Look to God and Live… Joyfully!

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
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.

John McCrae

Every morning I wake up to whatever music the classical music station is playing. This morning it was a series of requiems. I was a bit curious about this choice, but then the host came on and mentioned how today was the beginning of Remembrance Week. In my very groggy half-awake state I thought about that until I realized that Thursday is November 11^th. In the United States we call that Veteran’s Day. Throughout much of Europe, however, the date – once known as Armistice Day – is honored as Remembrance Day. It is a time to honor those who have fallen in war, especially World War I – that horrifically shameful period of history. Online I had seen notices at the great cathedrals in Europe a call for special prayer services on that day, so I should have been a little more keyed into the notion.

Flanders Field is near Ypres, Belgium and was the site of five separate battles during the First World War, probably killing more than one million soldiers. One million. I can’t even wrap my head around numbers like that! The poem up above was written by a Canadian physician serving in the War following the death of his close friend during the Second Battle of Ypres. What sadness I feel in its poignant words!

Anyone who knows me really well knows that I despise World War I. Such senseless death and destruction. In Great Britain alone the war took the lives of 6% of the entire male population. Another couple million men were injured, many severely enough that they could not return to their careers and former lives. In the 1921 census there were 109 women for every 100 men. The post-war years in Britain came to be known as “The Lost Generation.” What a tragedy.

I’m not actually going to relitigate the war, you’ll be glad to know. I will leave that to military historians who have far greater knowledge on the subject than I do. There are some lessons from World War I, however, that I believe apply on a personal level.  In order to make these lessons, however, I make some assumptions, do not footnote, and make only the shallowest analyses in order to make my point, so please forgive me while I share my thoughts.

One of the greatest lessons for me from World War I, which touches all the other lessons, is the danger of propaganda. The First World War’s propaganda, on both sides of the conflict, is rather infamous in its sheer shamelessness. According to said propaganda, the fate of the entire world hinged on full compliance with whichever side was peddling its tale. If one voiced discomfort or disbelief in the official line then there could be severe consequences – social life, career, liberty (imprisonment wasn’t out of the question), and family relationships were all in danger. A great book, All Quiet on the Western Front shares the real experiences from the leadup to war, the experience of the war, and the aftermath. It’s extremely sobering.

Propaganda comes in many forms and isn’t limited to just one political ideology. Propaganda is the pushing of a point of view, without strong evidence, in order to get people to respond as wished. The “Red Scare” of the 1940’s and 50’s is such an example. Even more recently is the push by those on both sides of the political aisle to accept soundbite talking points as deeply researched truths. There are real consequences of falling for this kind of propaganda – real-life, real-world consequences.

Another lesson from the First World War is how propaganda makes enemies of us all. All Germans are evil enemies, said those from the Entente Powers nations. The French and British are all to be despised, said those from the Triple Alliance. Citizens of countries on the opposing side were demonized and caricatured in that demonization. The young woman from France might have the same hopes and dreams as the young woman from Germany, but that didn’t matter – one had dreams that were pure and good while the other’s dreams were filled with evil intent. The 18-year-old soldier facing you just beyond the trenches was your bitterest enemy and worthy of death. Those who just a few years earlier could have met as friends in an international marketplace were now to embrace a passionate hatred towards each other.

This is the most frightening aspect of the entire – or any – war to me: the mandated hatred of others. Sometimes the war isn’t fought on a physical battlefield, though. Through propaganda we’re taught to hate those who believe differently from ourselves, look differently than ourselves, have different life experiences from ourselves, or vote differently from ourselves. I have seen families and friendships ripped apart by people holding dissenting views on the pandemic, current civic policies (perceived or real), or religious beliefs. I’ve heard racist tropes towards those from other nations or from our own citizens with different skin tones. I’ve heard members of the LGBTQ community scapegoated as the cause of all society’s ills.  I’ve heard harsh judgments pronounced on the homeless, the mentally ill, the poor, the single mother, the addicted, and others. I’ve heard vitriolic hatred towards democrats from republicans and towards republicans from democrats.

I have the firmest belief that people are people. As the villainous, though momentarily insightful, Shylock exclaims in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice, “If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die?” The human experience, while different in its individual applications, is far more similar than we can possibly imagine.

Years ago I became addicted to some radio programs during my long drives and waits in the car. One day, however, I seemed to awake from a stupor and recognize the primrose path of anger and hatred I was being led down. What a change that had on my life! I was grateful to escape the propaganda of demonization that had become my daily fare.

One of the final personal lessons from World War I that I wish to mention is the need to choose battles that make a real difference. WWI was famous for its trench warfare. The trenches faced each other, lining approximately 475 miles of Europe (not in a single line), and were divided by the devastation of “No Man’s Land,” an area heavily cratered by exploding shells and all life therein decimated by the endless warfare. During many of the worst of the trench warfare battles the casualties were enormous and the gains were virtually non-existent.

I have come to look at life this way. When I need to take up a battle, will it actually make a difference or just cause injury with no forward progress? Often the answer is that a perceived battle will be more likely to fit the latter description. I might feel good in theory about standing my ground and standing for “truth,” but in reality, I’m engaging in a scorched earth maneuver that will only destroy relationships and harm people around me. Most battles just do not need to be fought. Loving, listening, and learning are far better approaches.

Okay, this has been a long post, so let me finish with this. This is Remembrance Week. The scriptures frequently advise us to remember, but I don’t believe that that means to just sit around shooting the breeze and telling the fun stories from years gone by. I believe that to remember means to reflect on life experiences and learn the lessons that are requisite to our growth and happiness. I believe that remembering means looking at events in our lives or throughout history and learning how become better: better individuals, better family members, and better citizens.

This Thursday as we commemorate Remembrance Day I hope we will take time to remember the lessons from the past so that we will not, to paraphrase the Spanish philosopher George Santayana, be condemned to repeat the hard lessons of yesteryear. I hope that in so doing that we will find ourselves eschewing the propaganda that will lead us to repeat past mistakes and instead look forward with a brightness of fresh hope towards a better and happier future.