My father was there on December 7, 1941; as a young naval officer aboard the USS Tangier, he was among those who exchanged fire with the Japanese planes wreaking havoc on Pearl Harbor . . . but unlike many aboard his ship, he survived that Sunday morning’s violence to fight on, pursuing peace in the Pacific throughout World War II and the Korean War.

My father was born as weaponry was being stacked following “the war to end all wars,” a phrase expressing a desire for peace that was never realized in his lifetime; for though the face of battle changed, the war tocsins were never silent during his sixty-four years.  “Only the dead have seen the end of war”… the philosopher’s words held true for him.

The folded flag presented to us during his funeral as a symbol of a grateful nation’s appreciation hangs in the Rectory with his picture.  Passing that little memorial two days ago, I was reminded that the peace this world strives to find on its battlefields is indeed a peace that passes all human understanding for it is rooted not in our circumstances but in our hearts and our relationships with the Prince of Peace.  “O come, O come, Emmanuel!”