I remember when people still called November 11 Armistice Day. It marked the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918 when the “war to end all war” ended. Congress changed the name 1n 1954 to honor the veterans of all our many wars. (The Army chaplain with whom I served at Hyde Park UMC always reminded us that on Memorial Day we remember those who served and died. On Veterans’ Day we honor those who served and survived.)

Historian Diana Butler Bass wrote, “History takes us down some unanticipated pathways. And November 11 is surely one of its weirder journeys.” As I’ve reflected on the history of the day, I realized that two things can be true at the same time.

My brother honored the members of “The Greatest Generation” when he attempted to wear Dad’s WWII uniform to a Halloween party. But he said he had a problem.

I couldn’t fit into Dad’s shirt, couldn’t begin to get it buttoned. I realized I couldn’t fit into his uniform in more ways than one.

One of the guys at the party said his father had been at Normandy. Another said his Dad had been in the Battle of the Bulge. The father of one of our neighbors helped liberate a concentration camp but could never talk about it. Most of us could tell stories about our parents who were part of what Tom Brokaw called the Greatest Generation. And they were. They fought to save the world from fascism…and they did.

On Veterans’ Day we remember all those in every generation who in a multitude of ways and in far too many wars, fulfill the vow to “support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”

At the same time…

For centuries before Armistice Day, November 11 was the day Christians across Europe honored St. Martin of Tours.

As a teenager, Martin (ca. 316-397) was attracted to Christianity. But when he was 15, his father forced him to serve in Rome’s Imperial Guard.

One day Martin saw a naked beggar on the side of the road. He removed his cloak, tore it in half, and covered the man. In a dream that night, Jesus told him, “You covered me with your garment.”

Martin was baptized and asked to be released from the military. He told his commander, “I am Christ’s soldier. I am not allowed to fight.” We would call him a “conscientious objector.” In the Middle Ages, Martin’s witness led to the practice of signing peace treaties on his feast day. That may be why Armistice Day ended up on St.Martin’s Day.

St. Martin’s influence continued. Heather Cox Richardson reported that in 1926 Congress passed a resolution which said November 11, 1918, “should be commemorated with … exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations.” In 1938, Congress made November 11 a legal holiday dedicated to world peace.

In 1954, President Dwight D. Eisenhower, the five star general who was the supreme commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force in Europe, called Americans to “solemnly remember the sacrifices of all those who fought so valiantly to preserve our heritage of freedom, and let us reconsecrate ourselves to the task of promoting an enduring peace so that their efforts shall not have been in vain.”

Two things can be true at the same time: the ruthless reality of a waring world and God’s vision of a world of peace. Isaiah heard the Lord say:

Look! I’m creating a new heaven and a new earth …
 No one will ever hear the sound of weeping or crying in it again.
No more will babies live only a few days,
    or the old fail to live out their days…
They will build houses and live in them;
    they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit…
They won’t labor in vain,
    nor bear children to a world of horrors…
Wolf and lamb will graze together,
    and the lion will eat straw like the ox…
They won’t hurt or destroy at any place on my holy mountain,
    says the Lord. (Isaiah 65:17-25)

While we honor those who served in the relentless conflicts of our broken and sin-infected world, followers of Christ can never accept war as anything other than the ruthless rejection of God’s will for his children. With Jesus, we weep for a world that hasn’t learned what makes for peace. (Luke 19:41-43)

As one of the leading voices of Christian faith during WWII, Harry Emerson Fosdick faced the reality of the war while never giving up on God’s vision of peace. In his great hymn, God of Grace and God of Glory, he taught us to pray:

Cure your children’s warring madness;
Bend our pride to your control;
Shame our wanton, selfish gladness,
Rich in things and poor in soul.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
Lest we miss your kingdom’s goal,
Lest we miss your kingdom’s goal.

Two things can be true at the same time, but only one is the unchanging promise of God.

Grace and peace,

Jim

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