As a young seminarian, Memorial Day memories turn to my dad, a veteran of WW II and commander of his American Legion Post. At the local cemetery, we would honor our war heros by offering prayers, laying the wreath, sounding taps and a twenty-one gun salute. The words of John said it best: "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." I have heard this verse so many times that the ultimate sacrifice is to give one’s life for friend or country. But I wonder if that was the message Jesus was talking about. He wasn’t talking about war, was he?My dad was invited to speak on this day and he would always turn to me and say "Can you write me a few words." So my Sonshines, my stories began long before I took my first homiletic course in seminary. While we came to remember the sacrifice of so many young people, when and how you die isn’t as important as how you live. Surely Jesus didn’t want us to die in wars. When he called his disciples to lay down their lives, maybe he meant something more like to put aside our own goals, our own desires, our own ambitions and to live for others -- to dedicate our lives to our brothers and sisters, our friends, our church, to dedicate our lives to God -- to lay down our own will and to seek God’s will, and then do it.
After the ceremony, dad and I stayed after everyone else left. We moved from stone to stone, looking at each name, each date. As we walked, we came upon a platform carved out of stone. In the center was a sort of a pulpit also carved from stone. I stood behind the pulpit and looked out over hundreds of graves. It was like a congregation of the dead. It was the quietest, most attentive congregation I had ever seen before. For a minute, I imagine myself like Ezekiel preaching to the dry bones. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I shook my head. What’s the matter, dad said. I realized I didn't have anything to say to them. As I thought about their sacrifices, and the sorrow of their families and friends, I didn’t have a word to say. Just then, an older legionnaire friend of my dad had come up beside us. This old WW I veteran looked at us and said, It’s alright that you have nothing to say to them, he said, gesturing to the silent gravestones stretching as far as the eye can see. The question is, were you quiet enough to let them speak to you?
Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends who cry over the stones of their war heros. In our souls, let us hear:" I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another." On Memorial Day, I remember writing my dad’s speech calling those in their graves real heros. I’m sure they never saw themselves that way. There are many kinds of heroes-- a soldier who holds fast under fire because one believes their country needs them; a mother who day after day cooks and cleans and puts her children to bed with a prayer; a farmer who year after year fights to keep his head above water and yet never fails to help a migrant in need. I believe our soldiers did leave us something that will last...let them speak to you. May we honor them, and all those who have served others, by serving the one who chose us and doing His will each day.
