“His mission was not his own”
Words shared by The Rev Russell J. Levenson Jr
during his eulogy of his friend and parishioner, President G.H.W.Bush
(18 year old Lt George H.W.Bush in naval uniform)
Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you came out on the other side
wondering how in the world you made it through?
How you survived and made it out alive?
Or more likely that you fared better than those around you?
Have you ever found yourself wondering or even lamenting “why me?”
Why me Lord?
Why was I spared and they weren’t?
Why did I win when I shouldn’t have–
knowing that someone else should have won?
Why was I so fortunate, or so lucky, and why were “they” not?
These can be haunting questions for anyone.
They can be a life’s curse or a life’s blessing.
For there is a great responsibility to whom much is given.
And life, for those who have had near brushes with death, know all too well, that
life suddenly becomes a tremendous responsibility.
Yet such a question as ‘why me’ can be particularly haunting
for one so young. For one who actually stares at death and yet surprisingly,
is allowed to walk away when others were not.
We have seen this in wars and sadly in recent terror attacks and mass shootings.
And it just so happened that this very overwhelming life issue of ‘why me’ actually
happened for a newly turned 20-year-old boy who found
himself alone in a small rubber yellow life raft, bobbing up and down in the middle of
the Pacific Ocean after having baled out of a burning airplane…
coming to the stalk revelation that he’d been spared while his friends had not.
This same “why me” question came up three times Wednesday during the funeral of our
41st president, George H. W. Bush.
First, the question was raised by Jon Meacham, the famed author, and presidential historian.
He painted the scene vividly as only such a gifted writer could.
A young naval pilot and his crew taking off from a Navy aircraft carrier with a bombing mission
on the docket.
They were to take out a Japanese radio tower on a tiny Pacific island.
“Shortly after dawn on Saturday, September 2, 1944, Lieutenant Junior Grade
George Herbert Walker Bush, joined by two crew mates,
took off from the USS San Jacinto to attack a radio tower on Chichijima.
As they approached the target, the air was heavy with flack.
The plane was hit.
Smoke filled the cockpit; flames raced across the wings.
“My god,” Lieutenant Bush thought,
“this thing’s gonna go down.”
Yet he kept the plane in its 35-degree dive, dropped his bombs, and then roared off out to sea,
telling his crew mates to hit the silk.
Following protocol, Lieutenant Bush turned the plane so they could bail out.
Only then did Bush parachute from the cockpit.
The wind propelled him backward, and he gashed his head on the tail of the plane
as he flew through the sky.
He plunged deep into the ocean, bobbed to the surface,
and flopped onto a tiny raft.
His head bleeding, his eyes burning, his mouth and throat raw from salt water,
the future 41st President of the United States was alone.
Sensing that his men had not made it, he was overcome.
He felt the weight of responsibility as a nearly physical burden.
And he wept.
Then, at four minutes shy of noon, a submarine emerged to rescue the downed pilot.
George Herbert Walker Bush was safe.
The story, his story and ours, would go on by God’s grace.
Through the ensuing decades, President Bush would frequently ask,
nearly daily— “why me?
Why was I spared?”
Next in line during this service, this looming question was raised by the former
Canadian Prime Minister, Brian Mulroney who also eulogized his former world leader compatriot
and more importantly, his dear friend.
Mulroney opened his verbal tribute to his friend by asking those in attendance if they could
remember what they were doing just after their 20th birthday.
Most should remember the joy and gaiety found in the passing a milestone—
that being the leaving behind of the tumultuous teenage years as they were
now standing on the great periphery of adulthood.
And yet I wonder as to how many of us know that at 20, one is more child than adult?
Mulroney shared that as he had just turned 20, he was working as a laborer in the outskirts
of Quebec while still living at home and thankfully enjoying his mother’s cooking.
All the while his one-day dear friend was bleeding and clinging to life in a liferaft
out in the middle of the Pacific ocean weeping “why me??”
For a third time this somber day of a State funeral, another speaker addressed the question…
This time the speaker was President Bush 41’s parish priest,
The Rev. Bruce Levenson who once again raised the question but who rather matter of factly
gave us the answer.
Father Levenson explained that “his mission was not his own.”
His mission was not his own.
It was other than and much more than that liferaft bobbing up and down in the
Yet that is not to say that the lives of his comrades at arms on that fateful day
were any less important.
Any less than, as some might think with such a response to such a question.
That somehow, they were simply “allowed” to die while young George was allowed to live.
The issue of allowance is not to be the issue here nor are we to be recipients of such
For God uses our lives and our deaths to extend far beyond our simple understanding.
It is the ripples that reverberate outward from the dropped stone in the pond.
The ‘why me’ questions that have been asked by countless individuals who have lived to tell of
another day all live with a tremendous burden of guilt and a tremendous burden of responsibility.
Father Levenson, James Baker, Al Simpson, Brian Mulroney and even son George H. Bush
each reminded us that a day did not pass in George Herbert Walker Bush’s life that he did
not ask that question…nor not feel the heavy responsibility.
He either asked the question audibly or silently…but he asked none the less each and every day.
I am reminded of the 1946 Christmas Classic It’s a Wonderful Life.
The entire premise of the movie, for Jimmy Stewart’s character George (so aptly named),
was what would life have been without him. How in turn would the lives of those who
were a part of his own life turn out without a George Bailey to interact with them?
One dark and lonely Christmas eve night so long ago, George was inches away from ending his
own life, by jumping into an icy cold river.
Yet God needed to give George a wake-up call.
He still needed George to do some important things.
Much like in the real-life story of a young George Bush…God still needed
for him to do some things.
Now I can’t say that all such stories have happy endings.
Nor can I say that all spared lives seem to turn out better than imagined.
So why George H. W. Bush?
That is the question remaining for all those lives that have been affected,
touched and even created because of him to ponder…as well as those of
us who have been directly or indirectly affected by his actions, choices,
legislation as well as leadership to ponder…
Yet the one thing that I do know…the same thing that President Bush knew…
is that God will have has His ways.
Ways that elude us.
Ways that often frustrate us, but they are His ways and His alone none the less.
What President Bush learned, one of life’s most important answers, was that his life,
his mission was indeed not his own…
it was God’s.
That we should all bend our ways to be His ways…
“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant!
You have been faithful with a few things;
I will put you in charge of many things.
Come and share your master’s happiness!’
“God will have has His ways”
Reblogged this on Talmidimblogging and commented:
A question I have asked. Neither the answer nor lack of one absolves me from doing daily what I believe He wants me to do. One of those things is “knowing Julie, aka Julie.” I value your input in my life. You sent me a card this yea and wrote such nice wordsr. I carefully kept it thinking I would surprise you with a Christmas card. I’ve been though all my Christmas stuff and can’t find it. Merry Christmas.
Don’t you fret Oneta— I told you— cards this year would be my one rebellion as we’re not to tell Wally but I did the lights outside plus the tree— The Mayor is visiting this weekend so I decorated but funny thing, she seems to pay it all no never mind 🙂
To many hands off pretties. I dropped a Christmas ornament this week; it fell but no crash. Plastic! She would like those. Shiney, just like the ones I last purchased 30-40 years ago. We have nothing outside. Just walk the Mayor through the Beauties. She will be agog!
I knew you would crack! Glad you did, though.