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Dear Friends,
I’ve always wanted to go to Venice, and as the years
have gone by I have become familiar with its sights through
pictures in books, documentaries on television and films made
there - and of course in the works of Canaletto. I had an idea
of what it was like, and the sights to look out for. A recent
holiday there, brought me face to face with these sites - St
Mark’s Square, the Rialto and the Doge’s Palace,
and in a way they were just as I had imagined them. Yet there
was something different about being there, about experiencing
the sights and sounds of the real Venice.
November is a month of Remembrance, especially as we remember
those who gave their lives in two world wars, and in the many
conflicts since 1945, right up to Afghanistan today. All of
us have read and heard so much about these conflicts, particularly
World War One, and visited the sites, the battlefields and
the cemeteries, and yet we realise that although we can know
a lot about the conflicts and the details, if we were not there
we can never appreciate the horrors of war.
There is a poem by an RAF pilot once quoted by Eric James,
which includes the line “Best say nothing”, the
poet’s wish not to forget but at the same time not wanting
to speak about the things that he experienced. Many people
will probably feel the same way about the things that they
went through.
One of the most poignant parts of Remembrance Sunday is the
two minutes silence; it is at that moment that we literally
can say nothing. For no words that we can add can adequately
sum up the thoughts and memories of those who fought, we simply
remain silent, in quiet gratitude to those who gave their lives
in the conflicts of the twentieth century.
Our view of God has changed in the twentieth century as we
have coped with the shadows cast by two world wars. In the
midst of wholesale slaughter and terrible atrocities, some
have found their faith destroyed, while others have asked not
just “why” but “where is God”. There
is a story told about one particular atrocity when a dozen
teenagers were randomly arrested and hanged by the Nazis in
occupied Holland. A voice shouted out “Where is God” and
another shouted out “he is there suffering with them”.
We see God, not as immoveable but moved by the sufferings of
his people, with them in their Gethsemane moments, their times
of desolation. Our understanding of God has changed over the
last hundred years, as we have comprehended suffering around
us. And yet in the giving of His son and the horror of the
crucifixion, we see sacrifice and suffering within the Trinity.
So, it is not God that changes but our glimpses of Him.
This Remembrance Sunday, we remember, in the quiet of the two
minutes, the lives of those who fell in conflict and the God
who stands beside all who suffer.
Mark.
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