Among my most vivid childhood memories are the times when,

        with my Girl Guide Company,

        I stood in solemn silence remembering.

When we assembled to observe Remembrance Day

    there was the singing of O Canada,

    the recitation of In Flanders Fields,

    and most compellingly for me, the standing in silence.

But what did I, a child born in peacetime with no experience

    or memory of war, remember?

I remembered stories I’d been told.

    Stories such as how the son of the widow who lived next door

    to my family was killed in the dying days of World War II.

As I grew older, and continued to mark two minutes of silence

    on Remembrance Day, there was more to remember;

    stories of people throughout the world for whom conflict and war

    was not a memory, but a daily reality with terrible costs.

And with these stories came the conviction that remembering

    included the imperative to work for peace.

Later still, in 1990, I stood amidst other members of my congregation

    on Remembrance Sunday and hoped to draw some strength

    from their presence.

I had even more to remember now including the stories and faces

    of close to one hundred Canadian soldiers killed in Afghanistan.

Many of their faces were distressingly similar to that of my brother,

    a reservist, who had volunteered to serve in the Middle East.

I prayed for him, as I did every day, longing for his safe return

    and that of his friends and comrades.

A few days later I remembered again in the company

    of the wider community gathered at a local cenotaph,

    and among other yearnings,

    hoped that the following Remembrance Day

    I would not be laying a wreath in my brother’s memory.

What does it mean to remember by marking two minutes of silence,

    wearing a poppy, laying a wreath, or participating in

    other aspects of Remembrance Day ceremonies?

Surely there is a complex web of meanings,

    but Remembrance Day rituals,

    together with the storytelling that accompanies them,

    are meant to help us express and create meaning

    out of the myriad of experiences in our lives,

    particularly those associated with war and armed conflict.

I have heard colleagues say that one hundred years is enough –

    perhaps it is time to end the Remembrance Day rituals in church.

Is participation in the observances beneficial for Christians

    trying to make sense of war,

    and is there a place for them in the context of our worship?

Deciding to engage in Remembrance Day observances,

    or refusing to be part of them,

    involves an interpretation of the meaning

    of the rituals and the stories that undergird them.

Margaret Mary Kelleher, in her article on Liturgical Theology,

    provides a helpful framework for describing and interpreting

    the web of meanings of Remembrance Day rituals.

Kelleher distinguishes among the public meaning of a rite, that is,

    the interpretation that most of the people share who engage in

or carefully observe the ritual; the official meaning which is concerned with the significance the originators or officials give to the rite; and the private meaning referring to the individual significance of the rite to some of the participants.[1]

The official civic focus of Remembrance Day is remembering

    those who died in service to their country

    and that we must work for peace.[2]

The quandary of Canadian Members of Parliament

    about how and when to honour the first anniversary

    of the signing of the Armistice was resolved by King George V.

On 7 November 1919, the king issued a proclamation addressed

    to “all the peoples of the Empire”, calling for a two-minute Silence

    at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month

    “so that in perfect stillness the thoughts of everyone may be

    concentrated on reverent remembrance of the glorious dead”.

The King’s wishes were observed and the impact of the Silence

    led to calls for it to be repeated; in subsequent years

    the ritual was elaborated to include bugle calls before and after

    the Silence, prayers and hymns, recitations,

    and the national anthem.[3]

In 1921, the same year as the poppy was introduced in Canada

    as a symbol for the remembrance of war dead,

    Armistice Day was established as an official holiday in Canada.

Significantly, the legislation was amended in 1931

    to change “Armistice” to “Remembrance” Day and later

    the commemoration expanded to include remembrance of war

    dead from World War II, the Korean War, other conflicts,

and peacekeeping missions.[4]

The focus is remembrance, not militarism or the glorification of war,

    and the two-minute silence was established as the central act of

    remembrance.

Adrian Gregory, in The Silence of Memory,

    explains that the power of the Silence for participants

    was that it provided a public, united action and,

    at the same time, a private commemoration in which individuals

    could be alone with their thoughts.

However, the observance of Armistice Day “was part of a sustained

and creative effort to give meaning and purpose to the terrifying and unexpected experience of mass death”[5]

and from the first anniversary of the Armistice

    there were conflicting interpretations.

    Church and state used the language of sacrifice,

    of both the combatants and their bereaved families,

    to offer consolation;

    the dead had not died in vain but had furthered

    the cause of justice and peace.

At the same time, alternative narratives and interpretations

    were offered by church and society;

    participants must remember (and not forget)

    that the world had not been delivered from the perils of war,

    and militarism had not created peace.

One Hundred years later, Remembrance Day highlights

    the continuing struggle to find some individual and collective

    meaning or purpose in millions more war dead

    in the changing context of our world, its wars, and its weaponry.

Christian communities are not exempt from this struggle;

    especially not a congregation may well include individuals

    whose tendencies range from supportive of the military to pacifist.

Over the years many individuals in our congregation,

    far more than the 42 who died,

    have been caught up in armed conflict or war,

    either as combatants or civilians;

    and all of us have some knowledge of war.

Even biblical readings expose us to images and stories

    of war and military metaphors.

Remembrance Day observances can be a resource in our worship

    to help us respond collectively, within a Christian framework,

    to our war-filled human story and struggles,

but the rituals must be honest and help us evaluate our individual and cultural interpretations of the meaning of war in light of the Gospel.

One way to evaluate if our Remembrance Day observances

    are honest is to apply the criterion Herbert Anderson and Edward

    Foley insist on in Mighty Stories, Dangerous Rituals.

They assert that to be honest our rituals and stories must balance

    parabolic and mythic forms of storytelling.

Myths bring together and reconcile opposites, such as war and peace,

    and boldly create the belief that reconciliation and a better future

    are possible.

Parables focus on contradiction, leave room for ambiguity,

    and face hard realities.[6]

The symbols we use such as poppies and silence,

    and the images we set out in the prayers, hymns,

    readings and sermons must balance comfort and promised stability

with an admission and acknowledgement of the painful, real-life experiences of people, 

and the need for transformation to achieve a more authentic peace and reconciliation.

They need to respond to our struggle to understand when Christians

    can justify war, and call us to recommit ourselves,

    in the words of our baptismal covenant,

    to strive for justice and peace among all people,

    and to respect the dignity of every human being.

Our vision is costly, not cheap, grace; hope, not despair.

    We must evaluate our symbols and actions of Remembrance Day,

    and the stories that undergird them, in light of the gospel.

We need to be intentional about what vision of the Kingdom of God

we are expressing through our observances, and conscious of what they are teaching us 

about who we are and who Jesus Christ is, because we will be shaped and formed by our participation.

But through our participation and action we must also shape

    and interpret our Remembrance Day observances

    so they honestly reflect both our human stories and the gospel.

So, yes, participating in Remembrance Day observances

    can be beneficial for Christians trying to make sense of war

    and loss, and yes, there can be a place for them

    in the context of Christian worship, but only if they are honest

    and help us to evaluate our interpretations

    and justifications of war in light of our own lived experiences

    and understandings.

Whether we have succeeded this year, I will leave to you to decide.