ANDY HAMILTON SJ writes that as we grieve the many lives lost in war and honour the enduring sacrifice of those who served, we are called to build on our shared commitment to compassion and solidarity—values needed now more than ever.
In its origins, Anzac Day expressed the sorrow of war, the loss of those who died, and the diminished lives of those who survived and were marked by it. It was then extended and diverted to emphasise the courage and patriotism of those who fought and the nobility of their cause. In recent celebrations of Anzac Day in recent years different groups have highlighted both the nobility and the futility of war, its individual glory and communal loss.
These changes echo the changing currents of Australian society and our response to them. This year has been marked by introspection about our culture, prompted by the accession to power of President Trump. His combative approach to governance, contempt for losers and promotion of graceless winners, and disregard for institutional process that limit his power have made us ask what aspects of Australian culture mirror what we have seen displayed in the United States. In particular, we ask whether we wish to build our society on respect for each human being and on our responsibility to each other. These commitments lie at the heart of our law, our relationships with other groups in society and our recognition of our shared commitment to walk with people who do it hard. We see the United States now drawn down an opposing path.
On this Anzac Day we should focus on persons and not slogans, on small and not on large words. We remember and stay with the pain, loss and grief of those who died in war and those who returned from it wounded in body and spirit. We remember, too, the courage and generosity with which so many supported one another. We remember the pain of those who grieved their deaths and those whose lives were changed forever by the demons that beset soldiers on return.
This year Anzac Day is a time to remember and stay with the pain, loss and grief of those whose relatives have been killed in Gaza, Myanmar and Africa, and also the pain of those living in straitened circumstances. As we hold together Anzac Day and the trials of this year, too, at Jesuit Social Services we also remember with gratitude the simple, humble and self-sacrificing lives hidden like pearls in the darkness of the world of so many people whom we serve.
This year our celebration of Anzac Day will be modest. It will allow us to grieve the lives lost and forever shadowed in war, neglect and poverty. It will also leave us thankful that, amid all our deficiencies, we are set to respect and serve one another for our shared humanity.
