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.
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.
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.
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.
Last night I had dinner at the Goetz Dining Facility (DFAC) at Forward Operating Base (FOB) Walton, which is a short helicopter flight from Kandahar, Afghanistan. Before the meal, I raised a “near beer” (non alcoholic) with a chaplain colleague to toast Dale Allen Goetz, the Army chaplain after whom the DFAC is named. Chaplain Goetz died in Afghanistan on August 30, 2010, not far from FOB Walton, and is the only military chaplain from the United States killed in action since 1970, when Phillip Arthur Nichols was killed in Vietnam.
I remember when I got the news that Chaplain Goetz had been killed. I was in the passenger seat of our family mini-van, my wife was driving, and our five kids were in the back. We were on our way back from a vacation in the Adirondack Mountains of New York. I was a few months short of accessioning as an Army chaplain, and the whole family was beginning to prepare for my first deployment to Afghanistan, which at that time seemed likely to happen sometime before spring. The notification came to my Blackberry from the Department of Defense List serve: “Captain Dale A. Goetz was killed when his vehicle was hit by a roadside bomb.” The notice said nothing about Captain Goetz being Chaplain Goetz, but a quick search of his name on Google revealed a more complete story.
When I learned Dale Goetz was a chaplain my gut tightened and I wanted to vomit. My first thought concerned my own mortality: I had not until that moment acknowledged the real risk I would face going to Afghanistan as a chaplain. The next thought was about the unit served by Chaplain Goetz — the soldiers of the 1-66 Armored Battalion of the Fourth Infantry Division. When a soldier dies, the unit turns to their chaplain for comfort, hope and guidance. Their chaplain performs the memorial ceremony for the unit, and provides grief counseling to individuals. In the horror of war the chaplain is a reminder to many of a loving and compassionate God who is present even amidst terrible suffering. But what does it mean when the chaplain gets killed? How do soldiers cope with the existential angst that must arise from such a tragedy — the very angst, which in the moment I heard the news, was making me nauseous.
When the chaplain gets killed some will face one of life’s most perennial questions: why do bad things happen to good people? When the chaplain gets killed some will question the invincibility of “the armor of God” (Ephesians 6: 10-18) which fails to protect God’s very own representative. When the chaplain gets killed some will face the dreadful realization that we are all vulnerable and nobody is really safe. When the chaplain gets killed — the chaplain who is a non combatant and carries no weapon — some will ask where is justice? Where is fairness? When the chaplain gets killed some will examine previously held assumptions: “God is on our side,” “God will protect us,” “God will not let anything bad happen to us,” and “In God we trust,” — and perhaps reject long held beliefs.
Yes, when the chaplain gets killed many will suffer moral injury — defined by Jonathan Shay as “a betrayal of what is right.” And sometimes a moral injury can be the most debilitating wound of war — the wound that is most difficult to heal. To heal from moral injury we need to give meaning to tragedy which might otherwise be inherently meaningless. I have made the tragic killing of Chaplain Goetz meaningful to me by reflecting on his death, examining some of my assumptions, and correcting false views. I am glad for the simple memorial of the Goetz DFAC at FOB Walton, which reminds me of his death, and the sacrifice made by his wife, Christy, and their three sons. I thank and honor Dale Allen Goetz for helping me, in his death, move beyond self deception towards a more right view of warfare and a greater reverence for life.
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.
It is the middle of the night and my unit has landed at Bangor International Airport, in Maine, for a short stopover before we leave American soil for Afghanistan. We will not be home for many months. We hope we will all come home alive, but in war, as in life, there are risks, there is uncertainty, there is the real possibility of death.
Before we left our mobilization site in Texas I brought a self-selecting group of my soldiers on retreat—a Spiritual Fitness Retreat. We did this to prepare our souls for war, drawing from the wisdom of warrior cultures in earlier times and adopting and adapting spiritual disciplines, rituals, and rites of passage, to serve the needs of the soul.
