Bereavement

The internet, when it's working here, can be an important way for me to stay in touch with family and friends. I'm very grateful for the technology, and very aware that others who have served in uniform on foreign soils have not had the luxury of this kind of easy communication with home.

A couple of days ago, by means of the internet, I found out that one of my college classmates died suddenly, in the arms of her husband, and that her funeral was yesterday. Had I been in the States, I'd have tried to get there, to concelebrate the funeral Mass.

As it was, I'm here Down Range, and once again prevented from doing that. (When Aunt Pat died a couple of months after I arrived here, I was unable to get home, too.)

I sent the following quote to my friend Mike, whose wife Kathy died. It has provided me solace and strength in the face of the deaths of my friend Brian, my brother TJ, my "adopted son" Saffar, and so many others over the years.

Nothing can make up for the absence of someone we love. And it would be wrong to try to find a substitute. We must simply hold out and see it through. That sounds very hard at first, but at the same time, it is a great consolation, for the gap -- as long as it remains unfilled -- preserves the bond between us. It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap: God does not fill it, but on the contrary, keeps it empty, and so helps us to keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Bonhoeffer was a German Lutheran pastor and theologian who was hanged by the Nazis in April 1945, just a few weeks before the end of World War II in Europe. He had been arrested in April 1943 for his participation in the failed plot to assassinate Hitler. He wrote this quote while in prison.

Having so recently celebrated the Paschal Triduum (Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil), I'm once again reminded that as Christians, we have a God who truly is "immanu el" (the 'with-us God') -- especially when we're in pain or danger.

I'm grateful to have a Higher Power who knows powerlessness first-hand. A "Higher Powerlessness" as I like to say.

Grief is but another powerlessness.

Martha and Mary -- great saints, both -- each yelled at Jesus upon the death of their brother Lazarus, "If you'd have been here, my brother would not have died!" which means we're in good company in the pain of the powerlessness which is our grief.

Jesus then wept at the tomb of his friend Lazarus, sanctifying all of our tears.

Grief is but another powerlessness.

I'm grateful for my friends who go to so many AA and Al-Anon meetings for pointing this out to me so many years ago, and for reminding me of this fact so often in the meantime.

Please remember Kathy Donckers and Mike Stoolmiller and their children Greta and Carson in your prayers, if you'd be so kind.

Requiescat in pace, Kathy.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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National Service

From time to time I receive emails from people I've not yet met, as a result of their having read my blog. This is something that I'd not really expected, I guess. I figured I could use the blog as a way of keeping my family and friends apprised of what's going on with SFC McG and myself during this mobilization. I'd not seen it as a ministry in and of itself, but it seems as though it's turning into that.

Perhaps that's why it's begun to feel a bit as if I've created a Frankenstein's monster: this blog often seems to have taken on a life of its own, and now commands pretty much all of my attention and energy outside of work.

A great surprise to me has been that I've actually kept up with it for the better part of ten months now. Truth be told: I don't really enjoy writing. I'm not sure why. I've never been good at keeping a journal before now.

In any event, I received the following note when I got back from a couple of days of being on the road and in the air (there was no greeting; I've not redacted his words at all):

THANKS ! ! ! just a quick note to let you know what a blessing your blog has been to me over the past week. I stumbled on to your blog about a week ago and it was just what I needed. I am a retired MSG with the guard who spent a year in Afghanistan in 2003 – 04. My promise to my son that I would never leave him that long again forced a retirement after 24 years cause I knew I would deployed again if I stayed( They are down range as I write). I am a catholic 49 year old guy who was searching for some direction spiritually when I stumbled on the blog. The Idiocy of summer camp, in processing, shower shoes and stones, wonder and awe at the brilliance of the stars and moon, dust storms and dust frustrations etc…. gushed a flood of memories good and bad. The pointers I picked up from you your AA Alanon friends gave me some new insights and tools I needed at the time. I only got few a few months read and am looking forward to going back over old ones and anticipating your new ones as a new daily read. Thanks again.

God Bless You and your mission I will pray that HE brings you home safely as you near the end of your deployment and that he blesses the very important work you are doing


Mike

It's gratifying to know that people actually read this blog.

I'm very grateful for Mike's long and honorable military service; one can't go much higher up the rank structure than MSG in the Army (Sergeant Major is all that's left).

