Curmudgeon: An Unlikely Army Chaplain: October 2008

Thursday, October 30, 2008

90

Today marks 90 days since I arrived in a war zone.

In the building where I spend most of my time, near the entrance/exit, there's a tribute to all of the Soldiers who have died since my Division's arrival Down Range. A large flat-screen video monitor hangs above the memorial stand (boots, inverted rifle/bayonet, ID tags, Kevlar helmet, coins from the CG and CSM) and flags.

The faces of the Soldiers who have died in this Area of Operations, and the simplest of biographical data -- name, rank, unit, birth date, death date, cause of death -- ebb and flow on the screen, to the accompaniment of a somber melody which repeats much more often than do the photos.

Just yesterday I noticed names I recognized because those Soldiers have died since my arrival here in theater.

The mournful music of the memorial can be heard down the hallways, and even when I'm sitting in my boss's office.

I realized this week as I watched, just how many of the Soldiers in those photos are smiling. Where I work, one cannot escape the reality of the human cost of this war, except by actively willing not to pay attention to the visuals and sounds as one enters or exits the building.

How different this is from my experience back home, especially before I joined the Army!

I've seen even very, very, very senior people (in rank, not in age, as I'm one of the oldest non-medical people here!) pause in silence before the memorial, and then resume their hurried pace to wherever they're going.

I always say a silent prayer when passing by.

At one point in the video presentation, the screen fills up completely with tiny images of all those who have died. Those are the casualties from just this Area of Operations, and just since these folks arrived a year ago for their fifteen-month deployment as part of the "surge."

Back home, the costs of this war were much more hidden from my view. I almost never saw photos of flag-draped coffins, and if I didn't watch certain news programs, I'd never have seen the faces of any of the fallen.

For ninety days now, I have daily seen the smiling faces of my dead comrades.

I hope never to forget the truth of what has transpired here.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

A Blessing

A while ago now I was asked by a very senior leader to accompany him and an even more senior Iraqi leader on a visit to some Christian churches in our Area of Operations. I, of course, made sure that SFC McG was invited along as well! I suppose it might have been a bit cheeky, but seeing as we'd actually be outside the wire and walking on neighborhood streets, I wanted to be sure SFC McG was there to keep me in line.

(Remember that he's told my parents, and pretty much anyone else who'd listen (notice, I'm not including *myself* in that category of persons) that he's going to shoot me in the foot if I do anything stupid. "I'm NOT going to lose a Chaplain on this deployment! Never have yet. Not going to now," quoth he.)

So, the next morning I piled into one vehicle and SFC McG into another and off we went. I found it a bit terrifying -- yet amusing -- that our driver took a wrong turn at some point. We wound up on a tiny, narrow dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and had to back up in order to get out of there. We're in a convoy of vehicles, mind you.

It was at that point that I noticed how far I've come in terms of surrendering to the powerlessness of the moment, and being able to relax and enjoy the ride.

For one thing, the seats in that vehicle were nicely padded (could it be that because I was with one of the Grand Poohbahs?). More than that, though, I've "gotten it" that giving in to fear and anxiety DOESN'T HELP.

Getting myself worked up into a lather because we'd taken a wrong turn would not have helped get us on the right road, or have kept us from harm in any way.

Amazing how long it's taken me to learn that!

Perhaps it's so many years of knowing so many people who go to AA and Al-Anon and other 12-Step meetings. They tend to intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle me. Perhaps it's so many years of praying the Suscipe prayer attributed to St. Ignatius Loyola.

Perhaps it's having said, at every Mass I've celebrated since Ordination, before Communion: "What return shall I make to the Lord, for all the good that God has done for me? I shall take up the cup of salvation, and call upon God's name, and the Lord will save me from all that frightens me."

(One of our Novice Masters, Frank, used to pray that prayer 30 years ago when I was a novice, and probably because I was frightened so often by so much, it made a huge impression on me. I have never forgotten it, and have adopted it as my own.)

In any ev

ent, I'm living with much less fear these days, and am grateful for that!

After meeting up with the Iraqi bigwig, we convoyed to the first of the churches we were going to tour. SFC McG and I were told that this place hadn't had services in quite a long time, because all of the faithful had fled the area in the wake of so much violence, and so much of it directed towards Christians. The caretaker was the only person left there, and we'd get the chance to meet him and see his church.

Mar Zaya Assyrian Church of the East has weathered the storms of sectarian violence, intact. One of the Iraqi General's translators told me that the "little guy" (as he called him) who looks after the place is "a giant in courage" sinc

e even many Muslims in that area fled, as did his whole congregation. The violence was too great.

It turns out that the man who is the caretaker is also the priest at this church.

