Author: Dale McGavran

You are one of the leading players on the team.  Your win/loss record is significantly better than any other pitcher on the team.  Everything would be great except the managers don’t recognize the talent you have.  Sure, you’re narcissistic, arrogant, you give yourself too much credit, and if it were not for those wins, you might not be in your position.  Some even say that you are difficult to play with.  So what should be done?  Should your manager bench you, and risk losing more games?  Does he trade you, just hoping that by doing so, he gets rid of a major headache?

If you know me, then you know there is a historical angle to this opening scenario.  As much as I love baseball, this is not a baseball story.  It is, instead, a story of a general who could have been famously great.  However, greed and arrogance got the better of him, until he spiraled out of control, landing in our textbooks as one of the greatest traitors in history.  

Benedict Arnold did not start out as the guy we love to hate.  He was talented, even described by some as one of George Washington’s best generals.  Arnold was a man of action.  When hearing of the Boston Massacre, he exclaimed, “Good God, are the Americans all asleep and tamely giving up their glorious liberties?”  As action was needed, Arnold acted.  Following the clashes at Lexington and Concord, Arnold organized a militia and marched to Fort Ticonderoga, joining forces under Ethan Allen, and easily defeating the small British detachment.  More than 80 cannons were transported from the captured fort to Dorchester Heights, overlooking Boston, which would eventually help force the British out of the city.

During the fighting at Saratoga, Arnold’s spirited actions contributed to a British surrender.  Unfortunately for Arnold, he suffered a serious wound, sidelining him for months.  In a brilliant move earlier in the war, Arnold pieced together an amateur naval force for a battle near Valcour Island on Lake Champlain.  He knew he was outgunned so his objective was to delay the far superior British Navy just long enough to get American forces time to prepare better defenses.  Arnold did better than that.  His maneuvering delayed the British long enough that they abandoned any plans to attack that year.  

With all of these accomplishments and more, Benedict Arnold should be a hero in our history books.  And yet, he’s not.  He was unscrupulous in his time as the military commander in Philadelphia.  He profited from dishonest business dealings.  Even worse, was the fact that he felt owed the money.  Why?  Because he believed junior officers were being promoted ahead of him.  Whatever the case, it was the beginning of the end of Arnold’s command in the American Army.  The last straw came when, after being appointed as commander of West Point, he set plans in motion to surrender it to the British in exchange for 20,000 British pounds and a commission as a brigadier general in the British Army.  As fate, or Providence (as George Washington called it) would have it, the Americans discovered the plot and foiled Arnold’s plan.  The man who could have been so much more, was now the villain in the story of our country.

What is it about ambition for power and prestige that destroys some men?  Arnold had an insatiable appetite for power and honor, and when it did not come, he turned his back on his countrymen for the equivalent of $400,000 today.  Think about what that means.  He was never able to return to his country.  For the most part, history is in no way kind to him.  Whenever you hear someone called “Benedict Arnold”, you know that the person is accused of being a no-good traitor.  In his hometown of Norwich, Connecticut, all of his family’s gravestones, with the exception of his mother’s, have been destroyed.  I don’t know about you, but there is no power worth having if it results in this kind of legacy.  Proverbs 11:2 says, “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom.”  Pride certainly ran deep in Arnold’s veins.  And because of that, he is a portrait of a disgraced individual.

Leaders today face many of the same challenges Benedict Arnold had nearly 250 years ago.  When the need for power and prestige outweighs the desire for service to others, then trouble is right around the corner.  Leaders can ill afford to make the same mistake.  Instead, leaders should be reminded of the necessity of humility in their daily interactions with others.  For in that there is wisdom.

**Now, let me explain the title of this blog in case you are not a Brady Bunch fanatic like myself.  In a season 4 episode, Peter auditions for the role of George Washington in the school play.  Feeling that Peter could handle the tougher role, his teacher gives him the part of Benedict Arnold instead.  Peter grudgingly accepts the role at first, but decides to quit when all of his friends start calling him a traitor.  Of course, mom smoothes things over, and persuades Peter to stay in the play as Benedict Arnold.

She is, in one word, legendary.  Her story, as history knows it, begins with a chance encounter with John, a rather short and stout man who would one day rise to great importance.  But, because neither she nor John were much impressed with the other, the relationship almost never took off.  Add to that, her mother took an even less liking to John, so it is quite remarkable that her and John ever got together.

