"Silence - Then A Voice"
The importance of doing our duty for one another
Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Dr. Andrew Stirling
Sunday, November 9, 2003
Text: Job 4:12-21
There comes a moment for all of us when words fail, when we are confronted with something that cannot be recounted. There comes a time when you experience the birth of a child, and words cannot explain the mystery or majesty. There comes a time when you gaze at the moon, as we did last night during the eclipse, and realize the wonder of the world “and what is man that thou art mindful of him.” There also come moments in time when we're so overwhelmed by tragedy and sorrow that, again, words fail us.
Words failed us all on September 11, 2001, for who had the words to describe the horror of what happened on that day? What citizen of Baghdad has the words to describe the bombing campaign of shock and awe? Who of us could go to Dieppe and give an account of our emotions when we think of what our fellow Canadians experienced there? How words would fail us if we were to visit Dunkirk or Salerno! How fallible and feeble they would be before the gates of Auschwitz or Buchenwald! There comes a time in everyone's life when words are hollow and cannot express the sentiment of the moment or the gravity of the occasion.
A year after September 11 when we gathered in this sanctuary to remember that fateful day in New York City, I quoted from a letter by theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer to his nephew. Bonhoeffer was in prison and wasn't able to make it to his nephew's baptism. In the letter he explained that in the midst of World War II, “Our language fails us and all we are left with is prayer and righteous action.” In other words, there comes a time when only silence has the power to speak.
There is a wonderful line by Isaac the Syrian, an Eastern Orthodox theologian who lived 700 years after Christ: “Speech is the organ of this present world. Silence is a mystery of the world to come.” In other words, before the awesomeness of God there is only silence, our speech will come and our speech will go, but sometimes all we can do is be still.
In today's passage from the Book of Job, there's a very telling moment. Job had lost everything. His family was dead, his wealth had evaporated, his health had dissipated. Everything was gone, with the exception of his friends. His friend Eliphaz didn't know what to say in the presence of Job's suffering, so he turned to God. He said there was silence but then a voice and Eliphaz began to speak to Job but he did not speak the word of God - he spoke simply the conventional wisdom of his day. He said to Job: “Can mortals be righteous before God?” He did not offer a word of comfort to Job in his sorrow. He just said, “Can human beings be pure before their Maker? Even in his servants he puts no trust, and his angels he charges with error; how much more those who live in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, who are crushed like a moth. Between morning and evening they are destroyed; they perish forever without any regarding it. Their tent-cord is plucked up within them, and they die devoid of wisdom.” (Job 4:17-21)
So he spoke when he should have remained silent, and he spoke a word that was later corrected. Job was to find out at the end of the book, when God spoke to him directly, that there is hope. That God does care. That there isn't just fate. That there is grace if only Job will have the faith to believe - and then Job can speak. But before then Job must be silent.
On November 11th when we remember the armistice of 1918 and at any of the services that commemorate that fateful time, I confess I find words fail me. I find that words let me down and I don't know what to say. Hence, we have a moment of silence in our service. Yet, silence in and of itself is not enough. There is still, after silence, a word and what we need to ask ourselves as believers is: What is God's word for us today, after we have been silent?
The first word that comes to me is “memory.” There is a wonderful line by the playwright John Osborne: “By what we remember, we become.” In other words, our memories are important because they refine the present and give us wisdom for the future. By remembering we do not simply live in the now - we live in the understanding that we are also the products of what has gone before. And as products of what has gone before, we should have the grace and the humility and the wisdom to learn from our memories.
So, too, cultures must do the same. It is not only individuals who have a memory; nations have a memory, cultures have a memory, societies have a memory. The moment we cease to have a memory, we lack wisdom. The moment we forget the past, our actions in the present can become facile. We need to remember. We need to say in our hearts: “We know that we are the products of that which has gone before.”
The songwriter Terry Kelly wrote:
They fought and some died for their homeland
They fought and some died now it's our land
Look at his little child, there's no fear in her eyes
Could he not show respect for other dads who have died?Take two minutes, would you mind?
It's a pittance of time
For the boys and the girls who went over
In peace may they rest, may we never forget why they died.It's a pittance of time.
It's a pittance of time to remember.
There used to be an advertisement for a watch company: “you never own a Patek Philippe, you merely care for it for the next generation.” Well, there's nothing eternal about watches and that's an extravagant statement, but it is true with our lives. We have a sense even now that what we pass on has been created by those who have gone before us. We are caretakers of the time that we have and if we do not have the humility to remember those who have gone before us, then arrogance can set in and we can forget the cost that others have borne. Only when we remember do we humble ourselves now.
There is also a sense in which the word of God speaks to us of duty. We are in danger of self-centredness, of narcissism, and self-love, and when we think of duty we think only of what is going to benefit us, rather than what will benefit others, or society, or the world. Very often, therefore, we like others to do our duty for us, and we pay them to do it. We do that all the time as a society. So much so, that by getting others to do our duty for us we create a degree of separation between ourselves and the reality of horror and war in the world.
I thought of that when watching CNN the night after 30 young Americans died in Iraq. As their faces were put up on the screen, I realized these were innocent faces of 20-and 21-year-olds, mainly people of minority origin. I was overwhelmed by this. I was deeply moved. These faces that we see here, and the unknown faces throughout the world on all sides of conflicts who die, are the ones we get to do our duty for us.