Fr. Gabriel speaks no English, and doesn't even speak Arabic. He only speaks Aramaic -- the language spoken by Jesus and the ne'erdowells he was constantly pallin' around with.

Fortunately, the interpreter who came along with us could speak Aramaic as well, so he translated both to and from Arabic and to and from English for the priest. To the left is a photo of the priest with the Iraqi General (and myself).

Before we moved on, I asked the translator to ask Fr. Gabriel if I might have his blessing. At first the priest demurred, but after a short conversation in Aramaic with the translator, he kissed his hand cross and then held it out to me to kiss. He began to pray in Aramaic, with his cross held above me as I bowed down.

I caught a few of the words he said, since Aramaic is a Semitic langu

age, and very similar to the Biblical Hebrew I studied in priest-school.

The prayer went on for what seemed to be quite a long time. I'm pretty certain he invoked the intercession of Mary and other saints. What I could not see was that the priest and four Assyrian Christians who were with us were all crying as the priest was praying his blessing.

Afterwards, when our General asked him what he wanted from us, Fr. Gabriel replied, "Nothing. I only want peace."

The translator told me as we were leaving the building that Fr. Gabriel had told him that this day was the happiest day he had had in years.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

We get mail....

Here are a couple of notes I've received in the past few days.

The first is from my friend Rich K (yet another friend who has no last name!). I've known him since he was an undergrad working his way through Berklee College of Music in Boston.

He's a truly gifted jazz pianist, but can play just about any genre with great technical precision and emotional honesty. I visited him while he was living in Oklahoma, and he took me to my first Native American sweat lodge. He now lives in New York City, where's he's supporting himself doing music.

He wrote:

The second note is from my friend Michael, who was in the first Intro Bio Lab course I taught when I moved to the Midwest in the late 1990s. He was the brightest student in the class, and became a star member of the University's Cheering Squad.

(After having played football in high school, he was skeptical of my suggestion that he join the CS, since the University had dropped its football program in the 70s, and I felt he needed to be on a team. However, he later confided in me that he was in much better shape physically after joining the Cheering Squad than he'd ever been while he was playing football.)

He's now a physician, and was married recently. I was, to my chagrin, unable to attend the wedding because of this deployment.

His note:

I'm gratified to know that the simple spiritual exercises of remembering to breathe, of saying "HELP ME" and "THANK YOU," of praying for the jerks who live rent-free in my brain, etc., work in the live of people who are not 'professionally religious'.

I'm also grateful that internet (albeit as slow as this is over here -- it took 2.5 hours of trying the day before yesterday to send a note consisting of only 14 words!!) allows contact with my family and friends at a time when I'm so far away from home.

Hooray!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Mom: Update 04 (plus: Aunt Pat, Elaine W, and Mrs. SFC McG!)

I spoke with my mother, my Aunt Pat, and my friend Elaine this weekend, and all seem to be doing spectacularly well.

Mom is tooling around the house with the aid of a walker (and the watchful eye of my father). It seems she's doing "laps" from the bedroom through one part of the living room into the kitchen, then out through the dining room into the other part of the living room and back toward the hall near the bedroom, where she pivots (pirouettes?) back toward the kitchen.

She described what the surgeon had done to her back in some detail, but I was frankly a bit grossed out, so I'll spare you the details....

Many thanks for all your prayers on her behalf!

Aunt Pat -- having suffered a ruptured cerebral aneurysm six weeks ago, and having opened her eyes just as the docs were going to remove the life support equipment while all the women from her religious community were in her hospital room, praying -- sounded terrific, if a bit weak, when I spoke with her for a few minutes by phone.

What a miracle she is!

Aunt Pat is presently in a rehab facility where she's up and walking and re-learning to do tasks that most of us take for granted. She has a steady stream of visitors from her religious community, including Aunt Loretta (we adopted her) who schleps down from Albany by train every weekend to visit Aunt Pat. Thank you all for your continuing prayer support!

Elaine W, who has some pretty radical cancer surgery a little over two weeks ago is back to being herself, which is a delight. A couple of times now, including this weekend, I've called and she's admitted to being very "cross" or "vexed" or "vituperative."

('Vituperative'? Sheesh. I think she's spending too much time talking with me.)

I tell her she's just being crabby, and that it's really cute. Inevitably I'll say something outrageous enough that she'll start laughing. What a delight!

She's still having some significant pain in the vicinity of the incisions, so please keep sending good thoughts her way if you would. She visits the surgeon on Monday, and hopes to have some insight into what's going on at that point. I'll let you know!

Mrs. SFC McG, whose birthday was not long ago, continues to recover from her knee surgery. I get almost-daily updates on her progress from SFC McG, who speaks with her most nights and some mornings (our time, anyway!).