But as fate would have it, they married four years after that first meeting.  Abigail was 19 and John, nearly 29.  The Adamses would never look back.  John was off to his law practice, but Abigail was not content to just sit around.  She gave birth to six children in twelve years, ran the household, and was quite the financial wizard.  In the mid-1780s, Abigail joined John in Europe as he moved from the role of Envoy to France, to the Minister to Netherlands, and finally to the Minister to the United Kingdom.  In 1788, they returned home to Massachusetts, but in less than a year, John would be back in service to his country, this time as Vice-President.  In eight years, John would be elected to the office of the Presidency.

As was the custom, Abigail became the hostess for large gatherings in their residence.  But the year 1800 brought a major change in their residence, as the nation’s capital was moved from Philadelphia to Washington D.C.  Being the first family to live in the newly constructed home, it was a time of great excitement.  However, the Adamses only lived in the White House four months because John failed to get reelected to a second Presidential term.

Abigail was an anomaly during her husband’s presidency.  Today we think nothing of the First Lady being involved in work for the country, even to the point of diplomacy.  However, in the early days, and for decades following, it would have been unthinkable for the President’s wife to be involved in decision-making.  Abigail never fit that mold.  She routinely offered her advice and counsel to John.  In probably the most famous case of her involvement, and while John and the rest of the Revolutionary guys were busy with organizing a war, a government, and a country, Abigail wrote her husband a letter that has since become indelibly etched in our nation’s history.  She penned, “Remember the ladies, and be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors.  Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the husbands.  Remember all men would be tyrants if they could.  If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice, or representation.”  Abigail was not messing around.  Women’s rights were equally important as men’s, and she would do whatever she could to see it through.  It is unfortunate “the men” would not heed her words, resulting in 144 years of women having “no voice, or representation”.

There is a long line of individuals who owe much of their work in the women’s suffrage movement to Abigail Adams.  She was among the first to highlight the argument for equal rights.  Susan B. Anthony (ironically born in Adams, Massachusetts…named for John’s cousin and fellow Revolutionary character Samuel Adams), Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Lucretia Mott are just three who gave their all to see women obtain the fundamental right to vote.  They have Abigail Adams to thank for starting it all.

Proverbs 31 contains these words, “she dresses herself with strength…she opens her mouth with wisdom…she looks well to the ways of her household…her children call her blessed…a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”  Powerful words to paint the life of an “excellent wife”…and powerful words to paint the life of Abigail Adams.  

Betsey and James, living on a farm in upstate New York, celebrated the birth of their ninth child, Isabella.  However, even while happiness enveloped the couple, they were afraid for the new child.  They feared because of what the future might hold for the newborn.  They feared because they did not know how long they would be able to hold on to young Isabella.  You see, Isabella was born to slave parents, and Betsey and James were scared because they had children taken from them and sold to other families.  However, as fate would have it, Isabella would remain with her parents for the remainder of their lives.

By the age of nine, Isabella had lost both of her parents to sickness.  She was then sold for one hundred dollars to John Nealy.  This was problematic because the Nealys spoke only English, and Isabella spoke only Dutch.  Countless times Isabella misunderstood what Mrs. Nealy told her to do, and as a result, would get whipped.  One particular time she was summoned to the barn where Mr. Nealy was waiting with rods that were heated in a fire.  Nealy tied her hands together and whipped her back until it was completely bloody.  

Not long after that beating, Isabella was sold to the Scriver family.  Mr. Scriver was fisherman and a tavern owner.  Isabella was held by the Scrivers for about a year and a half, and then sold to the Dumonts.  It was during this time she met and was married to another slave named Thomas.  In the years that followed, she would give birth to five children.  

In March 1817, New York set in motion the process of freeing all slaves.  For Isabella, because she was born before 1799, she was not set to be freed until July 1827.  However, her master, Mr. Dumont agreed to free her a year early if she would work hard for the last year.  But due to a hand injury, Isabella was not able to meet Mr. Dumont’s expectations, so he refused to free her.  Instead of remaining a slave that last year though, Isabella fled and attempted to hide with another family.  Dumont found her though, and threatened to take her back.  Fortunately for Isabella, the family she was staying with offered to buy her.  Dumont accepted the offer and Isabella officially became a free woman.

Shortly after gaining her freedom, Isabella discovered that her son Peter was sold illegally to another owner in Alabama.  Isabella set out to get him back.  Everything was stacked against her, but Isabella went to court and won Peter back, one of the first black women to win in a court case.  A few years later, after serving a number of jail terms, Peter went to work on a whaling ship to, as he put it, help straighten out his life.  However, on one particular outing, when the ship returned to port, he was not on board, and was never heard from again.  Isabella was deeply saddened by the loss of her son.  Then in 1843, things drastically changed.

