(UNDATED) They buried Tim Vakoc the other day. He wasn’t a celebrity. He was just a simple priest, just 49 years old.
Of course, you probably never heard of him. Maybe you never heard of Vincent Capodanno, or Emil Kapaun, either. All three were Catholic priests, U.S. military chaplains, and red-white-and-blue heroes. Two are up for sainthood.
They died from wounds of war, one each from Iraq, Vietnam, and Korea. Each man’s story sends you off shaking your head. Where did he get the courage? Where did he find the strength?
Kapaun, a native Kansan, died in North Korea’s Prison Camp 5 in 1951, six months after he was captured. They say it was pneumonia; he probably starved to death. He poured out his life for his fellow prisoners — stealing food, saying forbidden Masses, baptizing and consoling. He is buried in a mass grave near the Yalu River.
Not long ago in his hometown, a high school track and field star fractured his skull, but skirted death when friends and family prayed to Kapaun. Already on the road to sainthood, the Vatican is looking into whether the Army chaplain may have helped once more, and this time it may be a miracle.
Capodanno, from Staten Island, was a Navy chaplain on the ground with the Marines. He died early one September morning in 1967, trying to help a wounded medic in the midst of battle. Capodanno was already injured, but he kept on moving forward. He died in the sacrificial service of his faith.
Not long after, they gave Capodanno the Medal of Honor. They named a U.S. Navy ship after him — the first and only one blessed by a pope. There is a Father Capodanno Boulevard on Staten Island, and a memorial. The Catholic Church now calls him “Servant of God,” the first step on the road to sainthood.
And then there’s Vakoc, the Army chaplain they buried in Minnesota the other day. He hit a roadside mine when driving back from saying Mass for soldiers somewhere in Iraq in 2004. For two and a half years, Vakoc lay comatose, and then one day he woke up and said, “Hi.”
For three more years, friends and family refused to quit, refused to let that spark inside him fade away. Vakoc was their suffering servant. He gave them hope, not so much that he would fully recover, but rather that their own suffering had some meaning in this mixed up world of ours.
To date, he is believed to be the first — and only — military chaplain to die in Iraq.
If you never heard of Chaplains Kapaun, Capodanno, and Vakoc before, that’s understandable. That’s the way it always is with guys like this, whose celebrity is of a different order from what we’re used to. They live quiet, often hidden lives. They come from places where moms and dads plan Fourth of July barbecues, and folks count long weekends as times to be with family. No Twitter, no YouTube, just three Catholic priests who went to war unarmed and laid down their lives for others.
The U.S. military has about 284 Catholic chaplains on active duty, and needs a whole lot more. This country has two native-born saints, with two chaplains, (perhaps even three) waiting just off stage.
We all still need their help. Maybe we can count on St. Paul’s words to the Philippians as a promise for the future: “I hope, in the Lord Jesus, to send Timothy to you soon … for I have no one comparable to him for genuine interest in whatever concerns you.”
That would be nice. Saints or not, on and off the battlefield, we need more of these heroes.
(Phyllis Zagano is a Fulbright Fellow in Religious Studies at Mary Immaculate College, Limerick, Ireland. She also holds a research appointment at Hofstra University.)