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Remember, Remember the month of November
November
is traditionally the month for the dead. Days are short and cold, dead
leaves lie under foot. There is even a smell of decay in the air. We
remember those who plotted against parliament. In church we remember the
Saints represented in our stained glass windows and in our lectionary. We
remember those loved ones who have died. We remember the carnage of
numerous wars and those who sacrificed their lives in order that we might
live and people throughout the world can be free and without fear. We
remember week by week and sometimes day by day the last meal Jesus had with
his disciples.
Of course there are symbols that we use to help us remember. On November 5th
there are fireworks, bonfires and ‘Guy Fawkes’. On All Souls we use lighted
candles to symbolise loved ones who have died. In the Eucharist we have the
bread and the wine symbols of the body and blood of Christ. On Remembrance
Sunday, of course, we have the red poppies.
Another symbol of Remembrance has always been the herb Rosemary. Words from
Hamlet Act 1V ‘There’s rosemary that’s for remembrance, pray, love,
remember….
Sir
Thomas More wrote ‘As for Rosemarie, I let it run all over my garden
walls, not only because my bees love it, but also because ‘tis the herb
sacred to Remembrance, and therefore to friendship’.
Even fireworks can help us to remember not only those who plotted and were
subsequently executed but all those people who have been the victims of
assassinations and violent attacks. This year we can remember those who
have died in such attacks in
Iraq, Palestine, Pakistan, Russia, and Israel to name a few. If we add all
the other bombings and killings the list is very great.
When we look at the chalice and the ciborium on the altar at the Eucharist
they serve as reminders of the love and death of Jesus and his presence with
us now. In his great work ‘The Shape of the liturgy’ Dom Gregory Dix wrote
‘Was ever another command so obeyed?’ Perhaps the poem of George Herbert
‘Love bade me welcome will help us remember.’
Love bade me welcome:
yet my soul drew back,
guiltie of dust and sinne.
But quickey'd Love
observing me grow slack
from my first entrance in,
drew nearer to me,
sweetly questioning,
if I lacked anything.
A
guest, I answer'd,
worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I, the unkinde, ungrateful?
Ah, my deare, I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand
and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth, Lord but I have marr'd them:
let my shame go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, sayes Love,
who bore the blame?
My deare, then I will serve.
You must sit down, sayes Love,
and taste my meat:
so I did sit and eat.
Details of all our acts of Remembrance including All Souls, All Saints and
Remembrance Sunday are elsewhere in the magazine.
Your
priest and friend
Tom
Leary
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