Wisdom in practice

Ecclesiastes 6: 10-12

10 Whatever exists has already been named, and what humanity is has been known; no one can contend with someone who is stronger. 11 The more the words, the less the meaning, and how does that profit anyone? 12 For who knows what is good for a person in life, during the few and meaningless days they pass through like a shadow? Who can tell them what will happen under the sun after they are gone?

Today, as Canadians pause in silence on Remembrance Day, we stand between the winds of memory and the winds of faith. We remember the bravery of those who faced danger, fear, and loss for the sake of others, soldiers, first responders, and citizens who bore burdens we can scarcely imagine. Yet, as followers of Christ, remembrance also brings tension: between the sword that defends and the peace that redeems, between Rambo and Gandhi, between violence and indifference.

Scripture calls us not merely to remember, but to discern. Ecclesiastes 6:10-12 reminds us: “Whatever exists has already been named… no one can contend with one who is stronger.” “For who knows what is good for a person in life, during the few and meaningless days they pass through like a shadow?” This passage is not despair; it is revelation. It tells us that life is fleeting (hebel, “a breath”), that humanity (adam) is limited, and that we cannot contend (yakol ladin) with the One mightier than we. Qohelet teaches humility before divine mystery, a lesson our world still needs.

Bravery is the capacity to face danger and act despite fear. It is moral, psychological, and physical courage. True bravery is not the absence of fear but the triumph of conviction over it. In our world, bravery wears many uniforms: soldiers, firefighters, police officers, but it also wears ordinary faces: parents who choose forgiveness over resentment, citizens who resist hatred, believers who stand for peace when violence seems easier. Bravery is not merely confronting threats; it is confronting ourselves. It asks: Whom do I serve? the God of peace, or the idols of pride and vengeance?

The Bible presents two contrasting images:

• In Matthew 26:51-52, Peter raises his sword, striking the servant of the high priest, but Jesus rebukes him: “Put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.”
• In Matthew 5:38-44, Jesus commands: “Love your enemies… pray for those who persecute you.”

One act reflects instinct: the other, obedience. One draws power from fear, the other from faith. The world teaches us to survive by domination; the Gospel teaches us to live by love. Bravery, in Christ, is not destruction but redemption.

Through history, Christianity has wrestled with this dual call. On one side, the “holy war” tradition, the Crusades, when faith was wielded as a weapon, when church and sword marched together, believing violence could sanctify. On the other hand, the peace-church tradition, the Mennonites, Quakers, and Brethren, who proclaimed that to follow Christ meant refusing to kill. In Canada, Mennonites stood as conscientious objectors, not out of cowardice but conviction: that remembering must not glorify war but call us to peace. Between these poles, we find our calling: holy discernment.

Ecclesiastes reminds us that we “cannot contend with the One stronger than we.” This humility is the starting point of discernment. We do not have full wisdom to judge when war is just or peace naïve; we only know that both violence and indifference can betray the Gospel. To discern rightly means:

• Recognizing the cost of war, the dead, the wounded, the invisible grief on both sides.
• Rejecting triumphalism, refusing to call war salvation or confuse nationalism with faith.
• Avoiding passivity, peace is not apathy; it is the courage to love, to speak, to heal, to resist evil without hatred.
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Discernment is the wind of the Spirit moving through conscience, guiding us neither to fight without compassion nor to watch without care.

When we gather on Remembrance Day, we must both honour and lament. We honour those who served, but we also remember the civilians, the forgotten, even the “enemy” dead. We pray not only for veterans, but for refugees, for broken families, for nations still at war.

As Canadian Christians, our remembrance must go beyond ceremony. It must lead to action rooted in peace:

• Supporting those who bear war’s scars.
• Promoting reconciliation and restorative justice.
• Teaching our children to see courage not as conquest but as compassion.

“Non-violence is not the absence of action but the presence of courageous, creative, love-driven action.” This is bravery in practice, the wind of faith moving through our deeds.

The cross, not the sword, defines the Christian horizon. It points to the end of war’s dominion and the coming of God’s kingdom. We remember, yes, but we also hope. We labour for a world where remembrance leads to peace, not pride, to compassion, not conquest. On this Remembrance Day, may we stand between the sword and the silence, remembering those who died, honouring their courage, lamenting the cost, and committing ourselves to the peace Christ died to give.

May we discern wisely.
May we refuse the simplistic call to violence.
May we resist the comfortable call to indifference.
May we walk the costly path of faithful discipleship, the path of peace, of courage, of hope.