Scripture: Mark 9:20-27
And they brought the boy to him. When the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. Jesus asked the father, "How long has this been happening to him?" And he said, "From childhood. It has often cast him into the fire and into the water, to destroy him; but if you are able to do anything, have pity on us and help us." Jesus said to him, "If you are able! — All things can be done for the one who believes." Immediately the father of the child cried out, "I believe; help my unbelief!" When Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, "You spirit that keeps this boy from speaking and hearing, I command you, come out of him, and never enter him again!" After crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, "He is dead." But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he was able to stand.
Reflection Questions:
Have you ever experienced the situation of your own body turning against you? Losing control of our bodies can be a frightening experience. In those moments, how do you respond? How would you like to respond? How might your faith help you?
Five-minute Story:
Dateline Christmas Eve 1944, somewhere in Europe. A group of American soldiers exited a church after celebrating the birth of the Prince of Peace. On the front steps, they heard the sound of a rifle. One fell dead; the rest of the GIs scrambled for cover. Eventually, they make their way across the war-torn street and into an apartment building opposite. With their sidearm pistols drawn, the group ascended the narrow staircase. When they reached the room, whence came the deadly shot, they broke down the door. Into the room they moved, shooting as they go. By an open window, they kill the sniper with multiple shots. With his hand still on the rifle, the limp body of a teenage boy slumped to the floor.
My grandfather related this story to me decades later in the backyard of my house. We spent many afternoons together. I could and did listen to his World War II stories for hours. He served as a Sergeant in a bomb disposal unit and traveled throughout France and Germany. Their job was to detonate and disarm the unexploded ordinance of both sides so that the Allied Forces could move to Berlin. They fought the battle with nerves of steel as they cut wires and set explosive charges. That Christmas Eve, however, they were in the firefight. They fired back. Grandpa was in the room and stood with his buddies over the teen sniper. They killed the enemy.
This story remains for me a puzzling one. Usually, my Grandpa’s stories were of the light-hearted variety. Like a 1980’s action TV show there was never any blood. The teen sniper story stands out as the single disturbing story that he told me. Why? Why did he share that one?
Since I’m not able to ask Grandpa, he died nearly twenty-five years ago, I wonder. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that being of Germanic descent in some way I reminded him of that boy with the sniper rifle? Perhaps after all those years, it still haunted him?
War distorts life and torments both victor and vanquished. War identifies enemies to kill. There are battles to be won, armies move onward - but ultimately all human suffers loss. There are no real victors in war just survivors who bear scars on their bodies and in their souls.