I was touched very recently by the visit to Crete of several very elderly returned soldiers who had returned to pay their respects to their fallen comrades.
On what would have been their last opportunity to do so, these frail but proud men struggled against their growing infirmities to walk shakily but independently down the path to visit the memorial headstones.
When each veteran saw each name upon a headstone, it was if the spirit of that young soldier had suddenly emerged into the vision of the visitor who became young again for a moment as the memories of comradeship flooded back. The returned soldiers would resume their shaky journey to return again to safety but with the reassurance that there was some closure with the spirit of the fallen soldiers now at peace.
I hope I’m not becoming doddery in my mind as I have relatives fallen somewhere overseas. Great-uncle Alec lies with mates somewhere at Pope’s Hill, Gallipoli. Grandpa’s two first cousins, memorialised at Villers-Bretonneux, were last seen at Bullecourt and off the Fremantle coast respectively. That was WW1. During the second global conflict, uncle Arthur fell somewhere in the swamps outside Buna, New Guinea. Dad’s cricketing cousin Ken went down in a Short Sunderland over the Mediterranean.
Several cousins of my mother, were found and buried appropriately. For so many war casualties, however, no final resting place was ever found. In many cultures around the world, there is the belief that their spirits cannot rest until proper respect is made. In many cultures and belief systems, respect is continually paid to the spirits of departed ancestors.
I used to disparage such practices in my youth but when one becomes old enough to experience bereavement a continuing bond remains with the departed out of respect. I saw this in the bearing of these veterans returning to Crete and this would be true for many as the years turn over.
There is still that sense of mystery regarding the afterlife. The body is farewelled to the elements with all its molecules dispersed and recycled into new forms of stardust. The spirit stays on in the memory of the mourners and often invigorates the lives of those now holding the baton passed to them.
We are about to leave the Easter season and move into Pentecost. In the latter parts of John’s Gospel, Jesus shocks his first disciples with the news of his coming death. He reassures them that, though his body will be gone, the bond of his spirit will stay with them if they carry out what the Father had sent him to do.
Pentecost reminds us that we, part of the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, remain with Jesus in spirit. We pray through his name, we read about him regularly, we hear what God has to say to us, and we commemorate him at the table.
Our bond with him is strengthened because it is a bond of spirit. We can continue doing some of the things that Jesus used to do when we continue with his values. We may ourselves walk shakily one way or another but with our insight we have seen his face and we know we are a part of him and he with us.
