To Be Worthy

"We must strive to be worthy of the legacy that has been given to us."

Those were the words of the chaplain presiding over Darwin's celebration of ANZAC Day (or at least I think they were - it was 5am and I was feeling a big groggy), a national holiday meant to commemorate Australia and New Zealand's soldiers lost, and soldiers serving.

His words gave me pause. It sparked a moment of reflection. Am I worthy of the legacy that has been given to me? Am I as deeply grateful for it as I should be?

This legacy - the world I was born into - was truly given. But 100 years ago, that legacy was far from certain. Australians seem to have a deep sense of this. And nowhere was that more apparent than during the dawn service for ANZAC Day.

In Australian state capitals and cities across the nation, ANZAC Day is an increasingly celebrated occasion. People set their alarms for ungodly hours and pull themselves out of bed for a dawn ceremony. They bring their families to parades and cheer the service men and women as they march with heads held high. They toss some steaks on a grill and take "gunfire shots," a put-some-hair-on-your-chest drink of rum and milk.

But, most importantly, they remember. They still mourn the loss of ANZAC soldiers who lost their lives at Gallipoli. They speak with pride of Australia's heroism in France during World War II. People of Darwin, with eyes overhead, explain the city's plight as Japanese bombers - the same who attacked Pearl Harbor - wrecked havoc on their city. For the people I've met, these events don't feel as if they existed on some distant date in some distant past. They're as real and emotional as if they happened yesterday.

As me and my teammates approached the gathering crowds yesterday morning, it was the silence that struck me most. Although over a thousand people were gathered, they stood together, whispering softly or not saying anything at all. Slowly, the sunlight filtered through the quiet dawn. A bugle sounded, wreaths were laid at the cenotaph. I found the entire ceremony to be unexpectedly moving, to be quietly powerful. This was not a glorification of war, but a time to unite in remembrance of shared sacrifice.

I didn't anticipate it, but ANZAC has suddenly become the highlight of this trip for me so far. I so admire the Australian's shared sense of history, of pride. In ceremonies around the world - and indeed at Gallipoli itself - Australians are moved to tears to remember the loss of Australian lives over 100 years ago. I find that to be remarkable. And, I'm inspired. I hope that I, in turn, can feel such a connection. They've reminded me that everyday, I should strive to be worthy of the legacy - of democracy, of diversity, of freedom of speech - that so many have fought to give.