The Heroism Of Going On
Sermon
Life Injections
Connecting Scripture to the Human Experience
Object:
... After he too had died, they maltreated and tortured the fourth brother...
An attempt to address the concern over the lack of heroes in today's society.
__________
Recently a lot of television sets in the hospital were tuned to the Turner Broadcasting Station. It might have been that the patients were tired of the election reporting or the infomercials that were on the other channels, but the greater reason was that movies starring John Wayne were the featured attraction. The Turner Broadcasting people were calling it "The Duke Week" and viewers were treated to the various westerns for which Duke Wayne was famous.
It's interesting to see the continual popularity of John Wayne-type movies. For many of us there is a fascination with the tough guy, rugged individual character which he so often portrayed. We love those old-time westerns and we like the contemporary imitations as well. Arnold Schwarzenegger and Steven Seagal are two of Hollywood's biggest stars. Their movies, for the most part, are of a John Wayne style. We love characters that demonstrate a real toughness, who seem to epitomize real bravery, who seem to thrive on tackling assignments and going into situations where most of us would fear to tread. It might be because they portray a virtue that seems for many of us to be vanishing today -- courage.
It is unfortunate that we link courage with the rugged individual, tough guy character because their brand of courage is hardly a good representation of the virtue. Courage today seems hard to find, but perhaps the reason lies in the fact that we look for it in all the wrong places. We long for it in a form that seldom does it justice.
In that wonderful Harper Lee novel To Kill a Mockingbird,1 Atticus Finch, a country lawyer in a small Alabama town, sent his son Jem to read every afternoon to a neighbor lady, Mrs. Dubose, who was dying of cancer. He tried to teach his son that, despite her racial prejudice, she was a remarkable woman. She was on daily doses of morphine, needing it to kill her pain. But when her doctor told her that she had only a few weeks to live, she decided to stop the morphine, enduring the pain, so that she would be "beholden to nothing and nobody" when she died.
On the evening of the day she died, Atticus explains to Jem why he had sent him to read to her.
"I wanted you to see something about her," said Atticus. "I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what, that's what real courage is! It's when you're in pain, when you're suffering, and you go on, that's what real courage is! According to her views, Mrs. Dubose died 'beholden to nothing and nobody.' She was the bravest person I ever knew."
It seems that so often when we reference bravery and courage, we look at the heroes of war, the athlete who plays despite pain, explorers who tread into unknown territory, the statesman who rallied people and helped topple a corrupt regime, the John Wayne type who enters a lion's den with hardly an ounce of fear. One shouldn't diminish or demean any of those samples of courage. We wouldn't be where we are today without the Admiral Stocksdales, the Lech Walesas, and the Lewis and Clarks. We are inspired by the play of Bernie Kosar who stayed in the football game despite a broken ankle. We appreciate a person who boldly challenges something or someone which others haven't the guts to do.
But for the most part, those exhibitions of courage have received their rewards. Those exhibitions of courage are hailed and acknowledged. Those exhibitions of courage have enjoyed strong support and high esteem. The courage to which Atticus Finch alluded has none of that. The courage he described is the type often overlooked. It is the kind often missed. It's the courage that goes unrecognized, yet it speaks volumes for strength and for valor and for nobility and for gallantry. It is of a caliber that often pales the more popular and more external versions of courage.
Allister Maclean, not the famous novelist but the famous preacher, tells of an incident in the Scottish Highlands. A little group of young people were talking about heroism, saying that everybody had sooner or later to practice some kind of heroism. A young man turned to an old woman who looked very ordinary and very serene. He did not know that life had been very cruel to her, that she had sustained and endured countless tragedies. He figured that nothing great could be found in a life that was so ordinary and so plain as hers. Just to be smart, he asked her, "What kind of heroism do you practice?" She looked at the young man with her piercing eyes and her rugged face and she replied, "I practice the heroism of going on!"
The greatest examples of courage, the most moving portrayals of bravery, are most often found among simple and ordinary people who somehow manage to keep on living, who somehow manage to move ahead with their lives despite the misery and the tragedy and the poverty that surrounds them. Instead of resigning themselves to resentment and misery, they accept life as it is and heroically go on.
Samuel Johnson was an eighteenth century literary genius. Like many who contributed things of lasting value to history, his personal life was filled with tragedy. His was a life of loneliness and melancholy. From his boyhood as a half-blind and half-deaf awkward youth, to his old age when he suffered from dropsy and bronchitis and lung disease, and all but abandoned by his wife and family, Johnson managed to keep a semblance of dignity pursuing a literary career despite all the excuses to quit.
