The Moderator highlights the importance of Remembrance – and remembering.

THE time for remembering those who’ve gone before is upon us.

All Souls’ and All Saints’ heralded the season, and we now approach Remembrance Day.

In a world riven with war and conflict, what is it we need to remember? What might our remembrance do to turn the tide of violence or at least give us the strength to swim against it?

I return to the Zulu phrase, Ubuntu, ‘I am because you are’. Human beings cannot be fully human alone, but we are intricately inter-related. Conflict, poverty and fear can distance us from that truth, but memory and space to remember, offers us a chance to reconnect. This time of Remembrance is a gift that deserves to be unpacked.

How do you choose what to remember? How do you reach into the hidden treasure chest, the one kept safe deep in your soul, and take out your summary of a life?

As we approach this year’s Remembrance Day, we sit with the collective memories of a war-torn world and we are called to listen deeply, to give our moment, to hear names whispered, beloved names that are no longer here, but not forgotten. Or if lost to time, were loved in their day.

It is important that we do not lose sight of the beautiful individual when faced with this sea of souls. The bigger issues of perceived right or wrong, the global negotiations, the complexities of international justice, the overwhelming debate around the excruciating explanations for war are laid aside for a moment as we lay bare the grief of a single life stolen away, the unique person who wanted to live.

Lovers remember … the curve of her cheek, the angle of his jaw, the smell of his aftershave when he came fresh from the shower, her bending down to kiss you good morning at the breakfast table.

Parents remember … his first words, her first steps, the sound of that baby-laugh that sang through the house turning it into a home and turning you into a family.

Those left behind remember … the time he made you proud, the time they disappointed themselves but walked away a better person for it. And they still hear … the late-night conversations, the deep, even breathing when they fell truly asleep; the rowdy racket and creative chaos that seemed to follow close wherever they went.

And we can still feel the steady hand, guiding; the tiny hand in ours, needing; the gentle hand on our skin, wanting us close. If we want to be part of the vision of a new world, then perhaps we might begin by carving out a moment when we see clearly what we are asked to forfeit, when the bigger issues of perceived right or wrong, the global negotiations, the complexities of international justice, the overwhelming debate around the excruciating explanations for war are laid aside for a moment as we lay bare the grief of a single life stolen away.

What is it we collectively need to remember? What might help us turn the tide of violence, or at least give us the strength to swim against it? Perhaps, in this season of remembrance, we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and open and honest. We ask each other to recognise them not as casualties, collateral damage, the glorious dead, the fallen … but as glorious individuals.

Part of our remembering them, if we will do them honour, is to remember the horror of their death and the senselessness of war. Even when the reasons seem clear, even when there seems no alternative, when we go to war, the world takes leave of its senses and enters into a profound evil. Remembering must reflect that deep understanding or we remember in vain. How do you choose what to remember? During this season of remembrance, we sit with the collective memories of a wartorn world and we are called to unpack, to give our moment, to listen to whispers of names gone, but not forgotten. Or if lost to time, were loved in their day. We are called to remember, so that others will, one day, not have to. 

The Rt Rev Sally Foster-Fulton is Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland in 2023/24.