I sent her a small gift for her birthday and got back an email which read, in part, "You're fired," so I'm still piecing all that together. (SFC McG says she fires him routinely, so I guess it means I'm part of the family now, or something.)

In any event, continued prayers on her behalf are greatly appreciated.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Friday, October 24, 2008

Spiritual Exercises IV

This is not something I've published in our unit's newspaper, but figure is worth sharing with you. But first, an email, a bit redacted to protect identities, I received recently:

Now, an explanation:

Friends of mine in AA long ago pointed out two sentences in their AA "Big Book" to me: "The spiritual life is not a theory. We have to live it." [italics theirs] That seemed like a pretty good sentiment, but I wondered what it meant in practice.

I'm a slow learner, and so I do a lot better when things are presented simply and unambiguously. But I'm also an alcoholic, so I naturally complexify everything beyond human comprehension.

Couple all that with an overly developed sense of needing approval for "doing things right," and a desire to outperform others (as long as it doesn't take too much energy, time, or other investment on my part) and one winds up in a quotidian quagmire of questionable quandaries.

(Seriously, now: When was the last time you encountered an alliteration like that?)

No wonder I drank.

Anyway, over the years I've learned that simple is preferable to complex, and this applies to all aspects of my life.

I suppose it's a corollary of the "one day at a time" adage of which my friends who go to AA meetings are always reminding me. Simplicity is especially important in terms of the spiritual life.

This became very clear to me one evening when I was in the Midwest, talking with an alcoholic/addict who was incarcerated (yet again) on account of driving under the influence.

We'll call him SPC C (though I didn't know when I met him that he was a Veteran). His father had called one of the Jesuits in my community at the time to ask whether he'd go visit this wayward son in the hooskow.

Now, Fr. Tom is a wonderful, sweet man, but a bit timid, so I suspect the prospect of visiting someone in lock-down because of 'the drink' was probably a bit much. He asked me to speak with the Dad, and to go visit the son, seeing as he knew I used to drink.

Turns out that getting into the facility was no problem. It was getting *out* of it that presented some challenge.

It took me six weeks of classes, and getting a special photo ID, and getting fingerprinted, and a background check, and other annoyances just to be guaranteed safe passage out of that place. SPC C's dad was getting pretty annoyed with me, and almost accused me of malingering. Easy to understand, from his perspective!

The evening finally arrived. I showed up downtown at the appointed time and place and had to surrender everything metal I had with me. At one point I felt sure the Corrections Officer was going to ask for the rivets from my black jeans. I suspect the building had been the inspiration for the "Adams Family" house. I'd never gone to a place like that before, and felt massively intimidated.

I was shown into a room and then left there, alone with my thoughts. I was reminded of the scene from the movie Amadeus after Salieri has been institutionalized. As I sat there, locked in all by myself in this scary house, I expected to hear moans and cackles off in the distance at any moment.

SPC C finally showed up and was ushered into the room by his handler. He seemed annoyed that it had taken me six weeks to show up down there, though perhaps because I was wearing a Roman Collar (yes, Elizabeth, I *do* own one!) he didn't press the issue too much. I decided not to mention that I felt annoyed at everything I'd had to go through just to be able to meet with him....

Soon he launched into a maudlin tale about how sad and pathetic his life was, and how understandable that was because God and the Church had let him down. He whined on for an eternity, it seemed, as I just sat there, listening. He was explaining how he'd been told by the staff at his institution that if he wanted to get -- and stay -- sober, he'd have to work a spiritual program. But that he knew that would be impossible because it was clear that God was out to get him and the Church was full of hypocrites and on and on and on. There was no way he could pray, and he certainly refused to go to Mass.

Outside, the rain was turning into snow.

After he'd been droning on for what seemed forever, I interrupted him by saying, very loudly, "SHUT ___ ____ UP!" (You can fill in the blanks.)

I thought he might be going to have a heart attack, he was so startled. Perhaps it was the volume. Perhaps it was the vehemence. Perhaps it was the Roman Collar, or perhaps the combination of the invective and the vesture and the volume and the vehemence.

He actually was speechless, with his eyes bugged out, and his mouth open.

Made my night, actually.

I then proceeded to tell him to forget everything he thought he knew. Clearly, whatever he'd thought he'd learned hadn't worked to keep him clean and sober!

The only thing he needed to know about the spiritual life and prayer was this: In the morning, just after waking up, say "HELP ME." In the evening, just before going to sleep, say "THANK YOU."

Don't address it to anyone in particular. Don't analyze it. Don't do the Serenity Prayer at AA meetings. Don't do the prayer at the end of meetings. Don't do anything else but "HELP ME" and "THANK YOU."

