John McCain
“But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God,
and no torment will ever touch them.
In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died,
and their departure was thought to be a disaster,
and their going from us to be their destruction;
but they are at peace.
For though in the sight of others they were punished,
their hope is full of immortality.
Having been disciplined a little, they will receive great good,
because God tested them and found them worthy of himself.
Those who trust in him will understand truth,
and the faithful will abide with him in love,
because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones,
and he watches over his elect.”—Wisdom 3:1-5, 9.
Along with many Americans, I spent several days watching memorials to Senator John McCain in 2018. Then, I watched the service at the National Cathedral on the Saturday morning of his funeral. I became awed at the Cathedral over thirty years ago when our friends Joanne and Allan Meadors introduced us to it through the National Cathedral Association, and we became hooked. We visited it at least twice a year for twenty years, often staying at the College of Preachers on its grounds. I am still reeling from this memorable service held in this familiar sacred space on that Saturday morning.
Former Senator Kelly Ayotte read these beautiful scriptural words from the Book of Wisdom recommended for the Burial Office.
I am impressed by how a man can inspire us through his death—how he lived, and even how he planned his burial service. I can barely talk about it, much less write about it. So many of us were reduced to tears by Meghan McCain’s tribute to her father. This is often a sign of greatness when a man involved in politics is also deeply cared for and loved by his children.
The entire service was inspiring, a remembrance of an icon—of someone who made mistakes and owned up to them, who dared to cross the aisle at the Senate to listen to representatives of the other party, who learned to speak his truth and face the consequences.
Many believe he grew in character because of his five years of captivity in North Vietnam as a prisoner of war. Most of us cannot imagine what that was like. McCain is a role model for us of someone who turned his trials into gold.
I see many lives in captivity, not in the way McCain’s was, but caught in the captivity of addictions or addictive lifestyles. I daily encounter ordinary men and women who have learned from and come out of that life into what Christians would call a life of resurrection, an alternative life beyond anything they could have dreamed. Many who previously knew them can no longer recognize them—physically, mentally, or spiritually.
John McCain’s service was a service of resurrection, a reminder for all of us that there is another way to live and that we can begin that journey long before death.
