At the front of our Church building sits a little memorial. Every time I look at it, I find it utterly tragic. It reads:
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To the Glory of God
In Loving Memory of
Leslie George King Ross. 1st Lieut. 33rd Batt. AIF.
Died in France. November 9th 1918. Aged 21 Years.
After 2 years of active service.
His service done.
Ultimately, there is nothing good about war. At times, the need to stand up for what is right may make it necessary. But this is very different from saying that war, even when fought for the most reasons, is a good thing. If you are tempted to think otherwise, consider the date engraved upon that memorial and the story it tells.
The war was as good as won. The events that would lead to Germany's surrender were in full swing. Still, without a signature on a piece of paper, the fighting continued, and a young life was snuffed out only 2 days before the guns fell silent.
As I look at the memorial, my mind also turns to the people who put it there. People who had sent their son, brother, grandson, and friend off to a war from which he would never return. Did they experience the joy of hearing news of the Armistice and begin to the party to celebrate his return? Was their euphoria crushed by a knock on the door a few days later to inform them that Leslie would not be coming home after all?
It's a devastating thought. Yet, Lieutenant Leslie's is only one of millions of stories, each equally tragic for those who lived with the grief of loss.
This week, our nation pauses to mark Anzac Day, and it is right that we remember 102,000 Australians who have given their lives in the service of our country. May we never forget that each one of them was a person whose death was a tragedy for those left behind.
Equally, may we never forget that as we pause to reflect on past wars, the raging conflicts in Ukraine, Palestine and many other corners of the world will not pause, much less end. And as we reflect on humanity's inability to find a way to lasting peace, may we echo Rudyard Kipling's familiar refrain, remembering that he calls our gaze heavenward;
The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!
In a world such as ours, which lurches endlessly from one conflict to another, it is the ancient sacrifice of Christ on that first Easter that holds out the promise of eternal peace, a restored life, and the drying of every tear. A world in which stories such as Lieutenant Leslie George King Ross's story will no longer need to be told. Because in that place, the death of another will cause eternal joy and celebration for all who seek refuge in it.
