“A Man Set under Authority” - May 29, 2016

Luke 7:1-10

            On this Memorial Day weekend we recall and honor those who died in the course of doing their duty.  War is never good.  War is never anything to be sought.  Even to consider war is to admit to the failure of human beings to respond to the grace of God.  Victory in war does not come without unleashing the most base and terrible instincts of the human animal, and those who have been in battle are generally the last to glorify it.  General Sherman said, “War is hell,” and he was in a position to know.

            Yet there are times in the midst of such horror that positive virtues are not only seen, but are an absolute necessity.  Discipline, quick thinking, loyalty, courage, patience, endurance – these are among them.  They are qualities of character that may be present in anyone in varying degrees but in military situations, they are cultivated and in some people they put down deep

roots.

            One such person was the Roman centurion – an officer set over one hundred men – who sent word to Jesus asking that his slave be healed.  He was someone who expected his orders to be obeyed, and I have no doubt they were.  He saw in Jesus someone who was more powerful than himself and therefore someone whose orders would be obeyed in the same way.  When Jesus was on his way to the centurion’s house,

“the centurion sent friends to say to him, ‘Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; therefore I did not presume to come to you. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed. For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, “Go”, and he goes, and to another, “Come”, and he comes, and to my slave, “Do this”, and the slave does it.’” [Luke 7:6-8]

Jesus saw in this, and told his disciples, an amazing example of faith.  For the centurion, however, it was only a matter of duty.  If Jesus is Lord, of course his orders will be obeyed.

            Jesus’ orders differed from the centurion’s orders in a very specific way, of course.  Jesus’ orders were not given so that someone might be killed, but so that someone might be healed.  His will was not one that brings death, but one that gives healing and life.

            Again, at Memorial Day, we should not forget that there have been times when even in the midst of death, there have been those whose faith in a God whose will is life have trusted their own lives into God’s keeping and, like the centurion, have calmly accepted that God will be faithful to them in times when loss lay close at hand.  For some, that has meant showing that faith in the face of their own deaths.

Seventy-three years ago, on February 3, 1943, a converted luxury liner named Dorchester had left Newfoundland and was transporting over 900 troops to an American base in Greenland.  According to reports,

“Around 12:55 a.m., a German U-boat fired a torpedo that struck Dorchester’s starboard side, below the water line and near the engine room. The explosion instantly killed 100 men and knocked out power and radio communication with Dorchester’s three escort ships. Within 20 minutes, the transport sank and more than 670 men died.”

That’s war.  That’s how things go.

            What happened in those last twenty minutes, however, was retold by the survivors.  Something happened that is worth remembering.

“Aboard the ship were four chaplains of different faiths: Reverend George Fox (Methodist), Jewish Rabbi Alexander Goode, Reverend Clark Poling (Dutch Reformed) and Father John Washington (Roman Catholic). …

As soldiers rushed to lifeboats the four chaplains spread out, comforting the wounded and directing others to safety.  One survivor, Private William Bednar, later said ‘I could hear men crying, pleading, praying.  I could also hear the chaplains preaching courage.  Their voices were the only thing that kept me going.’

Another survivor, John Ladd, watched the chaplains distribute life jackets, and when they ran out they removed theirs and gave them to four young me. ‘It was the finest thing I have seen, or hope to see, this side of heaven.’ He recalled.

As Dorchester sank, the chaplains were seen linked arm in arm, praying.”[1]

            Set under authority, they knew what their duty was, and it came together with their faith and provided life to as many around them as they could reach.  For themselves, they could face death knowing the life that lies beyond, knowing the God who gives life and in whose sight the lives of his people are precious.

            We, too, are set under the Lord’s authority.  We use that title, “Lord”, almost without thinking about its inherent meaning of one who is in charge and who is due faithful service.  We are those who are told, not to go and conquer, but to go and make disciples.  We are told to go and live with humility and generosity.  We are told to care for others, even to love them as ourselves.  We are to be, even when in authority ourselves, people who care for those without the same influence or honor or position, like a centurion caring about what happened to a slave.  Imagine, if you will, a Senator going out of the way to find a doctor for the janitor who empties the office trash every day.  Picture the president of Morgan Stanley or Wells Fargo checking up on a bicycle messenger who was hurt on the way from one branch office to another.

            Yet is that so different from what Jesus has done for us?  It is, in fact, far less.  Isaac Watts asked himself,

“Am I a soldier of the cross,
A follower of the Lamb,
And shall I fear to own His cause,
Or blush to speak His Name?

Must I be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize,
And sailed through bloody seas?

Are there no foes for me to face?
Must I not stem the flood?
Is this vile world a friend to grace,
To help me on to God?

Sure I must fight if I would reign;
Increase my courage, Lord.
I’ll bear the toil, endure the pain,
Supported by Thy Word.

Thy saints in all this glorious war
Shall conquer, though they die;
They see the triumph from afar,
By faith’s discerning eye.

When that illustrious day shall rise,
And all Thy armies shine
In robes of victory through the skies,
The glory shall be Thine.”

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[1] Matt Gills, “The Bravery of Four Chaplains” at http://www.legion.org/library/6245/bravery-four-chaplains