I feel very sad that he felt forced to make the choice between continuing to serve in uniform and retiring (he might have been able to serve another 16 years under other circumstances, perhaps), but I certainly understand and support his decision.

That the burden of this "long war" is being borne by so few is beginning to annoy me more and more. In the Guard and Reserve, I know Soldiers who have deployed almost as often as -- and in some cases *more* often than -- Active Duty personnel. The strain that this places upon families seems to grow exponentially, rather than in linear fashion.

Much to my surprise, given that I was in the last group of potential draftees during Vietnam from which numbers were actually called up (they came within 20 or 30 of getting to *my* number), I now find myself absolutely in favor of some sort of mandatory national service program.

This would be different from the draft during the Vietnam era, which was inherently unjust, and allowed way too many people (like myself at the time!) to escape the burdens borne by the rest.

It would need to be such that *everyone* had to serve, doing *something*.

Those who do not want to bear arms (as I did not then, and do not now) would not do so. But they would have to do some public service, in some other capacity, for the same amount of time as those in the military.

There would be no deferments, no shirking of responsibility, no "having other priorities at the time."

Everyone would have to do something.

I suspect we'd be a very different country, once this were implemented and had time to mature.

And career reservist Soldiers such as Mike, who wrote me yesterday, would not have to decide between service to the nation and their love for their family, because the burdens of patriotism would be borne by all, and not just by so few.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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The flu

I've heard a number of people here Down Range scoffing at the idea of the U.S. government getting spun up about the flu.

Perhaps they don't know that more people died from the flu in 1918 than died as a result of the "Great War" which was raging at the time.

Because of advances in biomedical technology (or perhaps just because we're "lights-out"), we seem to have become fairly blasé about influenza -- after all, "it's just a virus."

Well, it may be "just a virus" but as events in 1918 showed, the influenza virus has incredible potential to race around the world wreaking havoc and mayhem -- and that was before the age of easy and cheap air travel!

While panic would be a very unhelpful response to this (or any) situation, a healthy [pun intended] respect for the influenza virus would be appropriate.

Make sure your friends come to mistake you for Lady Macbeth, you're washing your hands so diligently and so often!

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Dorothea

My friend Dorothea, the poet whom I mentioned in a blog shortly after I arrived here Down Range, is in hospice care at the moment. I spoke briefly with her last night by phone.

She's very ill, and in a lot of pain. Her husband Mike told me she's expected to last a "few more days."

Being far away, with no possibility of seeing her again before she dies, rips at my heart.

This distance between myself and those I love is a much greater burden and much more painful than the very real anxiety over the danger involved in the traveling SFC McG and I are doing of late -- seeing as we're spending much more time on the road than in the air these days.

But what I'm experiencing is nothing compared to the what the (now many) Soldiers I've spoken with who have spent more time away from their wives/husbands, children, parents, and friends in the last seven years than with them, have had to endure.

Please keep Dorothea and Mike in your prayers, if you'd be so kind.

Please pray, too, for my sisters and brothers in uniform who have been so far away from their loved ones, for so long, for so often.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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In-flight video....

I'd hoped to be able to take videos of various things here so that I could post them online for your amusement or edification, but alas! the really nice small videocam that I'd gotten for Christmas from my good pal Salvatore stopped recording video once I arrived here Down Range. Rats!

Especially annoying, as it was working when SFC McG and I were at Summer Camp before coming over here.

Anyway, my little digital camera will take one-minute video clips, so I decided to record for you a typical helicopter flight, as best I could.

I was seated facing the rear of the aircraft, next to the door. The window was not particularly clean, and the combination of the movement of the aircraft and my 'idiopathic benign essential tremor' makes for a somewhat jumpy final product.

However, when viewed in sequence, the nine minutes of video images give a fairly good impression of what the scenery is like that we flew over, getting to where we were going.

One can even see the CHU I live in (by pausing the first clip at oo:25), if one is into that sort of thing....

Here is the link to the page.

