The Priest and the Atheist Watching on Christmas as Prisoners of War

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A few years ago, a friend of mine shared a manuscript her late uncle, a Jesuit priest, had written about his time as a POW chaplain in World War II. I explored the manuscript to see what I could do to help her get it published but I was unable to accomplish what I had hoped to do. In the process of reading the manuscript, I felt an immediate connection with the writer’s urgency to tell his story, especially as it centered on one of the most famous battles of the war: the Battle of the Bulge. 

Today I want to refer to the Christmas experience Father Paul Cavanaugh, SJ, recalled in his memoir as a prisoner of war captured at the Battle of the Bulge. I wish I could remember more of what he exactly wrote (I plan on asking his niece if I can re-read it), but I recall the simple narration about determined men who fought through extraordinarily bitter cold, blizzard like conditions when the Germans descended on the allied front in the Ardennes region in Belgium, Luxembourg and France. The battle started on December 16, 1944, and lasted five weeks until January 28, 1945. By Christmas, the captured Americans, including Father Paul, the chaplain, were in a makeshift prison hungry and freezing. About 19,000 Americans were killed in the ferocity while 81,000 were severely wounded. This battle was referred to by Winston Churchill as “The greatest American battle of the war.” 

What struck me about Fr. Paul’s writing, was his calmness, his openness reflecting a spirit of ‘watching,’ watching for the sign that the Americans were coming. It was truly an advent time. Paul gave encouragement to the men and celebrated Christmas Eve Mass with them – all lonesome boys and men – as were their guards who watched quietly as prayers were lifted and Christmas hymns sung. I believe everyone was watching because watching indicates hope; when we believe something good is coming, we watch for it.  

While this was the Christmas scene in a prison camp in 1944, another prison Christmas scene in the same war had taken place four years earlier on the border of Luxembourg, four hours from Paris. Thousands of allied soldiers had been captured and now existed in Stalag XII D. Among them were philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre and several priest prisoners. On Christmas Eve, 1940, Sartre and his priest friends performed a nativity play which Sartre had written for the occasion. The priests were very helpful to Sartre concerning the theology of the birth of Jesus and had been listening to his lectures on his theory of existentialism. This was the first play written by Sartre, the avowed atheist. I found the story of the play while doing research on the internet for something else and became excited to see an article about it later by Jack Nuelle in Commonweal, a Catholic magazine, an almost certain sign I should write about it! 

Sartre’s play is titled, Bariona, the Son of Thunder. Bariona, the main character of the play, is Sartre in reality. “Sartre saw in the story of Christ’s birth the tensions and questions his own philosophy raises,” writes Nuelle. But there, in the POW camp, says Nuelle, Sartre was confronted with existentialist concerns like death, and “…the choice to either submit to fascist rule or resist… As a result, the play offered a Christian existentialism that could speak to his incarcerated audience.” Sartre had hoped his play would “…unite a crowd of prisoners and inspire hope in the face of Nazi tyranny.” In his own words, Sartre’s philosophy is evident in this play where “man is thrust into reality without choice but defines his existence through his ability to choose.” Nuelle points out that “God became man using the same choice we all have. The wonder of the Incarnation is God choosing to exist.”

Last week this blog discussed ‘waiting’ as a virtue of advent. This week we see that ‘watching’ is another of advent’s virtues; it is rooted in hope. We watch for what we hope for. In both of these examples two men showed the grace of watching on Christmas Eve. Watching with fellow prisoners who needed to hear prayers, as well as drama so they could hold on to their hope and be free again. There is much to reflect on in these examples.

Reflection

All of us are watching for something at this time. We might be watching for someone to appear again in our lives, or we might be watching for a promotion, or a job offer, or a significant gift that was promised us. We know it’s coming. So, we watch. And watch. 

This last week of advent can be very fruitful if we set our watching for Christ to appear more fully in us and for us. Watch as if you are a navigator guided by the north star looking for the land of promise. Watch for God’s gifts and graces in your life.

Watch to see where you can help someone or do something to deepen your faith. Watch for the opportunities of grace.    

I love the words in 2 Peter 1:19. It describes the need to ‘watch’ so that our faith is enlivened. “Keep your attention closely fixed on it (the Gospel) as you would on a lamp shining in a dark place until the first streaks of dawn appear and the morning star rises in your hearts.” 

Merry Christmas to all of you, my dearest readers. You are in my special prayers at this wonderful time.

Note: Father Paul Cavanaugh, S.J., is buried in the cemetery at our beautiful, peaceful Jesuit Retreat Center, Parma, Ohio. I believe he died in the mid-1970’s. Jean-Paul Sartre remained an atheist for the rest of his life but became a very influential literary/dramatist/philosopher and humanitarian thinker. He died in 1980.