Did you know the tradition of the dawn service began in Western Australia by an unassuming priest in 1923? And in a small cemetery just outside Herberton, North Queensland, is a marker beside a grave that says, ‘Here … lies the grave of the late Reverend Arthur Ernest White, a Church of England clergyman and padre, 44th Battalion, First Australian Imperial Force. On April 25, 1923 at Albany in Western Australia, the Reverend White led the first ever observance of a dawn parade on Anzac Day.’
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That’s 94 years of dawn services and we continue to gather to honour, as Air Chief Marshall Angus Houston said, “not only the original Anzacs but all Australians who have served and died, not only in combat but in peacekeeping, disaster relief and humanitarian assistance missions.”
Today we express thanks to all here, for taking the time to remember, not only those who have served but those who currently serve their nation on operations.
It goes without saying, war is not a nice thing. Even victory is hollow. So why do we come here?
It has been said that the Anzac legend has helped to define us as Australians; it espouses characteristics to which we hold dearly – determination, courage, compassion and resourcefulness, to name a few.
We do not come here to glorify war, nor to celebrate and certainly not to gloat over our enemies. We simply come to remember the ordinary service man and woman, and to pay tribute to those who put freedom for others before their own interests. We call it selflessness.
Mal Garvin in his book, ‘Us Aussies’ says that you can learn a lot about a country from the people or events they celebrate in their monuments.
In the USA there is a great bronzed statue of Abraham Lincoln sitting in his mighty marble temple. Down the street, Thomas Jefferson. In Paris, Napoleon is alive and well. Go across the channel to England and you’ll find through London and the country there are the monuments of Wellington and Nelson. But when we come back to Australia and look for our great monuments, what do we have? A dog sitting on a tucker box. There is one important exception though, and today millions of Australians will gather around one as we are now.
It is of course the cenotaph, central to every Australian country town, and if there is a figure on the monument, it will not symbolise or represent any great politician, general or philosophy. No, it will be a statue that represents the ordinary serving member. Everyone who left our shores to fight has their name hammered out in stone. They were just ordinary people doing their job. Ordinary men and women who were prepared to make personal sacrifices for the freedome and quality of life that we enjoy today. They believed strongly in a cause – and that cause is freedom – and so they gave up their ordinary lives in the peace and quiet of the country towns and cities of pre-war Australia because they felt it was their duty.
Our latest VC recipients have both echoed the sentiment of the World War I digger who said, “It’s a dirty job, some mug has to do it, so let’s get into it and clear out as soon as we can.”
So how do we remember them? These Anzacs. How can we keep the memory of their sacrifice relevant for the next 100 years? I have a suggestion. I could have talked about the Lord’s Last Supper and how it is a remembrance of Christ’s sacrifice that humankind might have true freedom, but no, I have chosen something else.
The Jews celebrated deliverance from a pending holocaust with a feast in the time of Esther in the Old Testament. It celebrated their freedom to worship God and the freedom to live in peace. It is a wonderful piece of history, which I will not go into today, suffice to say that out of this terrible situation came the Jews most cherished ideals, that of their integrity as a nation and their relationship with God.
How can this be of interest to us today?
Simply this, the legend is passed onto the children – they had a great feast, a party where gifts are exchanged and the story is retold with great gusto, it is a happy and joyful time. No wonder the memory lives on as they grow older.
My plea today is that we continue to give the Anzac story to the young ones, to young adults, young children at school Anzac services. But we need to pass it onto them in ways they will understand, and if we do, then the ordinary person who served will never be forgotten.
Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Reverend Arthur White, a humble ordinary person; his tombstone is simply a cross with only two words, ‘A Priest’ written upon it.
Almost forgotten, but for some friends who years later made the effort to place the marker beside his grave.
As we remember him and all service men and women, and honour them for their courage and sacrifice, let us pray that God would also give us the desire and courage to serve Him and our country until life’s end.
May you enjoy your freedom and may God bless our troops.