“My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and
they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one
will snatch them out of my hand.” (John
10:27-28)
So how are you? Are you still rejoicing?
Still amped up with celebrating the resurrection of our Lord? I hope so. Easter
is, after all, a pretty long festival in our liturgical calendar. It lasts for
fifty days, but, when you think about what it means, we have no reason to stop
the party—ever.
So far our Sunday Gospel lessons have been
stories of a post-resurrected Jesus. This Sunday, however, we get a reminder of
what a resurrected Jesus means for us. It’s simply this: our life is eternal.
Death has been conquered, and we are living in the reality of eternity. We
belong to God in Christ, and no one and no circumstance is going to change
this. Our shepherd knows every sheep in the flock, and he’s got our backs. Our
life is eternal. Our problems are temporary.
Personally, I think this is pretty good
thing to keep in mind as life—even during Easter season—can hurl some pretty
gooey slop our way. Sometimes I just pine for that promise of eternal rest when
I try to fight off the weariness of parish ministry and all of its relentless
personal and financial challenges. I wish I could take a little break after the
onslaught of Lent and Holy Week, but I have Ministerium matters which need
attending, people who need visiting, our annual church fair, and a growing
number of non-member funerals which this week include a joint service for an
engaged couple killed in an auto accident. This stuff just doesn’t let up.
Fortunately, I can take comfort in the promise
of scripture when I confront my own sense of bereavement.
Yesterday, Howard Brooks, a dear friend to
my wife and myself, was called home after ninety-six brilliant years here on
earth. If you ever met him, you would certainly adore him every bit as much as
we did. A more lovable man never drew breath. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a more
engagingly joyful smile. I would go so far as to describe Howard’s countenance as
iridescent. When his smile was aimed at you, a smile of your own would have to
follow. The man radiated a benign good will which transcended the bitter
experience of his young adulthood.
Howard served in the U S Navy during World
War II on the cruiser USS Houston. In her second engagement against the
Imperial Japanese Navy, the Houston was sunk off the coast of Java. Two thirds
of her crew were lost with the ship. The remaining survivors—to a man—were captured
by the Japanese. Howard Brooks became a POW in the merciless jungles of Burma,
forced into slave labor to build a railroad for the enemy. Oppressive heat,
malnutrition, exhaustion, disease, injury, infection, the death of comrades,
and the brutality of his captors were Howard’s 24/7 companions for three and
one-half years. Survival in this hellish environment was nothing short of
miraculous for the men who endured it.
My wife, Marilyn, met Howard and his wife,
Silvia, at a community function a few years ago. Marilyn, who is involved with
several veterans’ organizations, spotted Howard’s USS Houston ball cap and began
a conversation with him. She quickly learned his story. I’m glad she did, as
knowing Mr. and Mrs. Brooks has been an utter delight. We’ve shared meals and
outings and hosted each other in our homes. I never recall Howard seeming
fatigued. He was always charming, interested, and ready to share his erudite
learning. Marilyn and I were particularly pleased with the relationship he had
with our daughter, a US Army vet. The two hit it off as colleagues. Howard’s
personality seemed ageless.
I was always astounded by his vitality and
good humor. While touring a museum I once remarked, “Howard, you walk as fast
as I do.” He replied, “Yes, but not as far.”
What was his secret? When asked how he had
been able to live through the nightmare of his captivity, Howard declared that
he never lost faith that he and his buddies would one day be rescued. He never
feared that he had been forgotten, and he never doubted the righteousness of
the Allied cause. In later years, he found in his heart forgiveness for his
captors, and I have never known a man so free from bitterness.
Faith and hope and forgiveness and love. The
qualities of Howard Brooks must be the characteristics of all who are in
Christ. Marilyn and I will certainly miss Howard, but we rest in the blessed
assurance we shall see him again. The sting of death is swallowed up in
victory.
“Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we
commend your servant, Howard. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of
your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming.
Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting
peace, and into the company of all your saints in light. Amen” (from Occasional Services, Augsburg Press,
1982)
Rejoice, fellow sheep. Christ is risen.
PS-
If you wish to hear Howard’s courageous story told in his own words, please
click here.
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