
This week I’ve been exploring readings for a new English 350 themes class—the course is really about covenant relationships: love, family, and God. Nothing better than that, is there?
I read Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s 1774 classic novel
The Sorrows of Young Werther. Werther falls in love with someone he knows is engaged, but he can’t get over her. He’s even friends with her fiancé, yet he just can’t get on with his life. He is miserable, and he doesn’t think he has any future, so he kills himself.
I next read Edith Wharton’s
The House of Mirth written in 1905 about a young Lily Bart who knows she must marry but gets caught up in expensive tastes and begins to gamble and loses over $9000. She continues to get herself into more and more trouble, and it gets bleaker and bleaker. People, some of them good but others not so kind, offer to help her, yet she refuses. Then at the last pages of the novel, she kills herself because she can’t see any other alternative.
These two individuals just gave up and couldn’t see beyond the moment. Goethe wrote his novel when he was 24 years old soon after falling in love with someone who was engaged. He was heartbroken, yet he fought and moved on. He questioned what would have happened if he had given in, and that became his novel. That novel made him incredibly famous—even Napoleon thought it was great and often took it with him into battles. Unfortunately, the book is also famous because it’s one of the first pieces of literature that produced other copycat suicides from love-lost men. Goethe always regretted writing the book.
But also this week, I started reading
Beyond Band of Brothers: The War Memoirs of Major Dick Winters. I really like Stephen Ambrose’s
Band of Brothers, and I’m still trying to talk myself into buying the DVD collection.
Winters was the commander of Easy Company that paratrooped behind enemy lines during the Normandy Invasion. Winters is incredible. Winters was just a normal guy from Pennsylvania who graduated from college and joined the military in 1941. He loved his family, and attributes any leadership skills he ever got were from his mother. He never smoked or drank. He attended church nearly every Sunday. When he was stationed for nine months in England before the Invasion, he only missed three Sundays, and that was because of duties. The other men could just sense his goodness, and they gravitated towards him.
Here’s an example of one of his quiet leadership qualities. Once he noticed one of his junior officers gambling with the men. Winters pulled him aside, and told him never to gamble with the men—not because it was wrong, but a leader should never take anything away from others; he should give and strengthen. He would be the last one in at night and the first one up in the morning, and he watched for the person who seemed to be having a hard time. He would then quietly get to know the individual and encourage and direct. He just wanted to make people better.
During the Normandy Invasion, when he was dropped behind enemy lines, he saw the plane ahead of them shot down, and in it was their commander, so once Winters’ men dropped down, people just started following him, and he became their commander. As they jumped from the plane that was going too fast, he and the others lost the bags strapped to their legs because of the force of the wind. Those bags contained their weapons and supplies. In the middle of the night, he and others landed behind enemy lines with weapons, and they were under machine gun fire attack.
Now if Winters had been like Young Werther and Lily Bart, he could have dug into a hole and given up—it’s night, he’s behind enemy lines, he has no weapons, his leader is dead, someone is shooting right at him. But he doesn’t give up. He gathers his men together, they search for weapons among the dead, and they attack and destroy the machine gun nest. Because of their actions at that moment, they save other lives. That night he kneels in the mud and offers a prayer of thanksgiving to God. Winters has what the Finns call
sisu—the determination to never give, to keep fighting.
So often in our lives, everything is coming down on us, and we don’t know what to do or where to turn. We feel the loneliness, darkness, and fear.
But we can’t give up—we’ve got to fight—we have to have sisu. This morning I read Elder Jay Jensen’s November 2008 conference talk “Arms of Safety.” He’s quoting from Alma 34:16 where Amulek is speaking about the Savior’s Atonement which “encircle [us] in the arms of safety.”
Some of the most meaningful moments in my life are when as a father I’m able to put my arms around any of my sons when they’re terrified, threatened, afraid, or discouraged. How wonderful it is to hold them and to tell them that it’ll be all right, that they’re not alone, that I’ll be with them, and that I’ll hold them.
But these earthly arms can only encircle so much, but those Heavenly Arms of the Savior can encircle us and keep us safe. If the Savior can hold the world in His palm, then He can certainly wrap his arms around us and hold us.
In Elder Jensen’s talk, he also quotes President Boyd K. Packer: “For some reason, we think the Atonement of Christ applies only at the end of mortal life to redemption from the Fall, from spiritual death. It is much more than that. It is an ever-present power to call upon in everyday life. When we are racked or harrowed up or tormented by guilt or burdened with grief, He can heal us. While we do not fully understand how the Atonement of Christ was made, we can experience ‘the peace of God, which passeth all understanding.’”
Remember that someone and Someone love us—we’re not alone.