Sermon for November 13, 2022 – Remembrance Sunday
Wisdom 3:1-9; Psalm 116:1-8; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 11:21-27
Ed was born on a cold December day in 1925. Life in Northern New Jersey was not easy for he and his brothers. Coming of age during the Great Depression and living in a post-World War I America, there is no doubt that Ed grew up listening to the stories of those who returned from the trenches of war-torn Europe. There is no doubt that Ed, hearing these stories of violence and death, stories of heroism and valor, was looking for his way out of his neighborhood in order to make his own way in the world. In his youthful mind, I am sure he inwardly digested these war stories leaning into those themes of brotherhood, valor, and glory, all the while blissfully unaware of the brutal realities of war.
Unfortunately, he did not have to wait long until he got his chance to step-up and serve. War broke out in Europe again, threatening to engulf the entire continent. As war raged an ocean away, Ed saw the news reels in the movie theaters and the headlines in newspapers. In those waning years of his adolescence, he knew that the world had plunged into uncertain chaos. Though the United States had yet to enter the war, Ed and others like him were no doubt wondering if and when Americans would be called upon again to enter into a global military conflict.
Then, on December 7th, 1941, in an ocean on the other side of the world, just before 8:00 o’clock in the morning the air and naval forces of Japan launched a surprise attack on the American military installations at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. This unprovoked attack was the catalyst for the United States to abandon its neutral stance and join the ongoing war effort.
So, in 1941, at the tender age of eighteen, an age when we know absolutely everything about the world and yet nothing at all, Ed willingly enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. After undergoing basic training at Parris Island, SC Ed was deployed to Southeast Asia where he would serve for the remainder of the war. Ed would luckily survive the war and returned home to New Jersey ready to start a family and begin the next chapter of his life. Ed would go on to live a full life, so that when he died peacefully at the age of 83, he left behind a wife of 58 years, three children, numerous grandchildren, and even a great-grandchild.
Whenever I asked my grandfather about his time in the war, he never told me stories about battles. He never told me stories about the things he saw or experienced in the jungles of Southeast Asia. Whenever I asked him about the war, he told me of his friends. He would tell me about the different people he went through basic training with. He told me stories about the friendships he made, the band of brothers who lifted him up and supported him while he was over there in order to endure the brutal horrors of war. More often than not, he spoke of his friends who did not return home; the friends from high school, from training, from his platoon… those whom grew up with, but would never see again.
I think for my grandfather he didn’t want to remember the pain and the suffering. I don’t think he enjoyed recalling those hard moments of fear and death that haunted him at every turn. I don’t think he wanted to further glorify the horrors of war. I think he wanted to remember those who mattered most to him by telling me these stories, stories of real people, in order that their memory might continue to live on long after their death. By remembering them and retelling their stories, he was keeping them alive in his heart, which I imagine provided him with a deep sense of love and comfort; especially when the darker memories tried to creep into his heart and mind.
This is my grandfather, Edward Schoeck’s story. His story is shared by millions upon millions of men and women throughout history who have answered the call to serve their country, by willingly stepping forward to offer their lives. And on this day of remembrance, that is precisely what we do this day, we remember. We remember their lives, their stories so that we may never forget.
Remember…remember. It’s a powerful word. We may take it as a simple process, but to remember means that whatever it is we are remembering, a person or a moment, continues to live on in our hearts and in our minds. If we choose not to remember, then we forget, and that person or moment will be lost in time forever. And that is where Mary and Martha are standing in our gospel story today. They are standing in that place of fear and unknown of what will happen to their brother Lazarus. They are afraid that in death he is gone and lost forever; that in death he has gone somewhere where they cannot follow. They are surrounded by their own grief and sorrow; their own fears and doubts. They are lamenting the death of their brother, Lazarus, and they are literally crying out to God in Jesus Christ, “Lord, if you had been there, my brother would not have died.” Her cry is drenched in desperation. You can feel the weight of hopelessness as her gaze is looking back at what was.
And it is that feeling of hopelessness that is so beautifully captured in our reading from the Book of Wisdom. From these verses we get a clear sense that the author is writing to people who also find themselves at a crossroads; teetering between hope and despair. The author writes:
“…the souls of the righteous are in the hands of God…no torment will ever touch them…they seemed to have died and their departure was thought to be a disaster…but they are at peace…their hope is full of immortality…the faithful will abide with him in love…”
The author acknowledges that in death our loved one’s departure from us seems like a disaster; and in moments like this yes, it does feel disastrous. Questions begin swirling in our minds:
How will we live without them?
What do we do now?
How do we sift through a lifetime of stuff and make choices on what we keep and what we give away?
Will the pain ever stop?
It is all too easy to become overwhelmed and lost. Yet, even as these heavy questions weigh on our hearts and minds, we are still given hope, as the author assures us that in death there is no torment, but peace as our loved ones now abide with God.
So, Jesus responds to Martha’s lament by reorienting her gaze not backwards in what once was, but forwards towards what will be.
Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” Jesus reminds Martha that we will all die, but through our faith in him we will not die to sin but have eternal life. Jesus gives them and us a hopeful future upon which we can fix our gaze; a bearing that guides us through this earthly pilgrimage and leads us to God. Jesus gives us hope in something better to come. In this hope, if we remember, then the ones we love are never truly gone. You can always find them in your heart.
With that hope in our hearts, as we remember all of those who in the life of the parish and in our own lives who offered their life for the service of their country, we would do well to also remember the saints of this community who have given us what we have today. It is our responsibility as stewards of this sacred space to carry on the mission of God; to carry what was started by others, to nurture and care for it, so that we might pass this special place on to others who will then become the stewards of All Saints in their time. As we reflect on our role here, and how it is that will we act on our call to serve, we remember the stories of those who came before us. We remember and hold in our hearts the stories of the men and women who lost their lives in the service of this country, and we call to mind all the individuals and families who made this place what it is today. We may not serve our country in time of war or peace, but we are all called to serve God and I am grateful that each of you are part of this parish family so that we can do this together.
At the heart of our Eucharistic prayers that we hear each and every week, are the words of Jesus, who said, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me…This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” All that we do here and beyond these walls we do in remembrance of him. We engage in these rituals because it helps us keep the memory of Jesus alive in our hearts and minds. We do them every week because we experience the tangible benefits of remembering in this way. And so it is then, that on this day when we remember that in the midst of chaos and death of a global war, peace can be achieved, we also remember the saints of All Saints, and all whom we love and see no longer. In their shining examples of selfless service to their country, to this parish, and to their God, may we too remember their sacrifices, so that we too may follow in their footsteps and carry on; carrying on their memory in our hearts and continuing their good work in the world. Remember. Remember.
Amen.
