DISPATCH 010--01 JAN 2007
“We pay God honor and reverence, not for his sake (because he is of himself full of glory to which no creature can add anything), but for our own sake.” --Thomas Aquinas, medieval theologian
Honor.
Honor can mean many things, but what does it mean to our soldiers and their families?
We sometimes confuse celebrity with honor. Our society will elevate someone who is famous or popular by giving them the “star” treatment. Power is often confused with honor. The powerful seem not to be judged with the same standards as others. But even we misuse honor when we begin to think that, because of extenuating circumstances, we deserve that particular item, experience, or person despite the cost to ourselves or others.
Because of this confusion we find ourselves wondering what honor really means and if any of it is left in the world. We look at corporate scandals where the powerful have lied, cheated, and stolen, all in the name of profit. We look at the superficial and shallow lives of some celebrities and grow weary of the constant tabloid headlines we see at the checkout line of the local supermarket. And lastly, if we are honest with ourselves, we might even examine the many different times we have sacrificed truth and goodness in the name of compromise so we could get ahead of or go along with the crowd.
Despite all this confusion, honor, true honor, still exists. It exists amongst our soldiers as they go about their daily missions. Honor for them is when they do their difficult tasks without cutting corners. Honor is when our soldiers do the right thing even when no one else is around. Honor is when a mechanic stays up all night to make sure a Bradley Fighting Vehicle is properly fixed. Honor is when a squad leader makes a second and a third check of his soldiers to make sure that they are fully prepared for a mission. Honor is when a convoy commander conducts the same safety brief despite how many times her soldiers might have heard it. Honor is when a soldier upholds what is good and just despite the pain and ridicule he will endure for telling the truth.
In the end, the type of honor I see here involves personal sacrifice for the greater good. It is not about recognition, or popularity, or rewards. It is about service. We honor one another when we do the little things that help build the bonds of comradeship. Many people hunger for the type of honor that is commonplace amongst our troops.
Unfortunately, honor is often not recognized in our society because the label is overused, and honor is often not recognized in Iraq because it is overseen. Every day, despite the pressures of combat, the deployment, and separation from our loved ones, our soldiers do the little but significant things that make them such an example for all of us. They know honor because they know sacrifice. They know that anything worthwhile in life does not come cheaply or easily.
Honor is what our soldiers render to you back home each time they do good despite the temptation to do evil. And you honor us by the sacrifices that you make while we are away. Honor is the care packages piled up during mail call. Honor is the quiet efficiency with which you, our loved ones, go about the daily challenges of life without us at home. Honor is when you support us despite the discouraging news you see on the internet, television, or newspaper. Honor is when you have our children pray for us before they go to bed.
The gift that honor brings to the person who lives it out each and every day is that our lives are making a difference. Every person, deep down in their very soul, yearns to live a life that matters, and many in our society do. But when you think about your loved one, your husband, your father, your wife, your daughters, or your son, remember this: there is no question that what they are doing, what you are doing, matters. We are protecting the widow and the orphan from an enemy that wishes them harm. We are distributing aid to a community isolated by its enemies. We are making this part of Iraq a safer place.
I am honored to serve such fine men and women that wear a uniform, and we are honored by your love for and continued support of us. God bless you.
Gratia et Veritas,
Chaplain Kevin Wainwright
1 comment:
I found your blog while checking up on the latest from the Iraqi schoolchildren site.
You wrote about honor in your post. Perhaps you have heard of the Patriot Guard Riders-- Americans who are doing what they can to honor the people in the military-- active, retired or deceased. They provide a motorcycle escort and flag line upon request-- for arrivals and departures, for the living and the dead. Over seventy thousand members and counting-- giving up their free time, taking time off from work, to drive hundreds of miles in all sorts of weather. I recently attended the graveside service of a young man-- Sergeant Charles Allen. This was the first time I ever witnessed such a ceremony- the presentation of medals to the young widow, the flags presented to the family, the firing of the guns in salute. It was difficult not to cry, especially when the widow read from her last letter to her husband and best friend.
The following is from a January trip report after a mission covering the length of a state.
"The day started out with good weather, dry and still. I met the crew at Hawks Prairie Inn and got my instructions for my first time as driver of a support vehicle. We set out on I5, picked up more riders at Exit 81 and continued south . The sky darkened and let loose an icy downpour with what seemed the force of a firehose. The riders nearly disappeared ahead in the spray, only their heads and shoulders and the highest handlebars still visible in outline against the brighter sky on the horizon. Fortunately, the rain let up and the group could get back up to cruising speed. There were a few instances of cars heedlessly cutting into the procession but for the most part , people gave way.
We arrived at the parking lot in Vancouver and met with many more riders. The plan for the day was explained, announcements made. Everyone was introduced , some with road names like Chonga and Pipey and Kodiak, a custom I find charming. Sherry, the Lady Bountiful, kindly served hot coffee to everyone who needed some. Large flags were affixed to the motorcycles for the short trip down the road to the home where the Celebration of Life ceremony for veteran Jim Beacher was taking place.
The home was at the end of the street in a neighborhood very like the one where I grew up. The Beacher family and friends outside could see down the avenue as dozens of bikes and flags came around the corner and filled the air with the sound of the famous rolling thunder.
The riders parked their bikes and lined the street in front of the house holding the flags of the services and of the country. The bagpiper played two pieces of music on the lawn as some neighbors gathered quietly to watch.
I was at the end of the line when a beautiful woman was escorted down the row, her face glowing. The widow took our hands, gazed intently into our eyes and graciously thanked each of us for coming. Then she walked out into the street directly in front of the house in order to take in the sight, the whole line of flags moving gently in the sunlight. She crossed her hands over her heart and kept them there for a long moment. As we prepared to leave, friends and family and neighbors stepped forward to thank us for coming. It was an honor to be there. For what the veterans have given, it is a small thing for us to do to show appreciation.
The next mission of the day was to visit the deployment ceremony of members of the 104th, the Desert Wolves, at an aviation museum in a wooden hangar on the grounds of Pearson Field in Vancouver. It is the oldest operating airfield in the United States and rich in history. We arrived in time to hear a speech reminding all of us what the country is defending and what it's fighting for. We heard the story of one brave Iranian man, father of two children, and the struggle to build a school in his village despite the deadly opposition of terrorists. Thanks were expressed for the tremendous sacrifices asked of members of the military, their families, their communities and their employers. Those who were veterans in the audience were asked to stand up and be acknowledged. There were so many men and women, young and old. The band played the army song and the song of the 104th. The members loudly recited the code they live by. This is the America I rarely see represented on the TV news or in the papers. If you don't know someone in the services, you have to read military blogs to find it. Honor, courage, perseverance, devotion to duty. These aren't empty words to them.
The riders presented a flag that was flown at the Healing Fields and the bright yellow and blue PGR flag, both to be taken to Iraq. We were invited to share in the refreshments and enjoy the music from the talented and lively country-western band.
When we set out on the road again, the children ran up the hill to watch the departure. I drove in silence, reviewing the day. There are days when I escape in my car after doing meaningless work in the company of foolish whining self-absorbed people . The Dalai Lama, who has said his religion is kindness, would simply say they are "undeveloped human beings". I sigh and mutter, "Well, THAT'S another day I won't get back". That's my own undeveloped part talking. But this was a day, one Saturday in January, that was without a doubt well-spent and in good company."
Now we await word on future missions after the recent attacks. Thousands of Americans are standing by- imagine that. If you watch the news, you would think we were obsessed with celebrity gossip and TV garbage. I can tell you it isn't so.
Best wishes to you.
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