It’s a day to remember those who died. Graves with fresh flowers, parades in small towns, and patriotic songs. For the first time, my father is remembered rather than remembering. My mother, sister, brothers, and aunt will each honor the memory of my father.
Years ago, I gave him a couple of books by Dietrich Bonhoeffer – Ethics and The Cost of Discipleship. We had a few conversations about Bonhoeffer’s life, especially his participation in a plot to assassinate Hitler. Was this against his faith (he had been in favor of Gandhi’s non-violent approach to change)? Was Bonhoeffer wrong to condone assassination, even participate in its attempt? My father didn’t think so. His comment:
“He had to choose between killing a murderer or allowing a murderer to keep killing. He did what he could live with and paid the price for it.”
We had many other talks about God and living in this imperfect world. On this day of remembrance, I thank God for seeing in my father a living Christian faith. It was an honor to know him.