I told him to keep doing that until I told him to stop.

The crazy thing is, that here it is years later, and SPC C has been sober quite some time. He now prays at home and at meetings and at Mass. He has a rich spiritual life today which has seen him through much adversity since that night we met.

He says it all began with "HELP ME" and "THANK YOU." SPC C continues to pray those prayers today.

Starting simple works. Keeping it simple, works.

Some days, to be honest, I wake up and am not sure I believe in anything, but I make sure to say "HELP ME" and "THANK YOU." Inevitably something will happen -- a phone call, or an email, or a chance meeting in the hallway, or a beautiful sunrise or sunset, or I'll hear an evocative melody -- and my faith will be restored.

But when it seems as if everything is broken (especially me), and it's beastly hot, and I'm far away from my loved ones, and 'the sun is burning out' (as Tom W and Annie L say), if I can just remember those two sets of two words, I'll be OK.

Which brings me back to the email at the beginning of this post.

The young man who sent me that note has been Down Range for almost five years, continuously. His lovely wife has a rich faith life, but this young man stopped believing in God and going to church when he was 11 or 12 years old.

BLUF (bottom line up front, in 'Army-speak'): his wife has had it and wants out. Part of the problem is their lack of common spiritual experience. He's in so much pain, he finally asked to see a Chaplain -- something he'd told himself he would never do. He wants desperately to salvage his marriage, and is even willing to go to church, if that's what it takes.

I told him that's laudable, but since it's been so long, and since he's told himself for all of his adult life that he didn't need or want church or God, it would probably be a good idea to revisit the decision he'd made as a pre-teen, but slowly.

My hunch is that children who make adult decisions probably don't make the best decisions...

I suggested he might want to start very slowly, by simply saying "HELP ME" in the morning and "THANK YOU" in the evening. By the look of the note he sent me, it seems as though he's begun that journey, and already has noticed something.

I'm not sure what it means, but getting "goose bumps" and having the sense that "someone heard me [and] said OK" is an incredibly rich beginning.

I, too, have had those goose bumps since being Down Range.

Perhaps if you're having a tough time with the spiritual life, a simple "HELP ME" in the morning, and a "THANK YOU" at night might prove helpful to you, too.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Mom: Update 03

Mom's getting along quite well, all things considered.

The younger of my two younger sisters is an occupational therapist, and has been able to be with my parents from the day of the surgery until today. She's been a great blessing!

Mom is still in a considerable amount of discomfort, in part because she cannot take the pain medication that's commonly prescribed after surgery like this, but seems to be doing remarkably well.

Many thanks, as ever, for your continued prayers.

I hope to be able to speak with Aunt Pat tomorrow, who's continuing her miraculous recovery from the ruptured cerebral aneurysm. I'll let you know how that goes.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Spiritual Exercises III

Here's the last of the three articles I had published in our semi-monthly newspaper.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Mom: Update 02

Many thanks to all of you for your prayers and support! I spoke with Mom today after she'd gotten home from the hospital, and she sounded tired, and in a bit of pain, but otherwise great. Amazing what medical science can do these days! I'm still not exactly clear about what was done to her back, but I think it involved a disc job.

And, to be honest, I was just giving my bro-in-law a hard time about calling the surgeon, "the paleontologist." Mom and Dad had actually been using that terminology after the surgeon had tried, gently, to indicate the need for Mom to stay overnight in the hospital. Others (read: younger patients) didn't have to do that, so Mom decided the doc figured she was just a fossil....

In any event, she's doing great. Thanks be to God!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Mom: Update 01

I managed to speak with Dad and one of my sisters Tuesday evening (my time), which was just after they'd finally talked briefly with the surgeon. It looks as though Mom came through OK (thank God!), and they're going to keep her in the hospital overnight, as originally planned.

(My brother-in-law Steve keeps referring to the surgeon as "the paleontologist," which I think is just a little hostile, don't you?)

More updates, as they're received.

Thanks for the good thoughts and prayers; please keep them coming!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Monday, October 20, 2008

Mom's surgery

My mother's surgery is scheduled for 10:30 a.m. Tuesday, EDT.

Please keep her, my father, and my mother's medical team in your
prayers, if you would.

It's tough being half-way around the world at times like this.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Happy Birthday, Mrs. SFC McG!!

Tomorrow, Monday, is Mrs. SFC McG's birthday. Hooray!! Please remember her in your thoughts and prayers, if you'd be so kind.

She and I have not yet met, but I feel as I know her pretty well, if for no other reason that SFC McG talks about her so much, and with such affection and longing. The two of them have been married a long time, and though life has put them through the wringer far too often, they've come through it all with dignity and grace and an ever-deeper love for each other.

