Holy Week & Easter, Ft. Jackson Style
I have missed recording a few stories, mostly because there is little time and I am often more interested in eating or sleeping. There have been images, words and persons who have made an impression on me, yet sometimes it is difficult to convey what these mean other than being beautiful, comical, irritating, or salvific.
For example, I am up to my eyeballs in substitutionary atonement. Yes, I know Jesus died for my sins, but I'm having a little bit of difficulty understanding the preacher who felt that Jesus died for the guilt of her minor traffic offense--speeding. It seems to me to trivialize the gospel message, but when the background theology is about a personal relationship with Jesus, you have to start looking for more and more evidence on how you've been saved.
During the afternoon on a very long day last week, we were addressed by an Airborne Chaplain who was dropped with his unit into Iraq during the war. It was definitely a story of adventure as he and the rest of the troops were dropped into an oily bog. The purpose of his talk was to help us learn to pack efficiently and with all sorts of safety measures and back-ups. The Army calls tying objects that you don't want to lose to your equipment "dummy chording." Very practical advice. Moments later one of our Small Group Leaders (an instructor from the school house)--a man with a crusty exterior gave us a lightning quick lesson on knot tying as he reflected on one of his many Army experiences. He obviously grew up on a farm and presumed most of us did as well when he told us that the knot we needed to tie was the "type used to secure packs on mules" or something like that. I nodded my head as if I knew what he was talking about. Most of us were comatose at this point and had been standing around a table for what seemed a couple of hours.
More than a handful of my classmates have been on quarters for a bug that's been going around. I can't imagine even missing a day in this program for all that we usually cover. One soldier, a major who has had Special Forces training has been out a week. He showed up for the class photograph and stood near me. I could see that he still had bouts of the chills. Spirits were high while the pictures were being taken with all sorts of silly comments being made by the SGL's while we tried to maintain military bearing.
One of the highlights of the week was the false start of our PT test. Most of us were up before 04:00 for a 04:20 formation in the rain. Initially the rain was light but became heavier with some lightning as we stood while a team of graders prepared the testing area. It took a major to make the call a sergeant could have made for us to leave the field. We were later advised that none of us would have been wrong to object and leave the field for safety issues. We were reminded that even a private has the authority to speak up when safety is at stake. If one does not speak up and is the ranking officer, he is ultimately responsible if there are any violations--safety or otherwise. Sins of omission are just as weighty as sins of commission.
PT test day was on Good Friday at the same time. We were put into squads for push-ups and sit-ups. These graders wanted us to turn our backs on the ones being tested so that we wouldn't cheer them on. This was a first for me. So far on other PT tests we've been allowed to cheer each other on. I did very well for an old man and even beat my best time for the 2 mile run: 14:31. I stayed behind a young man that I knew was about 45 seconds faster than me and that kept me motivated. Also I caught up with a young man who has been a worship leader and then I kept pace with him. At the end I had nothing to give for the sprint, so he took off and came in about 4 seconds faster. I would have done even better had the finish line been clearer. I stopped where the clock was and not at the cones about three feet away. The graders yelled me onward. I collapsed in the grass with lots of pain in my side. An MP yelled at my sergeant to get me off the field. I indignantly looked at the MP and got up. A classmate told me to keep my hands above my head and breathe deeply. It was helpful and I was soon congratulating others as they came in. My final score (on a 300 pt system) was 258. One must score 90 and above in all three events to be awarded a Army Physical Fitness Badge. I might continue working on it provided it doesn't interfere with my wine drinking and desert.
Later that evening, some of us celebrated by going to an Irish pub and drinking beer, eating, smoking cigars, sharing some of our stories, telling bawdy jokes, and enjoying some laughter. All of us at the table were from diverse church backgrounds. Laughter is bonding and humanizing.
I can't remember the sequence of the week too well, but at one point we were visited by an Army surgeon, nurse anesthetist, chaplain, and social worker who recently were treating the injured in Iraq. They presented us with some difficult to view photographs of all sorts of disfigurements. The chaplain stated that it was important to define one's "theology of war" when dealing with so much suffering which often comes suddenly and unexpectedly.
