Nostalgia never wins the day: there’s fights to fight and victories still to win

A reflection for VE Day for the 3rd Sunday of Easter. Readings for the day: Acts 9:1-6, Psalm 30 and John 21:1-19

I love preaching that brings Scripture to life—and that brings Scripture back to life, and I hope you do too. That’s a reminder that every time we open scripture together we are bringing it back to life.

Our readings today are those appointed for the 3rd Sunday of Easter (year C) – and they’re a perfect fit for this week when we celebrate the 80th anniversary of VE Day on Thursday, May 8th. How do these readings, Acts 9:1-6, Psalm 30 and John 21:1-19 reflect the experience of victory in Europe, what it meant then in 1945 and what it means now in 2025?

Psalm 30 may well be a reflection on war – and more specifically, a reflection on surviving and winning a war.
You didn’t let my foes triumph over me …
You brought me up from the dead … from among those who go down to the Pit.”

That was God’s doing.
But how many have gone through the hell of war and not survived?
How many were herded into the hell of concentration camps?
How many Jews, Roma, LGBTQ+ people?
How many people were killed resisting evil?
How many families shattered, communities broken, bodies and spirits scarred for life?

And yet …
“You have turned my mourning into dancing;
you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.” (verse 11)

Verse 5 may say it best:
Heaviness may endure for a night,
But joy comes in the morning.

That was VE Day – a dawn after a long, dark night.

Then we heard what scripture has to say about Saul before he became Paul (Acts 9:1-6).
Make no mistake. Saul was an absolute tyrant “breathing out murderous threats” against Jesus’s followers.
He was an architect of hell.
He had legal letters giving him power to arrest followers of Jesus.
Earlier in Acts (8:1-4) we are told that after Saul’s involvement in Stephen’s martyrdom Saul ravaged the church, going house after house, dragging men and women off to.
Here was a tyrant, a religious stormtrooper.
He needed to be stopped.
It was a light from heaven that flashed around him that did it.
It blinded him. He was never able to see the same way again.
When he got his sight back, he saw the world completely differently.

In our gospel reading (John 21:1-19) six disciples fished all night and caught nothing.
Then –  “early in the morning”, a stranger stood on the shore.
They didn’t know it was Jesus.
But when they followed his call to cast their net on the other side of the boat, they caught a huge haul of fish.
Only then did they recognise him.
This is the third time, John tells us, that the risen Jesus appeared to his disciples – and he always tells us what time it was.
In our Easter gospel, it was “early on the first day of the week” (John 20:1)
In last Sunday’s gospel, it was “in the evening” (John 20:19),
Today it’s “early in the morning”, the first light at the end of a dismal night.
just as May 8th 1945 must have seemed – the first light after long nights of total blackouts.

It’s breakfast time.
We’re gathering around the table to eat and drink together, just like those first disciples overjoyed with their catch and their rediscovery of Jesus.
This is the breakfast table too.
We gather round to bring the scriptures back to life.

The question is, what does Victory in Europe really mean, not just 80 years ago in 1945, but for us now.
For many in 1945 it meant the end of unimaginable suffering, the fall of a monstrous regime and a return to peace.
But for others, especially in countries like Germany VE Day was the Day of Defeat.
And yet, 40 years later, German President Richard von Weizsacker called it something else.
He called it a “Day of Liberation” – liberation from tyranny, from lies, from fear, from a system that devoured its own people.

Germany was beaten.
But our scriptures have a lot to say about those who are beaten – as we discover in today’s readings.
Those beaten are given a second life.
Think about Jesus, crucified, dead and buried – utterly beaten by the authorities, and still appearing on the seashore.
Think about the disciples defeated by a night of failure, turned around by morning..
Think about the psalmist whose mourning was turned to dancing.
Think about Saul/Paul – persecuted, transformed into the missionary of grace.
Post-war Germany was not just a defeated enemy but a mission field for reconciliation and rebuilding and we should be joining German Christians in giving thanks for all of that.

There was a victory – declared on May 8th 1945.
A huge victory.
But we can’t settle for nostalgia.
There are many more victories yet to be won.
New nationalisms are emerging here and abroad which are undermining the truth of others, of those desperate for refuge.
There are still people who are hungry, broken and forgotten. 

We sing the hymn Peace, perfect peace is the gift of Christ the Lord.
It reminds us that there is such a thing as imperfect peace, and then there is perfect peace.

The perfect peace of the Lord is, as we say, a peace which passes all understanding.
It’s the peace that met Peter and the others on the beach,
the peace that transformed Saul on the road,
and the peace that raised up the psalmist from the pit.
It’s the peace that tends to the hungry, beaten and forgotten,
a peace that puts the last, least and lost first.

In our gospel reading Jesus told the disciples to cast their nets the other way – to try the other side.
As we move beyond VE Day let’s seek the peace of Christ,
casting our nets in a new way
that tells the truth,
that seeks the lost,
that reconciles enemies
and that turns mourning into the scenes of dancing and revelry we remember from VE Day 1945.

So may we, like those disciples, recognise the risen Christ on the shore,
and with joy cast our nets in new ways,
seeking not only peace,
but peace that restores,
peace that heals,
and sets the world dancing once more.

Sunflowers weeping

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The sunflowers weep. Anselm Kiefer has done several paintings of sunflowers. He was born in 1945 in Germany, two months before the end of the war. It is hard to imagine the state of mind of the German nation at that time – on the edge of a shameful defeat, confronting the horrors of their totalitarian regime and, of course, the Holocaust. How does a society ever recover from sinking that abysmally low?

Anselm Kiefer has been determined to confront  his culture’s dark past. Here, the sunflower weeps. The sunflower looks so different in Kiefer’s work to the glory of its portrayal by Van Gogh. In Kiefer’s work, the sunflower stands for the national shame. Once proud and tall, the sunflower hangs its head in shame and disgrace – and weeps.

We can see the tears falling – they are the sunflowers going to seed. The seed is watering the earth for a new cycle of life – for a better season.

I was hoping to use this picture in a sermon – (particularly appropriate for Holocaust Memorial Day). I asked myself, “is Kiefer a Christian?”. Then I thought, “what is the point of that question?”, and “what an ugly question to be asking”. In that question there is a “as opposed to what?” – as in “if he is not a Christian then what is he?”. It becomes “Is he a Christian – (as opposed to a Jew)?” See what I mean. It’s an ugly question, particularly on Holocaust Memorial Day.

Kiefer is an artist in the business of lament and hope. There are plenty of others – largely inspired by the Jewish artists and prophets of the Hebrew scriptures.