“Perhaps for a good person one might even find courage to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.”

          In 1941, in the hellish concentration camp of Auschwitz, a prisoner escaped. In retaliation, the guards lined up the men of his barrack and seized ten for the starvation bunker, to meet a wretched and cruel death. One of the ten, Polish Sergeant Francis Gajowniczek, cried out in agony over the fate of his family without a father. To the astonishment of prisoners and captors, another prisoner, prisoner 16670, stepped forward from the ranks.

The commandant asked, “What does this Polish pig want?” Number 16670 pointed to Francis, the husband and father, saying, “I am a Catholic priest. I would like to take his place, because he has a wife and children.” Prisoner 16670 was, of course, St. Maximilian Kolbe. After two weeks, on August 14, the vigil of the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Mother, so dear to Father Kolbe, the guards were impatient of the deaths of him and three others still alive, and killed them by lethal injection.

“Indeed, only with difficulty does one die for a just person, though perhaps for a good person one might even find courage to die.” With heroic sanctity, St. Maximilian offered himself to die for another man. Did he know him well? Did he know for certain that he was a good man? Perhaps, but likely not. He offered himself in his place not because he thought that Francis Gajowniczek was a better man than himself, more deserving of life. He died in his place because he lived from his priesthood, his sharing in the person of Christ, who gave his life for us while we were still sinners.

How can we imitate St. Maximilian Kolbe and through him, Christ, and be willing to give our lives for another? Some, certainly, are called to imitate that radical abandonment of self in the strict sense as priests, religious, or missionaries. Some are called to heroic self-sacrifice: the soldier who in an instant falls on a grenade to save his comrades, the hero who saves another person from a fatal accident in the street, the police officer who puts herself in harm’s way to protect us every day.

Most of us, though, are called to something even more difficult. That’s right, to something even more difficult. Most of us are called to give up our lives not for someone we don’t know … but for someone we do. And that’s the tough part. Because when you know someone well, you know their weaknesses, their failures, the things that drive you nuts. You know just how deserving they aren’t of your death to self. To give your life for the friend who always needs help, for the child who asks you for the same thing the hundredth time – or the parent or spouse who asks you the same question or tells the same story the hundredth time – these are the people for whom you are called to give your life.

For Christ Himself, it wasn’t that different. After explaining that He was going to suffer and die, the Apostles immediately began to quarrel over who would be most important in His kingdom. And yet, even though they just don’t get it – over and over again – He gives His life for them, He invites them into the most intimate friendship ever known. Surely too for the Apostles, there was the one who snored, the one who made weird noises, the one who didn’t know how to help in the kitchen, the one who would not just be quiet and stop taking all the attention for himself. And yet, together they dedicated themselves to imitating their divine Master in giving up their lives together.

“Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Your heart was made for so much more than being an ordinary person. All around you are opportunities for greatness! To not dream of another family or another life, but to accept the grace of God to love these people and this life as the one He has given you – this is the beginning of holiness.

At the same time, this injunction to go only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel is a temporary one. When the time is right, after receiving the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, they are sent far beyond the bounds of Israel, to the very ends of the world.

On Friday, we consecrated ourselves and our country to the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. We hear today of the longing of His Heart for all men and women to know Him: “At the sight of the crowds, Jesus’ heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” Is this not the world around us, troubled and abandoned? If we have hearts like our Lord’s, then our hearts as well should yearn that the troubled and abandoned would come to know the One who is meek and humble of heart, in whom the weary will find rest and love.

“The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” To pray for laborers for the harvest is really to pray for yourself. Who are the people close by whom the Lord is calling you to love? The person you already know, the one for whom you are called to lay down your life by overcoming your embarrassment or hesitancy to speak of Christ. The person who drives you nuts, who completely exasperates you – lay down your life for that person by sharing the good news of Christ’s love with him, through your actions, and through your words.

“God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” This harvest is abundant indeed. To lay down your life not because someone has proved their worthiness of your love, but because God re-made your heart to be capable of Christ-like, self-sacrificial love – this is the life of a saint, the life for which you were made.

The Rev. Royce V. Gregerson

Parish Church of Our Lady of Good Hope, Fort Wayne

XI Sunday through the Year, A.D. MMXXVI