Because the files are so large, I wouldn't recommend attempting to view them unless you have a really fast internet connection. Additionally, they did not upload in order, and there appears to be no way to rearrange them once uploaded, so if you wanted to watch them according to the actual progress of the trip, you'll have to pay attention to the file names; the sequence starts with MVI_6726, and then moves to MVI_6727, MVI_6728, MVI_6729, MVI_6730, MVI_6731, MVI_6732, MVI_6733, and finally MVI_6734.

I attempted to keep the camera pointed at more or less the same angle throughout the trip, so the vista changes as the aircraft banks (penultimate video). In the same file, it's possible to see the shadow of the helicopter move across the landscape below.

For whatever it's worth....

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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More Easter flowers (and bugs)

It's already getting hot here (it was almost 105 degrees Fahrenheit a couple of days ago), so the tiny flowers I've been noticing of late will probably not hang around much longer, I suspect. The thistle below is the largest flower I've seen to date (and the thorniest!). There's a ladybug nestled within the flower sepals. Did you see it?


Given how monochromatic this place seemed when SFC McG and I arrived last August, it's a delight to find color anywhere. The purple of the thistle and the orange of the ladybug seem especially vibrant in this environment.

The blue of this really tiny flower is true to nature. I almost missed it, though, because it's so small. (I wish I'd brought along a dime to place alongside it, in order to give a sense of the scale involved here!)



The common house fly in the Queen Anne's Lace (probably some relation to Daucus carota, I imagine) caught my attention -- I really like the delicacy of the flower umbels (look it up!), and could definitely do without all the Musca domestica Linnaeus that bedevil us inside and outside buildings here Down Range! But I thought I'd photograph the fly anyway....



Finally, some sort of morning glory (Ipomea), I think. It's a rather spindly vine -- certainly not as robust as the morning glory vines I'm familiar with -- but has small and quite interesting flowers that close up in the evening (much like morning glories).


Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Only eight more months

until Christmas!

(But who's counting?)

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Just who do they think they are, anyway?

I guess there's a lot of jabbering on the airwaves and over the internet tubes about "socialists" and "socialism" these days. One can't seem to get away from it. One can't seem to get away from *them*.

There are socialists everywhere. (In one U.S. political party, evidently.)

Be afraid.

Be very afraid!

(There's been a LOT of that message -- for a long time now -- hasn't there?)

Just when I think I can't take it anymore, I go to Mass last Sunday (Divine Mercy Sunday), and here's the *first* reading (Acts 4:32-35):

The community of believers was of one heart and mind,
and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own,
but they had everything in common.
With great power the apostles bore witness
to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus,
and great favor was accorded them all.
There was no needy person among them,
for those who owned property or houses would sell them,
bring the proceeds of the sale,
and put them at the feet of the apostles,
and they were distributed to each according to need.

I mean, I *ask* you! Who do they think they *are*, those first believers?

"No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own"? "The had everything in common"? "There was no needy person among them"? "The proceeds of the sale... were distributed to each according to need"?

ACCORDING TO NEED??

Not according to MERIT???

What *is* this nonsense???? Sure, the people being described were the first believers that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of God, the Creator and Savior of the whole world.

Sure, their worldview and behavior changed so dramatically after an encounter with the Risen Christ that they no longer lived in fear. They no longer hoarded their possessions.

(People who are unafraid find it easy to share freely and happily.)

Sure, the Romans took note of this strange behavior to the point of saying, "See those Christians? See how they love one another! They have no poor among them!!"

Sure.

It sure sounds like socialism to me!

(Could it be that this passage is only found in my Catholic bible?)

Those darn early Christians! I mean, "socialists."

(Or were there Democrats back then, too?) [And though I'm a registered voter, I'm not registered in that party....]

Heaven forfend that we should have anyone acting in this manner today!!! We certainly wouldn't want any *Christians* acting as if they loved one another, and especially not as if they supported people who didn't merit their assistance.

Right?

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Roadside beautification

SFC McG and I have been out on the road more often lately than up in the air. While I really love flying, as I've mentioned before, there's not as much detail to be seen from 500 meters above the ground.

The must be literally hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of concrete barriers in Iraq these days, some up to ten feet tall. Most of the ones where I live are just ordinary, drab concrete, and quite uninteresting. Out on the roads, however, some have been decorated quite deliberately. (I don't read Arabic, so I hope I'm not publishing something completely unfortunate....)

