The Sermon given by the Revd Tim Wood at St Peter's
on 13th September, 2009 – Battle of Britain Sunday

May I speak in the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit ………Amen.

Yesterday morning I spent some time at St Andrew’s; Church sitting for the historic Churches bike ride or walk. I was enjoying the sort of quiet that somehow only the inside of a church can bring, when I heard an aircraft outside and the engine sound was rising and falling as though it was up to something special. I went outside and what was probably over the sea to the west, a pilot was practising his or her aerobatics. Gaining height and then allowing the plane to fall into a spin with the occasional loop thrown in. I would like to have thought it was a spitfire, but only in my dreams I think.

But just for a moment my mind wandered….. and indeed I wondered how it might have been back then in 1940. Young men, full of excitement, adventure, pushing machines to the limit, just how many turns / spins can I get out of this; how close to the land can I fly and still remain safe !!! I have to say I was glad not to be up there with my stomach churning. I’ve only been in large civil aircraft , but I know that some of you here will have been privileged to fly with the RAF, including some of our Air Cadets here this morning. And one day , perhaps if there’s a space I may get the chance as their Squadron Chaplain, to join them and experience a different kind of flying.

Over the past few weeks we’ve heard much about the start of the second world war as various commemorations have taken place. We’ve heard clips from famous speeches, personal memories too from those who can recall those first moments, we’ve heard too the sound of recorded gunfire as Poland was pounded by German guns in opening bombardments.

Any number of services have been held, some in our greatest places of worship held dear in the hearts of the British people.

One such place we might think of would be Westminster Abbey containing the tomb of the unknown warrior Their lies the body of this unknown soldier, lifted at random from one of the graves of soldiers who were buried where they fell, brought home to England to represent all the servicemen and women who died during that conflict between 1914 and 1918 …. his grave filled with a hundred sandbags of soil brought from all the countries where the allied troops had fought.

During the 21 years between those two Great Wars, Air Travel had changed beyond all recognition, away from the fragile appearance of the likes of the Tiger Moth, still resembling those early box framed machines of the early air pioneers, to the single wing span of the ‘Supermarines’ which developed into our Spitfires and Hurricanes. Air supremacy became vital and we remember today the Battle of Britain and those who died in achieving that supremecy and in doing so received that great and now famous accolade from Sir Winston Churchill, that “never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.”

There will be services all over the country today, certainly in Westminster Abbey to mark the incredible victory and loss of life of pilots and air crew from 1940, it’s also an occasion to mark the gratitude for the service and sacrifice of those who took part in this critical part of World War 2.

The Battle of Britain was the first major campaign to be fought entirely in the skies. When the battle was over, 544 RAF Pilots and air crew of a truly multi–national force were dead.

The Pilots and aircrew are commemorated in the RAF Chapel at the east end of Westminster Abbey’s Henry VII Chapel, where a magnificent stained glass memorial window is situated . Adding to the famous quote I gave earlier, Winston Churchill said “The gratitude of every home on our Island, in our Empire and indeed throughout the world, goes out to the aircrews and airmen , who undaunted by the odds, unwearied in their constant challenge, facing mortal danger, are turning the tide of the world war by their prowess and their devotion.”

For those as young as myself or younger, our images of those particular conflicts come from books compiled by those who were present, their stories, their pictures, their poetry. They come too from a very large collection of , to my mind, some of the greatest films ever made , Reach for the sky, angels one five and so on. The likes of Jack Hawkins and Kenneth More give us a glimpse of how it may have been for those who responded to the bell, the siren to scramble and get air borne.

And we do well to hold onto such images to remind us of what a world at war means for any one of us, our parents our children and a reminder too for those who come after us.

Images, memories, stories passed down have served us well in the past and continue to do so. All that we need are people passionate enough to keep telling the story.

One such person is Sergeant Don Charlwood author of the autobiography, No moon tonight. Don was a navigator in a WW2 Lancaster bomber and struggled with his crew mates to survive a 30 mission tour of operations over Europe. He writes:

And so it must have been for many airmen as they returned from Operations, flying home with their thoughts of the past few hours; their scrapes, their close encounters, thoughts of those who would not be in the mess for supper. And, as they flew home they would pass familiar markers, some of which would certainly have been parish churches appearing every few miles across the English countryside. Places where for centuries people have come and gone as part of their own personal encounter with God.

When it comes to that of our faith story, we rely to an extent on our Priests to help maintain a focus on God in our Parishes, those Ordained; and Anne will remember these words from the Ordination Service as I do …..”They are to lead their people in prayer and worship,, to intercede for them, to bless them in the name of the Lord, and to teach and encourage them by word and example. They are to minister to the sick and prepare the dying for death.”

We could reflect on some of the words in our reading from Isaiah this morning, “ The servant of the Lord said, The Lord has given me the tongue of a teacher that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word. Morning by morning he wakens --- wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught. I did not turn backwards.”

In the case of our Forces Chaplains, their RAF bases, their ships , their Regiments become their parishes, and their care is for airmen and women, soldiers and sailors who may find themselves asked by their Country to fight, not necessarily in the defence of their own country, but in the defence of a greater good where other innocents are unable to achieve that position alone.

The face of one of the chaplains serving in the Helmand Province of Afghanistan caught my eye in the Church Times last week, that of Anthony Feltham White and Anthony was a colleague of mine when I lived in Maidstone where he was Chaplain to the Royal Engineers whose base was in the Town.

I’d like to share a couple of Anthony’s comments with you, he says that the Chaplains are of course unarmed but that he tries to accompany the soldiers whenever its appropriate to do so. The Unit will advise when its too dangerous, he’s very aware that if someone has to look after him, well that’s a huge burden for the soldier given the job in addition to the real job he or she is there to do.

Anthony goes on to say that at times he’s not sure how he copes, that a six month tour uses all reserves of everything and he immediately thinks of the poem footprints in the sand, as he feels the arms of God carrying him. I’m on my knees by the end he says, and perhaps that’s the best place to be.

He comments that morale is reasonably good, we’ve suffered a large number of deaths and injuries.

And this is always hard for us all. However, it really does harden the resolve of everybody to get the job done in memory of those we lose.

I would like to remind you of the words to the poem “Footprints” written by Mary Stevenson:

In his interview, Andrew says that most of the battalion wear a cross on their dog tags and are constantly asking me to pray for them and with them – some are even baptised while they are out there. There is an old expression comments Andrew, that ‘there is no such thing as an atheist in a foxhole’. In a way that still holds true.

Acute suffering somehow sorts out what is really important and what is not – the brute facts around our own mortality tend to put things into perspective.

It is said that even an atheist will in desperate circumstances turn to God as a last resort ... “God, if you’re there, get me out of this mess I’m in, and I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

As with the Parish Priest, Key to the Chaplains role will be, to keep the focus that God is to be found in the hardest of times, in the toughest of places, as well as the home land of England, where in peace time it may be so much easier to see and feel God’s presence.

The Psalm for today is number 116 and it begins …

So we remember ..... and from a daily log dated 20 September 1940:

we remember with a deep gratitude those who gave their lives for our freedom. And we pray to a God who listens – pray that as year on year our memories increase – pray that one day a perfect peace, God’s peace, will prevail over our green and pleasant land and the homes of our neighbours.

Amen

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