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War and the Curé d'Ars

Today is the anniversary of Britain's entry into the First World War, the Great War for Civilisation, which was to end all wars. How hollow that hope seems now, nearly a century later; how hollow it looked in 1939. One can trace the movement from hope to disillusion in the poetry of the time. Somewhere in the house we have a recording of Sassoon reading his war poetry in the parlour at Stanbrook: an amatuer recording, with hissy tapes and the coughs and snuffles of the listeners, but fascinating because Sassoon reads much less emphatically than many contemporary readers of his work do. He knew war from the inside; we don't. There is something of the same quality in the psalms. Israel is always battling against someone or something, at either the individual or the communal level. "Break the teeth in their mouths!" we cheerfully sing on Fridays; but it is a bit limp, because it's a long time since breakfast and lunch is just around the corner. Sung in Afghanistan it would be different, but we aren't in Afghanistan, we're in rural England. One of the lesser known aspects of the story of St John Vianney is his constant battling with the powers of darkness. He knew from the inside what the struggle against evil entails; many of us don't, but that doesn’t mean the struggle is any the less real or terrible. So, a prayer today for all who fight for what is right and good and true. The First World War involved millions; the Curé d'Ars battled alone, as most of us must. The psalms remind us that it isn't numbers that assures the victory but obedience to the will of God.