For Wilshire Baptist Church
During the run-up to the Academy Awards in early March, Turner Classic Movies hosted their annual festival of Oscar-winning films. A favorite that I watched again was “Patton,” which portrays the exploits of U.S. General George S. Patton during World War ll. It’s especially memorable for me because my father took my brother and me to see it when we were 12 and 11. He warned us that the language would be rough, and it was, but he explained that it was a story about a real man and real life, and real life gets rough.
So for three hours we watched with big eyes and burning ears as Patton cursed and growled his way from North Africa to Europe to defeat the Nazis and save the free world. The language is tame today, and years later the most lasting impression is Patton’s human failing — his ego and tongue that got him into trouble time after time.
The movie ends with a poignant scene set just after the war when Patton, chastened and with no soldiers to lead, walks through a gate and across a field, his dog on the end of a leash. As he strides out into the late afternoon shadows, we hear these words attributed to Patton:
“For over a thousand years Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of triumph, a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeters, musicians and strange animals from conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conquerors rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes his children robed in white stood with him in the chariot or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror holding a golden crown and whispering in his ear a warning: that all glory is fleeting.”
“All glory is fleeting.” A warning, a prophesy, a promise. Patton, a learned historian, knew it was true. And in fact less than a year after the war ended he was paralyzed in a car accident and died two weeks later. He was just 60 years old.
Dad was so right: real life gets rough. Sometimes we need flesh-and-blood generals to lead us to victory, and he taught me to respect them. But he also taught me to trust and follow the one true Lord who alone has conquered all. He too had a parade, but he rode into town on a peasant’s donkey instead of a king’s chariot. Some thought he came to conquer and be king and they shouted “hosanna” – “save us.” He would, but not in the way they hoped for or expected. And for a few days it appeared that his glory, like that of all kings and conquerors, was fleeting. But history knows better, and we do too.