@thetimes Each year I find myself profoundly moved by the Remembrance Sunday ceremony at the Cenotaph. Though it mainly commemorates events that happened before most of us were born, it speaks eloquently of the qualities we will need if we are to build a decent future.
@thetimes Originally known as Armistice Day, it was instituted to mark the moment when the guns fell silent at the end of the First World War in 1918, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.
@thetimes The poppies are reminders of those that grew in the fields of Flanders, where some of the most prolonged and bloody battles were fought. It was called “the war to end all wars”, but 21 years later the world again became a battlefield.
@thetimes Peace and liberty are hard to win, but they are harder still to sustain What is it about the ceremony that makes it so potent?
@thetimes First — and foremost — it is a national event, an act of collective identity and belonging. Gathered around the Cenotaph are senior members of the Royal Family, prime ministers past and present, representatives of Parliament and Commonwealth governments, heads of the Armed…
@thetimes …Forces, religious leaders and, above all, the large contingent of ex-servicemen and women who fought for the freedom we now enjoy. If we seek a living symbol of social cohesion — a nation united in dedication to an ideal — it is there.
@thetimes Secondly, the Remembrance Sunday ceremony reminds us of the debt we owe to those who came before us. It is an act of thanksgiving by the present to the past — perhaps the only gift the living can give the dead.
@thetimes Society, said Edmund Burke, is a contract between the dead, the living and those not yet born; and without that sense of intergenerational loyalty we would never make the sacrifices necessary to a future we may not live to see.
@thetimes We must make space, by way of public silence, to hear the call across the years of those who died: “When you go home tell them of us and say: For your tomorrow we gave our today.”
@thetimes Thirdly, the ceremony tells us that there can be no identity without a sense of history. To be British, whether by birth or adoption, is to be part of a story, honoured and enacted in rituals, symbols and ceremonies of remembrance.
@thetimes A nation is not merely a place where we happen to be. It is also a narrative of which we are a part. A society is more than an aggregation of people in a given space. It has a dimension of time as well.
@thetimes It is woven out of the gossamer strands of collective memory, learnt at school, embodied in institutions, reflected in a country’s art and literature, poetry and music. Lose these and a nation will suffer the collective equivalent of Alzheimer’s disease.
@thetimes Today we face new battles, radically different from those in the past. There is the fight against terror and the preachers of hate. There is the ongoing struggle to bring stability to parts of the world riven by ethnic and religious rivalries.
@thetimes There is the fight against preventable disease that daily claims the lives of 30,000 of the world’s children. There is the campaign against environmental destruction that threatens the very future of life on Earth.
@thetimes The challenges change but the virtues need to stay the same: vision, courage, collective purpose, a willingness to sacrifice for the sake of the future — and above all a sense of history.
@thetimes Freedom, said Moses at the end of his life, needs the active cultivation of memory. “Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you.”
@thetimes If we forget how painfully freedom is won, we will lose it. If we take it for granted, it will not survive. To be guardians of our children’s future, we must keep faith with our ancestors’ past.
@thetimes John McCrae, a doctor serving with the Canadian Armed Forces in 1915, saw the devastation of war and scribbled in his pocket book a short poem, In Flanders Fields, that gave immortal voice to the charge of the dead to us:
@thetimes To you from failing hands we throw / The torch; be yours to hold it high. / If ye break faith with us who die / We shall not sleep, though poppies grow / In Flanders fields.
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As we approach Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and the start of the Jewish year, here are ten short ideas from Rabbi Sacks zt"l which might help you focus your davening and ensure you have a meaningful and transformative experience.
(1) Life is short. However much life expectancy has risen, we will not, in one lifetime, be able to achieve everything we might wish to achieve. This life is all we have. So the question is: How shall we use it well?
(2) Life itself, every breath we take, is the gift of God. Life is not something we may take for granted. If we do, we will fail to celebrate it. Yes, we believe in life after death, but it is in life before death that we truly find human greatness.
THREAD -> #Succot is the festival of insecurity. It is the candid acknowledgment that there is no life without risk, yet we can face the future without fear when we know we are not alone.
God is with us, in the rain that brings blessings to the earth, in the love that brought the universe and us into being and in the resilience of spirit that allowed a small and vulnerable people to outlive the greatest empires the world has ever known.
Succot reminds us that God’s glory was present in the small, portable Tabernacle that Moses and the Israelites built in the desert even more emphatically than in Solomon’s Temple with all its grandeur. A temple can be destroyed. But a succah, broken, can be rebuilt tomorrow.
THREAD -> #Succot is the time we ask the most profound question of what makes a life worth living.
Having prayed on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to be written in the Book of Life, Kohelet (the book we read on Succot) forces us to remember how brief life actually is, and how vulnerable. “Teach us rightly to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Ps. 90:12).
What matters is not how long we live, but how intensely we feel that life is a gift we repay by giving to others. Surely this is a message that resonates even more forcefully this year as we approach Succot in the midst of the global coronavirus pandemic.
THREAD -> More than any other festival, #Succot (which begins on Friday evening) represents the dual character of Jewish faith. We believe in the universality of God, together with the particularity of Jewish history and identity.
All nations need rain (which we pray for on Succot). We are all part of nature. We are all dependent on the complex ecology of the created world.
We are all threatened by climate change, global warming, the destruction of rain forests, the overexploitation of non-renewable energy sources and the mass extinction of species.
There is an old story that I find incredibly moving and powerful, particularly as we approach #YomKippur in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic (and which appears in my 'Ceremony & Celebration' educational resource for Yom Kippur -> rabbisacks.info/2E0XMhR).
One Yom Kippur, the Baal Shem Tov was praying together with his students, and he had a worrying sense that the prayers were not getting through, and the harsh heavenly decree against the Jewish people was not being overturned.
As Ne’ila approached, and with it the final opportunity for the Jewish people to avert this harsh judgement, he and his students increased their fervour and passion in their prayers, but to no avail.
“Wherever you find God's greatness,” said Rabbi Yohanan, “there you will find His humility.” And wherever you find true humility, there you will find greatness.
That is what #YomKippur is about: finding the courage to let go of the need for self-esteem that fuels our passion for self-justification, our blustering claim that we are in the right when in truth we know we are often in the wrong.
Most national literatures, ancient and modern, record a people's triumphs. Jewish literature records our failures, moral and spiritual. No people has been so laceratingly honest in charting its shortcomings. In Tanakh there is no one without sin.