By Revd Preb Nigel Guthrie
It was an unexpected honour to be asked to lay the poppy wreath on behalf of the Dean and Chapter at the end of the Remembrance Sunday Eucharist this year. I appreciated the service, and Morwenna’s sermon. It was one of the few Remembrance Sundays in the past 30 years when I haven’t had to preach myself!
My thoughts went to the uncle I didn’t know because he was serving in the RAF and died as the result of a flying accident during the Second World War. I still have a copy of the telegram which was sent to my grandfather:
DEEPLY REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON SGT ALEXANDER GUTHRIE LOST HIS LIFE ON 12 JULY 1942 AS THE RESULT OF AN AIRCRAFT ACCIDENT STOP
LETTER FOLLOWS PLEASE ACCEPT MY PROFOUND SYMPATHY
OC 255 SQUADRON
My uncle Alex was 20 years old when he died and his brother, my father David, was just 17. Alex was closest in age to my father, they were the third and fourth children in the family. Alex was perhaps the person who was closest to my father. It is hard to imagine the impact that such a message must have had in the family home.
My father went on to study engineering and, although he felt that he should also join the RAF, to replace Alex, he wasn’t free to join up until 1946 – for which I am profoundly grateful given the casualty rate in the RAF during the war!
This terrible loss, replicated in so many homes across the country was, I understand, rarely spoken about. My grandparents were stoic, Victorian era, Scottish Presbyterians. I loved them, but looking back I don’t suppose they were well equipped to deal with the emotional turmoil of such a devastating loss, or had any real help in doing so. My father suffered from periodic spells of severe depression in his adult life, though fortunately this lessened when he got older, and I can’t help feeling that this linked back to his early loss. And, although he was regular churchgoer, and a person of deeply held Christian faith, he could never face going to church on Remembrance Sunday, or he went to evensong, to keep out of the way of Remembrance ceremonies! I think he probably couldn’t face it because of the memories it brought back, and perhaps there was also a feeling that some of those taking part were just ‘going through the motions’ of remembrance.
Ironically it was part of my role to lead such services for several decades and, perhaps like many clergy of my generation, I wondered if Remembrance Sunday ceremonies would continue. But here we are, in 2025, with only a tiny number of World War Two Veterans left, still remembering. And I’ve observed that many young people attend and appreciate the services on Remembrance Sunday. I came early on in my ministry to value acts of remembrance, not only as a way of recalling those who sacrificed themselves for our country, but also as a reminder of why we should do everything in our power to avert wars. But as Russia rattles its sabre (or drones) in the direction of western Europe I am also reminded that war and armed conflict cannot always be avoided although it must only ever be a last resort when all other forms of defence and deterrence have failed.
If I have learnt anything from the experience of my family it is that war leaves a long shadow. It not only takes the lives of many individuals, but it casts a lifelong shadow over those who are bereaved and scarred, physically and psychologically.
But life must go on for those left behind after the devastation of war, and our faith can help us to understand the mystery that suffering and sacrifice are not always in vain. And more than that, death and destruction cannot have the final word because Christ has overcome them. Our season of remembrance is only for a few days each year, but they are important days not only because they help us to express our solidarity with those who have directly suffered through conflict, but also because they invite us to commit ourselves to hope: seeking peace in this world and holding to a faith that looks beyond the grave towards the light of eternity.