Feeling a call from God, Isabella left home and became an itinerant preacher.  It was also during these days that Isabella changed her name.  She would no longer be Isabella Baumfree…she was now Sojourner Truth.  When asked why this name, Truth replied, “The Lord gave me Sojourner because I was to travel up and down the land showing people their sins and being a sign to them…and Truth because I was to declare the truth unto the people.”  She wasted no time in living up to her new name, speaking against slavery, and often crossing paths with the likes of William Lloyd Garrison, Frederick Douglass, and others engaged in the abolition movement.  During the years of the Civil War, she helped recruit black soldiers, and fought for improvements in the Freedman’s hospital. 

In later years, she joined the suffrage movement, and in 1872, Truth, along with giants such as Susan B. Anthony, attempted to vote.  She was turned away at the polls.  Truth would not live to see the day when women would get the opportunity to vote, dying in 1883, 37 years before the Nineteenth Amendment was ratified.  But her work was not in vain.

The formation and existence of slavery was, and is, an evil institution.  It is inconceivable to have a child ripped from a mother’s arms and sold to another family, most likely resulting in the two never seeing each other again.  It is unimaginable to think that someone would be beaten based solely on the color of one’s skin.  It was, is, and will aways be a horrific stain on our history.  

But the thing that is most remarkable in this account is that Isabella stayed around and fought.  Having experienced the worst, she envisioned the best.  Not content to just eking out a living as a bystander, Isabella repurposed herself, even going so far as to give herself a new name.  Let me correct that.  God repurposed her.  God had much bigger plans for the woman who had witnessed enough pain and suffering for ten lives.   God needed to recruit someone who had “been there, done that.”  Isabella had been there, experiencing the brutal beatings, having lost loved ones to slavery, and on the receiving ends of condescending stares.  Isabella had done that, risking everything, running from captivity to freedom.  And in that moment, hearkening back to the spiritual truths that her mother taught her as a young girl, Sojourner Truth answered the call.  

She really had no aspirations to be a runner.  It was her science teacher that saw the potential in the young girl.  One day after school, he was sitting on a train awaiting its departure, when he noticed her running toward it.  He thought there was no way she was going to get to the train before it pulled out of the station.  But the next thing he knew, she was sitting down next to him on the train.  What followed seemed like destiny.  He received permission for her to train with the Thornton High School men’s track team.  An invitation to join the Illinois Women’s Athletic Club came shortly after that.  To say that she had natural talent would be the understatement of the century.  In her very first official race, the 60-yard dash, she finished second to Helen Filkey, the world record holder in the 100-meter.  Just two days later, on June 2, 1928, she beat Filkey in the 100-meter, tying the world record time.  However, because of wind speed on the day of the race, it would not count.  No matter…the record would be her’s soon enough.  With such an incredible start, the trajectory of this young phenom would surprise no one.

Betty Robinson was truly a surprise discovery.  What happened next is utterly unbelievable.  Her next event was the Amsterdam Olympics.  What you need to realize at this point is this, it was Betty’s third 100-meter competition!  Not her twentieth or fiftieth.  She hadn’t been running for years.  She was 16 years old, and this was her third competition.  It would be normal to think that when running against the best of the world, at the Olympics, that she would perform well enough, but certainly not win.  Except, that is exactly what she did.  She won the 100-meter race…the youngest athlete ever to win the 100-meter gold medal.  A few days later, Betty added to her medal count with a silver in the 4×100 meter relay.

Betty returned to the United States and enrolled at Northwestern College.  She began training alongside the school track team with the hopes of competing at the 1932 Olympics in Los Angeles.  In her free time, she began pursuing her pilot’s license.  Life was great.  Then on June 28, 1931, Betty took off from the local runway and began the ascent into the clear blue sky.  Suddenly something went wrong and the plane nosedived into the ground.  A truck driver who happened to be passing by, saw the plane crash and rushed to the scene.  Fearing that she was dead, he pulled her from the wreckage.  Surprisingly, Betty had survived the crash, but she went into a coma.  When she was discharged from the hospital 11 weeks later, she had metal pins in her joints and one of her legs was shorter than the other.  This girl, who, only three years earlier had won a gold medal at the Olympics, was now told by doctors she would never run again.  You probably know how this is going to go.

