Complicit (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

Do you know the name, Lewis Powell? If so, then you get a gold star. Most people, even if they've heard it before, can't think why it should be memorable. Lewis Powell was involved in what many consider one of the greatest tragedies (if not THE greatest tragedy) in the history of the United States of America.

Well, that certainly narrows it down. No? OK, I won't keep you in suspense. Lewis Powell, and his friend George Atzerodt (another name you probably don't recognize), were accomplices of John Wilkes Booth.

Booth and his accomplices originally planned to kidnap President Abraham Lincoln, Vice President Andrew Johnson, and Secretary of State William Seward (of "Seward's Folly" fame). Then, as we all know, things changed. Their goal had always been to cripple the Union by removing the President and those immediately in line to replace him. But when kidnapping proved impossible, Booth decided assassination was their only other option.

We all know Booth's name. It is infamous. Not only did he assassinate the President, but his act, all by itself, led to the extremely harsh Reconstruction period the South had to endure following the Civil War. Lincoln had made it clear he desired a kindler, gentler reabsorption of the South into the Union. With his mediating influence gone, the hammer came down and came down hard.

Booth was gunned down by Federal troops at a farm in Virginia less than two weeks after the assassination. But what about the other two guys? Powell went to Seward's house, stabbed and seriously wounded him (but Seward survived). Atzerodt could not bring himself to attempt to assassinate Vice President Johnson (he went out drinking, instead). Nevertheless, both hanged for their roles as accomplices.

And that brings us to this week's Lectionary passages. I've read two of these stories many, many times: the murder of Naboth for his vineyard (1st Kings) and the murder of Uriah the Hittite for his wife (2nd Samuel). But on every other reading I missed something, something pretty significant.

These murderers had accomplices.

I have always focused on the actions of Ahab and Jezebel that led to Naboth's death. And, of course, we know of David's lust and how it led to the death of Bathsheba's husband. But none of these villains acted alone. Jezebel involved the "leaders and nobles" of Naboth's city in her murder plot. And David involved Joab, his chief military commander, as well as who knows how many troops, in leaving Uriah alone and unprotected in combat.

We eventually learn of God's response to the actions of Ahab, Jezebel, and and David for their evil machinations. Even though none of the three actually committed the act, God punished them harshly. But we never read anything about their accomplices. I think I know the reason for that.

I doubt these other people escaped the consequences of their complicity. "What goes around comes around" has always been truth. You do, in fact, reap what you sow. But I think the reason these are not reported to us in scripture is this: because some people are leaders while most people are led, the greatest consequence must fall upon the leaders.

Our takeaway? We should look around us and consider just who it is we lead (because there are always some that follow us). Then we should take a little time to reflect on just exactly where it is we are leading them and what is we are leading them to do.

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http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 6 (11) (June 16, 2013)

1 Kings 21:1-10, (11-14), 15-21a
Psalm 5:1-8
2 Samuel 11:26-12:10, 13-15
Psalm 32
Galatians 2:15-21
Luke 7:36-8:3

We would love for you to join us at Lectionary Breakfast some Friday morning. We're at The Egg and I (Franklin and New Road in Waco) from about 8:00 am to about 9:00 am. Good food and even better company.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

At War With Dad - DDay Special Edition

A memoir by Steve Orr.

THIS IS A REPOST FROM AN EARLIER DATE. IT APPEARS TODAY TO HONOR ALL WHO HAVE SERVED, OR NOW SERVE, OUR COUNTRY IN MILITARY ENDEAVORS.

The argument had been going on for the better part of an hour. Actually, Dad didn't think it was much of an argument considering his Sergeant was doing almost all of the talking. The Captain of the boat handled his side of the argument with looks and shrugs. Dad couldn't hear them, but based on the fury he saw on his Sergeant's face, it seemed like it must be pretty important.

But Dad didn't really care what they were arguing about. In true army fashion, they had been rushed to the disembarkation point, only to find they had to wait over 24 hours before they could board the boat. Then, once on board, he and his crew of two having secured their 40mm Bofors gun, the excitement of finally DOING something was cut short by the journey itself. The crossing had been rough. Most of the men on the boat were seasick, Dad included. And for the last hour, he had watched his Sergeant alternate between puking over the side of the boat and yelling at the salty old Brit who was piloting them across the Channel.

It was June 6, 1944. D-Day. They were on their way to Normandy, France.

Dad knew very little about the plans for that day; only that when they finally did reach shore, they were supposed to hitch their gun to a deuce-and-a-half truck which would transport it, and the three of them, to the place where they would start shooting at things with it. And as a recently promoted Corporal, he knew more than most.

The landing, when it finally came, happened swifty, and not at all as had been described. When the ramp slapped onto beach, everyone on the boat saw the same thing: nothing . . . no other soldiers, no equipment, and most importantly to Dad, no deuce-and-a-half. So, at the urging of the Sergeant, several of the soldiers helped Dad and his crew wrestle the wheeled gun off the boat and across part of the beach until they reached a point where the resistance of the sand could no longer be overcome by human efforts. They were stuck midway between water's edge and the firmer ground that bordered the beach. Nothing was going to move that gun one more inch until a truck could could be found to pull it.

That's when Dad learned the topic of his Sergeant's one-sided argument: he had been trying to convince their civilian pilot they were headed in the wrong direction, but to no avail. The result? They were on the wrong beach.

So, while Sarge and the rest of the soldiers left to reconnect with the larger body of the invading force, Dad and crew had to stay and protect their gun. Which didn't seem like such a bad thing, until the ordinance starting falling all about them. Their gun was cradled in a wheeled structure, or carriage. It didn't provide much cover, but it was the best they were going to find. So they dived under it, dug a shallow trench in the sand and, as Dad put it, "hunkered down." All throughout that day they "hugged the sand" under that gun, praying the random explosions would not find them.

Eventually, the day came to an end, and with it an end to the shelling. It was only later that Dad learned the old pilot's mistake had spared them the horrors, and likely instant death, they would have encountered at their intended destination: Omaha Beach. If you've ever seen the opening sequence to the movie, "Saving Private Ryan," then you have some idea of what they were spared.

[The above is a selection from a longer piece I am writing about the few things my Dad told me of his service during World War II.]