It's a blessing to behold.

SFC McG has spent the lion's share of the last five years being deployed, twice now to Iraq and quite a long time on Active Duty with the Army National Guard. When this country has asked SFC McG to be of service, both he and Mrs. SFC McG have not wavered or hesitated, but have responded with generosity and enthusiasm.

Most recently, just days after moving his family half-way across the country, SFC McG found himself asked by the Guard, "Are your 'A' and 'B' bags packed?" His answer: "Of course." He was about to finish up the Active Duty mission he'd been on for the better part of two years, and actually get to spend a few months at home (in their new location) with his wife, before shipping off to another overseas mission with the Guard.

Instead, within a week of that question, he was at Summer Camp - South with me, training up for the mission here Down Range.

Mrs. SFC McG just took it in stride, as it seems she's always done.

She's every bit the hero her husband is.

Happy Birthday, Mrs. SFC McG! Thank you for your sacrifices on behalf of your nation. Thank you for supporting your husband -- once again so far away, and in harm's way -- with such a loving heart.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Biology in the Barracks

Well, not really "in the barracks," but "Biology in the Latrine Trailer" doesn't have the alliterative quality of the former....

Yesterday I'd been feeling a bit homesick for California, especially after one of my bosses had asked if I was missing being at work in the Biology Department.

Last night as I was finishing up "personal hygiene time" and washing my hands, the Soldier at the sink next to mine asked me what it was I teach in college. He explained that he'd been at the Multicultural Gospel Service a couple of weeks ago when I preached, and that I'd mentioned that I was a teacher, among other things.

When I told him I teach biology, he smiled and said he'd thought so, which was why he asked. He had just taken an online test "on meiosis and mitosis" in the biology class he's taking and was waiting for the results to be posted. This young man is taking four college courses online in an attempt to get an Associate's Degree so that he can submit a packet for Officer Candidate School.

He asked if I liked teaching biology, because he was not having very much fun taking it. This prompted a rather lively exchange between the two of us, as others came in and out for their own "personal hygiene time." (I suspect that may well have been the first time any of them had heard the finer points of the cell theory being discussed in a latrine trailer in a war zone.)

I suggested that perhaps he might be psyching himself out, and that my experience has shown me that when students allow themselves to believe they can master the subject matter at hand -- and do the requisite amount of hard work to make that happen -- they're much more likely to experience success. I encouraged him to stop by my office before his next online biology exam. He mentioned a couple of things that were confusing to him, so we chatted about them for a while.

As we finally went outside, he said with a huge smile on his face, "I just learned more biology in the past fifteen minutes than in the past seven weeks of this course -- and the two other times I've tried taking this class."

I went back to my CHU feeling as if I believed in everything again, and that all was right in my world, at least for that instant.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Friday, October 17, 2008

Spiritual Exercises II

Here's another installment of the series on spiritual fitness I published in our unit's semi-monthly newsletter:

In the last issue of this paper I suggested that the Army expects Soldiers to be physically fit and to be spiritually fit as well, in order to thrive -- and not just survive -- in the midst of a war zone. I proposed that engaging in simple spiritual exercises can do for our spirits what physical exercise can do for our bodies. Something as ordinary as breathing can become a spiritual exercise, as was detailed in that article. This week, I want to present another easy and accessible action which can improve our spiritual fitness: spiritual reading.

The practice of reading has long fed the human spirit. Just as breathing meditation can be identified with many Eastern spiritual traditions, "lectio divina" (Latin for "divine reading" or "holy reading") shines as a hallmark of Western spirituality. Like the breathing meditation mentioned last week, this spiritual exercise is simple, easy, and need not occupy a lot of time in the schedules of busy military personnel.

There are lots of writings (the Latin word 'scriptura' comes to mind) which can serve as the basis for spiritual reading. An easy and readily available one would be the Holy Scriptures from the Jewish and Christian traditions. However, given one's background and preferences, the Qur'an, the Bhagavad Gita, or your own favorite spiritual text can serve as the basis for this spiritual exercise.

A key to making this practice become a true spiritual exercise is to set a particular time each day to be devoted to this action. By being faithful to the time set aside each day -- I suggest starting out very modestly, say, five minutes if you've never tried this before -- you'll develop a habit of doing it. As with physical exercise, repetition and discipline are crucial to the effectiveness of spiritual exercise. This habit of spiritual reading, when coupled with the simple breathing meditation from the last issue of this publication, can yield wonderful results in terms of stress reduction and a growing intimacy with the Divine.

