As the sun rises over Adelaide's cenotaphs this ANZAC Day, April 25, 2025, Australians will stand in solemn silence, honouring the Diggers who fell at Gallipoli and beyond. Their sacrifice in 1915 birthed a national legend, rooted in mateship, courage, and an unyielding spirit. Yet, beneath these virtues lay a deeper force: the Christian faith that sustained the ANZACs through the horrors of war. From chaplains praying amid gunfire to soldiers clutching rosaries, Christianity was the bedrock of their resolve, forging a unified Australia. Today, a secular, fragmented "nation of tribes," as Geoffrey Blainey calls our multicultural mess, buries this truth, stripping ANZAC Day of its spiritual core. This betrayal weakens our nation's soul, especially as global threats like China's aggression loom. We must reclaim the Diggers' faith to restore the unity and strength they died for.
In 1915, Australia was a proudly Christian nation. Over 95% of its five million people identified as Christian, with churches at the heart of every town, from Adelaide to Broken Hill. The ANZACs reflected this faith. Soldiers' diaries, preserved in the Australian War Memorial, brim with references to God—men like Private John Simpson Kirkpatrick, the "man with the donkey," who wrote of divine strength while saving wounded mates. Chaplains, such as Padre Walter Dexter, held makeshift services under Turkish shellfire, their Bibles worn from use. Hymns like "Abide With Me" echoed in trenches, binding men in shared hope. When death loomed, soldiers penned letters home, quoting John 15:13: "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends." This faith wasn't mere ritual; it was the anchor that held them fast, uniting a young nation in purpose.
That unity was Australia's strength. The ANZACs' Christian ethos fuelled their mateship, driving over 416,000 to enlist without conscription. It underpinned their resolve to fund HMAS Australia, a dreadnought that awed the southern hemisphere, as Blainey notes in his defence critique. Their shared faith transcended class or creed, creating a cohesive Anglo-Celtic society that rallied for king and country. ANZAC Day, born from this sacrifice, became a sacred rite, with dawn services blending Christian prayers and military homage. In the Adelaideof our youth, I recall churches packed on April 25, their pews filled with veterans and families, the Lord's Prayer mingling with the Last Post. This was Australia at its best—a nation bound by faith and memory.
Now, that legacy is under siege. Secular elites, eager to appease a multicultural populace, have bleached ANZAC Day of its Christian roots. Commemorations increasingly replace prayers with generic "values" like resilience, lest they "offend" non-Christian migrants. Schools teach Gallipoli as a historical event, not a testament to faith-driven sacrifice. This mirrors the secular drift we've discussed, where Easter's cross is swapped for chocolate eggs. Blainey's "nation of tribes" nails the problem: a society splintered by competing identities—Indigenous, migrant, secular—lacks the spiritual glue that held 1915 Australia together. The Albanese government's push for the Voice referendum, prioritising tribal divisions over national unity, exemplifies this fracture. By sidelining Christianity, we lose the moral clarity that drove the ANZACs to face death for their mates.
This spiritual erosion has consequences. Blainey warns that Australia's defence is crumbling—Darwin's port leased to China, recruits scarce, fuel reserves laughable. A nation that forgets the faith of its heroes cannot muster the resolve to face modern threats. In 1914, Christian unity spurred Australia to build steelworks and arm itself; today, multicultural fragmentation and secular apathy leave us vulnerable. China's warships, probing our waters in 2025, mock our weakness. The ANZACs' faith gave them strength to endure Gallipoli's carnage; we, adrift in a sea of relativism, lack their backbone. Secularism's promise of inclusivity has delivered division, with communities more loyal to distant homelands than to Australia's defence.
The Diggers' faith wasn't just personal—it was national. Churches in 1915 raised funds for soldiers, knitted socks, and prayed for victory. Pastors preached sacrifice, echoing Christ's example. This collective spirituality rallied Australia through two world wars, yet today, many churches shy from ANZAC Day, fearing it's "too militaristic" or not "diverse" enough. This cowardice betrays the padres who died at Gallipoli, their crosses etched in stone. Multiculturalism, with its insistence on equal footing for all beliefs, dilutes this heritage, reducing Christianity to one voice among many. The result is a nation unmoored, unable to draw on the faith that once unified it against existential threats.
We must fight back. This ANZAC Day, let's honour the Diggers by restoring their Christian legacy. Start in your parish—urge priests to hold ANZAC services, blending hymns like "Nearer, My God, to Thee" with prayers for the fallen. Teach your kids the stories of men like Simpson, whose faith drove their heroism, not just their bravery. Demand schools highlight the chaplains' role, not just the battles. Attend dawn services, but don't stop there—call out politicians who water down our heritage for votes. Albanese's government, cozying up to Beijing while ignoring defence, needs a wake-up call. Write to your MP, rally your community, and reject the secular dogma that strips ANZAC Day of its soul.
The cross carried by the ANZACs still beckons. It's no coincidence that Gallipoli's cliffs resembled Golgotha's rugged grace. Their faith, like Christ's sacrifice, was a gift to a nation—a call to unity, duty, and love. As we face a world of peril, from China's shadow to cultural decay, we need that faith more than ever. On April 25, 2025, stand at your local cenotaph, and pray for the Diggers' spirit to rise again. Let their cross lead us back to a united Australia, strong in faith and fierce in resolve. Anything less is a surrender they'd never forgive.