If you click on the photographs of the checkpoints (one a camouflage tent, the other a makeshift wooden box), you'll see flowers adorning a traffic cone in the one case and the wooden shack in the other. Additionally, you might notice the children standing around right in front of a presumably loaded AK-47.

(I certainly never was that close to a loaded automatic weapon in the hands of a Soldier when I was a young child....)

The decoration of these military roadside checkpoints tends to soften and humanize them somewhat.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Becoming John Malkovich

I'm not sure what's up, but quite a number of times since I arrived Down Range I have had Soldiers (or others) tell me that I look and sound like John Malkovich.

Just last night it happened again.

As is my wont, as I was entering the DFAC (Dining Facility), I made a point of saying hello to the young Soldier counting heads. It's probably not a very exciting job, and I suspect more often than not, that Soldiers is pretty much invisible to those entering the building.

Anyway, the young man who was sitting at his post called after me after I'd greeted him by name (it helps that we wear name tapes on our uniform!): "Hey, Sir!" I turned around and he continued: "Do you know that you look like John Malkovich?" I looked a little puzzled, I guess, because he continued, "He's an actor, and has been in a number of movies we young people like."

Wow. He sure knows how to win friends and influence people, doesn't he?

He just *had* to add the "we young people" part, didn't he?

"We should make a video, you and I, and post it on YouTube. It'll be me interviewing John Malkovich (you), and we'll get the real John Malkovich to force us to remove it!"

He seemed very pleased with himself and his idea.

I told him to have his people contact my people so we can pencil something in for Monday.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Les Misérables

Victor Hugo published his massive tome in 1862; the English version of the musical theatre adaptation hit the stage in 1985. I suspect there might be renewed interest in Les Misérables because of the sensation caused by the singing of a song from the musical by an unassuming middle-aged woman on a British talent show.

In case you've not had a chance to catch the performance of Susan Boyle, do yourself the favor of checking out the link. At the time I'm writing this, the video has been viewed more than 41.8 million times.

That's right: million.

The Victor Hugo story is an intensely spiritual work, and the musical by composer Claude-Michel Schönberg and librettist Alain Boublil splendidly captures the triumph of good over evil which Hugo details. The song which Susan Boyle sang in her audition, "I Dreamed a Dream," is sung by Fantine, a young woman whose life had been particularly difficult, and was about to come to an end. The song ends with the words: "Now life has killed the dream I dreamed."

I'm not sure what pundits are saying about it, but my take on the phenomenon is this: Susan Boyle could not have sung a more ironic and heart-rending song, and people seem to connect at some level with the irony of a woman who's dreamed all her life of singing professionally, who'd been thwarted at every step, it would appear (until now), finally achieving her dream by singing that life had killed that dream....

A great Easter story, if you ask me.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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More from the road

As SFC McG and I were on the road recently, we passed by a number of roadside emporia which seem to argue for the fact that things are beginning to normalize here Down Range.

As we move about the battlespace via ground transportation, it's always a good thing to see the local population going about their daily activities.

The first photograph in the series depicts a gas station, such as they are in this neck of the woods. Note the two plastic carboys out in front of the small building (you might need to click on the image to increase its size), and the funnel made out of a plastic water bottle.


In a country where there is so much trash -- everywhere -- it's worth pointing out how well cared-for each of these places appears to be.


As an aside, these photographs taken while on the road are all shot from within the vehicle, through two panes of glass. So depending on how careworn the windows are and how clean the glass is (and the angle of the sun), the photographs will be more or less clear.

Additionally, the movement of the vehicle, combined with my 'idiopathic benign essential tremor', and the fact that my rather tiny camera doesn't gather light all that well (SFC McG's camera is a bit larger, and capable of better photos in lower light) all conspire to diminish the quality of the final product... My apologies!

Let's pray that this war-torn area can return to peace and prosperity soon.

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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On the road

SFC McG and I recently went on the road to bring Easter Mass to Soldiers and others at a couple of bases at some distance from where we hang our hats, and that got me to thinking about being on the road.

This was especially true as the Gospel reading for the last Mass on Easter Day is the story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. Only one is named: Cleopas. I figure the other was his wife, whom I like to think was named Gertrude.

It's a great story, one of my favorites.

