Faith in the Military: Another Friend For Life

In 1979, I was assigned to the Wiesbaden Military Community Headquarters.  For the first few months of the year I shared a room with Air Force Sgt. Cliff Almes.  His discharge date was May 2, 1979, my 26th birthday.  He did not go home like everyone else.  On that day I drove Cliff from Wiesbaden to Darmstadt in my 1969 Renault TS with a 4-speed shifter on the column. 

Also on that day, Cliff began 10 months in the novitiate of the Franciscan Brotherhood at the Land of Kanaan in Darmstadt.  He later became Bruder Timotheus. He is still there. He is also an American so he fixes things at the monastery and for the last 15 years has been the network administrator for Kanaan Ministries. 

Every week from May until I left for America in November, I visited Cliff in Darmstadt.  I worked for the base newspaper at that point.  It was printed in Darmstadt so I volunteered to go to the printer each week.  I would have lunch at Land of Kanaan and eat with the novices.  Kanaan was created in the rubble of Darmstadt after World War 2 by two women who ministered to bombing victims during the war.  

Seeing these young men from all over the world training for a life of poverty, chastity and obedience opened another world to me beyond America.

Bruder Timotheus is another friend who I have kept in touch with and occasionally visited since our time together in Wiesbaden.  It is one of the stranger aspects of modern life that Abel and Cliff, two men I consider the best friends I have, are a continent and an ocean away in Germany and San Diego.  But the modern life that allows us to be so far apart also lets us keep in touch no matter where we are.  Going to Iraq in 2009 was no interruption in our monthly phone calls.  

I visited Cliff in Germany twice in the past 15 years.  I hope to do it again someday.  

Faith in the Military: Never So Ignorant

All the reading I was doing and all the sermons I was listening to was making me feel pretty smart for a guy who never went to college.  Then the chaplain said, "You like C.S. Lewis' writing, why not read his autobiography?"

He loaned me a copy.  Next week I gave it back.  I stopped at page 13.  I did not even try to re-read the book until my senior year in college.  That book, more than any other book I had read (or tired to read) before or since let me know just how ignorant I was of history and culture I am a part of.

In Surprised by Joy Lewis writes about the shape of his early life up to the point of his conversion.  To tell this story he uses books and authors as short hand.  He explains none of the books and authors he mentions.  Why would he?  If you read the autobiography of an author who is the leading Medieval and Renaissance scholar of his generation, who would not expect books and authors to be the touchstones of his entire life?

Fifteen years later I created an index of the book for the New York CS Lewis Society.  In the 246 pages of text are 250 books and authors from Aristotle to Wordsworth, from Aeneid to the Well at the World's End.

In 1977, college was in my future, but my will to go was set.  So much of what I was trying to understand would be more understandable when I understood the culture I lived in.  When I understood and knew the great works of literature and of philosophy that were the context in which the Church grew.

The other thing that was becoming clear with my reading was that the founders of America, and every man or woman of learning from antiquity to now was multi-lingual.  One of the biggest gaps in my understanding of the Bible was not really getting the idea of how immensely far the modern English Bible is from Jesus speaking Aramaic and Hebrew in Roman-occupied Israel.  For thousands of years, serious Bible students learned Biblical languages.

So I signed up for a course in Biblical Greek from Fort Wayne Bible College.  My last year n Germany, I completed two semesters of Greek.  It was fun, but I was alone learning Greek until a German Jehovah's witness came to my door.  We talked for a while and I found out he was also learning Greek.  For the last few months I was in Germany, he was a regular visitor.  When he came over, we parsed Greek verbs and talked about the difficulties of translating Greek in to modern languages.  Just before I left he invited me to his wedding.  I had to leave Germany before the ceremony, but I was delighted he asked.

Faith in the Military: Friends for Life

In the middle of the picture above is Sgt. Abel Lopez.  This shot was taken in the Bravo Company, 70th Armor, motor pool in 1977.  We wore gas masks two hours at a random time every week. While we were masked we continued normal activity.  On this rainy day in Germany, normal activity included a Can-Can Dance.

And they are good.  I believe it is Gene Pierce on the left and Donnie Spears on the right of Abel, but I am not sure.

I listened to dozens of sermons and read books the base chaplain suggested.  Abel and I talked about everything we both were learning.  We were both trying to figure out what it meant to be a believer and what we should do to follow the Lord.  

C.S. Lewis said in his book The Four Loves that friends separated by time and distance will, when reunited pick up the conversation where they left it.  All through 1977 in the motor pool or in the field, when we had down time, Abel and I would start talking about prophecy, worship, versions of the Bible, books about the Bible, a sermon one or both of us heard, or a thousand other topics.  

