Why This Pacifist Wears a Poppy

The other day, I heard my 6-year-old daughter singing a song and I joined in...

Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.

Let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be.

With God, our Creator, children all are we.

Let us walk with each other in perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me; let this be the moment now.

With every step I take, let this be my solemn vow:

To take each moment and live each moment with peace eternally.

Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.

“How do you know that song, Mommy?” she asked when we got to the end of the song and she had instructed me on the modern updates (God, our Father changed to God, our Creator, and brothers all are we to children all are we).

“Well,” I said, “I learned that many years ago to sing at the Remembrance Day service when I was in school. How do you know that song?”

“Oh, we're learning that in music class so we can sing it at the Remembrance Day service, too.”

And so, there we were, the two of us, a few days later, singing that song together with the rest of the school and various members of the community. That same song that has likely been sung for decades at our local Remembrance Day services. That song of peace in the midst of remembering war. That call to peace and harmony while honoring those who responded to the call to arms. How do we reconcile these two things?

Last year, I was waiting for this same service to begin and was sitting next to another mom whom I knew slightly. She is the friendly sort and struck up a conversation with me. She told me of her uncles and grandfathers who had been in various wars over the years and then she said, “How about you? Do you have any veterans in your family?”

“Actually,” I said, somewhat awkwardly, “I come from a long line of pacifists.”

Whoa! Now there's a way to hijack a pleasant conversation! She looked slightly aghast then quickly recovered and asked if I was a pacifist too and if so, why I was here at the Remembrance Day service. I could have taken the easy way out and said I was there to watch my kids recite the perennial poem, “In Flander's Fields”, which in fact, did cross my mind to say. However, that wouldn't have been true nor would it have been fair to respond to her serious question in a flippant way.

And so I had to go about trying, fumbling, nervously, to articulate why it is that I, who belong to a people who take literally God's command not the kill and Jesus' instruction to love one's enemies and pray for those who persecute, would want to be at a service commemorating soldiers who were committed to defending their country.

And I mumbled and tripped over my words and maybe didn't make very much sense in the end to her, but for me it was galvanizing event. And as I thought about it more over the next few days, and year, what I think it comes down to for me is Jesus' command: “Love your neighbour as yourself” (Mt. 19:19).

It is so easy to isolate oneself from one's neighbours with whom one doesn't agree. But when one doesn't know one's neighbours, it's hard to love them. When one does know them, and engages in conversation with them, and has a vested interest in the relationship, it is both easier to love them and harder to see divisive issues, like war, as clearly black or white. There can be no reconciliation between opposing neighbours without conversation; conversation is unlikely without actually having a relationship with one's neighbours, personally or globally.

“Let us walk with each other in perfect harmony.” When people sing in harmony, they rarely sing the same note. Walking in harmony, people will rarely agree on everything, but at least if we're walking together in the direction of peace, there is hope. “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.” That peace needs to begin with the individual, with me, personally, with active steps towards relationship-making, in hope that the peace will spread to my family, my neighbours, to my community, to my society, to the world. It is a small act, maybe an inconsequential act, perhaps even a misguided act, but I wear a poppy – and attend Remembrance Day services - for peace, to be involved in a conversation with my neighbours with whom I may agree or disagree, but whom I am seeking to love.