Betty refused to let the doctors be right.  Slowly she began to heal…and by slowly I mean SLOWLY.  She was in a wheelchair for months, and could not walk without assistance for nearly two years.  But she eventually did get better.  But there was one aspect that would hold her back.  Because of her injuries, she was not able to crouch into the starter’s position.  So, in spite of gaining her speed back, she would not be able to compete in the Olympics again.  I know what you’re thinking right about now…not the ending you expected.  However, if you noticed the length of this blog, you are going to know this was not the ending.

Betty had tasted success and was going to do everything in her power to get it back.  She was reminded of the relay event where she won the silver medal in the Amsterdam Olympics.  The second, third, and fourth runners in the relay did not have to start in the crouch position.  Perhaps there was hope Betty could return to compete in the 4×100 relay at the 1936 Berlin Olympics.  So, she began training, and made the team!  Betty would be the third runner on the relay team.  The United States team made it through the qualifying heats and to the final race.  The Germans were heavily favored to win the gold, and when the starting gun fired, the Germans took a commanding lead.  By the time it came to handing the baton to the fourth runner, there was no doubt who was going win…the favored Germans.  But then a mistake occurred.  The Germans dropped the baton during the transfer and opened a window of opportunity for the Americans.  Betty cleanly handed the baton to Helen Stephens, the anchor runner for the United States.  In a clear upset, the United States won gold.  Betty now owned two golds and one silver, and would retire from running competitively upon returning home.

Betty’s life opens the door to a lot of questions.  What if Betty never saw her potential as a runner?   What if she had not performed well in those first two races?  What if the Women’s Club did not invite her to join?  But most importantly, what if that science teacher hadn’t been there that day to witness Betty running for the train?  In an instant, that teacher saw something in Betty.  Something that made it worth the effort to pursue her.  We all have that same experience.  No…not all of us have some coach trying to recruit us.  We have something better.

Francis Thompson captured it best in his poem, “The Hound of Heaven.”  It is the beautiful picture of God pursuing those he loves…us.

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;

I fled Him, down the arches of the years;

I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways

We run a 5k trying to get away…God runs a marathon.  We up the ante and run a marathon ourselves…God runs an ultra-marathon.  We speed up, thinking we have a world record pace…God breaks the sound barrier.  We hide, hearkening back to the days of our childhood when, playing hide and seek, no one would find us, and ending with the seeker eventually giving up, and yelling “olly olly oxen free”…God does us one better…and tells us that there is nowhere we can hide that he can’t find us.  We resist hard…and God, somehow, someway, finds a way to pursue us even harder.  God sees in us what we do not see in ourselves.

We go through life with, not metal pins, but mental pains.  We limp along unbalanced, not because one leg is shorter due to a pilot error, but because we have not learned the truth that God does not desire to be, nor will he allow being relegated to the co-pilot seat.  We don’t need physical therapy so we can walk again, but spiritual therapy so we can run again.  Coaches everywhere spur their runners on, hoping for them to win, to set world records, and to win trophies.  Likewise, God wants us to run.  Not for a trophy.  Not for a track record.  But for something better…a life that honors him who pursued us at all costs.  And the reward that awaits us in the end?  Much better than any Olympic gold medal.

Vernon Baker found cover as the second round of artillery began pounding the German lines.  Baker and his men had already ascended the first of three hills on their way to the objective – Castle Aghinolfi, southeast of Genoa, Italy.  With the artillery salvo reaching its conclusion at 0900 hours, Baker led his men up further.  It wasn’t long before he saw the first signs of German soldiers.  He raised his gun and fired, killing two of them before they had the chance to fire on the Americans.  Baker killed two more just a few yards further up the hill, and then came upon a gun nest with two more enemy soldiers.  Baker dropped them as well with a few short bursts of gunfire.  

With Baker taking the lead, one would have assumed he was in command.  But he was not.  Captain John Runyon was commanding this day’s mission.  What occurred next would reveal just who was in charge.  Advancing further up Hill Y, Runyon and Baker came face to face with a German soldier, who upon seeing the Americans, pulled out a grenade, threw it, and then turned and ran.  Baker immediately shot the retreating German.  Runyon, meanwhile, screamed in fright and fell back.  Fortunately for them both, the grenade was a dud.  