Johnson was never cited for his courage. He was not recognized as a literary genius in his day. It was only long after his death that such things would come to light. In the world in which he lived, Johnson was seen as a simple and serene and ordinary individual much like that woman in the Allister Maclean incident. Not too many noticed nor knew that he practiced the heroism of going on.
The same can be said for many others whom history has recorded as major contributors of things of lasting value. Vincent van Gogh sold only one painting in his career and was dependent upon the generous but limited support of his brother. He would often not eat for days just so he could afford to buy painting materials. Johann Sebastian Bach was panned by the critics of his day. The only decent commission he ever received was from a composition of some relaxing pieces of music for a Russian envoy. He had a family of eight children and had to struggle hard to feed them. Mozart was so poor that all his life was a heartbreaking battle with poverty. He was buried in a pauper's grave. John Keats was so crippled by poverty that it is an agony to read about his life.
Van Gogh, Mozart, Bach, and Keats never brandished any weapons. They didn't rally forces against an unjust cause. They didn't venture into unexplored territory. They weren't cited or hailed in their lifetimes. They entered no lion's den. Their courage however goes beyond question. They struggled against immeasurable difficulties. They survived the most destitute of life's conditions. They pursued the development of their talents despite the multiple forces working against them. They were simple and ordinary people practicing the heroism of going on.
If one has a hard time locating examples of courage, if one is complaining about the lack of heroes in modern life, if one is distressed because courage is seen as a vanishing virtue, perhaps one should begin talking to some of the simple and ordinary people around them who aren't so lucky. Perhaps one should talk to those whose lives are filled with pain and suffering and tragedy. Courage and heroism do abound in the world around us, but it is not centered on nerve and muscle. It is centered on the human spirit surviving against the most difficult and painful of life's circumstances.
My work at the hospital awakens me often to that truth. There are people here on a regular basis for chemotherapy, and many of them go through hell. There are people who have surgery that leaves them with a permanent trache in their throats which has to be cleaned several times a day. There are people who have strokes and they can't talk and they can't walk and now they face endless hours of therapy. There are parents whose newborn child has multiple handicaps. There are families who come here each day to sit with their loved one whose Alzheimer's disease has turned him or her into a stranger who now has no recollection of his/her existence. All of those people, all of those families, are practitioners of the heroism of going on. They show tremendous courage, and their demonstration of courage far exceeds anything you'll ever find in a John Wayne movie. They are the bravest people I know.
The issue of courage jumps out at us in today's first reading. It's the recounting of the story of the heroism of seven brothers and their mother. Rather than violate God's law, they willingly suffered torture and death and they did so, not all at once, but one by one, with the rest of the family standing by. Their courage rested not just in the endurance of their own pain and suffering, but also in the endurance of watching the pain and suffering of the people they loved.
Unfortunately, that twofold display of courage is not unusual. There have been other families in sacred scripture who endured a similar tragedy. The history of the church is filled with tens of thousands of heroic and courageous people who gave their lives so that the message of God could be heard. Today we may not see that much heroism and courage, but maybe it is because we've come to associate it only with the shedding of blood. Maybe it is because we've come to identify it only with acts of outward bravery. But who is to say that courage and heroism for God's causes aren't being demonstrated in different ways?
There is much courage and there is much heroism going on today. It doesn't get the fanfare. It doesn't get the press. It's not easily recognized. But it's there in the poor, the sick, the lame and the blind. It's there in the Mrs. Duboses and the Samuel Johnsons and the Vincent van Goghs and the John Keats, and even in the people right here in this place of worship. It's there in those who, when found with great trial and great suffering, manage to go on, and in doing so they are not just practicing heroism, but they're also giving witness to the spirit of God alive in our world.
In Japan the bamboo tree is a symbol of prosperity. The pine tree is a symbol of longevity. And the plum tree is a symbol of courage. The plum tree seems out of place as a symbol for courage. One might expect an old stately tree with sturdy roots and worn bark. The plum tree was chosen because the plum tree blooms very early in spring when there is still snow on the ground.
Courage, you see, is not marked simply by what we do but by when and where we do it. True courage can be found in the one who stands firm and flowers even in the face of difficulties and opposition, even in the face of the snowstorms of life.
The next time you want to see examples of courage, don't go to a movie theater. Go to a hospital or a nursing home or a Blind Association meeting or some rehab center or some broken-down apartment of some fledgling artist. They are usually the places where plum trees abound.
