On the base of one of the 2,048 burial markers in the military cemetery located in Bény-sur-Mer, France, these familiar words from the Apostle Paul may be found. “And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three but the greatest of these is love” (1 Cor. 13:13).
They are etched on the gravestone of Honourary Captain, the Rev. William Alfred Seaman, a United Church minister, who is buried beside some of the fallen soldiers whom he himself buried.
Padre Seaman left his congregation in River John, Pictou County, Nova Scotia to serve with the Canadian Chaplain Service during World War II. He and the soldiers of the 5th Field Regiment arrived in France just after D-Day in 1944.
As a chaplain, he could often be found working alongside the Medical Officer at the Regimental Aid Post, assisting stretcher bearers and bandaging wounds—those both seen and unseen—and above all, bringing a sign of God’s presence in a broken world.
On July 14 while rushing into battle to retrieve wounded soldiers during the Battle of Caen, he was struck by an exploding mortar shell. The shrapnel pierced his leg, side, and head. He died of an infection a week later, on the date of the tenth anniversary of his marriage to Louise. Together they had two young children at the time, Lorna and Andrew.
This week, as Canadians remember the sacrifices made by so many on the shores of France 75 years ago, we remember Padre William Alfred Seamen, whose response to Jesus’ call to “Follow me,” led him to a distant shore, and who lies now at rest among those whom he served to the very end. [His gravestone reminds us still of God’s enduring presence and promise of a life which abides, even in the valley of the shadow of death.]
—By Canadian Armed Forces chaplains Commander Shaun Yaskiw, CD (The United Church of Canada) and Maj. Rev. Dr. Tom Hamilton, Canadian military historian (The Presbyterian Church in Canada)
Padre Seaman heard a call to serve with and to care for the thousands of Canadians far from home, risking their lives for something they believed in. Having known a few chaplains over the years, I know that Padre Seaman was not alone in his courage. A chaplain friend of mine received a medal for bravery while serving with troops pinned down by enemy fire in Afghanistan, and struggles with PTSD from his wartime experiences. The life of a serving chaplain is as dangerous as that of any soldier, but they go into battle not armed with grenades or machine guns but with faith and a commitment to serving God and each other– in fact, they are strictly forbidden to bear arms. They deserve our respect, and our thanks.
An old schoolmate of mine just finished her training as a reserves chaplain a couple of weeks ago. When I saw her Facebook posts I wondered what it was that made her lift her feet off the familiar bank of seniors’ chaplaincy and step into the swift river of military service. I think of those priests in Joshua’s time, lined up on the bank of a Jordan River that was not the muddy creek it mostly is today, but a fast moving, rushing body of water that could lift them off their feet and carry them to their death. I think of what made the priests and Joshua confident enough to take those steps into the chilly water – and how amazing it must have been to see the waters part as they had generations before, so that the people could walk across on dry land – every adult and child – safely to the other shore.
I think of the priests holding the Ark of the Covenant and feeling its heaviness on their shoulders – a box laden with the weight of stone tablets, wood, golden statues and gold leaf. This box was understood to be the very throne of God. Where that box sat, was where the presence of the Holy could be felt most profoundly. What a responsibility, to carry the Ark from the wilderness into Canaan! When those priests stepped into the river, God was riding on their shoulders. Perhaps that’s why they could do so, however afraid they might have been.
To lead OR to serve – or to lead AND serve – in times of change, in times of conflict, in times of chaos, needs courage. Carrying God with us gives us courage. That may sound like a cliché, but I have found it to be true for myself. As Christians, we are never alone, no matter what we walk through. I don’t believe God will stop a bullet in the midst of war, or guarantee that a move to another province will work out, or keep us from having our hearts hurt or our bodies break down, or provide us with supernatural protection against any of the other dangers we may face. While there are many stories of such miracles, I don’t think miracles are anything any of us should expect. What we can expect, is to be bolstered and inspired by God’s Spirit, God’s love, God’s daring, God’s giving.
There is also courage to be found in the knowledge that we are but “servants”, no matter what leadership positions we may hold. We are born on earth to learn to love as God loves, to give as God gives, to offer ourselves as God has done in Jesus. We are in service to God’s great work of transforming creation so that we not only call it “blessed” but that all on earth can partake in that blessing. We are part of a great movement of people across the centuries and around the world. When we step into the river, we do not do so alone. Others are carrying the work of Jesus’ new covenant along with us.
I’ve been re-watching the Harry Potter movies in the last week; it seemed like a good thing to do around Halloween time. Harry’s story is clearly inspired by the story of Christ. When young Harry goes to what he knows will be his own death, he does so because he loves his friends, his school, his world – and he goes accompanied in spirit by those whose love makes him strong. That’s what gives him the courage to offer himself in the ultimate sacrifice.
Courage comes when we carry God with us. Courage comes when we allow God’s Spirit to work in us. Courage comes when we know we are servants of a greater power and a greater endeavour in the world. Courage comes when we act in love and are accompanied by love. I think Padre Seaman and my chaplain friends find their courage in all of this. How about you? What is the source of your courage?