgrims visiting Bethlehem and other sites in the area.
When I returned to the Holy Land sixteen years later in the summer of 2015 on my second pilgrimage, the hope that was once so palpable had faded. Years before, simmering tensions between Israelis and Palestinians erupted into full blown violence as Palestinian terrorist attacks were met with strength and force. No longer were we allowed inside the Dome of the Rock. A series of fences and cement walls were being erected to completely surround the West Bank. As I stood in Nativity Square awaiting my turn to enter into the Church of the Nativity built over the grotto where Jesus was born, the wall being erected were just meters away. Checkpoints were more numerous, and it was more difficult for us to cross in and out of the West Bank to visit holy sites, including Bethlehem. Due to recent rocket activity near the airport in Tel Aviv flights to Israel ceased for a few months, and since then tourist and pilgrims still had not returned in numbers that help to sustain the pilgrimage economy. The collective was gone, and with it, a hope that peace would be achieved, and not just the cessation of hostilities, but a real balance in which everyone, Israeli and Palestinian alike, enjoyed the freedoms of autonomy and self-determination.
When I returned three years later in 2018 for my third and latest pilgrimage, the situation had gotten worse. The stones of the churches were still there, all of the holy sites were still there, but hope for a deep lasting peace was long gone. Aggressive Jewish settlements in Palestinian Territories and in East Jerusalem continued to cut up Palestinian lands like Swiss cheese, with the settlements popping up on choice lands and leaving Palestinians with the remaining lands. As I once again stood in Nativity Square the wall was complete and covered with graffiti messages of hope and liberation. Bethlehem is completely surrounded and cut off from the rest of the world. Access to water, electricity, and other basic essentials to daily life are heavily regulated. And now with the recent horrific terrorist attics by Hamas and Israel’s continued violent and destructive response hope for peace is nowhere to be found. What makes this even worse is that it is civilians, innocent women and children who are dying and paying the blood price for continued conflict. The director-general of the WHO said on Friday that a child is killed every ten minutes in the Gaza Strip. By the time I am done preaching this sermon at least one more child will die. ‘Nowhere and no one is safe,” he said.
As we continue to watch the violence and destruction in Gaza unfold in real time, we can’t help but stand with Martha, crying out to God wondering if Jesus were here things would be different. What can we do when all hope is gone? It is in moments like this, even when we are surrounded by death, that death doesn’t have the final say, evil doesn’t have the final say. God does. Through the resurrection of Jesus God has shown us that our inhumanity will not win, but rather the love and peace of God will win out. And when we find ourselves in these hopeless places, where action seems impossible, I turn to prayer. Out of the depths of my anger, my frustration, my pain I cry out to God and let God know the depths of my heart. Even in the midst of this darkness I trust God. I trust that the peace of God that passes all understanding, the shalom of the Kingdom of God, will have the last say. Just as our psalms of lament start in the dark depths of the human experience of pain, suffering, and loss, they always end in a hope in God to reverse the situation, to make things better, to bring healing and wholeness. Our psalm today reminds us of this hope. Even now, as the cloud of war seeks to extinguish peace, hope remains. That is my prayer on this Remembrance Day; not only am I thankful for all of the men and women who have fought and died in service of their country, but also that a lasting, balanced, and thriving peace can be achieved…one day. And until that day comes, I will not stop praying and hoping and trusting in God. Amen.