God bless Don Cherry, of all people! Last night on Hockey Night in Canada, the names of the young man and woman from the Canadian Armed Forces who had died in Afghanistan were put up on the screen. I thought, “We need to know there are people who give themselves even now, and for whom duty is a big thing.” We get them to do our military duty for us and then, if we do not, within our own hearts and souls and minds, make our world a better place, then we have lost our sense of duty.
I'm not suggesting that we go to war. God forbid! I'm not suggesting that we take on others violently. No! What I am saying is that there is a duty to a country, there is a duty to one another, there is a covenant with others that we need to make if others are doing their duty for us.
The first time I ever celebrated November the 11th as a minister was on the north shore of Nova Scotia. It was a foggy, damp and drizzly day when 20 of us gathered around a stone, outside a church and said a few words and a prayer, then the Boy Scouts saluted and we went on our way. One person left a wreath and the snow collected on it.
After a brief ceremony we walked away and I saw in the distance a woman, somewhat aged, definitely frail. I went over to her as the fog started to descend and asked her why she was there. It was cold, so we sat in my car to talk. She told me that 45 years before, a young man whom she had loved had gone off to war just hours after he had proposed marriage and she had happily accepted. She said it was the most wonderful day in her life. But within a matter of weeks a letter had arrived. The marriage was off. Her dreams were shattered. Her fiancé had been killed.
I realized that this woman could no longer speak of that moment. I also realized, when I asked her if she'd ever been married and she said no, that the pain of losing the man she loved was too great. She said that she never fell in love again. And yet this woman is well known in the community. She was one of the most caring of all the nurses in the hospital in that area. When people needed somebody to hold their hand before or after an operation it was she who was there. She became famous for her love - not for the man who had died - but for everyone else. Indeed, in letting him go she felt that she must live her life in duty on behalf of those who had died.
There is a wonderful line by William Corbett, the 19th century writer: “Every man's duty that lays in his power is to leave his country as good as he found it.” I'd agree with Corbett, but I'd go further. I would say those who have given their lives and done their duty are saying to us: “Don't leave it as you found it, make it better.”
Read the letters and poems of the heroes at home.
They have casualties, battles, and fears of their own.
There's a price to be paid if you go, if you stay.
Freedom's fought for and won in numerous ways.Take two minutes, would you mind?
It's a pittance of time,
For the boys and the girls all over.
May we never forget, our young become vets.
At the end of the line,
It's a pittance of time.
Do your duty to one another.
The last word is the word that is always ringing in my ears. It is the word to which this day speaks most clearly. It is the word “sacrifice.” The great Nadine Gordimer, a South African writer who inspired so many of us in our struggle for justice in that land, once wrote: “There is no moral authority without sacrifice.” Those who sacrifice themselves speak to us with a moral voice. But it is only a moral voice if you and I understand that the true origin of all sacrifice is actually found in none other than God Himself. None other than Christ our Lord. We need no examples from time. We need no examples from men or women. We have the example: It is Christ who suffered and gave Himself for the sake of others. It takes a pittance of time for us to remember Him.
That does not mean that there have not been those, throughout the ages, who have also made sacrifices for us, if we take the time to remember. That 1940s fighter pilot wrote the story of being encapsulated in a plane. He said to understand it, this is what it was like:
Imagine yourself in a building of enormous size, pitch black inside. You're ordered to walk very slowly from one side to the other then back. This walk in the dark will take you perhaps five or six hours. You know that in various nooks and crannies along your route killers with machine guns are lurking. They will quickly become aware that you have started your journey and will be trying to find you the whole time you are in the course of it. But there is another, rather important psychological factor: The continuous roar emanating from nearby machinery. It precludes the possibility of you getting any audible warning of dangers approaching. You are thus aware that if the trouble you are expecting does come, it will burst upon you with a startling surprise one can experience standing in the shower and having someone abruptly jerk open the door of a steamy cubicle and shout over the noise.
If the killers stalking you on your walk should happen to detect you they will leap out at you from the darkness, firing flaming traces from their guns. Compared with the armament they are carrying you are virtually defenceless. Moreover, you must carry a pail of gasoline and a shopping bag full of dynamite in one hand. If someone rushes at you and begins firing, all you can do is fire a small-calibre pistol in his direction and try to elude him in the dark. But these killers can run twice as fast as you and if one stalks and catches you the odds are that he will wound and then incinerate you or blow you into eternity.
You're acutely aware of these possibilities for every second of the five or six hours you walk in the darkness, braced always consciously or subconsciously, for a murderous burst of fire and reminded of the stakes of the game periodically by the sight of guns flashing in the dark and great volcanic eruptions of flaming gasoline. You experience this and it is repeated many times - if you live.
I don't think mere words can express what this was like. There needs to be silence before such horror. But there must also be a word and the word is that for those of us now who live. We must remember. We must do our duty for one another. We must sacrifice for the good of the world and we must, at all costs, work for peace.
It takes courage to fight in your own war.
It takes courage to fight someone else's war.
Our peacekeepers tell of their own living hell.
They bring hope to foreign lands that hate mongers can't kill.Take two minutes, would you mind?
It's a pittance of time,
For the boys and the girls who go over.
In peacetime our best still don battle dress
And lay their lives on the line.It's a pittance of time
In peace may they rest,
Lest we forget why they died.
Take a pittance of time
Amen.
This is a verbatim transcription of the original sermon.