Remembrance 2025

The silence that takes place on Remembrance Sunday is never empty. It echoes with stories, with sacrifice, with love. Today, on this Remembrance Sunday we gather not just to remember the fallen but to ask what their memory calls us to become. In the shadow of war, we seek wisdom. In the pain of loss, we proclaim hope. And above all, we stand firm in the love of Christ—a love that no battle, no grave, no sorrow can ever overcome.

Our readings this evening invite us to remember with sadness and sorrow, but also to do so with wisdom (1 Kings 3:1–15) and with the assurance of God’s unbreakable love (Romans 8:31–39).

Remembering isn’t something we simply do—it’s something that shapes us. It’s not passive, but active. It’s not just about looking back, but about learning, growing, and being transformed. And from our readings, we are called to live wisely and love boldly.

In our Old Testament reading, Solomon, the successor of King David, is portrayed as wealthy and powerful, yet he seeks something deeper. He asks God not for riches or victory, but for “a discerning heart” to govern and judge rightly. This is a real moment of humility and clarity. Solomon, a great and powerful king recognises that true leadership, true peace, begins with wisdom.

And this wisdom resounds strongly on Remembrance Sunday. As we think of the wars that have cost so much for so many, we are reminded that remembrance must lead to reflection. We pray for our leaders, those who are entrusted with decisions about war and peace, justice and mercy, care and compassion. We pray that they, like Solomon, would seek wisdom above all.

And there is a challenge here. A challenge to think about right and wrong, to consider what the sacrifices of the past were truly made for, and to ask how those reflections might lead us to be people of peace today. We are called to pray for a discerning heart—not necessarily to govern nations, but to do the right thing in our own lives, communities, and relationships.

In Paul’s letter to the Romans, we hear one of the most powerful affirmations in all of the Bible: that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. Nothing. Not hardship, not persecution, not famine, not danger, not death. This is a passage of comfort and hope, a passage that breathes life into situations where life seems broken or meaningless. It is a promise that God’s love is unchanging, ever-present, and victorious.

During the Second World War, a young soldier was stationed far from home. He wrote regularly to his mother, and in one letter he said: “Mum, I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But I know who holds tomorrow. And I know He holds me.” 

The soldier never returned home. But his mother kept that letter and read it every Remembrance Sunday for the rest of her life. It reminded her that even in the darkest valley, God’s love was there. That even in loss, there was hope.

This is the heart of the gospel. That in Christ, we are never abandoned. That in Christ, death does not have the final word. That in Christ, love wins.

So, what does this mean for us today?

It means we remember. Wars have cost so much. Sacrifices have been made. Pain has been endured. Some of that pain is distant, some is deeply personal. But as Christians, we do not turn away from pain—we acknowledge it, and we respond by seeking to make the world a better place.

Remembering well means, like Solomon, seeking a discerning heart, so that our behaviour reflects a desire for peace. In our own diocese, we’ve introduced a culture guide which is not just words in a booklet, but a living expression of the qualities we seek to embody: love, generosity, joy, humility, courage, and integrity. These are qualities of peace. But they require effort. They require prayer. They require grace.

Solomon understood that wisdom wasn’t automatic. He prayed for it. He asked for it. He recognised his need. And so must we because sometimes it isn’t easy to exhibit those qualities and it isn’t easy to always seek peace. Life can be tough, people can be challenging! 

And there is often a tension between worldly power and godly wisdom. Between what the world values and what God calls us to. And we must ask: what does wisdom look like in our remembrance, our politics, our prayers? 

Because in our attitudes and our behaviour and our thinking and in our prayers we can’t compartmentalise things – and we can often be judged, perhaps unfairly, but perhaps correctly, on our worst behaviour, not our best. 

I read a story of a boy named Emyr who grew up hearing stories of his grandfather, who had fought in the First World War. Every year, Emyr would place a poppy on the memorial stone and whisper, “Thank you.” But one year, he asked his grandmother, “Why did my grandfather go to war?” She replied, “He went because he believed love was stronger than fear. He believed that protecting others was worth the cost.”

That simple answer stayed with Emyr. Years later, he became a teacher, and every Remembrance Day he would tell his students, “We remember not to glorify war, but to honour love. Love that protects. Love that sacrifices. Love that never gives up.”

This is the love we see in Jesus. A love that laid down his life. A love that rose again. A love that reaches into every corner of our lives—our fears, our failures, our griefs, and says, “You are mine.”

The reading from Romans reminds us that nothing can separate us from this love. Not war. Not death. Not despair. Not even our own doubts. God’s love is not fragile. It is not conditional. It is not distant. It is here. It is now. It is forever.

And so, remembrance is:

•  Firstly, a call to action: not just about the past, but about shaping the future.

•  Secondly, a call to peace: not just in global terms, but in our homes, our churches, our hearts.

•  And thirdly, a call to hope: not just wishful thinking, but real hope rooted in the unchanging love of God.

As Christians, we are called to be people of remembrance and people of resurrection. We remember the cost, and we proclaim the hope. We honour the sacrifice, and we live out the love.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was martyred during the Second World War, once wrote: “The ultimate test of a moral society is the kind of world it leaves to its children.” That test remains. And we, as the Church, must be part of the answer.

We must be people who pray for wisdom, who live with integrity, who speak peace, who embody love. We must be people who remember well, not just with silence, but with service. Not just with tears, but with transformation.

And above all, we must be people who trust in the promise of those words of Paul to the Romans, that nothing - no battle, no grave, no power - can ever overcome the love of Christ.

So today we remember. Not to glorify war, but to honour sacrifice. Not to dwell in sorrow, but to rise in wisdom. And above all, to stand firm in the love of Christ—a love that is our refuge, our strength, our future; and a love we are called to share… Amen.