He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked. If you make the Most High your dwelling - even the Lord, who is my refuge - then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. You will tread upon the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent.“Because he loves Me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him My salvation.” (Psalm 91)
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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.
Simple words can convey great power and emotion. These words with which I opened, of course, are words that are both simple and emotional to Canadians. Almost anyone who has lived in Canada in the last 90 years has heard these words over and over again. Most of us learned them long ago in school assemblies, when they would be repeated year after year for Remembrance Day. The words have even been set to music, and form a very meaningful part of the national ceremony every year in Ottawa. Sometimes, when we hear something repeatedly, the words lose their power and become mere words, repeated by rote, with little substance behind them. But not “In Flanders Fields.” It never seems to lose its emotional resonance with Canadians. The poem was written in 1917 by Lt. Col. John McCrae, a medical officer with the Canadian Army, about whom the Department of Veterans Affairs tells us the following:
In April 1915, John McCrae was in the trenches near Ypres, Belgium, in the area traditionally called Flanders. Some of the heaviest fighting of the First World War took place there during what was known as the Second Battle of Ypres. On April 22, the Germans used deadly chlorine gas against Allied troops in a desperate attempt to break the stalemate. Despite the debilitating effects of the gas, Canadian soldiers fought relentlessly and held the line for another 16 days. In the trenches, John McCrae tended hundreds of wounded soldiers every day. He was surrounded by the dead and the dying. In a letter to his mother, he wrote of the Battle of Ypres: “The general impression in my mind is of a nightmare. We have been in the most bitter of fights. For seventeen days and seventeen nights none of us have had our clothes off, nor our boots even, except occasionally. In all that time while I was awake, gunfire and rifle fire never ceased for sixty seconds ..... And behind it all was the constant background of the sights of the dead, the wounded, the maimed, and a terrible anxiety lest the line should give way.” The day before he wrote his famous poem, one of McCrae's closest friends was killed in the fighting and buried in a makeshift grave with a simple wooden cross. Wild poppies were already beginning to bloom between the crosses marking the many graves. Unable to help his friend or any of the others who had died, John McCrae gave them a voice through his poem.
As all of us here today know very well that voice has yet to be silenced. Those who sacrificed themselves for the sake of their country in that First World War were followed by those who did the same in the Second World War, and in the Korean War and in various peacekeeping missions and in Afghanistan. War unfortunately doesn't end. Wars may end, but war goes on. Sometimes the wars and battles are internal ones that eat away at a person's spirit. John McCrae, it's said, never got over the death of his friend, and was haunted by it for the remainder of his days, which unfortunately weren't very many, since he himself died in France during the War. But many survived, and were haunted for the rest of their days by what was called “survivor's guilt.” “Why did I survive when my buddies died?” I've known veterans who've asked that question and who are never really at peace with their own existence. Psalm 91 sometimes called the Soldier's Psalm – and for a very good reason. It's a Psalm tailor made to give hope and courage in times of danger. When we're exposed to evil or encircled by evil (and war – even if sometimes necessary, which is a debate for another time, may be the greatest of evils) the Psalm makes a promise: “A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you” but many survivors wonder why they should be so blessed as to be the beneficiaries of that promise, while thousands or tens of thousands of others perished – with neither rhyme nor reason as to who should be on which side of the equation. Over the years I've spoken to a number of veterans who survived, who moved on in life, who raised families and had careers, but who still sometimes wondered “Why?” “Why am I here when my buddy's buried in a grave in France?” The Psalm suggests that faith has something to do with this - “If you make the Most High your dwelling - even the Lord, who is my refuge - then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent” but, still, some of the fallen were almost certainly people of faith – sometimes of deeper faith than those who survived. “Why am I so fortunate when others aren't?” is the lament.
It doesn't just apply to soldiers in times of war – although that's probably the immediate context of the Psalm. But the question arises for a lot of us in a lot of different ways. There are times when we fall into the trap of self-pity as we deal with our own problems (why me, Lord?”) but there are also times when we shake our head in wonder for the very opposite reason: “Why am I healthy when someone else has a dreadful disease?” “Why do I have food on my table every night when some people have to go to Food Banks and hope something is available?” “Why do I have a roof over my head and a comfortable bed to sleep in and others have to sleep on the streets?” “Why am I fortunate enough to live in Canada when others live in Somalia?” “Why am I fortunate enough to enjoy peace, when some people know only war and violence?” Why am I so richly blessed when thousands or tens of thousands (or millions or billions) of others aren't? Why, indeed. I'm no more worthy than those who suffer. I celebrate my blessings, but I realize that it isn't really fair that others aren't so blessed, just as those who survived war celebrate their lives but wonder why others had to lose their lives? There is no easy answer.
Perhaps, though, in our understandable feelings of unworthiness in such circumstances - “why am I blessed when others aren't?” we miss out on the good news by focussing so much on this one Psalm and on just a few words in this one Psalm that we forget the gospel – by which I mean not Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, but the overall message of good news that we find in the Scriptures and that we find in our faith. The point of the Psalm – which Jesus seems to reinforce over and over again by reminding his followers of how close the Kingdom of God is to them (and even sometimes by reminding them that God's Kingdom is within them) – is that God is more than just a refuge. God is not merely the one to whom we flee when we face adversity; God is our “dwelling” - the one in whom we rest day after day and moment after moment. God is our eternal dwelling, whose presence isn't dependent on our circumstances but who is simply present with us by God's grace – whether we deserve it or not. God is our eternal dwelling, whose presence transcends the life or death of our bodies and promises us peace. If God is your dwelling place, then, indeed, “no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent” - because nothing will take God's grace from you. So Psalm 91 isn't actually a frantic call to be rescued, it's the deed we've been given to a permanent residence of salvation. “If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me so that you may be where I am.” That was the promise of Jesus.
On this Remembrance Day upcoming, we're called to remember and pay tribute to both those who survived and those who didn't. I believe that in many ways those who survived have the more difficult task. Those who didn't rest at peace and in the care of God in an eternal dwelling place prepared for them by Jesus. Those who didn't have to wonder “why?” Many of us have to wonder “why?” about various things that seem unfair. My advice is – let it go. There is no answer. There is the challenge of living a life faithful to God who calls us to a new life and to Jesus who showed us what that new life looks like and to the Holy Spirit who guides us step by step along that new life. If living that new life is the challenge, the assurance is found in these words from Psalm 91: “'Because he loves Me,' says the Lord, 'I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him My salvation.'” There is the good news – for those with plenty and for those with little; for those who perished – and for those who survived!
