Commentary on “A Veteran’s Day Confession for America”
War is toxic—tragedy, waste and profiteering are an inevitable part of even the so-called “good wars.” War is sin—as defined by theologian Paul Tillich: “a three-fold separation: separation among individuals, separation of man from himself, and separation of all men from the Ground of Being.” War is toxic and war is sin—not only for the soldier who fights the war, but also for the society who authorizes the war-making in a foreign land and then is all too often separated (geographically, intellectually, and emotionally) from the death, injury and contamination that are the tragic consequences of war.
Christians believe all of us fall into sin at one time or another and these sins directly or indirectly harm others and reduce our own integrity and spiritual strength. “If we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8). Unitarian Universalists often reject words like “sin.” Yet most Unitarian Universalists are Americans – we belong to a war-making society. War-making societies across cultures and generations have practiced rituals of purification and cleansing in order to assuage this toxicity, remedy sin, and facilitate healing and wholeness. The Christian tradition offers a ritual of purification and cleansing called confession. “If we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).
Unitarian Universalists would do well to consider Tillich’s view of “sin as separation” and reflect on how war separates us from the “Spirit of Life” and the essential principles that define our faith: the inherent worth and dignity of every person; justice, equity and compassion in human relations; the goal of world community; and respect for the interdependent web of existence of which we are all a part. To ignore or disregard the fact of sin just because we don’t like the word is unrealistic and self-deceptive because sin causes great harm to individuals and society. While some alumni of the Catholic Church may have knee-jerk reactions to confession, the ritual of confession is not foreign to Unitarian Universalism, as evidenced by the confessions found in our hymnal, Singing the Living Tradition, and the words of the 2010 Creating Peace Statement of Conscience: “our faith calls us to create peace, yet we confess we have not done all we could to prevent the spread of armed conflict throughout the world.”
As a Unitarian Universalist Minister deployed to Afghanistan as an Army chaplain, I faced the daunting challenge of being a good steward of our heritage in the combat zone and bringing the prophetic witness of our principles to bear on the military institution. As a member of the Profession of Arms in service to the Nation I also felt an obligation to provide spiritual leadership to the people of the United States, many of whom have been all too separated from the consequences of our war-making over the past decade. I wrote “A Veteran’s Day Confession for America” to address this harmful separation, facilitate purification and cleansing, restore connections, and reconcile us to right relationships. Jesus taught, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted; blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:4, 8). There is nothing I want more than for God to bless America and for God to bless our troops. My hope is that if more people will embrace confessions like this one we might actually secure these blessings.
Disclaimer: All entries to CLF/Quest Military Ministries page reflect the personal views of the contributor. The views expressed here are in no way to be construed as an individual or individuals speaking in their official capacities for the agencies, departments, or service branches they serve in. This is not an official publication of the Department of Defense, the U.S. Army, U.S. Navy, U.S. Coast Guard, U.S. Marine Corps, U.S. Air Force, any government agency, or any other organization.
Freedom and Responsibility
In our society we are so wired to think in an individual way, that somehow our life is not intertwined into the lives of others. We are taught that we can make our own decisions and do what we need to do to be successful and happy. I’m just not sure that is truly possible. I am unsure if any of us can ever truly be free. In order to be completely and totally free, our actions, values, and behaviors would have to have no impact on others or this world. Or, alternatively, we would have to take into consideration all the consequences of those actions, values, and behaviors.
Take, for instance, the snowstorm that hit the Northeast a few weeks back. The governor of Massachusetts declared a state of emergency and enacted a driving ban across the state. My Facebook feed was riddled with people complaining that their civil rights were being impeded because they were not allowed to drive in the blizzard. Come on, people! If the governor is asking you to stay off the roads during the biggest snowstorm since the blizzard of ’78, can you at least consider the consequences of not listening?
The reality is that many people don’t listen to those requests or demands. As a result, first responders like fire and police personnel are put in harm’s way to deal with accidents, abandoned vehicles, and other tragedies. Oftentimes, it is these same first responders who have to report to scenes where people are seriously injured or even killed because they are living out their life and its “freedoms.”
What it comes down to is the element of responsibility that coincides with freedom. This is the same case in our free faith of Unitarian Universalism. Yes, we are free to search for truth and meaning, but we are called to do so in a responsible way. A lot of times we get caught up in the use of certain language for the divine, or expressions of faith, or viewpoints on issues, and don’t take the time to really talk about them. We are easily offended and don’t always pause to listen to the people around us. It is in these times that we are not being responsible in our search for truth and meaning.
