	The War to End all Wars
	This year marks the 90th anniversary of the end of the First World War - the 'war to end all wars'. The event that catapulted Europe into armed conflict was the murder in Sarajevo on June 28th 1914 of the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, by the Serbian nationalist Gavrilo Princip. The military response of Austria-Hungary against the Serbians led to the 'Great Powers' of Europe taking sides in line with pre-existing alliances and, in a very short time, the continent found itself at war. What ensued was not to be, as originally believed by those who enthusiastically volunteered to go and fight at the beginning of the war, 'over by Christmas' but would last for four years, claim 20 million lives, change the face of Europe and ultimately lead to another longer and much more costly war. A sense of the futility and barbarity of the 'trench warfare' that defined this war has been preserved for future generations by the 'war poets' of whom Wilfred Owen is perhaps the best known. Owen was born into a Christian family in Shropshire in 1893 and as a young man worked as a part time lay assistant to the Vicar of Dunsden near Reading. He first started writing poetry at the age of 17 but produced nothing of any real note until he enlisted in the armed forces on 21st October 1915. After over a year of training he was eventually sent to the Western Front in 1917. What he saw and endured there resulted in some of the most vividly poetic descriptions of the horrors of trench warfare. One poem that I find extremely powerful is perhaps his most famous, Anthem for Doomed Youth. Here is the first verse: What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, - The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. Nothing had prepared Owen for the daily rattle of rifles and wailing of shells and the resulting carnage. This religious imagery embodied in the poem only serves to heighten the sense that the prayers, bells and choirs of his youth had no place in that hell on earth. Sadly Owen did not survive the war; he was killed in action near the village of Ors in northern France just one week before the Armistice. His grave still stands in the communal cemetery there and the following quote from his poem The End is inscribed on it: Shall life renew These bodies? Of a truth All death will he annul.	The words were chosen by his mother Susan who actually made one small but significant change from the original quotation - she removed the question mark that originally followed the word 'annul'. It was a brave statement of faith at a time when many found it difficult to believe. How could the existence of a loving God be reconciled with the slaughter of the Somme and the mud of Passchaendale? Owen's parody of church worship in Anthem for Doomed Youth asks the question urgently. As a child of peace time I would not venture any pious platitudes from the relative safety of Britain in the early twenty first century. But I would point to another poet and author whose faith did survive what he called the 'animal horror' of the trenches. J.R.R. Tolkien, author of 'Lord of the Rings', joined the Lancashire Fusilliers and served as a Signals Officer at the battle of the Somme before being invalided out with trench fever. By the time the war ended every single one of his close friends was dead. One extremely significant feature of Lord of the Rings is that a number of the characters (a good example being Frodo the hobbit) have to contend with overwhelming and seeming insuperable odds, but have the courage and conviction simply to keep going. No hell crueller than crucifixion has been fashioned by humankind. Here is Christ in the trenches, in the gas ovens of Auschwitz, in the killing fields of Cambodia. He does not flinch; he keeps going and endures what appears to be a futile and meaningless death. As he gulps desperately for air he forgives those who, through a mixture of jealousy and self interest, have put him there. As the story moves from the Cross to the empty tomb we realise that no killing field can extinguish forever the love of God in Christ. Wilfred Owen himself expresses something of this at beginning of his poem Apologia pro Poemate Meo: I, too, saw God through mud - The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled. Christ died a wretched death that we might recognise a deeply compassionate God. On Remembrance Sunday people of all ages across the country will be remembering with thanksgiving those who gave their lives in two World Wars and in other conflicts since. The 'war to end all wars' did no such thing of course. But as we remember, so we continue to pray for peace, understanding that there is no finality in mud or slaughter (any more than in nails and a crown of thorns) but believing that life and love, the things we cherish most, will endure for ever. Rob Green
	Norbury Parish Church, Hazel Grove, Stockport, Cheshire. Telephone: 0161-483 6325

The War to End all Wars

This year marks the 90th anniversary of the end of the First World War - the 'war to end all wars'. The event that catapulted Europe into armed conflict was the murder in Sarajevo on June 28th 1914 of the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, by the Serbian nationalist Gavrilo Princip. The military response of Austria-Hungary against the Serbians led to the 'Great Powers' of Europe taking sides in line with pre-existing alliances and, in a very short time, the continent found itself at war.