Baker searched the dead German’s body for any information.  When he turned back, Runyon was gone.  Baker told the remaining men that he was going to advance up the hill alone to see what lay ahead.  He soon came upon a cave dugout protected by a car door.  He could not pry it loose so he stuck a grenade in it and blew it off.  A German poked his head out after the blast.  Baker shot him.  He then proceeded into the mouth of the cave and triggered a few bursts.  He waited a few moments and then entered, finding three more dead German soldiers.  Having cleared this, he advanced even further up the hill, coming upon a brush-covered opening.  He dropped another grenade in, killing three more enemy soldiers.  At this point, Baker felt like he needed to return to his men, so he began to descend down the hill.  Reaching the remnants of his platoon, he asked where Runyon went.  One of the sergeants pointed to a spot where the captain lay frozen in fear.

Seeing Baker approach, Runyon came to his senses, and informed him that he would return back down the hill and send reinforcements.  Baker was furious, but there was nothing he could do…Runyon was a captain, Baker a lieutenant.  After a short break in the action, American artillery began firing back up the hill.  The Germans responded with their own.  Now, Baker and his remaining eight platoon members hunkered down.  After what seemed like an eternity, the shelling stopped.  Then the unimaginable occurred.

A group of Germans dressed as medics suddenly appeared, carrying litters.  Baker’s suspicions were on high alert.  And for good reason.  In an instant, the Germans pulled blankets off the litters, revealing guns.  Baker and his men wasted no time.  They took them out before the Germans could get off a shot.  At this point, Baker believed that reinforcements were not going to show.  It was time to get back down to the base.  On the descent, with Baker in the lead, the Americans discovered another machine gun nest.  Once again, Baker took it upon himself to eliminate the threat, killing two more Germans.

Baker arrived at the bottom of the hill with just seven men.  They were exhausted.  It had been 12 hours of constant fighting.  A messenger found Baker and told him that the battalion commander wanted to see him.  Colonel Murphy wanted to hear what had transpired directly from Baker.  Finding the colonel in his tent, Baker rehashed the mission’s events, even leaving out the part about Captain Runyon.  As Baker turned to leave, Colonel Murphy told him that they had a done a good job.  It wasn’t until later that Baker learned that Captain Runyon had also stopped by Colonel Murphy’s tent while Baker and his men were up the hill fighting.  Runyon informed the commander that Baker and the platoon had all been killed.  No reinforcements were ever going to come.

A few months later, Baker was summoned to Genoa, where he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.  This should have been an incredible moment for the lieutenant.  And it was.  But seven months after Baker got the medal pinned on his chest, Captain Runyon was also awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his bravery on that hill at Castle Aghinolfi.  His citation read like a fantasy, because, well, it was.  Everything in it was an exact description of what Baker did…not Runyon.  However, that is not the end of Vernon Baker’s story.

Fifty-two years later, Vernon Baker stood in the White House as President Bill Clinton placed the Medal of Honor around his neck.  What had been unknown until just a few years before his ceremony on this day, was that the United States Army had denied awarding the nation’s highest honor to Baker.  Baker knew nothing of the attempt to award him the MOH.  He retired from the Army in 1968, and had worked with the Red Cross for 20 years.  The incredibly disappointing conclusion Vernon Baker’s story is this; the Army denied Baker being awarded the MOH, not because his actions on that day in April 1945 were not heroic enough…not because he was just a lieutenant…not because Runyon tried to take credit for what he had done.  No, Baker was denied the Medal of Honor for 52 years because of the color of his skin.  You see, Vernon Baker was a black man.  

While our nation’s military has made leaps and bounds in working to eliminate discrimination, we know that there is still work to be done.  For Baker and the families of six other black soldiers (awarded posthumously), that day in the White House, was a day in which courage was shown to have no melanin limitations.

We should be reminded that God views all of us from the same lens.  Let us practice the same.    “If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself,’ you do well; but if you show partiality, you commit sin, and are convicted by the law as transgressors.”  James 2:8-9

I was browsing through some stories on the internet, and after a couple of clicks, I came across the story of Helmuth Hübener.  To say that I was shocked and inspired at the same time would be an understatement.  Hübener was a German boy who found himself in a war against tyranny.  It started when he was 10, and was forced to join the Hitler Youth.  What Hübener heard everyday from those around him was that the Nazis were gloriously winning every battle, giving righteous praise to their objectives.  However, he was soon going to discover the real truth.

One day Hübener was listening to his brother’s short-wave radio.  He had to listen in secret because the Nazis prohibited anyone to listen to any news that came from an outside source.  This day he had tuned into the BBC, and he could not believe what he was hearing.  What the broadcaster was saying was completely different from what the young boy heard from friends, family and co-workers.  Apparently, Germany was not succeeding as well as they purported.