War is a Rite of Passage—I have learned this from my mentor Ed Tick—and this rite in history has included several key components: time apart in a sacred space, guidance by elders, trials that recreate the war experience, blessing and gifts from the community in whose name the warrior serves, and initiation into the warrior path. At our retreat we did all these things, and in some mysterious and beautiful way the community came together around us.
Ascension Mena, who established the Holy Trinity Retreat Center in eastern El Paso, hosted our gathering; local ministers, including Sabine Green and Sarah Heartsong, lead the gathering in a drumming circle and Warrior Rite; Hugh Scanlen, a purple heart recipient from two combat tours in Vietnam and elder mentor on the Warrior Path, offered wisdom and guidance; Mahonri Telles and Matt Hopper, both Iraq combat veterans, drew from Native American and Nordic traditions respectively to teach us to activate our shadow with the “warrior cry” and create meaning with Norse Rune symbols; others too many to name came and provided healing through Reiki and gifts of medicine pouches for us each to carry.
Now is the time to depart, but we leave with the blessing of the community, our souls cared for by the ancient wisdom rituals and rites of warrior cultures in earlier times.
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.
The Army Chaplain Corps has a motto: “nurture the living, care for the wounded, honor the dead.” Army chaplains hold the sacred trust of the people of the United States to provide soul care for America’s sons and daughters. This is an awesome task which I am only able to undertake with the utmost humility and full support of my family, my faith community, my colleagues in ministry, and my God. I write this for all of the above.
My unit has been mobilized to deploy to Afghanistan. Since our mobilization orders began several weeks ago, I have searched for innovative ways to tend to the souls of my soldiers. Alas, many seem too busy to attend to this vital dimension of the self; many seem reluctant to take time for the soul, perhaps out of fear for what they may find, perhaps for no other reason than they really believe they have more important tasks to complete than be still and look inward.
Yet the high rates of suicide and sexual assault in the military are painful indicators that the greatest threat we may face in deployment is ourselves. I am convinced that soul-care is the most effective means to not only decrease suicide and sexual assault but help manage the stress of combat so that soldiers grow and not wither in the wake of trauma. And soul-care begins with cultivating self-awareness.
The Chinese philosopher Sun Tzu understood the importance of knowing oneself in battle. “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of one hundred battles. If you know yourself but not your enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.” (From The Art of War).
A more recent military leader from this side of the pond, General George Marshall, also understood the importance of caring for the soul. He put it something like this: “The soldier’s heart, the soldier’s spirit, the soldier’s soul are everything. Unless the soldier’s soul sustains them, they cannot be relied on and will fail themselves and their country in the end.”
I initiated several programs at our mobilization site in order to cultivate self-awareness and keep soldiers mindful of the soul dimension. Some of these initiatives include: morning “Soul Call,” a play on “sick call,” which is basically open chapel time each morning when soldiers can drop-in to pray, meditate, study or meet with me; evening Zen Meditation; “Pocket Stones,” which are small polished rocks engraved with words like faith, hope, courage, strength and happiness- I distribute them at no cost to soldiers to help them be mindful of these important qualities of soul; Spiritual Fitness Retreats – I have two scheduled at a local Catholic retreat center; Chaplain’s Tea – where I serve soldiers tea in a traditional Japanese Tea Ceremony; I also perform worship service on Sunday evenings; and have a presence in the daily Commanders Update Brief.
Being self-aware means paying attention to the ways we shield ourselves from painful truths, deny the real horror of warfare, and morally disengage from the consequences of our actions. Yet in order to prepare our souls and care for our souls we need to pay attention to the human cost of war.
Two days ago I recommended to the commander that we include a slide to honor the dead in the daily update brief. Now we have a slide with the photographs of those most recently killed in Afghanistan. I do this to help prepare our souls for the real losses that lie ahead. When we do that, when we embrace tragedy rather than deny or avoid it, we do as my mentor Ed Tick has taught me: we keep our hearts alive. If we allow ourselves to morally disengage, if we try to insulate ourselves from pain, then we risk becoming “people of the lie,” a term I attribute to M. Scott Peck who wrote a book by that name about presence of human evil in our daily lives.
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.
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