Coming

Regular readers will know that, in the years since his death some thirty years ago, I have gained an increasing respect for my father.  As I look back, it seems there were often disagreements – even arguments – between us but, as I get older and learn more about people in general, and the age through which he lived, I have come to realise (in modern terms) ‘where he was coming from’.  Although he paid no regard to formal religion, and went to church only for weddings and funerals, he left me a worthy example of right living, and a number of wise sayings.  There were many occasions, for example, when I chose to ignore his instructions or advice; sometimes he would say, with an air of irate finality coupled with desperate resignation, “There’ll come a time, my boy, ...”, and the sentence would remain unfinished, for me to add whatever fate my imagination might provide.

I was reminded of these words recently when I read from Peter’s second letter, “The day of the Lord will come like a thief” (2 Peter 3:10).  Peter had just issued a warning about ‘scoffers’: people who alleged, in effect, that religion is rubbish, that Jesus would never come back.  They claimed that life would go on unchanged as it had since the creation, conveniently ignoring the matter of the flood, when God destroyed all but a handful of his creation because of the evil that it had embraced (verses 3-6).  

In just the same way, Peter wrote, the new generation would also be destroyed on the day of Judgement.  But when will that be?  We don’t know.  What we do know is that it will be when we least expect it (Matt. 24:36-41). 

Peter was writing to a generation for whom Jesus’ life on earth was recent history.  His words are just as applicable in the twenty-first century.  Today, as then, we are tempted to listen to the ‘worldly wise’: people who tell us that, in this post-modern age, we’re wasting our time being ‘good’.  According to them, any chance of a Second Coming has elapsed: after all, it hasn’t happened in 2,000 years – it just won’t happen now.

However, God doesn’t work to our timescale (see Psalm 90:3-6); we shouldn’t confuse what we construe as His bad timekeeping with His patience. He wants every last one of us to come to Him in repentance (v.9).  Peter teaches that God’s patience leads to our salvation (v.15).  It is vital that we are always on our guard against temptation, as Peter says in his letter (v.17), but it’s not a matter for undue apprehension.  I invite you to use a prayer that, many years ago, I used to hear every week as I attended Mass with my young family.  Somehow it seems particularly appropriate for the season of Advent, which begins in a couple of weeks.

“Deliver us, Lord, 

from every evil, 

and grant us peace in our day. 

In Your mercy 

keep us free from sin 

and protect us from all anxiety 

as we wait in joyful hope 

for the coming of our Saviour 

Jesus Christ.”

I wish you a worry-free Christmas when it comes!

Poppies ... and Other Flowers

It’s coming: a weekend of military nostalgia, when we watch the Festival of Remembrance from the Royal Albert Hall, see the members of the Royal British Legion parading their navy-and-gold banners, and wear our poppies with pride.  But, nowadays, fewer TV viewers tune in to the Festival, the medals merrily bouncing on the chests of the legion were probably earned in Belfast, Basra or Helmand rather than Ypres or Passchendaele, Tobruk or Anzio, and we are confused about what it is that we are proud of as we pin that poppy to our lapel.

The history of the poppy is well-known.  When it was chosen as the symbol of the British Legion in 1921, many survivors remembered it as the only sign on life to be seen amidst scenes of utter devastation on the Western Front.  It was a reminder that life goes on, and that the Legion’s aim was to help survivors and the families of the fallen to cope with it in the years following the war.

Today, things are very different.  Many other wars have come and gone and, with the medical and surgical advances of the last century, there are proportionally far more survivors to be cared for.  The romantic images of the early twentieth century have given way to a different, and more immediate, picture of the human need resulting from war.

The idea of Remembrance with which past generations grew up, thinking fondly of those who were lost in war – or, as in my case, of uncles and cousins whom we never knew – and praising their bravery, has been transformed.  We now think of war as a concept, a terrible last resort for irresolvable international differences; we remember it in the sense of ‘let’s not forget that it still hovers spectrally in the background.’  Perhaps the poppy, with its specific historic origins, should be replaced by another flower: myosotis, the forget-me-not, which is already a symbol of love, of remembering a absent loved one.

Remembering is important.  Let me put it another way: forgetting is frustrating, sometimes painful and potentially damaging to relationships.  I’m reminded (pardon the pun!) of Forgetful Heart by my friend Lucy Mills (Darton Longman and Todd, 2014), the essence of which is neatly summed up in these words from the introduction: “I don’t just forget ordinary, trivial things.  I forget about who I really am, and what has been done for me.  I forget the One who made and redeemed me.”  In her book, Lucy explores the human tendency to forget, especially to forget God.

Poppies and forget-me-nots don’t appear in the Bible; indeed very few flowers do.  One that does is the lily, often associated with funerals, and devotion to a loved one.  The passage in Matthew’s gospel which includes the familiar words ‘consider the lilies of the field’ talks about putting God’s kingdom above all practical desires, safe in the knowledge that He will provide for our needs (Matt. 6:25-34).  The following note comes from a Greek lexicon by Louw & Nida, and is quoted from the NET Bible (http://netbibleorg).  “Though traditionally κρίνον has been regarded as a type of lily, scholars have suggested several other possible types of flowers, including an anemone, a poppy, a gladiolus, and a rather inconspicuous type of daisy.”

It’s interesting that the other flowers suggested include not only the poppy, but also the tall gladiolus, sometimes called sword lily named from the Latin gladius, a sword, very much a weapon of war.

Isaiah begins his vision of beauty by suggesting that “the wilderness will rejoice and blossom like a crocus” (Is. 35:1, NIV); other translations offer a rose (KJV) or a lily (NET).  A similar dilemma faced the translators when they looked at the Song of Solomon, where rose and lily compete once more as they try to express the supreme beauty of the lover by comparing the flower to the dull ordinariness of the thorn bushes. (Songs 2:1-2).

Perhaps the Good News has the edge; there the specific identity is subsumed in the simple ‘flower’, leaving the emphasis to fall on the absolute perfection of God’s Kingdom.

As you wear your poppy this year, don’t be confused by its meaning, but think of it as one of a whole posy of flowers, strewn in our path to remind us – like the variety of support provided by the Royal British Legion to the service community - of the richness of God’s provision for us all, here and in the hereafter.