Of course, there are also times when we do take that time, or create that space to talk honestly about such things. I believe that is where freedom exists. When we create a space and atmosphere that allows for the free and honest sharing to occur, we are practicing our faith in a responsible way. We are acknowledging that while we are entitled to our own beliefs, opinions, and values, we are also expected to respect those of others. Because when it comes down to it, my freedom shouldn’t be at your expense. When we seek to understand and respect one another, we can both be free. May it be so.
Reintegration
Remember the saying about how long it takes to get over a break up? What is it, something like divide the time you were together in two? So, if you were dating for a year, it should take about six months to get over the person.
Wouldn’t it be nice if life worked that way? Well, realistically, anyone who has been through a bad break up knows that these equations just don’t work.
What if we applied the same equation to a deployment? It should have taken three months for things to be back to normal after my wife got home, right? Not so much.
It’s funny, you know. People talk about the “new normal” after a deployment. Military families are taught about the adjustments and sacrifices that everyone makes during a deployment. We talk about how to make that “reintegration period” smoother.
Reintegration
Remember the saying about how long it takes to get over a break up? What is it, something like divide the time you were together in two? So, if you were dating for a year, it should take about six months to get over the person.
Wouldn’t it be nice if life worked that way? Well, realistically, anyone who has been through a bad break up knows that these equations just don’t work.
What if we applied the same equation to a deployment? It should have taken three months for things to be back to normal after my wife got home, right? Not so much.
It’s funny, you know. People talk about the “new normal” after a deployment. Military families are taught about the adjustments and sacrifices that everyone makes during a deployment. We talk about how to make that “reintegration period” smoother.
Even with my counseling background and knowledge about how people grow and change over time, I can’t say that I was fully prepared for the changes we’ve been through since my wife deployed. Yes, it’s true that there is some readjustment back to daily life. Things like walking the dogs, taking out the trash, and cooking are all a bit different. Yes, that is a change that happens during a deployment. But the reality is that this deployment changed each of us – and it changed “us.”
I consider myself a pretty patient person. I am a good listener, and I take the time to support the people I love. But my level of patience deteriorated while Sue was deployed. It became a chore for me to listen to people complain about mundane things. Didn’t they know that I was worried about the love of my life being hurt or killed? How could they complain about traffic or have a long, deep conversation about reality T.V.? Some of that has subsided since she came home, but some of it has not. And perhaps the hardest part of that for me is that I was completely unaware it was happening. I didn’t realize that my patience was waning and my anger was rising.
Susan has had trouble adjusting home with regard to patience as well. It’s difficult to come home and have people assume that things are just going to go back to normal. It’s challenging to go back to a civilian desk job after your mind and body have been going 100 m.p.h. for so long. It’s hard to trust the people at your civilian job to have your back, the way your military comrades do, when in all reality they often don’t. It’s hard to have patience with people as they ask awkward questions about your deployment or, perhaps even more difficult, when they don’t.
It has been four months since Susan got home from her deployment. We are still in the “reintegration phase.” Sometimes I wonder what things will look like down the road. Will I ever fully regain my patience? Will she readjust to work? Will the people around us ever fully understand what we’ve been through?
I’m unsure of many of those answers. What I am sure of, though, is that I am thankful to have a different perspective when I am stuck in traffic or get the wrong coffee in my order – this deployment helped with that. I am sure that the level of connection and camaraderie that Susan felt during her deployment is possible in the civilian world, if only we have people like her to help make it so. And, finally, I am sure that the people in our life who love and care about us just want to understand. They want to know how we got through such a challenging time, and how we continue to learn and grow from it.
To be honest, I want to understand too.
Duty and Service
My name is Dave Thut. I am an orthopaedic surgeon. I have been a member of five UU churches over the past 20 years. I am a healer, a pacifist—and a veteran. Read more →
Waiting and Fulfillment
This year has helped me appreciate the value of waiting. As I spent each day and night worrying about my wife and her safety, I eagerly anticipated the day that we would be reunited. It was as if, in my mind, from that moment forward all would be right with the world. To be honest, I didn’t plan much past that day. I couldn’t think that far into the future.
In the midst of all the waiting of this year, I have found the importance of the present.
We are so set on what is coming next, and how to prepare for it, that we don’t take a moment to stop and look around. For me, that is what waiting is about: staying present.