One suggestion for approaching a period of 'divine reading' might be to see it as a four-fold action: 1) Read a short passage from your text, slowly. 2) Read it again, pausing on a word or phrase that attracts your attention. Breathe. 3) Offer a prayer of thanksgiving or petition, based on what you've read, and how it's affected you. 4) Rest for a moment in the love of God who has brought you to this time and place.

If you've not attempted this sort of spiritual exercise before, it's helpful if you can find a place free from distractions. After a while, with practice, even those distractions lose their power to divert you from your primary spiritual aim. It's much better to start out slowly and work into and up to more time, if this practice feeds your soul, than to adopt an unrealistic expectation ("I'm going to do one hour of spiritual reading each morning.") and become disillusioned with the practice and yourself because you're not able to follow through on your resolution.

"And there was very great rejoicing. And day by day, from the first day to the last day, he read from the book of the law of God." (Nehemiah 8: 17b-18)

Easy does it, but do it, is an appropriate spiritual maxim in this case!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Technology's tyranny

All other things being equal, my life here is pretty cushy. This is brought home again and again to me as I get outside the wire to visit Soldiers in other places, and to meet Iraqi noncombatants who've endured so much.

That being said, it amazes me how easily small annoyances can present themselves to my psyche as monumental, cataclysmic crises.

I went to prep the wonderful videocam which my good friend Sal gave me for Christmas a few years back, because I'd promised my boss he could use it for a project he's working on. Much to my surprise, it records sound but no picture these days. It was working not long ago.

When I attempted to upload a Teaching Company course and some other music onto my iPod, I found that my 320 GB portable hard drive (less than a year old) is no longer recognized by my computer. So much for all the music files I'd dutifully paid for and archived onto that disk! Now if I try to add music from some other source to the iPod, the program will delete my other music presently on the device.

As I've mentioned before, the WiFi connection here is so inadequate, it took me more than two hours to send two photos (less than half a MB, total) by email to Soldiers at one of the outposts I visited recently.

The smoke detector in my CHU keeps beeping, despite repeated battery changes, each time with a fresh battery.

And on and on.

I suspect it's related to being far away from home, in a place where I've heard many more ordnance detonations in the past three days than in the almost three months that I've been here, this disquiet which erupts into impatience and intemperance.

It probably has to do with being surrounded by monochrome. Almost everything is gray. Today the air (which I can see -- always disconcerting) is so thickly gray that I cannot see the end of the row of CHUs where I live. It stings the eyes and rasps the back of the throat.

It's about expectations being premeditated resentments, too, I suppose. Sal paid a lot of money for the videocam, undoubtedly, and the portable hard drive wasn't cheap. Sixty-five dollars per month for internet service which is slower than most dial-up connections I've had seems exorbitant.

One might expect expensive technology to work, after all!

But as I look at the combat patches of those who served here in other times, under far more trying conditions, I'm reminded of friends of mine who go to AA and Al-Anon meetings who talk about how their problems these days are 'country-club problems' or 'gold-plated problems' because life had once been so much worse. The Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines (and Coasties, too!) who have served here and elsewhere really know hardship, and because of their sacrifices I get to have 'gold-plated' technological annoyances during my time here.

I'm deeply grateful for their courageous and honorable sacrifices.

I needn't succumb to the tyranny of technology. Gratitude makes all the difference, as my friend Elaine W keeps telling me.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Of T.S. Eliot and Wallace Stevens in a war zone

Not long ago I returned to one of the JSSs (Joint Security Stations) I wrote about a while ago. The Soldiers there share a post with Iraqi Security Forces. It's pretty Spartan living: when we arrived last time, they'd literally just completed installing air conditioning in the place, which is pretty much all underground. The post had been operating for quite a while before getting some cool air circulating therein.

The guys still sleep on cots (I have a bed), and use port-a-potties (I have access to real toilets). They go on foot patrols in neighborhoods on a daily basis (I have only been out walking on neighborhood streets once; more on that in a later post). When they're "at home" there's not much room to stretch out, or go for a run, no PX (Post Exchange = shopping) or large DFAC (Dining Facility) -- there are designated running trails where I live; I can get to a number of PXs and to even more DFACs, if I have the keys to the truck.

Their life there is tough. They've been at it almost a year, and they still have four months to go. Fifteen-month tours are significantly longer than twelve-month tours. These guys are about to experience their second Christmas in a row away from their loved ones.

One of the Soldiers I met at that JSS studied poetry when he was in college before joining the Army. As a college graduate, SPC C's a bit older and perhaps a bit more given to introspection than many of his buddies of similar rank. Once we began talking about poetry, though he was dog-tired and needing to get ready to go back outside the wire, he perked up right away. We started flinging names at each other, finding commonalities and noting differences.

