Engraved above the entrance to the Hall of Memory…

wherein lies the tomb of the unknown soldier––

at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra––

are the words “They gave their lives”.

It’s a phrase that’s also engraved on many a smaller war memorial––

the sort that’s found in towns and suburbs dotted throughout the country.

As it stands…

however…

it’s incomplete.

What did they give their lives for?

 

During the First World War…

the now-defunct newspaper, The Chronicle…

regularly published photos of South Australian soldiers who had been killed in action… 

under the banner:

“They gave their lives for king and country”.

Our own war memorial window claims: 
“They gave…their lives for their country”––

interestingly with no mention of ‘king’.

In a photo album from the time––

which belonged to a major from the New Zealand army––

showing the battlefield graves of soldiers…

he inscribed, “they gave their lives for their honour and their country”.

Again, there’s no mention of “king”…

but, in this case, the motivation is slightly more personalised.

In the aftermath of the Second World War…

the phrase seems to have become, often, “They gave their lives for our freedom”.

Maybe that just reflects the different ideologies surrounding the two wars.

In the nineteen-forties, some of the young Australian men would have joined up…

because of the threat of Nazi and, particularly, Japanese imperial aggression…

and a sense of righteous indignation at the reports of the atrocities being committed.

But that wasn’t really the case with the First World War.

Both the recruiting propaganda at the time…

and the memorialising afterwards…

focussed on a strong sense of patriotic duty…

a sense of abiding British nationalism…

and, it would seem, a sense of colonial inferiority.

 

And yet… 

it’s hard to know what really motivated the average young Australian to go off to war.

Was it something as noble as fighting for freedom or the end of tyranny?

Was it because of family tradition and the pursuit of personal honour and glory?

Was it because of societal pressure mixed with imperial, colonial, and political ideology?

Was it because of a youthful sense of bravado and a search for adventure?

Or was it some complex mix of all of those and more?

Whatever led them to join up in the first place––

and to end up… 

knee-deep in the mud, the blood, and all of the horrors of war––

one thing that is repeated, often, in soldiers’ accounts…

is that it was their mates…

their comrades…

that kept them going.

The sacrifices that many of them made…

were not for things as noble or philosophical as king, country, honour, freedom, or justice…

but, simply, looking after their comrades…

trying to save their mates.

And it’s that sort of sentimental rationale…

and motivation…

that has led some people to link our reading, this morning––

from the First Letter of John––

to the whole ANZAC tradition;

that is…

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another”. 

The greatest sacrifice that we can make––

the greatest love that we can show another person––

is to give up our life for them.

After all, that’s what Jesus did.

 

And as much as, today––

on ANZAC Day–– 

I want to acknowledge the sacrifice of so many…

and not just those young men who served…

and died;

but also the young women;

and also the families of those who grieved their dead;

and also the families of those who returned broken––

the families who endured their own horrors of war… 

of living with someone with what’s now identified as PTSD…

and the alcoholism and domestic violence that so often accompanied it.

And, while it may not be popular to acknowledge it…

it’s also important to remember that there are numerous, documented cases… 

of Australian soldiers who have committed wars crimes––

not just the Special Forces Soldiers in Afghanistan…

who have been much in the news of late––

but in all the wars in which we have been involved…

including both the First and Second World Wars.

Indeed, as one military historian wrote this week:

“Conflicts are complex, and rarely conducted without some descent into the moral abyss. Some of our soldiers are not good people, and those that are good are capable of lapses. War is an ugly business”.

And so, as much as we remember and we honour those who served––

and especially those who gave their lives––

the sacrifice that they made…

and the sacrifice that Jesus made…

are vastly different.

According to the author of First John…

the sacrifice that Jesus made was…

perhaps…

the purest expression of love that we have seen.

It was not tinged with violence…

or hate…

or any racial or sectarian ideology…

or any base motive.

Literally–– 

in the original Greek–– 

it’s through Jesus’ selfless giving of himself that “we have known what love is”.

In a sense, without Jesus’ example…

we would not truly know or understand love.

Period.

 

And it’s not that the author is thinking of Jesus’ death as some sort of vicarious, atoning sacrifice…

because…

in the very next breath…

he exhorts us that “we ought to lay down our lives for one another”.

The author holds Jesus up for us as the very paradigm—

the very exemplar–– 

of love.

And yet…

given the way that he develops that idea…

he doesn’t just understand it literally.

Indeed, he takes it in a very practical…

and a very specific direction.

The author exclaims…

roughly translated…

“Whoever should see their brother or sister in need and close their guts to them––how does the love God abide in that person?”

Our following the example of Jesus––

in self-giving love––

is grounded in the way that we treat those in need.

But the sense of “to close the guts”…

means to lack compassion or empathy.

Thus, for our author… 

compassion and empathy––

especially towards those less fortunate…

towards those in need––

is the pre-eminent manifestation of love…

and the pre-eminent manifestation that God’s love dwells within us.

After all, as a number of theologians remind us…

empathy is of the very essence of the incarnation.

 

But, clearly, such compassion––

such empathy…

such love–– 

cannot remain simply a feeling…

let alone the sort of offensive sentimentality…

that’s summed up by the expression “thoughts and prayers”…

which is elicited every time there’s another mass shooting in America.

According to our author…

the evidence that we have truly known the love of God…

and that the love of God truly flows through us…

is how we respond––

practically––

to those in need.

If what I feel when I see someone in need…

doesn’t lead me to want to help them…

and to change their situation…

then…

whatever it is that I’m feeling…

the author suggests that it isn’t love––

certainly not the love revealed to us in Jesus Christ.