Given the strengths and weaknesses of human nature, every
day is a spiritual combat between our good intentions and our evil
temptations. One of the most subtle of those temptations is to
underestimate this struggle, supposing that a spiritual battle is less
real than a physical battle. The fact is, while earthly warfare requires
a full exercise of the natural virtues, the spiritual battle is even
more intense, with consequences that extend beyond the limits of time
and space. “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against
the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this
darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly
places” (Ephesians 6:12).
It is inspiring to come across the lives of those who have
acquitted themselves splendidly in both kinds of battle, earthly and
spiritual. There is the example of the Navy SEAL and 2008 Medal of Honor
recipient, Michael Monsoor, whom the New York Times implied was a
Muslim, although this devout Catholic regularly attended Mass before
operations. We recently read about the canonization process for Father
Vincent Capodanno who gave his life in Vietnam as a Navy chaplain. In
April another Catholic chaplain will receive our nation’s highest
military honor, like Father Capodanno, posthumously. Both have also been
declared Servants of God by the Church, meaning that their candidacy
for sainthood is under official consideration.
Father Emil Kapaun was born in Kansas and was a parish priest
before joining the Army to serve in World War II and the Korean War. He
died in a prisoner-of-war camp in 1951, seven months after having been
taken prisoner by the Chinese. Not one of the military chaplains held
prisoner by the North Koreans and the Chinese survived. Father Kapaun,
though wounded and sick himself, risked his life to help his fellow
prisoners under horrible conditions. Congress has finally approved the
granting of the Medal of Honor, which is given for “conspicuous
gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of life above and beyond the call
of duty.”
Not all heroes whose actions dignify the whole human race are
saints. Sanctity is evidence of a different heroism: for heroic virtue,
which marks the saint, is a constant habit of life, enabling the saint
“to perform virtuous actions with uncommon promptitude, ease and
pleasure from supernatural motives and without human reasoning, with
self-abnegation and full control over his natural inclinations.” Harry
Truman said he would rather have the Medal of Honor than be president.
In a loftier reference, Charles PĆ©guy said that “life holds only one
tragedy, ultimately: not to have been a saint.” Even the most revered
honor a people can bestow cannot match what awaits the victors of
spiritual combat, and in that struggle all of us are enlisted and strive
for “a crown that will never perish” (1 Corinthians 9:25).
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