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Homily
May 18,
2008
Trinity
Sunday (A)
Deacon David J. Shea
Exod 34:4-6, 8-9
X
2 Cor 13:11-13 X
John 3:16-18
The
mother of the Marine corporal faced the cameras and the reporters for the first
time after her son’s burial. There was a hush in the large crowd that marked
both the respect and the grief that everyone was experiencing. The young soldier
was but one of the many who had done the dying for the rest of us. She softly
and courageously explained that, “He could have done a lot with his life. But he
gave it to the nation.”
The giving of your life for a nation, a cause, or another person is always
represented as the ultimate price that anyone can pay. Yet it is being done with
regularity and we mark the progress with a daily death count. Those closest to
deceased can never forget and the rest of us are reminded in newscasts and
headlines so that we won’t forget.
Twenty-year-old Staff Sergeant Matt Maupin was captured on April 9, 2004 when
his fuel convoy came under attack near the Baghdad International Airport. A week
later, the Arab television network Al-Jazeera aired a videotape showing Maupin
sitting on the floor surrounded by five masked men holding automatic rifles.
Weeks later, on June 28, a video purporting to show his execution was released,
but Army officials said the quality was so poor that it could not be verified.
Matt's parents refused to believe it was their son and the Army had listed him
as missing-captured. For three years and eleven months, the young soldier was
listed as missing, and the little remaining hope that his family had clung to
disintegrated when DNA analysis confirmed that human remains found in an
unspecified region of Iraq were those of missing Army Staff Sergeant Matt
Maupin. The once honor roll student and football player, who had enrolled in the
service to earn money for college, was being wheeled to his gravesite at Gate of
Heaven Cemetery. And one more time a family and a community said good-bye to
someone who had paid the ultimate price.
It was just after 6 a.m. on Friday when firefighters from a local fire
department were called to a house fire. Crews arrived at the home and
immediately rushed in to rescue anyone believed to still be inside. Two
residents were rescued safely from the home, but communication was lost with two
of their fellow firefighters who had not made it out. The two were killed in the
line of duty in the basement of the home. In the days that followed, an entire
community mourned the loss while thanking all firefighters for putting their
lives on the line to save those of everyone else.
They had done everything for their daughter. Beth had gone to the best schools,
participated in team sports, took horse-riding lessons, and was given everything
she could ask for. She was attractive and popular and she had her whole life in
front of her. But life took a few unexpected and cruel turns and the almost
fairy tale story of a young girl became the stuff of police files. Beth was
overtaken by a heroin addiction, and a helpless family struggled to take her
problems away just as they had done when she was a child. But nothing worked.
Her mother had often said that she would willingly give her life for Beth’s, if
she knew that she’d be healed from her awful illness.
A soldier, a firefighter, and a parent, each in different circumstances, each
given a choice, each deciding to give his or her life for someone else, and each
deciding to pay the ultimate price. Incredible, courageous, selfless,
life-giving, hard to believe, and even harder to do. How can you love someone so
much that you’re ready to give up your life for them?
Our Gospel today only gives us part of a conversation that took place between
Nicodemus and Jesus. It is an answer to a question from the troubled Nicodemus
who was bothered by Jesus’ claim that he came from God. He was a man of
significant reputation so he chose to come by night to face this newcomer who
had created such a ruckus in the temple—was this Jesus a prophet or just a
troublemaker? As much as he wanted an answer to his question, it’s clear that
Nicodemus didn’t want to be seen with Jesus. And in hearing Jesus’ answer—“God
so loved the world that he gave his only Son”—Nicodemus falters, professes
doubt, and responds in disbelief, “How can this be?”
How could God love this world so much? The world as it was and the world as it
still is; the world that rejected Jesus and the world that still rejects him.
How could God love such a world? Salvation was very costly for God—it cost him
his Son. Wouldn’t it have been far less costly for God to ignore the world’s
sins and allow it to remain in darkness? But God decided that the world was in
need of saving and that it was worth saving so He paid that ultimate price.
Just as a parent loves a child; a soldier his country; a firefighter a stranger,
God loves all of those created in His image. And His love is on such a grand
scale that it defies human comprehension. And in some strange way, no one is
excluded from His loving embrace in Christ. He loves not only a single nation
but every nation. He loves not only those who are good and those who love Him,
but everyone. In creation, in a manger, on a cross, and in resurrection; in the
height and depth of all things. God spared nothing in giving the Son into our
hands. God so loved and still loves this world, even if we were stiff-necked and
are still stiff-necked; even when we rebuff His love and are incapable of loving
Him back. Jesus is the only proof we need that such a love is real—a rich in
mercy, graciousness, slow to anger, rich in fidelity, willing to die for us kind
of love. That love was sent to everyone whoever was and everyone who will ever
be, and whatever experience we have of human love gives us a mere glimpse of
what can only be found in the God who existed before the world began, the God of
Abraham, Isaac, and Moses, the God of Jesus with outstretched arms on the cross,
and the God of the Spirit who helps us to discover the many ways in which the
love of God is experienced in our lives.
©David J. Shea
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