Interpreting ANZAC

20 Apr 2009

ANZAC Day is the nearest thing we have to civil religion in this country. Every year the crowds attending ANZAC Day commemorations increase even as the number of returned service men and women decline.

Interspersed with gun salutes, speeches by dignitaries and bugle renditions of ‘The Last Post’ are prayers, Bible readings, hymns and often an exhortation or sermon. Many ANZAC Day services contain strong elements of a military church parade and most Kiwis who may not label themselves as overtly Christians accept this with grace and understanding.

The war memorials that dot the nation where these ANZAC services take place are also imbued with a spiritual significance. They are perhaps the closest thing to sacred ground we encounter in this land.

It seems that New Zealand War Memorials have become places of pilgrimage for Kiwis—places to pause, reflect and express thanks.

The religious connotations behind ANZAC go further, however, than just the memorials and services that are held at them. ANZAC provides a powerful platform of identity for what it means to be a Kiwi, and yet, ironically, it is an event commemorating military defeat and disaster.

The Gallipoli Campaign

The Gallipoli campaign exacted a terrible toll on New Zealand and Australian lives as well as British and Indian. The Turks, though victors, suffered grievous losses. It was only through a carefully organised operation that the British-led forces were able to undertake a strategic withdrawal.

But herein lies the paradox. In defeat and loss New Zealand forged a key element to her emerging identity as a nation. This is a paradox and identity Christians understand and empathise with. In large measure Christian identity lies in the desolation, failure and defeat of Jesus’ sacrificial death on the cross. The Christian interacts with suffering and sacrifice, just as we also treasure the hope and life that emerged in its aftermath.

This sense of disaster leads to one final paradox and irony, which is the strong theme of forgiveness and reconciliation surrounding events at Gallipoli that emanates from former foes and enemies.

It is captured in the words of Kemal Ataturk (founder of modern Turkey and a divisional commander opposing the Kiwi forces), whose words are inscribed in the ANZAC memorial on Wellington’s south coast:

Those heroes who shed their blood and lost their lives, you are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side in this country of ours. You, the mothers who sent their sons from far away countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosoms and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they become our sons as well.

This ANZAC Day, many New Zealander citizens will again undertake a pilgrimage to their local war memorial, and for some a once-in-a-lifetime experience to Gallipoli on the Dardanelles. The spiritual significance of these pilgrimages should not elude us.
 
By David Noakes (from War Cry magazine)