Memory, Loss, and Learning from the Past

I attended a Remembrance Day service today at the school I've been supply teaching at. It was the usual motley crue of un-organized children's choirs, veterans recounting tales of heroics during the war without taking into account who their 'heroics' killed, dramatic recitals of "In Flander's Fields", and slightly bungled trumpet solos for 'Last Post'. Let me tell you, it's very different experiencing a Remembrance Day Service when one is a Christian (for a very secular school, this was a VERY religious service) and when one has been thinking about pacifism (I suddenly realized that hallowing war dead is not because killing and dying for your country is inherently heroic, but because we can't stomach the idea of people dying needlessly).

But there was one moment which made me cry -- to the accompaniment of a transcendant violin solo, the Crescent boys choir singing Ani Ma'amin, the old Hasidic song that Jews reportedly sang on their way to the gas chambers:

"I believe with a complete belief
In the coming of the Messiah
And even though he may tarry
I will wait for him, whenever he comes"

And even though he may tarry. That line breaks my heart. And I realized two things -- one, the healing power of faith at the end of all things, and two, that not enough is made of the fact that both Jews and Christians are waiting for their Savior. Christians may be waiting for a Second Coming, not a first, but we're both still waiting. And in the meantime, we're still living in the messy present with all it's wars and hatred and violence and concentration camps and genocides.

I will wait for him, whenever he comes.