Several years ago a close friend of mine named Michael
Dechane gave me a PBS documentary on the history of the Congressional Medal of
Honor for my birthday. I have watched it at least a half-dozen times; alone,
with colleagues, with my father-in-law, with my sons. In short, it tells the
incredible stories of soldiers who risked their lives for the sake of others.
As if the point needed to be proven, the overwhelming majority of recipients never
hold it in their hands, they are given it posthumously.
This week President Obama announced that an Army chaplain, Capt. Emil J. Kapaun,
will be awarded the Medal of Honor, posthumously, on April 11, for his actions
leading up to his capture as a prisoner of war in North Korea.
Typical
of all the recipients of the award
Kapaun’s story is one of bravery,
self-sacrifice, and dedication. After a brutal raid by Chinese infantry,
American soldiers, badly wounded and outnumbered, called for retreat. Kapaun
stayed behind to comfort the wounded knowing full well it would guarantee his
capture by the Chinese. 7 months later he died in a prisoner camp.
Kapaun’s story reminded me of the unfortunate way in which
the Church can often react to the wounded. We retreat. With seemingly pious
motives we claim, all too often, that our distance from the soiled and the
imperfect is born out of a desire to need to protect ourselves from temptation,
or the flock from potential wolves. "If you wrestle with a dirty pig," so the
wisdom goes, "you end up dirty yourself, the pig doesn’t get clean."
I fear the desire to retreat is often far less honorable
though. Over the dull hum of bullets rushing by our heads, and the site of
brothers and sisters sprawled along the battlefield, we recoil at the carnage,
fear for our own lives, and rush towards the waiting helicopters repeating “see
no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” as our feet carry us out of range of the
voices calling for help.
When Kapaun’s colleagues signaled for him that is was time
to go, he waved them off and moved instead, unarmed, towards the wounded,
towards the helpless, choosing instead to be counted among the prisoners than
to live in freedom apart from them.
Where are the wounded around you? Are you moving towards
them? Are you willing to enter the prison with them? Can you sit in their
darkness so that they do not have to face it alone? Is your life marked by
retreat and self preservation, or self-sacrifice and surrender on behalf of
those living in darkness who need help finding the light?
“If
you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life
for my sake, you will save it.” Matt. 16:25
