We come together to Remember and Repent ….. and to pray for Reconciliation and a Rebuilding of a happier, fairer, peaceful world where people of all nations can grow to be themselves at their best
Remembering, Repenting, Reconciling and Rebuilding
Two wonderful readings from Ecclesiasties and Luke but I am adding a third reading which is a poem written by Chris for today which are the words of a dead soldier:
Soldier
My soldier’s tag lies on my chest–
I’m one of many in these fields,
we’ve come to rest together,
but none of us is whole in body,
we’ve all been ripped asunder.
My legs are blown off at the hips,
my arms above the elbow.
My skull is broken like a pot,
my brains are smashed to bits.
My guts are spilled out in the mud,
my throat is scorched with gas,
my ribs are cracked, my heart is shot,
my lungs are filled with blood.
Remember please these parts of me,
they once made up a man.
Remember please these parts of me,
so I did not die in vain.
In time black crows patrol these fields
where all of us are scattered,
and poppies grow up through our bones
where all of us lie shattered.
Remember please what we fought for,
for what we did, it mattered.
Remembering, Repenting, Reconciling and Rebuilding
Ecclesiastes reminded us:
“For everything there is a season… a time to be born and a time to die, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time for war and a time for peace.”
It’s honest — heartbreakingly so.
The writer doesn’t pretend that the world is tidy or fair. He simply names life as it is — seasons of joy and of sorrow, gain and loss.
And that honesty is where remembrance begins.
Remembering
We remember not as historians, but as human beings.
The poem “Soldier” reminds us that behind every medal, every monument,
every statistic — lies a body, a name, a heartbeat that once loved and was loved.
“Remember please these parts of me, they once made up a man.”
There’s no romance here — only reality.
And yet, in that raw truth, there’s deep dignity.
Because remembrance is not just about death — it’s about love strong enough to ache, love that refuses to forget.
When the women came to the tomb in Luke 24, they came carrying spices — the symbols of love continuing beyond death.
And what did the angel say?
“Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here — he is risen.”
In remembrance, we do not worship the grave.
We honour the love that even death couldn’t destroy.
Reconciling
The soldier’s poem ends with the words:
“Remember please what we fought for, for what we did, it mattered.”
Those words echo like a plea — not for revenge, not for victory, but for meaning.
To say that it mattered is to say that peace, compassion, and reconciliation are worth our lives.
In our multinational congregation, we stand together — once enemies perhaps, now neighbours.
We come from nations that fought one another — but here we pray side by side.
That is sacred reconciliation.
Love has outlived empire, ideology, and flag.
And that is what those who died would want — not for us to repeat their wars, but to redeem their suffering.
Rebuilding
The resurrection story is not just an ending overcome — it’s a beginning announced.
The tomb is empty not so we can look back, but so we can go out.
“Go,” the angels tell the women, “and tell the others.”
Remembrance is not passive nostalgia; it is active compassion.
It calls us to rebuild — to make this fractured world a little fairer, a little kinder, a little more like the dream of God…a fractured suffering divided world but a world able to be healed by the dream of Love.
Every time we choose peace over pride, every time we forgive instead of retaliate, every time we build bridges instead of walls —
we raise a new kind of monument, not of stone, but of spirit.
Closing reflection
So today, as we remember the poem again in silence,
may we hold three things close:
Remembering — not just the fallen, but the love they lived for.
Reconciling — refusing hatred, seeking peace.
Rebuilding — making the world they dreamed of possible.
And when the last poppy fades, may we still hear that soldier’s voice whispering across the years:
“Remember please what we fought for — for what we did, it mattered.”
And it still does.