____________
1. Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird (Philadelphia: Lippincott Press, 1960).
An attempt to address the concern over the lack of heroes in today's society.
__________
Recently a lot of television sets in the hospital were tuned to the Turner Broadcasting Station. It might have been that the patients were tired of the election reporting or the infomercials that were on the other channels, but the greater reason was that movies starring John Wayne were the featured attraction. The Turner Broadcasting people were calling it "The Duke Week" and viewers were treated to the various westerns for which Duke Wayne was famous.
It's interesting to see the continual popularity of John Wayne-type movies. For many of us there is a fascination with the tough guy, rugged individual character which he so often portrayed. We love those old-time westerns and we like the contemporary imitations as well. Arnold Schwarzenegger and Steven Seagal are two of Hollywood's biggest stars. Their movies, for the most part, are of a John Wayne style. We love characters that demonstrate a real toughness, who seem to epitomize real bravery, who seem to thrive on tackling assignments and going into situations where most of us would fear to tread. It might be because they portray a virtue that seems for many of us to be vanishing today -- courage.
It is unfortunate that we link courage with the rugged individual, tough guy character because their brand of courage is hardly a good representation of the virtue. Courage today seems hard to find, but perhaps the reason lies in the fact that we look for it in all the wrong places. We long for it in a form that seldom does it justice.
In that wonderful Harper Lee novel To Kill a Mockingbird,1 Atticus Finch, a country lawyer in a small Alabama town, sent his son Jem to read every afternoon to a neighbor lady, Mrs. Dubose, who was dying of cancer. He tried to teach his son that, despite her racial prejudice, she was a remarkable woman. She was on daily doses of morphine, needing it to kill her pain. But when her doctor told her that she had only a few weeks to live, she decided to stop the morphine, enduring the pain, so that she would be "beholden to nothing and nobody" when she died.
On the evening of the day she died, Atticus explains to Jem why he had sent him to read to her.
"I wanted you to see something about her," said Atticus. "I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what, that's what real courage is! It's when you're in pain, when you're suffering, and you go on, that's what real courage is! According to her views, Mrs. Dubose died 'beholden to nothing and nobody.' She was the bravest person I ever knew."
It seems that so often when we reference bravery and courage, we look at the heroes of war, the athlete who plays despite pain, explorers who tread into unknown territory, the statesman who rallied people and helped topple a corrupt regime, the John Wayne type who enters a lion's den with hardly an ounce of fear. One shouldn't diminish or demean any of those samples of courage. We wouldn't be where we are today without the Admiral Stocksdales, the Lech Walesas, and the Lewis and Clarks. We are inspired by the play of Bernie Kosar who stayed in the football game despite a broken ankle. We appreciate a person who boldly challenges something or someone which others haven't the guts to do.
But for the most part, those exhibitions of courage have received their rewards. Those exhibitions of courage are hailed and acknowledged. Those exhibitions of courage have enjoyed strong support and high esteem. The courage to which Atticus Finch alluded has none of that. The courage he described is the type often overlooked. It is the kind often missed. It's the courage that goes unrecognized, yet it speaks volumes for strength and for valor and for nobility and for gallantry. It is of a caliber that often pales the more popular and more external versions of courage.
Allister Maclean, not the famous novelist but the famous preacher, tells of an incident in the Scottish Highlands. A little group of young people were talking about heroism, saying that everybody had sooner or later to practice some kind of heroism. A young man turned to an old woman who looked very ordinary and very serene. He did not know that life had been very cruel to her, that she had sustained and endured countless tragedies. He figured that nothing great could be found in a life that was so ordinary and so plain as hers. Just to be smart, he asked her, "What kind of heroism do you practice?" She looked at the young man with her piercing eyes and her rugged face and she replied, "I practice the heroism of going on!"
The greatest examples of courage, the most moving portrayals of bravery, are most often found among simple and ordinary people who somehow manage to keep on living, who somehow manage to move ahead with their lives despite the misery and the tragedy and the poverty that surrounds them. Instead of resigning themselves to resentment and misery, they accept life as it is and heroically go on.
Samuel Johnson was an eighteenth century literary genius. Like many who contributed things of lasting value to history, his personal life was filled with tragedy. His was a life of loneliness and melancholy. From his boyhood as a half-blind and half-deaf awkward youth, to his old age when he suffered from dropsy and bronchitis and lung disease, and all but abandoned by his wife and family, Johnson managed to keep a semblance of dignity pursuing a literary career despite all the excuses to quit.