Cleopas and Gertrude had been the veritable Campus Crusade for Jesus -- until his arrest, torture, and death. They had been crushed by the events surrounding the end of Jesus' life. "But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel" Cleopas plaintively cries, as he an Gertrude 'cut and run' to Emmaus.

The last straw, as far as they were concerned, was that some presumably-ditzy women had claimed that morning that they'd gone to the tomb, only to find that Jesus' body was gone. That did it! They were outta there!

So there they were, kvetching to one another, confused, angry, sad, dazed as they walked along the dusty road from Jerusalem to Emmaus (about seven miles away). I wonder who might have been blaming whom for getting themselves involved in the first place, only to have their aspirations crushed so completely and horribly....

As they're walking along, the risen Jesus seeks them out -- pretty amazing when considering that they'd abandoned the community, had abandoned *him*. And he doesn't go after them to berate or shame or punish them. (What's up with that?) They don't immediately recognize him, so he winds up pointing out to them how the Hebrew and Aramaic Scriptures told his story. This causes their "hearts to burn within them" as they're walking along.

Later, at table, Jesus takes bread, says the blessing, breaks the bread, and gives it to them. With that, their eyes are opened, and they recognize him. But he vanishes from their sight.

They race back to Jerusalem and are met by the disciples who have seen the Lord in Jerusalem. Cleopas and Gertrude then tell the assembly how they recognized him in the breaking of bread.

The children we passed while we were on the road were undoubtedly heading home from school to get some lunch -- at least those with backpacks seemed to be. One boy, standing by the side of the road, walking stick in hand, might not have been coming home from school; it was impossible to tell.

I found myself wondering what it must be like, to be an elementary school student walking home for lunch and have a convoy of heavily-armed military vehicles belonging to some other nation pass by, forcing me off the road and into the trash along the roadside....

It was certainly never part of my experience when I was a child, walking home from school for lunch!

(If you click on any of the photos, you'll be able to see a larger version, should you wish.)

Easter blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Καλο Πασχα! Χριστός ανέστη!

For my Orthodox friends who celebrate Easter today:

Χριστός ανέστη εκ νεκρών, θανάτω θάνατον πατήσας, και τοις εν τοις μνήμασι ζωήν χαρισάμενος.

Христос воскресе из мертвых, смертию смерть поправ, и сущим во гробех живот даровав!

(Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and on those in the tombs bestowing life!)

Χριστός Ανέστη!

Αληθως Ανεστη!

Alleluia.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Commemoration of the Burial of Jesus

A week ago Friday now, after celebrating the Good Friday liturgy with which most of those who celebrate liturgically are familiar (proclamation of the Passion narrative from John's Gospel, the Veneration of the Cross, and Holy Communion from the Sacrament consecrated Maundy Thursday night), I celebrated the Commemoration of the Burial of Jesus, adapted from the Byzantine churches.

Whenever I'm able to do that, it serves as the highlight of my Paschal Triduum observance, for some reason. I suspect it might have to do with the 'official' acknowledgment of grief which it implies.

The liturgy which immediately preceded it was very wordy, what with the reading of the Passion, and the very stylized (and long) petitions which follow. This year, given my lack of musicians, and the highly non-musical gifts of my congregation(s), we only had music when I was leading it. This is a bit difficult, since I've not mastered the liturgical equivalent of bilocation.

To be fair, the Burial ought to have at least a Presider and a cantor, but since I have the music memorized for it, and there aren't many spoken words involved, it's possible to preside and sing without it being too disconcerting for anyone involved.

The Shroud, a piece of very ordinary muslin painted with a figure of the dead Christ, was given to me 17 years ago by a friend of mine who goes to a lot of AA and other 12-step meetings, Glenn L. He painted it for me so that I could preside at this liturgy the night before we baptized our friend Brian B. The calendar anniversary of his baptism is actually tonight, as it turns out. I've used Glenn's Shroud every time I've prayed this liturgy in the intervening years, and always think of Glenn and Brian when I do so.

Many thanks to my colleague (well, 'former colleague' now, since the University 'de-funded' my position...) Angela for sending along the rose water and orange blossom water about six weeks ago now! I made an aspergillum out of a handful of dried palm fronds, and as I reverenced the Shroud and the congregation with each of those essences, the fragrance was very lovely and compelling -- especially given all the non-lovely but very compelling odors we're assaulted with on a daily basis here.