When Hübener turned 13, he quit the Hitler Youth after they played a part in Kristallnacht, a night in which Nazi sympathizers destroyed synagogues and set fire to Jewish property.  This would prove to be a sign of things to come when Hitler directed the deaths of millions of Jews in the Holocaust.  By the way, Whoopi, it was about race.

Enlightened by truth, Hübener began talking to others about what he had heard and how he felt.  He discovered that others felt the same way.  With the help of a few friends, he printed pamphlets based on information obtained from the BBC broadcasts, leaving them in phone booths and on bulletin boards.  He did this, all while knowing the risk of being discovered.  And that is exactly what happened.

A co-worker in the social administration saw him writing the pamphlets and turned him in to Nazi party officials.  He and his friends were arrested and thrown into the Plötzensee prison.  For the next ten weeks they were tortured while they waited for their trial.  Refusing to back down, he confronted the judges about the atrocities the Nazis were committing.  When the trial ended, Hübener was found guilty and sentenced to death.  His friends were sentenced to labor camps.  Hübener had the opportunity to speak before his sentencing.  Hübener told them, “I have to die now for no crime at all.  Your turn is next.”  On October 27, 1942, Hübener was beheaded.  He was 17.

As I wrote at the beginning…I was both shocked and inspired by Hübener’s story.  Shocked that a tyrannical organization would execute a 17-year old.  Yet inspired that someone so young would stand up to a very powerful force.  We often hear the expression, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil, is for good men to do nothing.”  Hübener chose to do something, even when it was immeasurably easier to do nothing.  

History has a unique way of repeating itself.  It may not be the 1940s, and we may not be talking about Nazi Germany today, but Europe is facing another crisis that seems eerily familiar.  Russia is on the move, crossing borders and taking land that belongs to others.  Hitler is long dead, but tyrannical leaders are not.  Putin and his ilk will always be.  Fortunately for the world, Hübeners will always be as well.  We desperately need more Hübeners…those that witness abuses, barbaric acts, violations of human dignity, savagery…and refuse to stay silent.  Let me close with this final thought.  The Apostle Paul summarized it best, when penning a letter to the church in Rome, he wrote, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”  Eleven words so aptly reflected in the life of 17-year old Helmuth Hübener.

In horse racing, there is the Triple Crown.  It’s made up of the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont Stakes.  The Kentucky Derby is the youngest of the three races, created in 1875.  The three races were not referred to as the Triple Crown until 1930, and was not officially called it until 1950.  In the entire history of the three races,  only 13 horses have won all three races in the same year.  So obviously it’s a rare occurrence.  

In the founding history of our nation, there are two primary documents…the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.  There are a combined 95 signatures on the two documents.  *Cue the deep voiced narrator of Law and Order…“In the history of the United States, there were two documents written by two separate but equally important groups of people; the Second Continental Congress, and the Constitutional Convention.  These are their stories. (bump bump)”  Now, because of the timing, and the organization of the separate gatherings of men, most only signed either the Declaration of Independence, or the Constitution.  However, there were six men who actually signed both…another historical rarity.  George Read was one of those men.  Teaser alert…like Secretariat and the other 12 Triple Crown winners, Read had a triple crown moment of his own.

Read was born in Maryland but his family moved to Delaware early in his life.  He studied law in Philadelphia, and perhaps, because of a couple of guys who were up to no good, and who started making trouble in the neighborhood, he moved.  Not to Bel Air, but to New Castle, Delaware.  Once settled in, he started working for the British government as an attorney general.  But in 1765, Britain imposed the Stamp Tax, and Read was not happy.  He resigned from his position and became a member of the Delaware legislature.  If you thought that because he quit his job working for the King, that he was a die hard fighter for independence from the Crown, you would be wrong.  He certainly despised the tax, but he was not for independence at that particular moment.  On July 2, 1776, when the Second Continental Congress called for a vote on independence, Read voted no.  However, the majority of the men gathered in Philadelphia wanted to break from Britain, so he went ahead and signed the Declaration of Independence.  In the end, he did so because he felt like he had to go along.  The rest is history.  The Americans won the war, and obtained their independence.  Read should have gone on to retirement; after all he was 64 years old.  But he had more work in him.  When some members felt like representation should be based on population, it was Read who argued that each state should have equal representation.  His argument won the day, and that is why we have two senators from each state no matter what the population..equal representation, thanks to George Read.

