473 Clothman Good Friday Talk
Rose Park is one of the most sacred sites in my county for it is here that we pay tribute and honor those young men and women who have died in the various military conflicts our country has engaged in over the last century or so.
I always go there with a sense of humility, gratitude, soberness and sadness.
I come from a military family. My father served in the Pacific theater during WWII. My older sister and brother served in the Navy and Army during the Vietnam War, I served in the Air Force from 1975-1980, my younger brother served in the Army after me, my other sister’s husband is currently an active duty Colonel in the Air Force and my nephew is preparing for assignment in Iraq as an Army EMT even as we speak. Thankfully, none of us have died or even been injured during our service.
However, as Rose Park commemorates, not all those who have served our country were so lucky. It is this reality that saddens me each time I stroll these grounds. I think the most sobering fact of this reality is that the faces that go with the names of the men and women on all of these memorials are young. They are faces that never had the opportunity to become leathered and wrinkled – many never stroked by an offspring. They didn’t see their hair thin or grey with years. Nearly all died while in the prime of their youth.
Such is the tragedy of warfare. Our youngest and best do the fighting for the rest.
Fathers and mothers send their children into battle against other parent’s children for causes that in many ways seem as remote as some of the fields of battle where these children who under many other circumstances might have been friends instead of enemies.
Of all those who visit here, I think the parents of the fallen grieve the most – if grief has any such kind of morbid scale. They brought these sons and daughters into the world in love with dreams and ambitions only to see those all dashed in an instant.
How dreadful it is for a loved one to receive notice that their son or daughter, husband/wife, brother/sister, friend has fallen in battle.
It is with this back drop of sadness and sobriety that I announce this Good Friday that another young man has fallen in battle. Only in his 30’s and dearly loved he died a painful death in conflict but it is our hope, as it is for all of those whose names on etched on these monuments, that his death is not in vain.
As with all of our troops these days, this young man volunteered for duty. He came from great affluence and stature, yet he never acted like it. He was definitely one of the guys and loved it when he was indistinguishable from those around him.
All accounts are that he never met a person he didn’t befriend. In fact, the only time he came down hard on anyone was if they were coming down hard on others or using their power and influence to dominate and demean others. As far as I know the only time he lost his temper – including in battle – was when he saw humans treating fellow humans inhumanly.
A natural leader, he commanded tremendous loyalty, yet it is interesting to note that the greatest hallmark of his leadership was servanthood. Others followed him the most because he served them the most.
But today, as we have gathered we must sadly remember the death of this young man. His name: Jesus of Nazareth.
Are you shocked? You never thought of Jesus as a soldier?
Remember, Paul says that we were enemies of God when the Father sent the Son. Like any of us who have had to send sons/daughters into war, I believe the Father grieved as he sent Jesus into the world even though, as we also know, Jesus volunteered for duty.
Yet the Father was immensely proud of Jesus. At times he simply couldn’t contain his love and pride for his Son and he scared multitudes half to death when his voice boomed from the heavens. For example at Jesus’ baptism, which by the way was the day he was sent into active duty service, the Father’s voice thundered, “This is my beloved Son! Listen to him.” Jesus smiled at this outpouring of loving affection, most everyone else fell to the ground in fear.
We have all read the engaging, gut-wrenching letters that soldiers on both sides of the battle line send home describing the daily horror, moral dilemmas, victories, defeats, laughs and tears of war. It had to be terribly difficult for the Father during his daily talks with Jesus, especially after a particularly dangerous or difficult day. Remember when the crowds in Jesus’ home town almost succeeded in pushing him off a cliff? How painful that rejection had to be for both Father and Son – not to mention to rush of such a near-death experience for Jesus.
Or how about the tear-stained conversation Jesus and the Father under the cover of night mere hours before Jesus would actually be killed in battle. The emotions of the situation were so great that Jesus’ sweat was actually mixed with blood. He had been betrayed by a close friend, saw his fellow soldiers fail in battle and knew that he could flee the battle field and spare his own life and no one would know – except all of humanity and the entire course of history would be completely different. What weight, what battle pressure, what pain, what agony.
Yet it was for this very moment that Jesus signed up for duty. Despite the fear and the knowledge that the next several hours would produce unbelievable pain and suffering – no victory is won by retreating. Such is battle. Such is war. Such was the determination of the one we remember today.
He didn’t retreat or flee the battle field and as a result of his resolve and to-the-last-breath determination, Jesus won the greatest battle of the universe – by willingly dying.
You see Jesus engaged in a different kind of warfare than human armies tend to engage in. Jesus loved those who hated him, did good to those who persecuted him, forgave those who sinned against him and laid down his life for enemies at the hand of his enemies.
Jesus’ military service wasn’t to conquer land or dominate and control people groups in the way humans tend to. Jesus’ military goal was to make his enemies his friends. His great military victory will be fully realized only when war is finally obsolete. When hatred becomes ancient history. When the number one desire of all humanity is to love God and love one another as they love themselves. When every one of us finally realizes that through his son’s death God has made peace with us and destroyed the dividing wall of sin and death that once separated us from God.
Sadly, as this park testifies, Jesus’ complete victory has not been realized yet in human history. But I honestly believe that we are closer, much closer, now than we were when Jesus’ blood was spilled on that Middle-Eastern soil. And we draw closer to that victory with each passing day for as the ancient prophet declared at Jesus’ birth, “of the increase of his kingdom there shall be no end.”
A more noble death history will never record. But let us remember this death wasn’t easy, it wasn’t painless, it wasn’t absent of the cost of blood mingling with earth, it wasn’t without tears flowing from the broken hearts of parents and loved ones and it wasn’t by accident.
But mostly let us pray that this death wasn’t in vain or forgotten in any other square inch of this third rock from the Sun.
Ironically, when we are in war we understand and appreciate the tragedy of war better. I recall being in Rose Park not too long ago to remember the local soldiers who had recently died in Iraq and Afghanistan. I can still feel the nausea that settled in the pit of my stomach when the reality of war and death hit so close to home.
On this Good Friday, the 6th of April 2007 may we take a personal moment to allow that shock, grief and somberness to settle into our stomach as we remember Jesus of Nazareth, Son of the Father, soldier of love, dead at age 33. May he rest in peace – or will he?
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