Another kind of heroism

Homily for September 13, 2015 (24th Sunday in Ordinary Time)
Isaiah 50:4c-9a; Psalm 116; James 2:14-18; Mark 8:27-35

Ben was just a Nebraska farm boy when, like thousands of other Americans, he and his brother Fred volunteered to join the U.S. armed services following the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.  Yet they were turned away by their local recruiter, who questioned their loyalty.  Stung but undeterred, Ben and Fred Kuroki, U.S. citizens and the sons of Japanese immigrants, drove 150 miles to another recruiting station and were allowed to enlist.

Initially, the military banned men of Japanese ancestry from being part of bombing missions; but Ben wanted to fly.  He eventually earned his way onto a crew and flew nearly 60 missions over Europe, North African and even Japan.  On one mission, his plane ran out of fuel and he was captured; yet he escaped and flew again.  He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.  This happened even as over 100,000 of his fellow Japanese-Americans (unlike their German and Italian-American counterparts) were rounded up and placed in internment camps.

Following the war, Ben Kuroki returned home, enrolled in the University of Nebraska, and went on to have a long and successful journalism career.  In 2005 he received the Distinguished Service Medal, one of our country’s highest military honors.  Reflecting on the award and on his long and rich life, he said, “I had to fight like hell for the right to fight for my own country, and now I feel vindication.”  Mr. Kuroki died last week at age 98—a hero and a symbol of strength in the face of rejection and suffering.

Today’s scripture readings invite us to another kind of heroism—one that also demands strength in the face of rejection and suffering; one that also engages us in battle; one that also requires that we be willing to face death; and one that promises not a just a medal but eternal life…though not without the cross.  The most difficult fights that we face are often with ourselves.  In order to succeed we need open ears, strong backs, and flinty faces.

Jesus embodied all of those qualities of the servant mentioned in Isaiah:  his ears were open to the will of his Father and the cry of the poor; he carried the burdens of others with courage; and he did not flinch from opposition and even persecution.  He was thus rightly recognized by Peter as the Christ, i.e. the Messiah or Anointed One.  Yet the messiah he was and the kingdom of God that he proclaimed were quite different than what many people wanted or expected.  Instead of a political or military revolution, he called for one that was essentially moral and spiritual, a revolution of mind and heart.  Instead of vanquishing others, he sought to be reconciled with them.  His banner was the cross and the way of service.  It was so radical that it was too much for some, even those like Peter who were closest to him.  

In our second reading, St. James famously reminds us that “Faith without works is dead.”  When the times demanded it, Ben Kuroki laid his life on the line for the sake of his country.  Our times and our faith demand no less than us—and for something far greater.  Through our Baptism and the gifts of God’s grace, we have what we need to answer the call. +