We often take occasions like this for typically dispassionate U-U consideration of the advisablility (or lack thereof) of having a military and of engaging in war. Do we stand with Ed McCurdy who "dreamed the world had all agreed to put an end to war," or with Theodore Roosevelt, who advised us to "Speak softly, but carry a big stick." I'm not here this morning on behalf of one side or the other. I think that decisions about war, like those about marriage are not to be made in the abstract. More to the point, I think they should be made with a wisdom that unites both heart and mind.
So, since we U-Us have mind aplenty to bring to bear on the matter, I want to conclude this morning's service with some education for the heart-well, my heart, at least. Education of the heart is a job for meditation, and it is an extended meditation that I invite you to share this morning. This meditation centers around three pieces. The first is Noah Nelson, sorrowful song by Ken Gaines. It will be difficult, but well worth your effort to stay with it for its full five minutes.
Noah Nelson
Lincoln's Gettysburg Address is as succinct, simple and inspiring as Noah Nelson is drawn out, complex, and depressing. I know that this speech is familiar to all of you, too familiar for this morning's purpose. So, I want you to really listen to Lincoln's words, as if you were hearing them for the first time, as if we were at Gettysburg in 1863, as if Lincoln were speaking to us, which, of course, he was.
Lincoln's Gettysburg Address
Our meditation concludes with silent contemplation of this last article, a photograph of Jean's mother, Margaret, and Margaret's sister, Kathleen Lonergan. The photograph is itself a veteran of World War II. It served outstanding duty as a constant companion to Kathleen's husband, James Lonergan, during his three years in Italian and German POW camps.
There's another photo that goes along with this one. It's a picture of an Italian Jewess who helped Lonergan secure the first of his four escapes from POW camp. I don't have that picture. Even so, I'm sure you can grasp its significance.
I'll pass the photo I do have around so you can see that it bears the scars of war. Notice the wear in the lower right corner-the imprint of James' thumb from hours and days of holding the photo before him. Honor him by grasping it where he did and holding it before you for a moment; then, pass it on.
Let us pray. We may never know enough to put an end to all war. But let not our ignorance ever diminish our compassion in the pursuit of peace or our courage in the pursuit of righteousness. We may never know enough to enter every war on the right side. But let not our own mistakes ever diminish the gratitude, respect, and honor we confer upon those whom we send to fight. Above all, let nothing diminish our dedication to that for which they fight. Amen