Easter Sunday Sunrise Service was at 0630 in a crowded community center. The soldiers sat on the bleachers and the ranking folks in chairs on the gym floor. There was a platform with about 30 flags standing behind it. A brass band played a few familiar Easter hymns as background music before the program began. It was an extravaganza evangelical style with a gospel choir, a talented soloist, hand clapping and praising (and more substitionary atonement). The LTC's, Colonel, and others in their dress blues clapped hands and rocked back and forth only the way white men can. The preacher was a colonel who spoke of the many tombs in our lives and the victory of the Resurrection. He was one of the few evangelicals that I ever heard preach on Christ's decent into hell. He also spoke about his last Easter in Iraq when he was in a crowded hangar with soldiers who had seen a good amount of action and that "all fell away except the presence of Christ." He mentioned the Christian minority in Iraq and their greeting: Al Meeseeh qam (Christ is Risen). And while the praise music, the hymns, and the religious fervor were foreign to me, he preached a solid message.
I later attended the Episcopal Service. I was the only chaplain present other than the celebrant. All the rest were young soldiers, many of them recent arrivals at basic training. Some of them knew the liturgy very well. At the end of the service, CH Ira Houck, asked any soldiers who were leaving to come forward for a blessing. A young African-American soldier from Baltimore came forward. Fr. Houck laid hands upon his head and prayed for the soldiers safety. It was the most tender moment of the day. Later this soldier approached me and shared with me that he was going home because he was "having visions" and was being discharged for schizophrenia. He was a sweet young man and stuttered a bit when he spoke. I was reminded how back on campus the pressure would bring out any latent psychological illness. My heart went out to him wondering what few possibilities might be open to him. Oddly enough, I sat next to another soldier from Alabama who had been looking forward to basic training his "whole life." He had acne, but still glowed with confidence. In my brief conversation about his background and his future plans I could tell he was thriving here. In an environment where every one is in green, the soul seems to be more of what distinguishes one from another. It has been a blessed day one that I believe has pointed me more deeply into the mystery of this vocation.
For example, I am up to my eyeballs in substitutionary atonement. Yes, I know Jesus died for my sins, but I'm having a little bit of difficulty understanding the preacher who felt that Jesus died for the guilt of her minor traffic offense--speeding. It seems to me to trivialize the gospel message, but when the background theology is about a personal relationship with Jesus, you have to start looking for more and more evidence on how you've been saved.
During the afternoon on a very long day last week, we were addressed by an Airborne Chaplain who was dropped with his unit into Iraq during the war. It was definitely a story of adventure as he and the rest of the troops were dropped into an oily bog. The purpose of his talk was to help us learn to pack efficiently and with all sorts of safety measures and back-ups. The Army calls tying objects that you don't want to lose to your equipment "dummy chording." Very practical advice. Moments later one of our Small Group Leaders (an instructor from the school house)--a man with a crusty exterior gave us a lightning quick lesson on knot tying as he reflected on one of his many Army experiences. He obviously grew up on a farm and presumed most of us did as well when he told us that the knot we needed to tie was the "type used to secure packs on mules" or something like that. I nodded my head as if I knew what he was talking about. Most of us were comatose at this point and had been standing around a table for what seemed a couple of hours.
More than a handful of my classmates have been on quarters for a bug that's been going around. I can't imagine even missing a day in this program for all that we usually cover. One soldier, a major who has had Special Forces training has been out a week. He showed up for the class photograph and stood near me. I could see that he still had bouts of the chills. Spirits were high while the pictures were being taken with all sorts of silly comments being made by the SGL's while we tried to maintain military bearing.
One of the highlights of the week was the false start of our PT test. Most of us were up before 04:00 for a 04:20 formation in the rain. Initially the rain was light but became heavier with some lightning as we stood while a team of graders prepared the testing area. It took a major to make the call a sergeant could have made for us to leave the field. We were later advised that none of us would have been wrong to object and leave the field for safety issues. We were reminded that even a private has the authority to speak up when safety is at stake. If one does not speak up and is the ranking officer, he is ultimately responsible if there are any violations--safety or otherwise. Sins of omission are just as weighty as sins of commission.
