"I cannot hate"

 

This is the text of a sermon preached at Bath Road Methodist Church Swindon on Remembrance Sunday 13th November 2022

Last year I was introduced to the writings of a Dutch woman called Etty Hillesum

Esther (Etty) Hillesum was born on 15 January 1914 in the town of Middelburg, the oldest of the three children. After completing school in 1932, she moved to Amsterdam to study law and Slavic languages at university.

Etty Hillesum began writing her diary in March 1941, possibly at the suggestion of her analyst Julius Spier. Although his patient, Etty also became his secretary, friend, and, eventually, his lover. His influence on her spiritual development is apparent in her diaries; as well as teaching her how to deal with her depressive episodes Spier introduced her to the Bible and the writings of St. Augustine 

When roundups of Jews intensified in July 1942, she took on administrative duties for the Jewish Council, voluntarily transferring to a department of "Social Welfare for People in Transit" at Westerbork transit camp. Westerbork was a holding camp for Dutch Jews prior to their transportation to the death camps. By June 1943, Ettie had refused offers to go into hiding in the belief that her duty was to support others scheduled to be transported from Westerbork to the concentration camps. On 5 July 1943, her personal status was suddenly revoked, and she became a camp internee along with her father, mother, and brother Mischa.

On 7 September 1943, the family were deported from Westerbork to Auschwitz.

Etty Hillesum’ s parents are recorded as having died on 10 September 1943, suggesting they died in transit or were murdered immediately upon their arrival. Her two brothers also died in the camps. Etty was murdered in Auschwitz on 30 November 1943.

Her diaries record the increasing anti-Jewish measures imposed by the occupying German army, and the growing uncertainty about the fate of fellow Jews who had been deported by them. But as well as forming a record of oppression, her diaries describe her spiritual development and deepening faith in God.

It was quite an unconventional faith. It is a faith clearly based on Christian influences and values but whether Christian in the conventional sense is debatable. Nonetheless in the 18-month year period covered by the diaries we see a quite remarkable conversion from agnostic Jew through to deeply spiritual, questioning Christian who came to faith by kneeling on the floor of the bathroom in her flat and praying.

The reason I am speaking of Ettie today is because of a thread that runs throughout her diary. And that thread is her refusal to hate.

Ettie’s diary starts with everyday accounts of friendships and life under occupation. But within a few entries she tackles the issue of hatred.

It is the problem of our age: hatred against the Germans poisons everyone's mind.

In a diary entry of September 1942, she indicates just how ingrained hatred had become in the mind of the Jewish population. Ettie recounts a conversation with a student acquaintance. Ettie relates how the acquaintance thought

“… that all 80 million Germans must be exterminated. Not a single one must be kept alive. … I could not live with the kind of hatred so many people nowadays force upon themselves against their better nature.”

That’s not to say that Ettie was a saint. She admits that from time to time when she hears of something the Nazis have done, she does feel hatred. But a few weeks later her diary records how she rejects the sickness of hatred.

Nazi barbarism evokes the same kind of barbarism in ourselves. We have to reject that barbarism within us, we must not fan the hatred within us, because if we do, the world will not be able to pull itself one inch further out of the mire.

While at the beginning she merely says hatred does not lie in my nature and we have to reject the barbarism within us, later she goes further saying hatred is something which for her is simply impossible. I cannot hate. It's no longer that she just thinks that hatred is wrong and degrading. She feels hatred cannot be part of her nature.

This deeper conviction dawns on her after a particular incident one morning when Jews have been gathered together in a hall, in order to be registered. During this process she was shouted at and threatened by an aggressive young Gestapo officer. After describing this incident, she writes:

 “something else about this morning happened. Despite all the suffering and injustice, I cannot hate others.”

It is a conviction which she holds right it to the end when she is put on the train to Auschwitz.

It is a quite remarkable story.

From what we know of Ettie’s life in that 18-month period she clearly was introduced to the New Testament by Julius Spier and the Gospels in particular. And I think we can assume that at some point she would have read the passage of Matthew we heard earlier.