Mom and Dad, and my "identical-twin-separated-at-birth" Susan R (we both got sober in September 1979) sent along exquisite artificial flowers to use on Maundy Thursday and at the Burial. I am very grateful for their thoughtfulness and generosity. (More on the flowers in a moment.)

I'd normally just wear a black cassock with a red stole, but since I didn't have my cassock here Down Range, I wore the red vestments from the Good Friday service. To my surprise, they have some pretty good frankincense here, so I put that to good use -- and it didn't impair my ability to sing the psalms or the Trisagion Hymn at the end.

From start to finish, the ritual only lasted 25 minutes. In its real, Eastern, incarnation it goes on for hours. But for people not accustomed to that kind of liturgical practice, and after a rather lengthy service immediately preceding this one, brevity can be a virtue.

The service (just an opening prayer, two psalms, each followed by a psalm prayer, and a short Gospel reading) ends with a procession in which the Shroud is carried to its "tomb" -- in this case, a classroom in the chapel building. ("Be flexible. Adapt. Overcome.") At least one other person knew the tune and the words in Greek that I sang after each set of three repetitions of the very simple melody to "Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us."

That was a pleasant surprise.

I didn't find out who that was, though.

Once we were in the "tomb" and the Shroud had been laid to rest, with flowers at its head and feet, we reverenced it for a last time with incense, rose water, and orange blossom water. People would kneel and touch it with their hands, or kiss it, or just bow to it before leaving.

As they left, I gave each of them one of the silk flowers my parents and Susan had sent me.

It was great to see that some of those present, no knowing that I was outside the room handing out flowers, had already taken one from next to the Shroud before they departed.

Not unlike any other funeral they've attended, I suspect.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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"There She Is, Miss America"

I recently had the pleasure of meeting two former Miss America pageant winners, Susan Perkins (1978; left), and Susan Powell (1981; right), along with Tony Orlando (left, and below; but where's Dawn???). There were other famous performers with them, but I'm so curmudgeonly that I didn't know who they were. Some of the younger troops were all abuzz about the others, but there you have it. They were visiting troops Down Range, and because of weather complications, they wound up where I work, as SFC McG and I were waiting to go off on a mission.

I actually remember watching the Miss America Pageant my junior year in college, when Miss Ohio had won. When I mentioned this fact to Ms. Perkins, she exclaimed, "Finally! Someone who remembers me!"

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Great and Holy Friday

SFC McG and I traveled by convoy last Friday to celebrate Good Friday at one of the bases we visit with some regularity. I'm reminded of this today, since my Orthodox friends are observing "Great and Holy Friday" today.

At that base we hold religious services in a tent, which fortunately is air-conditioned. It can get pretty cold in the winter, and beastly hot in the summer!

I brought along an icon my good friend, CPT T, had brought me back from his trip to Italy during his leave. I love icons. This one depicts the crucifixion as being the tree of life, and as is true of Western iconography from that time period, tells the story of redemption through the many smaller images contained within the larger picture.

Both in the Western and Eastern Churches (again, I'm not talking about L.A. and N.Y. here), the Good Friday liturgy is not a full Mass. It's technically called "the liturgy of the Presanctified" because of this. In the lower photograph on the right, I'm shown getting ready to distribute Holy Communion from hosts consecrated the night before at the Liturgy of the Lord's Supper on Maundy Thursday.

One can also see the vents from the air conditioning system, which last Friday were turning the space into an igloo....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Holy Week redux

Tonight my Orthodox friends are observing "Great and Holy Thursday" as part of their preparation for Easter this coming Sunday. Their liturgies tend to be much more elaborate and mystical (and longer) than ours, but the general themes are the same.

I want Sylvia and Manny and their three children to know that I am praying in a special way for them. Without some cDNA I obtained from Sylvia's lab 17 years ago, I'd not have been able to do my doctoral research.

How wonderful to see Athena graduate from Stanford just before I mobilized to come Down Range! She was only 5 years old when I first met her; now she is a gorgeous young woman.

As we did last week, the Orthodox will perform the washing of the feet ritual which is unique to the Mass on Holy Thursday. Chances are, there will be few places in the US where as many combat-booted feet were washed as we did, though!

