Patrick Comerford
I plan to attend the Remembrance Sunday commemoration later this afternoon on Horsefair Green in Stony Stratford later this afternoon.
There are similar commemorations across the land today, and many churches observed a minute’s silence during their services this morning.
We are in constant need of reminders of the horrors of war, the brutal impacts of war on combatants and civilians alike, and the brutalising effects of war for both combatants and those caught up in war zones and violence.
I refuse to accept the term ‘innocent victims of war’ – it implies that some people deserve to die or be killed in war. It is a term that has the same ugliness as the one that refers to a victim of street crime as ‘the wrong person in the wrong place.’
All people who are victims of war are innocent, and everyone has the right to expect to be safe in any place at any time.
In a similar way, I refuse to accept the term ‘collateral victims of war’ – no one, no matter who they are, should be written off as one more number or one more consequence in violence.
After more than half a century of active involvement in peace movements, of being an advocate of pacifism, and of speaking out against racism, bigotry, hatred and discrimination, I am still bewildered how the world has failed to outlaw war, just as the world has outlawed slavery, the slave trade, torture and genocide.
I am bewildered too that people I know, respect and value have failed to condemn the Hamas attack in Israel civilians over a month ago (7 October), killing civilians in their homes and taking hostages, and allow themselves to be pereceived as advocates for Hamas, a murderous terrorist organisation with an extreme ideology that is shocking to the overwhelming majority of Muslims.
I am bewildered too that people I know, respect and value might balk at my criticism of the present military policies of the Netanyahu government, when many people inside Israel express the very same criticism. Since I first spoke in a school debate as a teenager after the Six-Day War in 1967, I have spoken for Israel's right to exist, but I have been critical of the military policies of Israeli goverements and supoortive of the Palestinian right to statehood.
It is not a paradox, it is a matter of principle and consistency to condemn Hamas outright, to demand the unconditional and immediate release of the hostages, and at the same time to demand immediate access of aid convoys to the hospitals and people of Gaza and to speak out against the ferocity of Netanyahu’s indiscriminate onslaught on the people of Gaza.
It is not a paradox to be disgusted at the horrific rise in incidents of antisemitism across the globe and at the same time to be fretful about the rise of Islamophobia too.
Perhaps a minute’s silence is an appropriate way to reflect on the horrors of war on this day, and to remind ourselves of the need not just to hope for peace but to call out for it, to demand it, to clamour for it.
The Defence of the Realm Act forbade ringing some church bells during war-time. So to ring out the bells is a sign of peace, a hope for peace.
Three bells that rang out in York more than 500 years ago were given new homes in the city in recent years as part of the events marking the centenary of World War I, and now carry a resounding message of peace.
Three mediaeval bells that were once part of the old church of Holy Trinity or Christchurch in King’s Square in the centre of York are now symbols of peace. The bells were made by Chamberlain’s of London ca 1440 for the mediaeval church once known as ‘The Butchers’ Church.’
The congregation was declining by the late 19th century and the parish was merged with Saint Sampson’s Church in 1886. Soon the church was disused, and by 1896 it was a place to house sheep on their way to slaughter. The furnishings were moved to Saint Mary Bishophill Junior, and Saint Everilda's Church, Nether Poppleton, and the church was finally demolished in 1937.
However, the three bells of the church were rescued. In 2016, as part of York’s commemorations of the centenary of World War I, they were placed in the grounds of Holy Trinity Church Goodramgate, the garden of the Merchant Adventurers’ Hall off Fossgate, and Saint Paul’s Bookshop, Fossgate. In recent visits to York, I have seen two of these bells, in the grounds of Holy Trinity Church, Goodramgate, and the grounds of Holy Trinity Church, Micklegate. Both are hung from wooden beams carved with the words ‘Ring for Peace.’
Each bell has a Latin inscription: Sancta Margareta Ora Pro Nobis, ‘Saint Margaret, pray for us’; Sit Nomen Domini Benedictum, ‘Blessed be the name of the Lord’; and Eternis Annis Resonet Dominis Johannes, ‘Through eternal years, let John resound for the Lord.’
My photographs this afternoon are signs of peace in churches and cathedrals, including those bells in York: ‘Ring the bells that still can ring / Forget your perfect offering / There is a crack, crack in everything, / That’s how the light gets in.’
In recent days, I have found myself once again turning to the words of Leonard Cohen’s poem-song ‘Anthem’ on his album The Future (1992):
The birds they sang, at the break of day
Start again, I heard them say.
Don’t dwell on what has passed away
Or what is yet to be.
Yes, the wars they will be fought again
The holy dove, she will be caught again
Bought and sold, and bought again
The dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything,
That’s how the light gets in.
We asked for signs. The signs were sent.
The birth betrayed. The marriage spent.
Yeah, and the widowhood of every government,
Signs for all to see.
I can’t run no more, with that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places say their prayers out loud
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up a thundercloud
They’re going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
You can add up the parts, you won’t have the sum.
You can strike up the march, there is no drum.
Every heart, every heart to love will come,
But like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in,
That’s how the light gets in,
That’s how the light gets in.
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