We are all familiar with it. We all know Jesus’ teaching I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, Matthew 5:44

When we study this passage, we have to try and discover what Jesus was saying. And our understanding hinges on a single word – Love.

Matthew was writing in Greek. And as the great New Testament scholar William Barclay put it “Greek often has shades of meaning that English does not possess”. The word “Love” is a prime example. In Greek there are four different words for love. And depending on which Greek word is used “Love” can mean different things.

Here Matthew wrote “Agape”. Agape is love which we could think of as benevolence or goodwill. William Barclay goes on to say that if we regard someone with agape love then it means

“that no matter what that person does to us, no matter how they treat us, no matter if they insult us or injure us or grieve us, we will never allow any bitterness against them to invade our hearts. We will regard them with that unconquerable benevolence and goodwill which will seek nothing but their highest good.”

This is a great undertaking. How can it be possible to love our enemies in this way?

Very often our notions of love can be associated with the heart. With romantic love. Or great affection. It is almost a natural thing. But to love our enemy is different. In order to love our enemy is an act of will. It is something we have to work at.

Agape is a determination of the mind. Agape is consciously working at unconquerable goodwill even to those who hate and hurt us.

Agape is the power to love those we do not like including those who don’t like us. And I suggest it is only by completely surrendering to Jesus that such Agape can come about.

Whilst Ettie Hillesum might not have expressed it that way, that is what she was doing. She completely surrendered to Jesus and in so doing made herself avoid hatred. From what I’ve read she doesn’t specifically talk of loving her enemies. But the absence of hatred amounts to the same thing.

We have to reject that barbarism within us, we must not fan the hatred within us,

Despite all the suffering and injustice, I cannot hate others.

Practising Agape is a big ask. But practising Agape is a way of hatred growing.

Thank goodness most of us I hope will never be in a position like Ettie Hillesum. We will never be confronted by such evil. And hopefully none of us will never be in a position where we hate someone. Nevertheless, from time to time all of us may encounter a person who we really dislike. Perhaps in the workplace. Perhaps in your street. Perhaps those who hold a different political view to us. These are our “enemies”. How do we react to them? How do we work on that change of mind to enable us to show them Agape love instead of dislike turning into hate?

The American Trappist monk Thomas Merton said this:

“Do not be too quick,” he wrote, “to assume that your enemy is a savage just because he is your enemy. Perhaps he is your enemy because he thinks you are a savage. Or perhaps he is afraid of you because he feels you are afraid of him. And perhaps if he believed you were capable of loving him, he would no longer be your enemy.

He went on

"Do not be too quick to assume that your enemy is an enemy of God just because he is your enemy. Perhaps he is your enemy precisely because he can find nothing in you that gives glory to God. Perhaps he fears you because he can find nothing in you of God's love and God's kindness and God's patience and mercy and understanding of the weakness of men.

In other words, who I label as enemy may say more about me than about them. Thinking of someone as an enemy is down to our mindset.

 

Finally, and most importantly, Jesus said we are to pray for our enemies. As difficult as it may seem, if we pray for another then it makes it far more difficult to hate them. When we take ourselves, and the person whom we are tempted to hate, to God, something happens. We cannot go on hating another person in the presence of God. The surest way of killing hatred is to pray for the person we are tempted to hate.

I have drawn heavily from Patrick Woodhouse's book "Etty Hillesum a life transformed" 2009 Continuum London. I recommend it.

 

Peace and reconciliation

 

Reflection 8^th November 2020 Remembrance Sunday

 

When we were on holiday at Wareham in October, we decided to have a wander around the town. We ended up at the parish church and looking over the low wall to the cemetery, we realised there was quite a large Commonwealth War Graves section. We were intrigued and went to have a look.

Many of the graves were from the late First World War and included a large number of Australians and members of the Tank Corps. Given that even to this day the Tank Corps is based at nearby Bovington, this wasn’t too surprising. But the Australians? We found a sign with all the graves plotted out and it told us there had been a military hospital just outside the town and this explained many of the deaths – including a significant number who died in 1919 of Spanish flu.

But reading the sign we realised that there were graves from the Second World War too. One poignantly “To an unknown British sailor” whose body had been found on the coast close by. But for me two graves said so much. 