While the Archbishop for the Military Services was presiding at a Maundy Thursday liturgy on another Camp, replete with choir and instruments and a cast of thousands (well, a score, anyway), my little congregation had only the benefit of a very talented guitarist and vocalist. This meant that when I was washing his feet, we didn't have any music!

I found the ritual to be especially meaningful this year, perhaps because of the central focus of service to others which is the hallmark of the liturgy. I've always loved the egalitarianism of worship -- everybody in the congregation stands (or sits or kneels or snoozes) as equals before one another and before God. As I moved down the row of congregants washing their feet, I knelt before very junior Enlisted and rather senior Officer Soldiers, before women and men, military and civilian, native-born and naturalized US citizens, as well as third-country nationals.

It was awesome. But don't try to tell that to my arthritic knees!

Susan R (from California) and my parents sent oodles of spectacularly lovely silk flowers with which we adorned the altar, in commemoration of the celebration of the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper. Thanks, Susan! Thanks, Mom and Dad!

I thought they looked splendid here in a war zone, far from home and loved ones.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Post toasted

In case you've noticed that my posts don't wind up on the blog on a daily basis, it's not for lack of trying. (Of course, they are Legion who say that *I* am trying...)

Four times now over the past four days I've gone to try to upload content to my blog, and I've been unable to get online. As I'm still not able to access my blog when I'm on a government computer, this has severely limited my ability to post what I've written.

I keep trying to remember to breathe, but the thought of filing an I.G. (Inspector General) complaint against the management of the internet service here continues to dance around in my otherwise empty skull.

Since it's beginning to warm up here now, though, I figure it's probably better for me not to get too hot under the collar about this, seeing as I get pretty hot under the body armor already, and there's still quite some time before I leave here.

But more on that, later!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Spring flora

As SFC McG and I were running around the battlespace celebrating Holy Week and Easter, here are some of the flowers I noticed.

Most of them are very small, which is probably not a surprise in a climate that can get to be very inhospitable, to say the least. Had I not specifically been looking for them, I'd have missed many of them, because they are so small, in fact.

However, the weather was gorgeous -- not unlike a balmy spring day in California -- and we had arrived in plenty of time to do Mass, and then eat dinner, before flying back "home" for the evening.




So I went prowling around the base (near what used to be called the "Triangle of Death" as it turns out) looking for signs of new life, seeing as it's Passover and Easter time. (My Orthodox friends will be observing Holy Week this week, so let's keep them in mind.)

To give an idea of the small scale of the small scale of these organisms, one can see part of my finger in the photograph of the yellow flowers (members of the Cruciferae [mustard] family).

All the rest of the flowers pictured here are about the same size.



The white ones at the top are a Eucalypt of some sort, and a member of the lily family (left, and right, respectively). Following the mustard are two wild geraniums (right, then left). Finally, on the right is a member of the carrot family (Queen Ann's lace).

If you use your mouse to click on any of the photographs, you'll be able to see a larger, more detailed image.

Glory be to God for the beauties of creation....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Celebrations

If you happen to see my Dad, Tom, tomorrow, please wish him a Happy Birthday.

If you run into my brother-in-law, Steve, please wish him a Happy Birthday, too.

And if you stop by the optometry emporium owned by my sister Ann and brother-in-law Glenn, please congratulate them on 25 years of being married tomorrow. (I'm sure they'll be working. What's up with *that*?)

How's that for family planning?

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Easter Buggy

So here I am Down Range, attempting to celebrate the great feast of the Resurrection, and I find myself surrounded by bugs. Mostly they wind up being in the latrines or shower trailers, but there are plenty of these critters elsewhere, too.

It's especially disconcerting to have clouds of mosquitoes to contend with while attempting to shower, though as I was inspecting them this morning, I realized that some of them are green and orange. The colorful ones tend to be fairly small (so far, anyway). The rather drab, ordinary-looking ones can be found in many different sizes.

They all seem to like me, much to my annoyance.




The ladybugs outside in the trees and other flora are more colorful, and somewhat less intimidating. I think there might be some larval forms near the adult in this photograph, too. (You can click on any of the photographs to see a larger version of it, should you be interested in so doing....)

Don't you just love biology?

Easter bugs!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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