11th November 2018 - Remembrance: The Difficult Task of Legacy

The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918.........and with it the conflagration that consumed a generation of Europe, collapsed three empires and redrew the map of the world as we knew it came to an end.

Popular opinion has, ever since its ending, remembered the First World War as a time of horrendous and futile misery and slaughter, as epitomising political and military leaders’ incompetence and callous disregard for human life. That popular judgement, which has helped turn common opinion against war in general, was correct, and we must not let the war mongers dismiss this instance of the wisdom of ordinary people.

Remembrance of the past does not dilute our responsibilities of today. A commentator on Irish radio made the observation that despite the 1918 Armistice, we are still fighting the battles of World War I just not on the battle fields of western Europe. And he was right - Bosnia, Serbia, Kosovo, Greece v Macedonia, Syria, Iran, Iraq, Palestine, Lebanon, Western Sahara, Libya, Sudan, South Sudan............ The wars of the present moment are the inheritance of that global conflagration. Lines drawn on maps the keys to further conflicts.

But now more than ever we need political leaders who can remind us of the need for peace. In Europe we need to remind ourselves of the uniqueness of the European project, to try to inspire young people and keep in front of us the fact that the greatest benefit has been 70 years of peace. Forget the federalist dream; forget the political machinations; we so desperately need to consolidate what we have and work to finally ending the battles of World War I.

iBenedictines - Remembering and Praying
Armistice Day: remembering the fallen to understand their sacrifice
The end of the Great War should have meant the end of all war
Dangerous Remembrance 
Jesus, remember me
‘Take, Lord, and receive’: Nostalgia, truthful memory and the Great War
Ten lies we’re told to justify the slaughter of 20 million in the First World War

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place: and in the sky

The larks still bravely singing fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead: Short days ago,

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved: and now we lie

In Flanders fields!

Take up our quarrel with the foe

To you, from failing hands, we throw

The torch: be yours to hold it high

If ye break faith with us who die,

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields

To my daughter Betty
Thomas Kettle

IN wiser days, my darling rosebud, blown  
To beauty proud as was your mother's prime,  
In that desired, delayed, incredible time,  
You'll ask why I abandoned you, my own,  
And the dear heart that was your baby throne,          
To dice with death. And oh! they'll give you rhyme  
And reason: some will call the thing sublime,  
And some decry it in a knowing tone.  
So here, while the mad guns curse overhead,  
And tired men sigh with mud for couch and floor,   
Know that we fools, now with the foolish dead,  
Died not for flag, nor King, nor Emperor,—  
But for a dream, born in a herdsman's shed,  
And for the secret Scripture of the poor.