CENOTAPHS AND MONUMENTS

LEST WE FORGET TO REMEMBER

My family and I have recently been required to pour over and sort through years of belongings, photos, letters, and memories of loved ones who have passed away. It has been a challenging process, in many ways heart wrenching, often confronting, sometimes joyous. It has been as though we have entered the vaults of our loved one’s lives. Their material lives are a testament of memories with stories, histories, and intimacies to tell. Remembering is a powerful process, it can be liberating and empowering.

SORTING THROUGH THE MEMORIES

During the Easter holidays this year (the time I prefer to label “The Passion week”) my wife and I spent much of our time we would spend in reflection, rest and recreation working through about 35 years of our own archives, files, and ministry notes and resources. This was a space and time-determined imperative. In the process we needed to discern what was necessary to retain and those elements that would need to be processed for shredding (including much confidential material). A monumental experience after successfully filling four wheely-bins of discarded material. Amongst all the archives we also discovered artifacts we have chosen to retain as they are eminent memories. Emotionally charged. Important. Relevant. Impactful.

The Australian Light Horse

MEETING THE LAST LIGHT HORSEMAN

 

Amongst them was an order of service that sparked a precious memory from twenty years ago.I had been invited with my family to the birthday of Albert (Bert) Whitmore (1899 - 2002). I remember being so honoured and proud of my son when he was blessed to shake his hand. Bert was the last surviving Light Horseman and last surviving South Australian World War One veteran. Having joined the service as a 17-year-old Bert joined his fellow comrades in arms shortly after they had captured Beersheba in the historic cavalry charge. Bert rode in the successful third battle for Gaza. Allied victories soon led to the capture of Jerusalem. The rest - they say- is history. Bert described the scenes he had witnessed  as "like riding through the Bible". Israel is an archaeological museum of peoples, and lives and stories and beliefs. In the midst of the war, Bert had been graced to view with his own eyes the good news places he had read of and heard about in Sunday School. Beersheba is the place of cisterns in the desert where “The well of Abraham” can be seen on numerous plaques heralding the narrative to visitors. 

Author Shane Brigg at "Abraham's Well" at Beersheba in Israel

CENOTAPHS, MEMORIALS, AND MONUMENTS

Today monuments and cenotaphs are seen in this place too of the time Bert and his mates rode through.  In Jerusalem there are many cenotaphs, memorial places, plaques, and archaeological sites of significance. The most eminent and debated over is the burial place of the risen Jesus. The word cenotaph is derived from the Greek kenos taphos, meaning "empty tomb." A cenotaph is a monument, sometimes in the form of a tomb, in our modern usage it is often utilized as a place of remembrance to a person or group of persons buried elsewhere. Including our ANZACs.

LEST WE FORGET

Bert Passed away at the age of 102. Soon after the opportunity our community had made to honour him in life we then gathered for his funeral service which took place on the 31st of October 2002. This date was also the 85th anniversary of the Battle of Beersheba. I was honoured to attend this humble man’s graveside State funeral service in the Barmera cemetery. It was a solemn, impactful, appreciation of a servant-hearted man and his comrades who had laid down their lives. The words “Lest we forget” resounded. The phrase simply implores that 'it should not be forgotten'. We say or write 'lest we forget' in commemorations to always remember the service and sacrifice of people who have served in wars, conflicts and peacekeeping operations. A Bugle sounded. Bagpipes played. 

Albert Whitmore. The last Light Horseman

I visited that cemetery several times over the years.

OTHERS NOT FORGOTTEN 

Among the artifacts we found as we cleaned up all those archives was the memorial service handout of a ten year old boy's funeral that I had conducted at that same cemetery a couple of years after Bert Whitmore’s farewell. I was his Chappy and Pastor caring for his family over many years. I have kept that order of service. This was a difficult memory to process. Especially considering that only a little while later I was doing another service for his Dad who had passed away after his battle with cancer. Bagpipes played at their funeral, but there was no bugle. The phrase “Lest we Forget” was not announced for these two friends of mine. But they had both fought a brave fight: one which is the battle of all young people to live their lives, grow, learn, wrestle through the challenges, connect, love and be loved by others and celebrate every heartbeat, the other was to experience the same and to have lived and loved and fought a brave battle for health. Then to have known the peace of God in the last hours as hands were held, prayers were said. I will ever remember them as having fought the good fight of faith. Sometimes this fight may have been faltering for them. Sometimes it was full of glory. Remembering them is important. It helps to anchor my own life and be thankful for the lives I have been honoured to know. It also deepens the appreciation of those whom I have not known and yet who are important to value and appreciate and take time to remember.