I hinted earlier at Read’s triple crown moment.  As I said, he signed the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.  So that is two.  Where is the third?  Well, when the Constitution was being ratified, his friend and fellow Delaware delegate John Dickinson, could not be present.  So Dickinson instructed Read to sign in his place.  So if you look at the Constitution today, you will see George Read’s signature first in the Delaware grouping.  Two lines below is John Dickinson’s signature…except that it isn’t.  It’s where George Read signed John Dickinson’s name, making Read the only one to have signed three times, and hence, his triple crown moment.

In the early morning of February 3, 1943, the German submarine U-223, patrolled the icy waters of the North Atlantic searching for Allied targets to sink.  She discovered a six ship convoy that included the U.S.A.T. Dorchester, an Army transport ship sailing for a base in Greenland.  At 12:55 A.M., the U-boat commander gave the order to fire on the Dorchester.  Seconds later the torpedo struck its target and gravely damaged the ship.  The Dorchester would sink in less than 30 minutes.  Six hundred and seventy-five men died when she went down.

Though it represents the greatest loss in any World War II American ship convoy, the sinking of U.S.A.T. Dorchester is known for something completely different.  Packed in with the others aboard the ship were four men whose actions taken at that early hour instantly inspired those present, and whose actions continue to inspire those who hear their story.  George L. Fox, Alexander B. Goode, John P. Washington, and Clark V. Poling…names that most people do not recognize.  

Aboard the Dorchester was not the first time George Fox found himself in the crosshairs of the enemy and putting the needs of others ahead of his own.  During the First World War, fighting near the Champagne region in France, Fox removed his own gas mask and placed it on a wounded soldier before carrying him to safety.  In another instance, Fox did the same thing to a French soldier, instantly earning him the Croix de Guerre, France’s highest decoration.  It seemed as though personal sacrifice ebbed through Fox’s veins.

Alexander Goode excelled in sports and in the classroom, receiving among other things, a PhD from Johns Hopkins University.  He wanted to be a rabbi like his father.  He also desired to become a chaplain for the U.S. Navy.  Initially turned down, he reapplied after the attack on Pearl Harbor, and this time was accepted to the U.S. Army Chaplain Corps.  He would later meet his three brothers-in-arms while stationed at Camp Myles Standish in Massachusetts.  

John Washington knew early on that God called him to the priesthood.  Service and helping others were in his blood.  When the family struggled to make it, young John took a job delivering newspapers.  But his call to the clergy almost did not happen.  Once when John returned home from school, he fell ill with a fever.  The doctor could not get the fever down and eventually John fell unconscious.  Fearing the worst, the doctor called for a priest to anoint and bless John.  Desperately needing a miracle, they got one the next morning.  John’s fever broke.  He later told his parents that God must have saved him for something.

Clark Poling seemed destined to follow his father’s footsteps.  Graduating from Rutgers University and then Yale Divinity School, Clark became, like his father Daniel, a minister.  Young Clark believed in the goodness of all men until the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.  One day he commented about enlisting and going to Europe to join the fighting, but that he would not become a chaplain like his father, who had served during the First World War.  Eventually Clark’s father persuaded him to join the chaplaincy and work to help other men who fought on the front lines.  Little did Daniel know that the ship which carried Clark and hundreds of others would come under attack from a German submarine, much like the ship that carried him to war more than 20 years earlier.

Four men, living four completely different lives, yet somehow inextricably connected.  They developed a special bond during those days of waiting in Massachusetts that became quite noticeable when the Dorchester set sail.  Soldiers on board remembered how the four chaplains from different faiths came together as if they had known each other for years.  Many had never seen a Catholic and a Protestant get along so well.  This would serve the chaplains well in the days to come, and especially on that fateful morning when their selfless acts would save many of the men aboard the ship.  

To fully understand, we need to know how this unfolded.  After the Dorchester left the New York harbor, the captain received word that U-boats were patrolling the waters looking for easy prey.  He ordered the men aboard to wear their warmest clothing and to put on their life jackets, but because of the heat in the ship’s lower deck compartments, many did not heed the captain’s command.  Others ignored him because the life jackets were not comfortable to wear.  This decision would soon come to haunt many aboard.  

When the torpedo struck, instant chaos ensued.  The electricity went out and men stumbled to find their way in the dark, most leaving their life jackets behind.  Many would never make it out from the below deck compartments.  Those that did find their way to the deck scrambled for the lifeboats.  In the disorder and confusion, men overcrowded the boats causing many of them to capsize, spilling the men into the freezing water.  Seeing this, the ship’s captain called upon the four chaplains to calm the men and to organize the evacuation.  As men reached the deck from below, Fox, Goode, Washington, and Poling would hand them a life jacket, uttering words of peace and calm in the hopes of quieting the men.  However, with most of the issued life jackets still below deck, the chaplains ran out very quickly.  When this happened, the most selfless act occurred.  One by one, each chaplain took off his own life jacket and gave it to a man who was without.

