Remembrance Sunday

I went to a church service today, the first time for many years. It was Remembrance Sunday, commemorating war dead, a civic occasion, as my photos illustrate, with attendance by the Mayor, Member of Parliament, police chief, local Air Force chief and so on; with a band (sea cadets), a saluting platform, wreaths placed at the War Memorial in the churchyard, prayers outside with the assembled crowd and finally a service in the ancient Parish Church, in the middle of the town centre. The procession of worthies went in by the West door, while we the ordinary people went in by the South Door.

Civic services are not just non-denominational: they don’t assume the worshippers are all Christians, or even believers in God. The Mayor is sometimes a Muslim or atheist, but—I get the fact from my own biography of a former mayor—is expected to attend about a dozen civic services in the Parish Church during his year of ceremonial office. (He or she is a temporary monarch of the town, attending public events and so on.)

We liked our experimental church attendance so much that we plan to do it often; though on the non-civic occasions I suppose they will be rather more Christian in tone. In his sermon the preacher asked us to think what are the qualities of a leader, before offering his own suggestion: the leader should be humble. One of the uses of God (I paraphrase his words) is to be someone higher than all the politicians and persons of power, reminding them to be humble. I liked that.

What I liked most was to feel embraced within the community. The Church of England represents centuries of peaceful tradition in this country. Its head is the reigning monarch who (in principle) appoints the Archbishop of Canterbury. In practice it’s a very tolerant church, wanting to bring everyone together in unity.

I was astonished at one of the hymns we sang for this Remembrance Sunday. Here it is in full:

God of the nations, God of all who live,
How many gave us all they had to give!
Now, in remembrance of our nation’s dead,
In honesty and pride let prayers be said.

Some died sustained by promises of success
Some in defeat’s despair and bitterness;
Some died the victims of incompetence:
Through years of peril they were our defence.

‘When you remember us,’ we hear them cry,
‘Take greater care how you let others die;
Whatever god you worship, or if none,
Pray that the nations learn to live as one.’

We lay our wreaths, perform the simple rite,
Anxious that we may see in clearer light,
As those for whom a nation’s blood was shed,
How best to serve the living and the dead.

It’s by Fred Pratt Green. I never thought to sing a hymn which included the word “incompetence”. Today’s experience healed a sore that’s festered in me since I was fifteen, rebelling against the rituals of school. My headmaster was passionate for the Church and the Armed Forces in equal measure. I reacted with equal and opposite passion and remained a vague agnostic and pacifist ever since.

Now I see the point. The lost sheep is returning to the fold.