What ensued was not to be, as originally believed by those who enthusiastically volunteered to go and fight at the beginning of the war, 'over by Christmas' but would last for four years, claim 20 million lives, change the face of Europe and ultimately lead to another longer and much more costly war.

A sense of the futility and barbarity of the 'trench warfare' that defined this war has been preserved for future generations by the 'war poets' of whom Wilfred Owen is perhaps the best known. Owen was born into a Christian family in Shropshire in 1893 and as a young man worked as a part time lay assistant to the Vicar of Dunsden near Reading.

He first started writing poetry at the age of 17 but produced nothing of any real note until he enlisted in the armed forces on 21st October 1915. After over a year of training he was eventually sent to the Western Front in 1917. What he saw and endured there resulted in some of the most vividly poetic descriptions of the horrors of trench warfare. One poem that I find extremely powerful is perhaps his most famous, Anthem for Doomed Youth. Here is the first verse:

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

Nothing had prepared Owen for the daily rattle of rifles and wailing of shells and the resulting carnage. This religious imagery embodied in the poem only serves to heighten the sense that the prayers, bells and choirs of his youth had no place in that hell on earth.

Sadly Owen did not survive the war; he was killed in action near the village of Ors in northern France just one week before the Armistice. His grave still stands in the communal cemetery there and the following quote from his poem The End is inscribed on it:

Shall life renew
These bodies?
Of a truth
All death will he annul.

The words were chosen by his mother Susan who actually made one small but significant change from the original quotation - she removed the question mark that originally followed the word 'annul'. It was a brave statement of faith at a time when many found it difficult to believe. How could the existence of a loving God be reconciled with the slaughter of the Somme and the mud of Passchaendale? Owen's parody of church worship in Anthem for Doomed Youth asks the question urgently.

As a child of peace time I would not venture any pious platitudes from the relative safety of Britain in the early twenty first century. But I would point to another poet and author whose faith did survive what he called the 'animal horror' of the trenches. J.R.R. Tolkien, author of 'Lord of the Rings', joined the Lancashire Fusilliers and served as a Signals Officer at the battle of the Somme before being invalided out with trench fever. By the time the war ended every single one of his close friends was dead.

One extremely significant feature of Lord of the Rings is that a number of the characters (a good example being Frodo the hobbit) have to contend with overwhelming and seeming insuperable odds, but have the courage and conviction simply to keep going.

No hell crueller than crucifixion has been fashioned by humankind. Here is Christ in the trenches, in the gas ovens of Auschwitz, in the killing fields of Cambodia. He does not flinch; he keeps going and endures what appears to be a futile and meaningless death. As he gulps desperately for air he forgives those who, through a mixture of jealousy and self interest, have put him there. As the story moves from the Cross to the empty tomb we realise that no killing field can extinguish forever the love of God in Christ. Wilfred Owen himself expresses something of this at beginning of his poem Apologia pro Poemate Meo:

I, too, saw God through mud -
The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled.

Christ died a wretched death that we might recognise a deeply compassionate God. On Remembrance Sunday people of all ages across the country will be remembering with thanksgiving those who gave their lives in two World Wars and in other conflicts since. The 'war to end all wars' did no such thing of course. But as we remember, so we continue to pray for peace, understanding that there is no finality in mud or slaughter (any more than in nails and a crown of thorns) but believing that life and love, the things we cherish most, will endure for ever.

Rob Green

The War to End all Wars

Norbury Parish Church, Hazel Grove, Stockport, Cheshire. Telephone: 0161-483 6325