This Tuesday, November 11th, is Remembrance Day, and today we mark Remembrance Sunday, a sacred time to honour those who went to war and gave their lives. Bodies lay on battlefields; families carried separation and loss. We remember their courage and sacrifice, knowing our peace and freedom were dearly bought.

The red poppy we wear today is more than a symbol of memory. It recalls blood shed in war and the promise that love and courage are not forgotten. For Christians, it also points to Christ, whose blood was shed so others might live. The sacrifice of soldiers echoes his: giving life so that others may live. Truly, we live in peace because of someone else’s sacrifice.

Today, as we remember, I’d like to share a story from my own family–stories that remind us that remembrance is not only about history, but about humanity.

Following the two World Wars, the Korean War remains Canada’s third-bloodiest overseas conflict, in which 516 Canadians were killed and more than 1,200 wounded. The Korean War began early on Sunday morning, June 25, 1950, when the North Korean army invaded the South. It lasted until an armistice was signed on July 27, 1953. Nearly 27,000 Canadians, including several hundred Indigenous people, served as part of a UN force from 16 nations–first as soldiers, later as peacekeepers in the years that followed.

My late father was one of the young men who went to war. He had just turned twenty. There was no mandatory military service at that time, but if you were strong and able, you volunteered out of love for your country and your people. He took off his school uniform and put on a soldier’s uniform instead.

Winter in Korea can be as harsh as winter in Alberta. I imagine the bitter cold, the echo of gunfire, the fear and determination in those young hearts. One day, a bullet tore through my father’s right arm just below the wrist. He was taken to a field hospital; the bullet came out. His life was spared, but many of his comrades were not. Many of his friends did not return. Our family’s story could have ended there. If he hadn’t survived, he would never have married, and I would not be here to tell you this.

When the ceasefire was signed in 1953, my parents married through a matchmaker. At their wedding, my mother caught sight of the scar on his lower arm–dark, unmistakable, showing even beneath the wide sleeve of his traditional robe. That mark became part of our family’s history, a reminder that war wounds more than bodies; it breaks and burdens the hearts of those who wait, love, and grieve.

My mother carried her own war story. She was a teenage girl when North Korean soldiers poured into her village. Her family lowered her into a large clay jar in the backyard and covered her with layers of linens. Boots pounded the yard. A soldier lifted the lid. He looked, but not deep enough. One more second, one more curious hand, and she might have been dragged away or worse. She never forgot the sound of those footsteps, the burn of her breath held in the dark. That day was terror, but also grace: grace that the lid closed again, grace that she emerged, and grace that her family was spared.

When I think of my parents’ stories, I realize how fragile and precious life is, and how easily it could have been otherwise. Many did not come home. Many families were never reunited. Remembrance Day, for me, is not only about nations and battles–it is about the personal stories that shape our lives, reminding us that behind every statistic is a life, a soul, and a child of God.

In today’s Gospel reading, the Sadducees come to Jesus with a tricky question about seven brothers who all married the same woman. “In the resurrection,” they ask, “whose wife will she be?” Their question was not sincere. They wanted to mock Jesus. The Sadducees did not believe in resurrection. They saw death as final. But Jesus takes their question seriously and turns it into a moment of revelation.

Jesus teaches that resurrection is not a continuation of this life but something entirely new. In this world, marriage is important for lineage because death is always near. But in the world to come, there is no death. People are not bound by earthly relationships or limitations. They are like angels, children of God, forever alive in God’s presence.

For Jesus, the resurrection is not about returning to what we were, but about being transformed into what God always intended us to be–alive with God, beyond death, beyond loss.

And then Jesus says something profound: “God is not the God of the dead, but of the living, for to God all are alive.”

This is the heart of resurrection faith. To God, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are not dead–they are alive, and so are all who lived before us. Death may end many things, but it does not end love. It does not end relationships. Because of our connection with God, those who have gone before us are not dead to us either. They still speak. They still shape our lives. None of them have truly passed away.

This is the comfort and the challenge of our faith. On this Remembrance Sunday, we remember those who have died in war not as distant figures of history but as living witnesses in God’s eternal story. Their courage calls us to peace. Their sacrifice invites us to gratitude. Their faith, their love, their hope surround us like a great cloud of witnesses.

Last week, we remembered those we have known–parents, mentors, friends, and members of our own congregation who have touched our lives. They, too, are among the saints who now live in God’s light.

And so today, as we remember the saints and soldiers, the ancestors and the loved ones, we renew our Season of Commitment: giving thanks for the legacy of peace, freedom, and faith, and pledging to carry it forward.

To remember rightly is to live differently. To honour their sacrifice is to build peace, to nurture compassion, to embody the love of Christ in our time.

God is the God of the living. And because God is alive, love never dies. Hope never ends. Faith never fades.

May we live in that assurance: grateful for the past, faithful in the present, and trusting the future to the God who holds all things, living and dead, in divine love. Thanks be to God. Amen.