Matthew 25:1-13; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18
In our Remembrance service this year, you will have noticed that we have added two lines of poetry to the words traditionally known as The Tryst:
When you go home tell them of us and say:
for your tomorrow we gave our today.
These words are to be found on a war memorial in Kohima Cemetary, dedicated to the memory of the so-called Forgotten Army, a multinational force from Commonwealth countries who fought in Burma in the Second World War but received very little publicity for it, then or thereafter. But they could also be put into the mouths of so many who have given their lives for others in war, whether soldiers and civilians who fought or those pacifists who, refusing to fight, still gave their lives for others through the dangerous work in war they volunteered to do. For it must be bitter indeed to die if you believe yourself forgotten, your gift of life counting for nothing.
Some of us here this morning will still remember friends and family who have died in two world wars, or in warfare since. Some of us here will know people currently involved in theatres of war such as Iraq or Afghanistan, whether as soldiers or civilians. Of course, we are all aware too of ongoing warfare in so many parts of the world, but the loss associated with war only really sinks in when we think of particular people we know who have been killed. He had a particular way of smiling. She always loved flowers. But they are gone, with too many of their todays unused.
Other losses, bereavement or sudden disaster of any kind, can hit us in the same sort of way. I have done some training to help in the aftermath of major disasters that might occur in Sheffield. When we do role-playing exercises, one of the things which upsets the role-playing evacuees most is to be separated from their loved ones, not to know what has happened to them, whether they are all right. And it is a similar concern which motivates Paul's first letter to the first generation of Christians in Thessalonica, who are having for the first time to come to terms with the death of church members.
‘How can this be?' they wonder. ‘Should Jesus not have come back in glory already, to judge the world, before anyone dies? What will happen to our loved ones who have died? Will they miss out on heaven?'
But Paul reassures his friends. ‘If we as Christians believe,' he points out, ‘that Jesus died, and that God raised him from death, then it follows that all Christians who die will also be raised by God to new life. Indeed,' Paul states, ‘at the signal of the archangel's trumpet, far from having been forgotten by God, those Christians who have already died will lead those of us who are still alive into God's presence.'
I believe we can leave all those who have died in war, Christian or not, in God's hands. Yet what about the other half of the equation: our tomorrow, bought with their today? At the Tuesday afternoon group recently, a lady in her nineties fixed me with a stern eye and declared that she thought the Second World War had been fought in vain: just look at the way the world is today!
I think she was partly testing me out as a young whippersnapper, and when I pointed out that at the very least we were still speaking English, she smiled and changed the subject. But it's a question that should come to our minds from time to time. You may have heard of Gayle Williams, an aid worker in Afghanistan whose humanitarian work was inspired by her Christian faith, and whose recent death was blamed by her killers on that faith. Christians, Muslims and others have condemned this act, as would we all. Yet how in practice can her story, or other tales of selfless heroism in war, affect what we say and do?
This may seem a very theoretical question, given our distance here and now from scenes of war. Yet on the one hand, as we know since the London bombings in July 05, war can come to civilians in their own city, with no warning. And on the other hand, our Gospel reading today faces us with just such a situation of challenge and choice, transposed to the apparently peaceful setting of a Jewish wedding. The bridesmaids are awaiting the groom's arrival - for once, it's not the bride who's late - and while some have thought ahead and made sure they are prepared to greet him, others have not.
But this is not any old wedding. As Jesus tells us at the beginning of the story, this is the kingdom of heaven he's talking about: the heavenly banquet which God has prepared for all peoples. And when the bridegroom finally arrives, when Jesus returns, either you're ready or you're not.
This sounds really unfair. It would be a much easier story to preach if those bridesmaids who had oil for their lamps shared it with those who had none and they all went in to the wedding together. One of them might even drop a quiet word in the groom's ear about punctuality being the politeness of kings. But life's not always like that. In war, as in disasters generally, sometimes you have to make a split-second decision about what to do, with no chance to rethink your decision in the light of further events. That's why Sheffield City Council have trained volunteers so that if - God forbid! - another Hillsborough disaster or flood should happen, people will have thought and planned through beforehand what they can do to help. And while our lives are comparatively uneventful, we too can remember others who have died in war, and consider what we can do to work for a society worthy of them.
Of course, not everyone who died in war would agree on the sort of society for which they gave their lives. German soldiers laid down their lives with as much heroism as Britons in two world wars, with opposite aims in view. Again, not every war casualty is a volunteer, let alone a soldier. Moreover, even Christians can disagree about a good society, as we have seen in the recent American presidential elections. Yet though we can disagree on the details, we can agree, as America seems to have agreed, however temporarily, that yes, we can go on hoping for change, for transformation, for a life more abundant for everybody, not just for us and ours. And that keeping faith with the Christian hope of resurrection and new life is what is asked of us. In our lives we are bound to encounter conflict and loss, if not war. Are we prepared to cling through weariness and pain and even death to God? Are we prepared to let God strengthen us, to live today as though we really hoped in God's tomorrow?
Then our tomorrows will indeed be worth the todays of those who died.