Another senseless murder took place in America. But this one has an interesting twist to me.
         On December 15, a gunman took the life of a young mother, 30-year-old, Monique Nelson, at a mall in Sacramento. The sheriff noted, "She was found with her body over the young child…So we believe she did hear the gunfire." When she sensed danger to her son, she interposed her own body as a human shield to protect her son. In short, Monique died that her two year old son might live.
        I find this symbolic in that it happened ten days before Christmas. Ten days before the worldwide celebration of the birth of one who likewise laid down his life that others might live. In a strange sense you could say that mother gave her child a Christmas gift---the gift of life.
         This reminds me of one of the heroic episodes from World War II, and there many. When the Nazis took over Poland, they closed the monasteries and sent the monks to Auschwitz. (Of course, there were millions of Gentile victims of the Nazi concentration camp---while the six million Jews comprise by far the largest group of victims.) One of those monks was hero of mine---Maximilian Kolbe. St. Maximilian Kolbe. He was a simple, humble monk.
         If you visit Westminster Abbey in London, at the front of that beautiful cathedral are many statues of saints through the ages. Among some of the 20th century leaders they honor in statue form are Dietrich Bonhoeffer (another World War  II hero), Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Oscar Romero, and the above-mentioned Maximilian Kolbe.
         The story of Kolbe’s heroism is simple. While he was a prisoner at Auschwitz, someone tried in vain to escape. The Nazi prison guards decide to punish everybody to teach the prisoners a lesson. So they arbitrarily chose ten names of prisoners to be shot at a certain hour. Kolbe recognized the name of one of those so chosen, and Kolbe went to the guards with a request.
         As an unmarried monk, he had no family per so, waiting for him on the outside world, but the man chosen to be executed did. Kolbe asked the guards something extraordinary. He asked if he could die as a substitute for the other man. I’m sure the guards were shocked by this unusual request. But they granted it. And Kolbe laid down his life that the other man might live.
         I’ve asked strangers I’ve met from Poland if they have heard of Maximilian Kolbe, and they have beamed with pride, that, indeed they know all about his  heroic sacrifice. In the 1970’s, they unveiled a statue of Kolbe in Poland. The man who spoke at the dedication of that image was none other than the man who’s life had been spared by Kolbe’s sacrifice three decades before.
         I’m not much of a fan of the Harry Potter books, but I did see the first movie. And I remember the point that Harry had been spared as a child only because his mother had died in his place. That was memorable.
         In Charles Dickens’ classic novel, A Tale of Two Cities, there is a character who is essentially a ne’er do well---until the very end of his life. Then he redeems himself. His name is Sidney Carton, and his life so far has not amounted to much. But at the very end of the novel---is it ok if I reveal the plot?---he realizes that he can substitute himself on behalf of the protagonist of the story. He can be guillotined in the place of another man who has much more to live for. As Carton is about to die, he remembers the words from Christ, "Greater love hath no man than that he lay down his life for his friends."
         There’s something deeply touching about someone laying down his or her life so that others might live. That’s true of Harry Potter’s mother, of Sidney Carton, of the heroic mother in Sacramento, of Maximilian Kolbe, and of Jesus, whose birth is honored primarily because of his death. Without his death taking on a punishment that we justly deserve, his birth would be just a nice story. But I guarantee you it wouldn’t be celebrated the way it is all over the world by hundreds of millions of people. Surely more than any other birthday.
         To me, a random murder the other day at a Sacramento mall has more significance than meets the eye.