Side by side they were for RAF Sergeant Pilot George Nicol killed on 15^th September 1942 aged 22 and German aircrew Feldwebel (Sergeant) Horst Huffsky killed on 24^th April 1944 aged 23.

In life these two young men were enemies, but in death they are laid side by side. They were similar ages. They were someone’s sons, they might have been a brother, they might have been a husband or a father.

I’ve no idea whether Sergeant Nicol or Sergeant Huffsky have descendants still living. I don’t know whether they are remembered by anyone alive now. Though at least today we are calling to mind their names. I am purposely using their names for us to focus our thoughts on as we Remember those who have died in war, whether members of armed forces or civilians.

I know I’ve quoted a saying by Roy T Bennett on several occasions, “The past is a place of reference, not a place of residence; the past is a place of learning, not a place of living.” It is a quote that can be used in many contexts but nowhere is it more appropriate than on Remembrance Sunday.

For me in our acts of Remembrance, we should be seeking to learn from the mistakes of the past so that we don’t repeat them.

This year marked 75^th anniversary of the end of the Second World War. Mr Nicol and Mr Huffsky (and millions of other people) did not survive to see the end of that conflict. Would they be alive today had they survived? Who knows? They both would have been very elderly men – just slightly younger than Captain Tom who inspired us all earlier this year with his sponsored walk to mark his 100^th birthday and raise money for NHS.

I must admit that I was slightly relieved that the VE Day and VJ Day commemorations were much lower key than they might have been due to Covid19. That’s not because I do not respect those (such as Captain Tom) who played their part in the Second World War. I do. But because it seems to me there are many in this country who seem determined to think of that period in our history as a time of nostalgia. Some, often those too young to have known the war, think of it as a time when everyone got misty eyed at the sight and sound of Spitfires and we all gathered round the radio to sing “We’ll meet again”. I suspect it wasn’t like that at all.

For me what VE & VJ day should be about is not so much the ending of war, but of the outbreak of peace. When age old enemies have found ways of turning swords in to plough shares. Many women and men of the generation who fought in, or lived through, the Second World War found ways of building bridges. Found ways of putting aside their differences. Found ways of loving their enemies.

This was courageous, for loving our enemies is the hardest thing to do. You may recall that in a Reflection on 3rd September I mentioned a story of Corrie Ten Boom coming to love her enemy; a man who had been a prison guard at Ravensbruck concentration camp were Miss Ten Boom had been a prisoner. I won’t retell the story here, but it is a perfect illustration of the way we as Christians are to be at the forefront of forgiveness and demonstrating love. 

https://notanormalvicar.blogspot.com/2020/09/forgivness-and-reconciliation.html

Going back to Sergeants Nicol and Huffsky for a moment. Through the internet I have found out a small amount about both men. Sergeant Nicol came from just outside Wareham and was killed when his plane crashed during a training flight in Yorkshire. Sergeant Huffsky’s plane was shot down by anti-aircraft fire near Wareham. He came from Dresden.

Since the Second World War the bombing of two cities - Coventry and Dresden – has come to symbolise the horrific nature of the bombing campaigns. This is not the place to go over those arguments. But since the war Coventry and Dresden together have promoted peace and reconciliation.  The cities have been twinned since 1959 and when the decision was made to rebuild Dresden’s Frauenkirche cathedral in 2005 (it had lain in ruins during the days of East Germany) the reconciliation team at Coventry Cathedral were closely involved.

Coventry Cathedral is a powerful example of forgiveness and love for our enemies. When the cathedral was destroyed by German bombs on 14/15 November 1940, the Provost, Richard Howard, had the words “Father forgive” chiselled into the ruins of the sanctuary wall. Above these words, on the altar, stands the original Coventry Cross of Nails. In the smoking ruins of the cathedral after the destruction, some medieval carpenter’s nails were salvaged from the beams of the vaulted ceiling. Three of these nails were later bound together in the shape of a cross. Thus, remnants of the destruction were turned into a new sign of Christian hope, showing that the wounds of war were healing.