HONOUR TO OUR ANZACS 

This ANZAC day we will pause to remember our service people who have laid down their life and living to secure peace in our world. Many have paid the ultimate price of their life in sacrifice. No greater love. Lest we forget.

The phrase 'Lest we forget' is from a line in the1897 Rudyard Kipling poem, “Recessional”:

"God of our fathers, known of old,

Lord of our far-flung battle line,

Beneath whose awful hand we hold

Dominion over palm and pine—

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!"

 

Remembering is a powerful process.

Shane Brigg Chaplain Remembrance Day Service Prayers

The memories that had been catalysed by our archival cleanout over passion week have culminated in my final thoughts here:

The opportunity to journey with loved ones (like my family and friends), acquaintances and even people less known to us but whose stories have had an impact on our lives (Like Bert Whitmore) is a blessing.

The memories literally grounded in the cemetery in Barmera are not just of deaths, but of lives and loves that have touched my life. And Life goes on.

LIFE. LOVE. LIFTING JESUS . 

The siblings, wife, family, and friends of those who we had buried at the Barmera cemetery gathered at the beautiful Lake Bonney near this landmark at the culmination of my tenure in this region. It was for a baptism in its waters. As we remembered the saving works of Jesus. No Greater Love has any one than to lay down their life for their friends. And as those who went through the waters, we recognised that this act was more than just a memorial of death. It was a living symbol of Jesus having laid down his life he rose again to give us life. Life abundant. The sister and daughter of that little boy and the dad who had passed away was baptised.

 There was no bugle or bagpipes, but someone played a guitar and we sang.

 "Lord, I lift Your name on high

Lord, I love to sing Your praises
I'm so glad You're in my life
I'm so glad You came to save us

You came from heaven to earth
To show the way
From the earth to the cross
My debt to pay
From the cross to the grave
From the grave to the sky
Lord, I lift Your name on high."

(Written by Rick Founds).

We could have added a stanza we might have borrowed from Kipling (my thoughts):

God of our fathers, known of old, (and known to us)

Lord of our far-flung battle line, (Our lives, our world, our time)

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, (Jesus, you never leave us nor forsake us)

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

Lake Bonney Barmera, South Australia

The Passion week is a time for us to remember. Baptisms are a mark on our lives to memorialise in our own living Jesus death and resurrection. A testimonial of saving love. We do that conscientiously and consequentially of our faith journeys. Jesus life and death and resurrection has redeemed our past and marked and influenced our future. I am grateful.  Remembering is powerful.

The opening of the memorial portal that was stored in all the archival and material elements that my wife and I have kept and reviewed have meant that I have and will conscientiously make  time to remember my family and friends. My loved ones and their lives. To tell and write more of their stories. To bless. To heal. Those who have lived their lives and touched ours in the past and their passing have marked and influenced our future. I am grateful.  Remembering is powerful.

Love is a reminder that the story of our lives is interwoven with those of others. The strongest reminder is the greatest of love. The laying down of lives. Living sacrifices. Faith, Hope and Love, and the greatest of these is love, and no greater love has anyone than they lay down their lives for their friends. (1 Corinthians 13:13, John 15:13).

This ANZAC day I chose to remember. I chose to remember, appreciate, honour those who have served and have laid down their lives in times of war and conflict to secure a future and peace for us. I am truly grateful. 

Bert Whitmore Light Horse Memorial Barmera RSL 

On the 14th August 2022, on Albert Whitmore’s birthday a memorial was unveiled by Tony Pasin MP & Bert`s family at the Barmera RSL. The Plaque reads :

“Erected by the RSL Barmera Sub Branch to celebrate Albert (Bert) Whitmore.

