We Owe a Debt

I'm composing this on Veteran's Day. It has been 100 years since the end of the First World War. There will be plenty of things written and said about the actions of the current American president this weekend. The focus should be on the sacrifices made by those who fought, were wounded or died in The Great War. They thought it was the war to end all wars. Those of us who have followed sincerely wish they had been right. Instead we have spent the last 100 years figuring out new ways to kill people quicker and more efficiently. It is a sad but true statement on humanity and how we have chosen to live on this planet. We look at the vast universe and wonder if there is any intelligent life out in that giant expanse. I look around at what we do to each other and wonder if there is any intelligent life on this world.

My thoughts today were taken to the words of two men. The first, Abraham Lincoln. He spoke at his second inaugural as the Civil War was ending about binding the nations wounds and looking after the veterans of that war and their families.

     "With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us
     to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds,
     to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all
     which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."

                    Abraham Lincoln
                    March 4, 1865

President Lincoln would die at the hand of an assassin on April 15, 1865. Some 150+ years later we are still unable to bind up the nation's wounds. President Lincoln did make it clear to us what our obligation is to those who serve in our nation's military. It is a debt we owe them and their families that realistically can never be fully repaid. We must do our utmost toward that repayment. 

The second man is Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae the man who wrote "In Flanders Fields" in May 1915 after presiding over the funeral of his friend and fellow soldier Lieutenant Alexis Helmer. He died in the Second Battle of Ypres during World War One.

     In Flanders fields the poppies blow
     Between the crosses, row on row,
     That mark our place; and in the sky
     The larks, still bravely singing, fly
     Scarce heard amid the guns below.

     We are the Dead. Short days ago
     We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
     Loved and were loved, and now we lie
     In Flanders fields.

     Take up our quarrel with the foe:
     To you from failing hands we throw
     The torch; be yours to hold high.
     If ye break faith with us who die
     We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
     In Flanders fields.

The dead pass their torch to us to finish the work they so nobly began. It seems to easy to honor them in word. We should rather work to honor them in our deeds. We know what the right things are to do. So we should work to see them done or at the least with our failing hand throw the torch to the next generation to finish the work we have nobly begun.