The Diocesan Dialogue
Current Issue
April 2008
Submission
by The Rev. Carl Walter Wright, Chaplain Major, USAF
Last July, before going off to save the world, I asked a congregation
in a sermon, “what are you willing to die for?" Now, ten
months, but what seem light years later, I can say that “for
me, to live is Christ, to die is gain (Philippians 1)." Now,
back from Iraq, I understand more fully that war is Hell. There
is nothing rational or glamorous about it. But it is redeemable, and
so are we.
I'm tempted to regale you with graphic stories of “good" ministry
there. But I won't. Suffice it to say mother was right: “God
is everywhere, even in Iraq." When I reflect on what I went through,
especially in my capacity as hospital chaplain, one salient point continues
to emerge: no one complained. Of the more than 2,000 wounded troops;
of the countless deaths I attended; nobody complained! Why is that? I
think it's because each one had something noble to die for. Each
one had done his or her duty. Each one had developed deep relationships
with their fellow warriors; relationships that transcended normal human
friendships and gave them incredible strength to persevere. You
may say they shouldn't have died in the first place. And I may say
they'd earned the right to be critical of our political leaders.
And we both might have a point. But, of all the people with whom I
had intimate spiritual conversations, not one of them complained. In
an ironic sort of way, this war gave them something to live for and
something to die for.
A young soldier named Kristy, alone and away from home, selected Easter
to be baptized. Fr. Carl welcomes her into the community of the Lord
at Camp Patriot.
Photo courtesy Fr. Carl Wright.
There's a lesson in this. It makes sense
that when we are focused, have a clear purpose, and accept our calling,
as these brave warriors did, we cannot be afraid, even of death itself. To paraphrase an Islamic teaching, when you submit to God's will
[Islam means submission], you will find contentment. Or, to paraphrase
Paul, “I have learned in whatever state I am, therewith to be
content (Philippians 4)."
I recently journeyed back home to celebrate
the 15th anniversary of my priestly ordination. Being back on that
blessed plot of land in the mountains of Western Maryland triggered
a painful memory. 15 years ago I almost drowned in the Youghiogheny
River, a few miles west of the parish church. It was a white-water
rafting trip that went awry. Before I knew it, I found myself in the
rapids with nothing to hold on to. Up and down I went several times,
ingesting more and more of the Youghiogheny River each time. Initially
I panicked and fought the river; which made my situation worse. But
after awhile I stopped fighting and started reflecting. A strange peace
came over me, and I became resigned to my fate. I
submitted to the elements, and felt almost euphoric. I was convinced
I was on my way to God; and it was the most wonderful feeling I've
ever had. Just then, the lifeguards disturbed my reverie and brought me back.
They snatched me out of the water with some ropes. I distinctly remember
not wanting to return. I was angry that they saved me.
This must be
what it was like for my dying soldiers. They'd fought the good
fight. They'd discovered something worth dying for. And God bless
them, they submitted. When you're as close to God as the troops
on the battlefield, politics becomes irrelevant. You've come
to a place where all that matters is the “peace of God that passeth
all understanding."
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