Many who survived the sinking would later testify to the final moments before the Dorchester slipped below the water’s surface.  They noticed the four chaplains linked arm in arm, praying in accordance with each man’s faith.  Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.  The four chaplains perfectly embodied these words of Jesus.  On this day these men were leaders with a purpose.

We were led to believe in our history lessons in grade school that on April 18, 1775, Paul Revere rode through the night to warn that the British were coming.  In fact, there were multiple riders that night who spread the message across the countryside.  Of the multitude, there were three primary riders – Revere, William Dawes, and Samuel Prescott.  If you are a Costco shopper, you might be thinking that if you could get three riders instead of just one, it would be better, because three is always better than one.  And you would be correct, except for this…of the three, only Prescott reached Concord in time to warn the residents that British troops were approaching.  You see, all three were captured by British sentries and detained.  However, at some point, Prescott was able to jump his horse over a stone wall and escape.  A short time later, Dawes also escaped, but fell off his horse and had to walk back to Boston.  Right about now you might be questioning the “prisoner-taking” capabilities of the British soldiers.  Maybe because Prescott and Dawes had escaped, the British guarded Revere more closely.  We don’t know.  What we do know is that he was eventually released, but without his horse.  All three of the men helped the revolutionary cause that night, but Longfellow’s poem probably should have given the credit to Samuel Prescott.  Or perhaps Longfellow could have written about a similar event that happened a couple of years later.

It’s April 26, 1777, two years after the rides of Revere, Dawes, and Prescott.  On this night, another ride will take place, though it will not get the attention of a famous poet.  The British are once again on the move, this time for the supply depot located in Danbury, Connecticut.  If they capture the depot, it will be a major loss for the Patriot cause.  The problem for the Americans though, is that planting season occurs in late April, and all of the men have returned home to their farms.  Colonel Henry Ludington, the commander of the local militia, has to get word to his men that he needs for them to grab their guns and head back for battle.  Borrowing a page from the Revere method of operations, he has to find a rider to make the grueling trip.  With no real options outside of his own family, he enlists his oldest child, Sybil.  She will have to be the one to make the 30-40 mile trip on horseback to call the militia to arms.  

At 9:00 PM Sybil saddles up her horse and begins the journey to wake up the rag tag bunch of farmers turned soldiers.  She rides from farm to farm, banging on doors and windows yelling instructions for them to meet at the Ludington farm.  At around daybreak she arrives back home, with her mission complete.  In a war that has seen its share of American disappointment, this will energize the revolution and see momentum shift.  Except that it doesn’t.  The awakened men do not reach Danbury in time.  The British burn the supplies, including stockpiles of food, medicine, and clothes.  From there, the British march to Ridgefield, where they meet some resistance from the Patriots.  However, it is not until after the British start to return to the beach and their ships that Ludington’s company of militia arrive, and an ensuing skirmish occurs.  Though not a full blown battle, the Americans do expedite the British troops’ return to their ships.

Though Sybil’s ride gets nowhere near the attention of Revere’s, it is such an important story on many levels.  First, we don’t have enough examples of courageous women in our history books.  While it’s true that the men she awakened did not make it in time to save Danbury, it does not in the least diminish her actions.  To set out alone and ride in the rain through the night for miles and miles, while British soldiers monitored roads threatening to take captive anyone they thought looked suspicious, was a scary proposition.  After all, they had a couple more years of “prisoner-taking” training under their belts.  Add the fact she was a 16 year-old girl, and it makes the event even more incredible.  Second, we should remember that courage, bravery, integrity, and character are not dependent on a specific outcome.  The British still burned Danbury in spite of Sybil’s ride though the night.  But her courage was on full display every minute of that ride.   Third, heroes, especially the unknown ones, exceed explanation.  A 16 year-old farm girl rides like the wind, defying the British empire.  It should be front page news.   No one would have ever believed a teenage girl capable of racing against all odds for the revolutionary cause, so instead of the front page, her story is rarely mentioned.

I’m reminded of what 1 Samuel 16:7 says – “man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”  Sybil Ludington and Paul Revere could not have been more different from all outward appearances.  But on the inside, they were both liberty-minded riders on a revolutionary mission.  It’s a reminder, courage wears many faces…including that of a teenage girl.