[SB] Sabbath Blessing

[Molly Wolf]

Abide With Me

It's not a hymn of which I'm ordinarily particularly fond, but this 
performance (by Mary Margararet O'Hara, with solo violin and a small backup 
ensemble, on CBC radio yesterday) was so striking that I paused in clearing 
the kitchen counter and simply listened.  The singer held the Victorian 
tune out with complete simplicity: a plain, clear rendition that neither 
hid the melody's emotion nor wallowed in it. It was direct, poignant, and 
to the point. It was about as counter-post-modern as a song can get, 
especially in its frankness about death and our deep need for God.

It was the right song for the day.

We take November 11th seriously, on this northern side of the Canada/U.S. 
border; it is our day to remember those who died in war. Our "great war" 
was World War I. Our collective memory of that terrible experience is 
somber and reverent. It was foundational to this country's psyche -- the 
horror, the endurance, and the courage of the young men who suffered so 
terribly and died in their thousands. There were only 7,800,000 people in 
Canada in those years, and we lost 61,000 killed and 150,000 wounded. There 
are only a handful left of veterans from that war still alive, but they're 
national treasures -- as are the veterans of World War II.

And so, for the early days of November, we wear red poppies on our jackets 
(they always fall off, and we always end up buying several -- but there's 
no way you'd want to be out without your poppy).  On the morning of 
Remembrance Day, wreaths get laid at cenotaphs from Newfoundland to British 
Columbia, and now-elderly men turn out in their veterans' berets and blue 
coats and medals to receive our thanks. At the 11th hour of the 11th day of 
the 11th month, which is when the Armistice ending the war was signed in 
1918, we observe two minutes of silence, right across the 
country.  Whatever we're doing physically, collectively we grind to a halt.

It's all so completely simple, full of feeling, full of old-fashioned 
values like reverence and honour. We're not overtly religious about it -- 
Canada doesn't shout about God -- but God lurks very close beneath the 
surface of our memorials. It's like us to play "Abide With Me" on national 
radio; it suits. It feels right. There's a lot of that sort of music on CBC 
on November 11th.

We were lucky, we Canadians; our first experience of Real War was so 
terrible that we've never really acquired a taste for it. Glory got its 
tushie kicked out the door very early in the game; we never had the chance 
to be deluded. The Canadian field doctor John McCrea, who wrote "In 
Flanders Field," wrote it after holding a memorial service for his close 
friend, who had been blown into pieces. They wrapped the pieces in a 
blanket for the service.  McCrea wrote of poppies blooming among the graves 
and larks in the air above, but he wrote from a place of sheer horror.  We 
don't forget that.

We're too small a country to be anybody's saviour. Imperial pretensions? 
Not a chance. At our best, we can be peace's servants in peaceable ways. We 
were, after all, the folks who invented military peacekeeping.  We're lucky 
in that we're a country at peace, but we serve peace in countries still 
locked in the hell of war. And that is as it should be.

It's also as it should be that for this one day, we sit with the dead and 
the living who suffered so much and laid down their lives for peace's sake 
-- not really for Canada's sake, although they served this country, for 
Canada was never directly at risk. There's no glorifying war in our 
remembrance, no flag-waving, little overt patriotism.  Instead, our mood is 
calm and reflective and dark. The only bright moment is the sound of the 
trumpet sounding the Last Post, which calls everyone home to rest.

May the souls of all who have died in the service of peace be safe in the 
palm of God's hands.  May they rest in peace and rise in glory.  May those 
who have been wounded in the service of peace find comfort and healing. May 
the families who of those who serve for peace's sake find support and 
comfort, and may they get their loved ones home again.  May peace always be 
our only aim, for blessed are the peacemakers. I ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.

http://www.warmuseum.ca/cwm/remember/remembranceday_e.html




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I'm about to hit some sacred cows, and they moo so badly. -- Phyllis 
Tickle, aka The Divine Miz T.