Saturday was Dec. 7.
The day which will live in infamy sometimes doesn’t seem quite so infamous as the holiday rush bleeds further and further into our calendars each year, but it’s worth remembering nonetheless.
I’m a bit of a nut when it comes to newspaper archives, so when historic anniversaries come along, I often try to see what reporters of the past can tell us about what was happening in their day. And there’s typically a lot to be had when looking back on Pearl Harbor.
The story of Father Aloysius Schmitt (which you’ll find elsewhere in this edition) was new to me, but I realize I’m not the first to write about the St. Lucas man who saved at least a dozen sailors at the cost of his own life during the attack on Pearl Harbor. That said, I’m more than glad to tell his story again, because — as one Dubuque city staffer said when preparations were being made in 2016 to finally lay Schmitt’s remains to rest there — “it gives me great reason to believe in the goodness of people, for the possibilities and potential of humankind.”
The idea of self-sacrifice seems in some ways to be such a succinctly simple concept. However, I think most of us would agree that’s not quite the case when the time comes to put it into practice. That’s what makes Schmitt’s story — and others like it — so compelling more than eight decades later.
Many folks back then were likely enlisting in order to quell what one of this very paper’s predecessors referred to as “Japanese Hitlerism.” But most of us today are faced with more domestic struggles as we mull the ever-present inner quandary of whether or not we’ll give of ourselves for the benefit of those around us. And most of the time, the question of whether or not we’ll give up our very lives isn’t a consideration.
Yet, that’s what Schmitt did — and in the most dire circumstances.
The former Decorah Journal described Schmitt as “a man whose lifetime was spent preparing himself to be of service to others. Years of study here and abroad, years of prayers and preparations, years of sacrifice and service — all cut short…” by the Japanese attack.
It’s an interesting juxtaposition.
While Schmitt had likely been ordained with a different sort of service to others in mind, it’s irrefutable that his actions served others. And I find it hard to imagine that a priest — who had studied scripture in order to teach others about the Son of God, whose life culminated in the willing sacrifice of his own life for others — hadn’t already considered he might need to do the same after he became a Navy chaplain. It’s conjecture on my part here of course, but I know from the Navy’s timeline that Schmitt wouldn’t have had much time to consider his options — the battleship he was on rolled within 12 minutes of the first torpedoes. So I don’t think it’s too far-fetched to believe Schmitt’s knee-jerk response was to follow Christ’s example to its ultimate conclusion.
And I think that’s why Schmitt’s story continues to resonate with us today — if he can sacrifice his very life in a situation which would have sent most of us into a panic, perhaps we will not be too hesitant to volunteer a bit of our own time and energy for the betterment of our neighbors.
Agree with Seth? Think he’s got it completely backwards or he’s missed the point entirely? Let your voice be heard. Letters to the editor may be emailed to editor@decorahleader.com or dropped off at 110 Washington St. Suite 4 in Decorah.
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