But we'd started this conversation about poetry after we'd finished celebrating Mass, and because of his impending mission, and my need to move on to another JSS, there wasn't much time to continue it. Before I left, I gave him the tiny, colorful Beanie Babies that Wendy W from Northville, MI sent me, so that he and his buddies could hand them out while on patrol. (Thanks, Wendy!!)

Since that day, SPC C and I have been exchanging emails and poems. I left him with Sarton; he suggested Levertov. I sent him Szymborska; he responded with Yeats. I shared Hopkins; he countered with Stevens. I'm waiting on Eliot, having offered him Rumi.

I sit here in my hooch safely typing this while he's undoubtedly out on foot patrol, again.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Spiritual Exercises I

One of my duties recently has been to submit a few blurbs for the newspaper that's published twice a month by the folks we're attached to over here Down Range. Here's the first of those articles:

As we all know, the Army expects Soldiers to be physically fit. To that end, we engage in all manner of PT, individually and in groups. We are required to take the APFT for record at least yearly, as at least some measure of that fitness. Most of us would agree that we need this kind of training activity over the long term. For those among us who've engaged in organized sports since childhood, going for long periods without some sort of intentional physical training regimen leaves us feeling out-of-sorts. We need to exercise. Our bodies, accustomed to this kind of exertion, go through something akin to the withdrawal experienced by a smoker trying to quit nicotine.

In addition to physical fitness, irrespective of one's religious preference (or lack thereof), we need to be spiritually fit as well, in order thrive -- and not just survive -- in the midst of a war zone. Spirituality and religion can sometimes coincide, but they need not. A friend of mine who's sober in Alcoholics Anonymous says that "spirituality can unite what religions divide," because she's seen folks from diverse religious backgrounds -- people who otherwise would not even have coffee with one another -- get and stay sober by working the spiritual program which is the Twelve Steps.

Spiritual fitness, then, need not have anything to do with religious practice (but in my case, being professionally religious, I'd like to think they're not mutually exclusive, either!). I suggest that engaging in spiritual exercises can do for our psyches what physical exercise can do for our bodies. Spiritual exercises need not be very time-consuming or complex; in fact, the best ones I've seen seem to be very simple indeed. I'd like to present a few for your consideration over the coming weeks. Here's one for starters:

Breathing

Last summer, in Chaplain Basic Training, we had the first Buddhist Chaplain Candidate in the Army going through Chaplain School. As part of his spiritual practice, he'd spend time each day meditating. A big part of his meditation practice was the intentional awareness of his breath moving into and out of the body. What could be simpler? Anybody can do this spiritual exercise; there need not even be any 'content' to the meditation. Buddhist practice suggests breathing in through the nose, and out through the mouth. Peer-reviewed scientific journal articles have described the lowering of blood pressure and heart rate which can occur during such meditation events, of even a few minutes' duration. In a high-stress combat environment, such a low-cost, non-pharmacological stress reduction practice makes good physical as well as spiritual sense.

But we need not even go to the length of entering into a deeply meditative state. When aware of being stressed, if we remind ourselves to breathe deeply, even something so simple as taking a few deep breaths can make a huge difference. Years ago, a friend of mine, Tom W, when I was upset in his presence, said to me with great kindness, "Tim, remember to breathe." (I, of course, wanted instantly to strangle him in response, while telling him the same thing.) That statement had seemed stupid and condescending, but only until I realized that when I get upset, I hold my breath. Holding my breath does not help me to think clearly, or to calm down! The simple act of taking intentionally deep breaths can help to relax us, even (and especially) in highly stressful situations.

But how is something as trivial as breathing (trivial, of course, until we find it difficult or impossible to do, I suppose!) a spiritual exercise? Many religious traditions recognize that we can indeed encounter a Divine Presence in our daily lives. The Hebrew Scriptures tell us in Psalm 46:10, "Be still and know I am God." When we're tense, and our hearts are racing, and our guts are wrenched and contorted, it's hard to have a conscious awareness of God's presence and action around us. But when we're reminded to breathe, we can choose to inhale deeply, as if to breathe in the very breath of a God who "formed the man from the dust of the earth and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life." (Gen 2:7)

Who knew that something as simple as taking intentional, deep breaths could have so profound a meaning and effect? A very simple breathing meditation can help us not just to relax and focus in the midst of stressful situations, it can build us up spiritually as well. Breathing is a spiritual exercise.

Try it!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Mom

Thanks for your continuing prayer support of Aunt Pat -- she's continuing to make a remarkable recovery subsequent to her ruptured brain aneurysm; Mrs SFC McG -- her knee is healing after her surgery; and Elaine W -- who's home now following her cancer surgery on Friday.