So I took things week by week; day by day; moment by moment. There was really not another option. If I looked at the whole picture, it was too overwhelming, and far too long until she would be safe again. In my waiting for the future, I learned to stay in the present moment. It was in those moments that I found solace and peace, and the ability to keep my hope.
And the day came, when we were reunited! She is safely home from her deployment, and we couldn’t be more thrilled. But the reality is that there is still more to wait for. We wait to see what will happen next with her career and with mine. We wait to see how we will continue to adjust to being back together again, how she will adjust back to work, and how work will adjust back to her. We wait for her fellow service members to return home.
Cesare Pavese once said, “we do not remember days, we remember moments.” This quote was on a magnet I sent to my wife while she was deployed. And I have found this sentiment to be true. What do I think of in the 200 days we were apart? I remember laughing with her on Skype as we each ate a stale fortune cookie from our rehearsal dinner, to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. I remember her describing what it felt like to feel rain on her skin for the first time in months. I remember the moments when I would awake to a message from her in the middle of the night, and I knew that she was safe after worrying about attacks.
And now that she is home, there are still moments like those. But now I wake up to her sleeping soundly, or walk with our dogs in the snow. I have grown to live for those moments, and to find such richness in them. In this season of Advent, and of waiting and anticipation, I find comfort in moments like these. My hope for us all, is that we will stop and savor the present moment, and to see the beauty in it.
Blessed be.
A Veteran’s Day Confession for America
On this Veteran’s Day Let us confess our sins before God and neighbor.
Most Merciful God
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed
by what we have done, and what we have left undone.
We have become people of the lie,
out to tame the frontier wilderness
while the beast within lurks hidden in shadow
paralyzing us in a perpetual state of denial.
We have made war entertainment
enjoying box seats in the carnival of death
consuming violence, turning tragedy into games
raising our children to kill without remorse.
We have morally disengaged,
outsourcing our killing to the one percent,
forgetting they follow our orders
the blood they shed is on our hands too.
We have insulated ourselves from the painful truths veterans carry.
Our bumper magnets proclaim, “Support our Troops,”
but for too many, suicide is the only panacea.
Our insulation is their isolation.
We have made our veterans into false idols,
blood sacrifice on the National Altar of War.
Parades and medals perpetuate the hero myth,
glorifying those who kill and die on our behalf.
We have betrayed the dead,
saying, “They will never be forgotten,”
yet how many among us can name
a single war casualty of the past decade?
We have sanitized killing and condoned extrajudicial assassinations:
death by remote control,
war made easy without due process,
protecting ourselves from the human cost of war.
We have deceived ourselves,
saying, “Americans do not kill civilians, terrorists do,”
denying the colossal misery our wars inflict on the innocent.
The national closet bursts with skeletons.
We have abandoned our Afghan allies,
luring them in with promises of safety and security
then failing to follow through with promises made,
using them and leaving them to an almost certain death.
Almighty God, on this Veteran’s Day
help us to turn from this wayward path.
Deliver us from indifference, callousness, and self-deception.
Fill us with compassion for all who bear the burdens of our wars.
Grant us the courage to pay attention, to stay engaged
so we may listen without judgment, restore integrity,
accept responsibility, keep promises
and give honor to whomever honor is due.
Disclaimer: All entries to CLF/Quest Military Ministries page reflect the personal views of the contributor. The views expressed here are in no way to be construed as an individual or individuals speaking in their official capacities for the agencies, departments, or service branches they serve in. This is not an official publication of the Department of Defense, the U.S. Army, U.S. Navy, U.S. Coast Guard, U.S. Marine Corps, U.S. Air Force, any government agency, or any other organization.
Welcome Home, Seanan
Seanan and ministerial colleagues, the Revs. Cynthia Kane, Nayer Taheri
and Karen Stoyanoff enjoy a day of sailing off San Diego CA to celebrate
Seanan’s return from deployment in Afghanistan.
Seanan and his mother, Sharon Devine, shortly after his flight home
from Afghanistan.
Seanan and buddy enjoy the sea air.
