Yesterday, in America anyway, was Memorial Day.  In addition to the many barbecues and gatherings this holiday spawns, it also births numerous displays of patriotism, even, dare I say, jingoism, among the American populace.  Lots of flags, lots of parades, lots of honoring of veterans.

    Although we may differ on what justifies sending troops into combat, and though we may debate how a war should be fought, we can agree, I think, to be grateful for those who, whether through conscription or voluntarism, put themselves on the line for people, people like you and me, people they may never meet or know, for causes both clear and ambiguous.

    The price, however, is high.  Military cemeteries around the world testify to this amply.  It's tragic and unspeakably sad.  So many lost and broken lives.  And this does not include the even more numerous civilians who, through no fault of their own, are trapped and die in the middle of military conflict.

    Hence, memory.  It is important to remember.  To remember who has been, to remember what they did.  To remember what we have lost.

    Most of us want peace.  Peace in our families, peace in our nation, peace in the world, and peace in our hearts.  Although some wars might seem necessary, they are never absolutely good.

    As countless religions attest, we do not grow by seeking our own welfare and safety only.  Over and above it all, we are called to seek the common good and not solely our own.

    And to remember those who have enabled us to do so.