The last surviving WWI Light Horseman”

 The Front Inscription reads :

“L E S T   W E   F O R G E T”.

 

I won’t.  I hope we all remember. Remembering is powerful.

By Knowing Me Here - Jo Sarah Stanford

Israel.

Somewhere between Nazareth and Capernaum.

It’s just after lunch and the hottest part of the day. Day three of hiking the Jesus Trail – from Nazareth to Capernaum.We’ve probably done about 45km already – 27km more to go. I am tired, my feet are sore and my pack feels heavy on my back. I come over a hill and look down into a valley…and straight into my story.

​I stop dead in my tracks. Before me lies a dirt road with a field of wheat, growing golden-green on my right. The path ahead winds to the left around a big hill that stands in our way. I take a deep breath. I wrote this. Not just, ‘oh this reminds me of my novel…’ but, ‘that’s the hill where my character cuts across the fields, when she comes home from school because she doesn’t want to go the long way. Even though her neighbour asks her to not…’ It was my story…and I was there.

I recently spent a year in Israel, volunteering for the non-profit Bridges for Peace. I was part of a team of ten young adults, who came from all over the world to participate in their unique discipleship program. While there, my job was “journalist and International Content Manager” for thepublications department (Cool, hey!?). During Passover, we went on the popular hike called the Jesus’ Trail, which runs 72km from Nazareth to Capernaum, ending on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. It is a four-day hike, tough for anyone, let alone for someone with a physical disability like myself. I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it all the way… but I did.

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        The circumstances that led to me living in Israel were a miracle in themselves. I knew God had called me. However, hiking the Jesus’ trail – the lows, the highs, the exhilaration, the tears – was a unique experience of its own. So many times I thought to myself, ‘this is good material for my story.’ Then I came to that valley, with a scene I had already written laid out before me, and a little voice inside me whispered, ‘perhaps God brought me to Israel for another reason too.’ So I could finish my novel.

It was one I had been working on for quite some time (years) and was very close to my heart. It was also the one giving me the most trouble. The plot was elusive, the characters silent and I struggled to put into words what I saw and felt inside. To me it was more than “just a story”, but given its current not-even-a-draft status, in reality it wasn’t much a story at all. Friends were publishing their first and second – even third– novels , and I didn’t even have a name for my fantasy world. 

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It is easy to get despondent over a lack of progress in our work. Whether we sit day and night at our desk and more papers end up on the floor than filled with words, whether we are too busy or just can’t find the motivation – there is a little voice inside us calling, ‘remember your mission.’ How many of us read books wishing we could be a part of that world, envying the characters’ journey yet forgetting they had struggles of their own? Some people accuse readers of “reading to escape” but I don’t escape. I learn.

My favourite books have taught to me to put others first, to be brave and to stand tall because the bad guys can be defeated. They have taught me about myself and about my faith. They have taught me that even if you are tired, your feet are sore and your pack feels heavy on your back – if you keep going you never know what story you might enter into.

In C.S. Lewis’ the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Aslan reveals to Lucy one of the reasons he brought her into Narnia. ‘That by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.’ God brought me to Israel for many reasons, but one of them was so that I might finish my story. Hiking the Jesus’ Trail made my story more real to me. The lows, the highs, the exhilaration and the tears I experienced will become words scratched out on page after page, eventually turning into this novel I know I am supposed to write. 

​I saw a scene from my own story, quite literally before my eyes, and I marvelled at the work of God – the Great Author – and how He planned this all before I even knew how to write. In knowing Him in that moment, I know Him better now. What story has God given you, so that one day a reader might be braver, stronger, kinder? How might they know Him better because of the words you write? 

Remember your mission. Don’t lose heart. Keep writing.

(The Sea of Galilee. I made it to the end.)

Jo Sarah Stanford is a freelance writer with her own business: Write It Up! She has recently spent a year as a journalist in Jerusalem, Israel and is the editor of Bridge Builders the national bi-monthly magazine for Bridges for Peace. She is also a karate instructor and lives in the Adelaide Hills with her chickens. www.writeitup.com.au