The Way of Tea
I packed my dōgu (tea utensils) before I left for Afghanistan. My set comes from Japan and includes a chasen (whisk), chashaku (tea scoop), chawan (tea bowl), fukusa (silk cloth), kama (iron kettle), and natsume (tea caddy). I carry the most delicate utensils in a crush-proof Pelican Case so my dōgu can go with me when I do battlefield circulation. I use my dōgu to help soldiers experience the four principles of chadō (the Way of Tea): wa (和 harmony), kei (敬 respect), sei (清 purity), and jaku (寂 tranquility)
The military culture is one of constant business and many soldiers in combat live in a state of chronic anxiety. I have discovered that chadō helps soldiers relieve their anxiety; chadō permits the guest to take a moment of respite and just be still; chadō enables the guest to pause, breathe, and appreciate the beauty of the moment. Through chadō I care for the souls and nurture the lives of my soldiers.
I introduce the ceremony to soldiers by explaining the connection between tea and the samurai tradition. The samurai understood the importance of balancing the destructive energy of war and killing with the creative energy of art. This is why samurai would learn an art form like haiku (poetry), ikebana (flower arranging), kubuki (dancing), or chadō, before training in kendō (the sword) or kyudō (the bow). The samurai mastered artistic disciplines in order to develop their spirit and mind and thereby become greater warriors.
So far, the response to my chadō ministry in Afghanistan has been outstanding.
Beth wrote, “Wonderful to meet you and to be blessed by the gift of the tea ceremony. It felt like the first time I’ve “slowed down” in months.” Tony wrote, “Thank you for sharing the tea ritual with me. I need more moments like that.” Seanan wrote, “I was actually kind of surprised, as with many Zen events, at how powerful the tea ceremony was. Thank you for that meaningful endpoint to the deployment.”
After their first experience of chadō last Friday,the commander and command sergeant major of my battalion resolved to visit me for tea every week.
Recently I joined an online “Japanese Tea Ceremony” group and began a discussion with some of the more than 200 members about my use of the chadō in my ministry as an Army chaplain. Through that discussion I have learned, as John Larissou, said, “bringing aid and comfort where it is really needed and using tea for a serious purpose” is consistent with the intent of Ikkyū Sōjun (1394-1481), the Japanese Zen Buddhist priest and poet who was one of the creators of chadō.
I may be among the first chaplains to utilize chadō as a tool for ministry in the U.S. military. If there are others out there I would like to know! Samurai possessed certain wisdom about balance that our modern military would do well to adopt and adapt.
Disclaimer: All entries to CLF/Quest Military Ministries page reflect the personal views of the contributor. The views expressed here are in no way to be construed as an individual or individuals speaking in their official capacities for the agencies, departments, or service branches they serve in. This is not an official publication of the Department of Defense, the U.S. Army, U.S. Navy, U.S. Coast Guard, U.S. Marine Corps, U.S. Air Force, any government agency, or any other organization.
Prayer for the Warrior’s Return
I wrote this prayer sitting in a military chapel in Afghanistan. The prayer was inspired by my encounter with a service-member I met. She was on her way home after a difficult tour as the lead officer on a joint theater trauma team. Among the experiences she shared with me was the memory of five Afghan children who were burned and blinded by an improvised explosive device. After I wrote this prayer I sent it to her. My hope is that these words may help her and others progress along the journey home.
Oh Gracious God,
Spirit of Life,
Source of Love
What has become of me — I am broken!
Deliver me from the dread of memory,
hatred, cruelty, and revenge,
meaningless loss,
and betrayal of trust.
Lift me from distressing dreams,
regrets, doubts, speculations,
the violence that fills my eyes and scars my soul,
and questions that have no answer.
Grant me courage
to feel my pain and grieve my loss,
and serenity to accept that the past is done;
I will never return to my old self.
Still, let gladness, faith, and hope return to me,
and let me remember the love for me that endures
even when I cannot love myself,
and even when I cannot love you.
Help me to lay my burdens
into your compassionate and forgiving hands,
and open my heart to see goodness and feel joy,
wherever it is to be found.
Guide me from isolation to beloved community,
where my anguish can be heard and felt,
where trust and wholeness can be restored,
where I may carry this new identity — this sacred wound — with honor.
Strengthen me in the ways of the Warrior,
the ways of justice, kindness and humility,
so that, knowing death, I may more fully live,
with gratitude for each moment, and reverence for life.
Amen
Disclaimer: All entries to CLF/Quest Military Ministries page reflect the personal views of the contributor. The views expressed here are in no way to be construed as an individual or individuals speaking in their official capacities for the agencies, departments, or service branches they serve in. This is not an official publication of the Department of Defense, the U.S. Army, U.S. Navy, U.S. Coast Guard, U.S. Marine Corps, U.S. Air Force, any government agency, or any other organization.