Now I'm asking you to pray for my Mom, Nancy, who's going to have pretty serious surgery next week. It seems your prayers are very efficacious! Mom's been in a lot of pain for a long time, so we're hoping this surgery will do the trick. After all, we need to get her in good enough shape so she and Dad can come to California when I get back to the States for my mid-tour leave (though I'm not sure when that'll be, yet)!

Many thanks.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Elaine update

Elaine W had her surgery yesterday, and the latest report I have received from Elizabeth G is that she's doing well, and the doctors say she should be released from the hospital today, Saturday.

Many thanks for your prayers and good thoughts! Please continue them, if you'd be so kind.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Saturday, October 04, 2008

2

Tomorrow will mark two years since I signed the Oath of Office as an Officer in the United States Army.

What a roller coaster that accessions process was!!

If it weren't for the encouragement of MAJ S and then-MAJ W, I'd have never made it to the point of putting pen to paper on that Thursday two years ago. I also owe a debt of gratitude to CH (COL) H, I suspect, for the role he played behind the scene, but it's never been discussed, since I don't even know him!

Amazing how things work out sometimes!

Here it is, two years later, and I'm in Iraq at a time when school back home has recently started (we're on the Quarter system) and I'd have thought I'd be helping get my Seniors ready for graduation with Honors in Biology in a few months' time....

God has a weird sense of humor indeed!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Friday, October 03, 2008

Elaine W

My very good friend Elaine W has been sober just a few years less than I've been alive. Seriously. In fact, she just had a sober birthday about ten days ago. I've known Elaine for a long time now, and since my friend Buddy K died (sober) while I was making my 30-day silent retreat in 2005, Elaine has been sharing her experience, strength, and hope with me in a particularly focused way.

I found out this week that Elaine has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and needs a pretty radical surgery this coming Friday.

Now, Elaine has been around the block, not to put too fine a point on it. She's had perhaps more than her share of difficulties since she sobered up so many years ago -- but she's managed to surrender her will and life into the loving arms of her Higher Power through it all.

By a careful maintaining of her spiritual condition, through attending lots of meetings, working with other alcoholics, reading AA literature, and generally being of service to others, she's lived the "daily reprieve" my friends who go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings talk about.

Through it all she's stayed sober, yet saucy.

I love that in her.

Shortly before I shipped out to Summer Camp - South, Elaine underwent hip replacement surgery that traumatized her whole body, and necessitated incarceration in a place that was none too pleasant afterwards. I was grateful I was able to get to see her almost daily during that time.

There's something so satisfying about being crabby with someone else who's crabby, eh?

(Of course, she had *cause* for that, while I'm just a curmudgeon....)

Somehow in the midst of both of us being grumpy together, I could usually get her to laugh, despite herself.

She's really cute when she's in a bad mood, unlike me.

In any event, Elaine's got this pretty radical surgery coming up this next Friday, so I respectfully ask you, gentle readers, to offer prayers and supplications, send out good energy, visualize healing light enveloping her, or whatever it is you do as your personal spiritual exercise as a way to support her and those who love her in this time of need.

She's going to be all right, no matter what (I have a great story, for another time, about being "all right," told by my friend Blanche D or Blanche M, depending on when you knew her); but expressions of support are welcome. I'm led to believe she reads my blog from time to time, so if you might be so kind as to just give leave her a quick note here, I know I'd appreciate it.

(In this case, anonymous comments *are* appropriate and not an indication of a lack of moral courage!)

Hooray that she has a really, really, really big Higher Power, who has experienced powerlessness from the inside out. In her case, his name is Jesus -- a "Higher Powerlessness," if you will....

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

Can you believe it?

Just a quick note for the time being.

A while ago I mentioned that SFC McG and I aren't *really* enough part of the unit to which we're attached to merit being issued the flame-retardant uniforms (two every six months) that everyone else who IS part of the unit gets. And that we're too much a part of this unit to be able to get them issued to us by our parent unit in the States.

Given that situation, I took one of the three-month-old uniforms I was issued during mobilization (shelf life = six months) to the "sewing point" to have seams and pockets repaired, because the uniform is already falling apart. The folks at the sewing point are very friendly and helpful.

Imagine my surprise when I learned that the uniform can't be mended here Down Range because they have no flame-retardant thread, and no other kind of thread is authorized to be used on these uniforms. It seems as though there are no plans for getting that thread, either, from what I gather.

Thus, not only am I not authorized replacement uniforms, I'm not even able to get the ones I have on hand -- which are falling apart three months before they're designed to -- repaired legally....

The next nine months should be very interesting. Good thing I have a vow of poverty, eh?

Ah, sweet mystery of life...!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