A Sunday of Remembrance

It is the Sunday when most United Churches will mark Remembrance Day. My own feelings about Remembrance Sunday in church worship are ambivalent. Which is not to say wishy washy or indifferent, rather that I have strong contradictory feelings about different parts of the tradition. I love the act of remembrance, reading In Flanders Field, the family histories of the congregation that are connected to war and peace. At the same time, however, I am not convinced that singing the national anthem, marching in with flags, and lots of the imagery in the hymns we traditionally sing are really appropriate for a Christ-centred church.

So after 35 years of struggling with this as the minister, I wasn't ready to attend a Remembrance Sunday service this year. I made the decision to attend the Quaker/Friends' Meeting House intentionally. The Friends are pacifists, conscientious objectors to military service, on the grounds of their understanding of Christ's call to love not war. 

One time I attended an event with a resource person from the Friends. She did not grow up in the tradition, but in a Southern United States Pentecostal Church, which she said was big and noisy and full of people talking to you about how you might deepen your faith with them. And she loved it - the people, the commitment, the energy. 

Then a friend at university invited her to a Friends service. When they entered the meeting room, all was silent - and it stayed silent for 50 minutes. Somewhere in that time of silence, she told us, she was converted.  A few weeks later, her heart "quaked" so much that she gave her first testimony or ministry and joined them - for life.  

So I was prepared for the silence. In fact, it went much quicker than I expected. Over the hour, about five people were moved to share something about what their hearts were quaking to tell - a couple referenced working for peace, or the impact of war, or remembrances of loved ones. There were no bulletins, no prayers, no music, and no sermon.

However, there was hybrid meeting technology, so that those who cannot worship on site or in groups could attend. There were 25 people online, we could see their faces and they could see us in the meeting room.  Going online to sit in silence with your Friends - a true sign of deep faith.

I came home and told my family I was converted.  Well, not quite, but I will go back again and nourish my heart in silence, among these gentle, welcoming Friends.