Johnson was never cited for his courage. He was not recognized as a literary genius in his day. It was only long after his death that such things would come to light. In the world in which he lived, Johnson was seen as a simple and serene and ordinary individual much like that woman in the Allister Maclean incident. Not too many noticed nor knew that he practiced the heroism of going on.
The same can be said for many others whom history has recorded as major contributors of things of lasting value. Vincent van Gogh sold only one painting in his career and was dependent upon the generous but limited support of his brother. He would often not eat for days just so he could afford to buy painting materials. Johann Sebastian Bach was panned by the critics of his day. The only decent commission he ever received was from a composition of some relaxing pieces of music for a Russian envoy. He had a family of eight children and had to struggle hard to feed them. Mozart was so poor that all his life was a heartbreaking battle with poverty. He was buried in a pauper's grave. John Keats was so crippled by poverty that it is an agony to read about his life.
Van Gogh, Mozart, Bach, and Keats never brandished any weapons. They didn't rally forces against an unjust cause. They didn't venture into unexplored territory. They weren't cited or hailed in their lifetimes. They entered no lion's den. Their courage however goes beyond question. They struggled against immeasurable difficulties. They survived the most destitute of life's conditions. They pursued the development of their talents despite the multiple forces working against them. They were simple and ordinary people practicing the heroism of going on.
If one has a hard time locating examples of courage, if one is complaining about the lack of heroes in modern life, if one is distressed because courage is seen as a vanishing virtue, perhaps one should begin talking to some of the simple and ordinary people around them who aren't so lucky. Perhaps one should talk to those whose lives are filled with pain and suffering and tragedy. Courage and heroism do abound in the world around us, but it is not centered on nerve and muscle. It is centered on the human spirit surviving against the most difficult and painful of life's circumstances.
My work at the hospital awakens me often to that truth. There are people here on a regular basis for chemotherapy, and many of them go through hell. There are people who have surgery that leaves them with a permanent trache in their throats which has to be cleaned several times a day. There are people who have strokes and they can't talk and they can't walk and now they face endless hours of therapy. There are parents whose newborn child has multiple handicaps. There are families who come here each day to sit with their loved one whose Alzheimer's disease has turned him or her into a stranger who now has no recollection of his/her existence. All of those people, all of those families, are practitioners of the heroism of going on. They show tremendous courage, and their demonstration of courage far exceeds anything you'll ever find in a John Wayne movie. They are the bravest people I know.
The issue of courage jumps out at us in today's first reading. It's the recounting of the story of the heroism of seven brothers and their mother. Rather than violate God's law, they willingly suffered torture and death and they did so, not all at once, but one by one, with the rest of the family standing by. Their courage rested not just in the endurance of their own pain and suffering, but also in the endurance of watching the pain and suffering of the people they loved.
Unfortunately, that twofold display of courage is not unusual. There have been other families in sacred scripture who endured a similar tragedy. The history of the church is filled with tens of thousands of heroic and courageous people who gave their lives so that the message of God could be heard. Today we may not see that much heroism and courage, but maybe it is because we've come to associate it only with the shedding of blood. Maybe it is because we've come to identify it only with acts of outward bravery. But who is to say that courage and heroism for God's causes aren't being demonstrated in different ways?
There is much courage and there is much heroism going on today. It doesn't get the fanfare. It doesn't get the press. It's not easily recognized. But it's there in the poor, the sick, the lame and the blind. It's there in the Mrs. Duboses and the Samuel Johnsons and the Vincent van Goghs and the John Keats, and even in the people right here in this place of worship. It's there in those who, when found with great trial and great suffering, manage to go on, and in doing so they are not just practicing heroism, but they're also giving witness to the spirit of God alive in our world.
In Japan the bamboo tree is a symbol of prosperity. The pine tree is a symbol of longevity. And the plum tree is a symbol of courage. The plum tree seems out of place as a symbol for courage. One might expect an old stately tree with sturdy roots and worn bark. The plum tree was chosen because the plum tree blooms very early in spring when there is still snow on the ground.
Courage, you see, is not marked simply by what we do but by when and where we do it. True courage can be found in the one who stands firm and flowers even in the face of difficulties and opposition, even in the face of the snowstorms of life.
The next time you want to see examples of courage, don't go to a movie theater. Go to a hospital or a nursing home or a Blind Association meeting or some rehab center or some broken-down apartment of some fledgling artist. They are usually the places where plum trees abound.
____________
1. Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird (Philadelphia: Lippincott Press, 1960).