Since then steps of reconciliation have been taken in various ways around the world in the spirit of the Cross of Nails. More than 200 Crosses of Nails have found a home in places where the people beneath these crosses have chosen to lay aside old differences and live in a spirit of reconciliation.

 

Peace and reconciliation, love of our enemies seems a fitting tribute to Sergeants Nicol and Huffsky. Two men united in death.

 

At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them.

 

Passchendaele the story of a friendship 100 years on

I’ve been reading a book called “Passchendaele – a new history” by Nick Lloyd.

I read a lot of military history. Mainly about the Second World War. But when I saw this book recently I decided to buy it as although about the First World War, Passchendaele resonates with me.

The Battle of Passchendaele, also known as the Third Battle of Ypres, was a campaign of fought by the Allies against the German Empire.[a] The battle took place on the Western Front, from July to November 1917, for control of the ridges south and east of the Belgian city of Ypres in West Flanders. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Passchendaele

The reason Passchendaele resonates with me is that I believe that my maternal grandfather Ira David Thomas fought there and was seriously wounded in the leg there. So much so that he was invalided out. I say believe as I did not know Ira (he died 2 years before I was born having suffered the physical and mental effects of his wounds all his post war life.) And by all accounts he never spoke of his experiences. My only clue to his war service is a framed certificate I came across on one occasion. The certificate mentions that Ira was “Mentioned in dispatches” for an act of bravery. (Ira was a first aider and went out under fire to bring wounded in.)

The certificate suggests this took place during the Battle of Passchendaele.

Several years ago, I visited Ypres with my wife and son. It is a pretty little town reconstructed after the First World War. And it is at Ypres every night that the dead of the First World War are remembered when the Last Post is sounded at the Menin Gate. The Menin Gate was one of the entrances to the old town and after the war it became a war memorial with the names of over fifty thousand dead who have no known grave, inscribed on it. (To attend that ceremony is hugely moving.)

I have then (I think) a connection with Passchendaele. I’ve known this for several years. But it is only when reading the book I’ve mentioned, that I realised I have another connection.

Ira’s wife (my grandmother) was Phyllis. They were married for over 50 years. She clearly had loved Ira dearly and during his last years she had cared for him constantly. (His leg was amputated in the 1950s and he suffered from depression including spending some time in a local mental hospital.) But again, she said very little about him. (If this wasn't enough, Phyllis had been engaged before she met Ira. Her fiance - Clarence - was killed in the First World War. I have his cap badge. He served in the Royal Artillery.)

In the last couple of years of her life Phyllis had several serious strokes. These left her paralysed down her right side and unable to speak apart from one or two words.

In 1980, I’d just finished my “O” levels. Some friends were hosting a German student whose family they’d met on holiday. The student (I’ll call her Barbara) came from Bavaria, and during those weeks of the school holiday, Barbara and I became friends. And it is a friendship that exists to this day. (In fact, all being well, this summer my wife and I will be going on holiday with Barbara and her husband Peter)

On several occasions during that 1980 summer Barbara came to my house and met my grandmother. We explained to Grandma that Barbara came from Germany. And I could see Grandma trying to form some words. Eventually she said “Ira” and shook her head.

I was a bit concerned, would Grandma display some hatred of German people? I should have known my loving, caring, Christian, Grandma better. For she looked at Barbara and I, smiled and said “Friends. Good. War bad. No more.”

Like people of her generation who lived through two World Wars she knew the cost of war. And she knew it personally. She did not want to see me (or her other grandsons) fighting. She wanted to see peace and friendship between countries.

On reading “Passchendaele – a new history” I made another connection with Passchendaele. Many of the German troops at Passchendaele were from Bavarian regiments. (Ira brought home with him an Iron Cross and a Crucifix found on the battle field. Many Bavarians are Catholic.)

I’ve no idea whether Barbara’s grandfather fought in the First World War (or the Second World War for that matter.) But to think that Ira could have been fighting Bavarian relatives of Barbara, or at least people who came from her town, makes our friendship even more important.

Micah 4:3 New International Version - UK (NIVUK)

3 He will judge between many peoples
and will settle disputes for strong nations far and wide.
They will beat their swords into ploughshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war any more.