ANZAC Day – 25 April 2025
Homily
Fr David Ranson
I have often shared it in the past, but I would like to share again today the scene in Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings in which one of the main characters, Sam, says at one stage, “We shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually — their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on . . . I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?”[1]
Into what sort of tale have we fallen? The question may be emblematic of our age. For our age is one of unmistakable uncertainty. We know the world order is changing. Certainties of the last 80 years are evaporating. Political alliances are shifting; the economic order is in turmoil. The death of Pope Francis this last week has taken from us the single world moral leadership we had left – which, perhaps, explains the extraordinary international reaction to his death, and why the coming papal conclave has such significance for the world. Where will the world be by year’s end, by this time next year? Though this of course cannot be a new question, given the fractious state of our world today the question has greater urgency than before.
In the face of this global mood of uncertainty, in the vacuum now of international moral leadership, Australia is about to vote for a new national government. Without being partisan, it would seem to me that this particular election campaign has been an especially tepid one. It simply does not seem to have had the edge that many have had historically. In fact, with early voting, many have already cast their vote well before the end of the campaign which would seem to suggest that 3 May will be something of an anti-climax as far as campaigning goes.
What does this say to us? As I heard in a commentary this morning, ANZAC Day is not simply about history; it is a mirror of what we value now. It is given us, then, as day to pause and to reflect: an opportunity to wonder into what sort of tale we have fallen, and where are we now as a people and as a nation.
The situation of our world with its radical uncertainty must affect the mood of a nations. What is our own mood? I wonder if it is characterised on the one hand, with a certain powerlessness that may explain the political disengagement of the current election campaign but also, on the other hand, with a certain bitterness evidenced in recent anti-Semitism, the occasions of violence at campaign events, and the disturbing heckling during the Welcome to Country witnessed in Melbourne only this morning at the cenotaph there. A people can feel powerless and resentful. Thus, they disengage, and signs of social discontent emerge in search of scapegoating which always alights on the vulnerable, the marginal.
Perhaps this is a pessimistic account of the national mirror. However, ANZAC Day is important not only because it suggests the need of reflection but also because it mirrors what we believe to be what is most honourable in our social and national life – that spirit of self-sacrifice and the power of community and solidarity in the face of adversity – the genuine Australian spirit evidenced at Gallipoli but also manifest in many occasions across our national experience as we face natural disaster and enjoy the competition of sport.
Such ANZAC spirit speaks not of powerlessness and resentment. Rather, it speaks of agency and commitment. And this is why ANZAC Day is as important as it is. It presents as a national invitation to reclaim our agency in social life and to wonder again at our shared commitment.
In the face of the world’s uncertainty and our powerlessness to influence the new and emerging chaos directly, it would be easy to abandon our agency, and to wallow in a mood of cynicism. Yet, we come back to the important dictum, “Think globally, act locally.” We must never underestimate the power of our local actions. At first, they may seem irrelevant and entirely peripheral to the events playing out internationally. Yet, there is power in them. They change communities. And there can be no real change in the world unless local communities change. The transformation of a local community is like the proverbial stone thrown into a pond. The ripples never end. Therefore, now, especially, is the time for us to become active, to give ourselves to local opportunities and initiatives, to look actively for those ways by which we can contribute to the cultivation of community. It is the time to recover our sense of agency and a shared commitment to making community possible, for it is vibrant local communities that are the most effective antidote to a pervasive mood of disengagement and resentment.
This is the Easter possibility: the place of diminishment and disillusionment is transformed into one of possibility and hope. As we resist the forces of disengagement and cynicism by our agency and our self-sacrificing commitment, we demonstrate that we truly are Easter people – people of hope and opportunity. May the spirit of ANZAC we celebrate this day continue to goad us into this remarkable project of life and future.