PT test day was on Good Friday at the same time. We were put into squads for push-ups and sit-ups. These graders wanted us to turn our backs on the ones being tested so that we wouldn't cheer them on. This was a first for me. So far on other PT tests we've been allowed to cheer each other on. I did very well for an old man and even beat my best time for the 2 mile run: 14:31. I stayed behind a young man that I knew was about 45 seconds faster than me and that kept me motivated. Also I caught up with a young man who has been a worship leader and then I kept pace with him. At the end I had nothing to give for the sprint, so he took off and came in about 4 seconds faster. I would have done even better had the finish line been clearer. I stopped where the clock was and not at the cones about three feet away. The graders yelled me onward. I collapsed in the grass with lots of pain in my side. An MP yelled at my sergeant to get me off the field. I indignantly looked at the MP and got up. A classmate told me to keep my hands above my head and breathe deeply. It was helpful and I was soon congratulating others as they came in. My final score (on a 300 pt system) was 258. One must score 90 and above in all three events to be awarded a Army Physical Fitness Badge. I might continue working on it provided it doesn't interfere with my wine drinking and desert.
Later that evening, some of us celebrated by going to an Irish pub and drinking beer, eating, smoking cigars, sharing some of our stories, telling bawdy jokes, and enjoying some laughter. All of us at the table were from diverse church backgrounds. Laughter is bonding and humanizing.
I can't remember the sequence of the week too well, but at one point we were visited by an Army surgeon, nurse anesthetist, chaplain, and social worker who recently were treating the injured in Iraq. They presented us with some difficult to view photographs of all sorts of disfigurements. The chaplain stated that it was important to define one's "theology of war" when dealing with so much suffering which often comes suddenly and unexpectedly.
Easter Sunday Sunrise Service was at 0630 in a crowded community center. The soldiers sat on the bleachers and the ranking folks in chairs on the gym floor. There was a platform with about 30 flags standing behind it. A brass band played a few familiar Easter hymns as background music before the program began. It was an extravaganza evangelical style with a gospel choir, a talented soloist, hand clapping and praising (and more substitionary atonement). The LTC's, Colonel, and others in their dress blues clapped hands and rocked back and forth only the way white men can. The preacher was a colonel who spoke of the many tombs in our lives and the victory of the Resurrection. He was one of the few evangelicals that I ever heard preach on Christ's decent into hell. He also spoke about his last Easter in Iraq when he was in a crowded hangar with soldiers who had seen a good amount of action and that "all fell away except the presence of Christ." He mentioned the Christian minority in Iraq and their greeting: Al Meeseeh qam (Christ is Risen). And while the praise music, the hymns, and the religious fervor were foreign to me, he preached a solid message.
I later attended the Episcopal Service. I was the only chaplain present other than the celebrant. All the rest were young soldiers, many of them recent arrivals at basic training. Some of them knew the liturgy very well. At the end of the service, CH Ira Houck, asked any soldiers who were leaving to come forward for a blessing. A young African-American soldier from Baltimore came forward. Fr. Houck laid hands upon his head and prayed for the soldiers safety. It was the most tender moment of the day. Later this soldier approached me and shared with me that he was going home because he was "having visions" and was being discharged for schizophrenia. He was a sweet young man and stuttered a bit when he spoke. I was reminded how back on campus the pressure would bring out any latent psychological illness. My heart went out to him wondering what few possibilities might be open to him. Oddly enough, I sat next to another soldier from Alabama who had been looking forward to basic training his "whole life." He had acne, but still glowed with confidence. In my brief conversation about his background and his future plans I could tell he was thriving here. In an environment where every one is in green, the soul seems to be more of what distinguishes one from another. It has been a blessed day one that I believe has pointed me more deeply into the mystery of this vocation.
posted by Chaplain (CPT) Fokas at 12:02 PM
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