It's 1:30 in the morning, and I've been watching old syndicated M*A*S*H reruns while waiting on my Memorial Day baked beans to finish in the oven. I just heard a fascinating quote in an episode called "Blood Brothers," and I couldn't resist sharing it. It's late, so I'm just going to assume that people are familiar enough with this show's characters and plot to understand the scene . . .
After trying his hardest to impress a visiting Cardinal, the unit chaplain (Father Mulcahy) gets frustrated at the unit's "sinful" behavior, but then he encounters a terminally ill soldier (played by none other than a young Patrick Swayze) who is willing to risk his life by delaying treatment just so that he can stay and help a friend. With his problems suddenly put into perspective, the Father spends all night talking to this solder and learning from him and comforting him about his illness. Father Mulcahy never writes his sermon, and when he gets up to preach in front of the Cardinal --who is clad in his finest vestments, while the Father is unshaven and wearing a bathrobe--, he stumbles for words before finally just giving up and explaining the situation. In this impromptu sermon, Father Mulcahy says one of the most interesting lines I've ever heard on television. I'll include the whole sermon, but focus especially on that last line. I'll go ahead and put it in bold:
Well, I have to admit I'm not as prepared as I'd like to be. I'm not even dressed as I'd like to be. I was working on my sermon, which I'd hoped would be particularly inspirational in honor of Cardinal Reardon, but I was called away. Well, to be honest, I never got back to it. If you'll just bear with me, I'd like to share with you the reason why.
[The camera pans over to a fuming Cardinal Reardon before returning to Father Mulcahy.]
I want to tell you about two men, each facing his own crisis. The first man you know rather well. The second is a patient here. Well, the first man thought he was facing a crisis, but what he was really doing was trying to impress someone. He was looking for recognition, encouragement, a pat on the back. Whenever that recognition seemed threatened he reacted rather childishly. He blamed everyone for his problems but himself because he was thinking only of himself.
But the second man was confronted with the greatest crisis mortal man can face: the loss of his life. I think you'll agree that the second man had every right to be selfish; but instead he chose not to think of himself, but of a brother. And when the first man saw the dignity and the selflessness of the second man, he realized how petty and selfish he-- I had been. That made me see something more clearly than I've ever seen it before:
God didn't put us here for a pat on the back; He created us so He could be here Himself-- so that He could exist in the lives of those He created in His image.
Following the sermon, the Cardinal, who had looked harried and perturbed as the Father arrived in his bathrobe, got up from his seat, came forward, and embraced Father Mulcahy with a hearty "Well done."
I feel like we often forget that the people around us bear the image of God, and that we too are image bearers. When we stop to talk to someone and greet them and show them love, sometimes I think the image of God becomes a little more realized in the encounter. When we stop to talk to someone who is down on their luck, and we try to offer them assistance, we see that image a little more freely as God communes with God to satisfy a need. I'm continually amazed at how often we wind up showing God to one another, and Father Mulcahy's sermon is a great reminder that, no matter how holy we might think ourselves and no matter how far along our journeys we might think we are, there is always room for someone else to show us God.
Thanks, Father Mulcahy.
Peace and Blessings,
Tom
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