In 1978, when I got assigned to Brigade HQ, the conversation had more interruptions, but it kept going.  In 1979, Abel finished his tour and went home.  Ever since we have talked about once a month, though sometimes circumstances keep us from talking for a few months at a time.  Thirty-five years later, we are discussing what we each read, where we go to Church, who we fellowship with, and should a Christian be involved in politics.  Less than a week ago, prophecy came up again when Abel and I talked.

One of the things that led me to re-enlist in 2007 was the hope of finding really serious believers to talk with.  I never met civilians who talk about faith the same way soldiers do.  

This series is clearly going past Holy Week.  I want to get to Iraq and I have not yet said how Jerry Falwell made me a Democrat.  I will get to that later this week.

Faith in the Military: Looking for the True Church in a Tank in Germany

The picture above is the commander's machine gun mount in an M60A1 tank.  Once I stopped looking for all the signs of the Tribulation, I started trying to figure out which Church I should belong to.  

When I went to a Baptist Church, they taught me the elect were only those who were saved by Jesus, but they strongly suggested that unless you knew how to ask correctly, you were not among the true elect.  When I joined a Charismatic fellowship, they said the same thing in a different way.  If you did not have the "Full Gospel" then you probably were not among the elect.  They were nicer, but also pretty much believed the Narrow Way to Heaven was through them.

I was uncomfortable thinking how many billions of people were going to Hell and I also thought some people who were sure they were going to Heaven were overconfident.  C.S. Lewis turned my thinking around with Mere Christianity.  Lewis said the elect were in every Church.  Those in every Church who were looking for the Lord and striving to do what He wanted were in every Church.  So the "True Church" was wherever believers gathered.  The false Church was right there in the same place because there were always going to be people in the Church for reasons having nothing to do with loving God and enjoying Him forever.

That was so liberating.  So the Church on the human level was just like every other organization including the Army.  In the Army we all knew who was a real soldier, who was a real tanker, and we very much knew who was not.  Every sports team is the same.  The real players and the posers are obvious to everyone.  

At this time I got a cassette player and headphones.  I started listening to sermons.  In particular, I listened to dozens of sermons by the evangelist James Robison and teaching tapes by Robert Mumford.  These two guys disagreed on a lot, but both gave me a lot of insight into the Church.  Robison was a stirring preacher, filling stadiums.  Listening to him, I got the fundamentalist culture in an entertaining way.  Mumford focused on the Holy Spirit in history and gave me a sweeping view of how the Church could begin in unity on Pentecost and become the crazy quilt of beliefs it is today.

At the end of 1977, my future career became clear.  

Faith in the Military: In Heidelberg Faith Goes to My Head

In 1977 I climbed into an Army tour bus for a free trip to Heidelberg, West Germany, to see the annual fireworks.

But I missed half of the event.  From the time we arrived, I sat on the bus reading Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis.  The base chaplain gave me a copy just saying he thought I would like it.  I was entranced.  I started reading the book on the bus and couldn't stop.  I stayed on the bus and kept reading while the other soldiers wandered around Heidelberg waiting for nightfall.

Reading this book I came to understand that learning and Christianity were not mutually exclusive.  I entered Christianity through the anti-intellectual door of the Baptist Church and started to wonder if being stupid was the best path to faith.  Taking the Bible literally makes many people suspicious of all learning:  science, philosophy, economics, literature, history.  And here was Lewis bringing every branch of learning together in service of the faith.

By the end of the Heidelberg trip, I was thinking of leaving the Army to go to college full time.

Faith in the Military: Pumped About Prophecy on the East-West German Border

The year of America's bicentennial, I was a proud member of Brigade '76, a combat brigade sent to reinforce the East-West border at Fulda, West Germany:  right where the experts thought World War 3 would begin.  We flew to Germany from Fort Carson, Colorado, at the beginning of October.  Within two days we were in our tanks and on the border rolling past Soviet tanks on the other side of the fence.

While we drove past the fence, the Soviet tanks tracked us with their main guns.  We were not allowed to be provocative, so our guns were pointed away from the border.  Our mission was to hold the advancing 250,000 soldiers for 10 minutes to give tactical aircraft time to fly to our position and destroy the advancing enemy.  At one of the briefings when this was explained to us, a young soldier asked the Colonel on stage, "What do we do next?"  

The answer, "Nothin' son.  You'll be dead."

One the plane over to Germany I read Hal Lindsey's book "The Late Great Planet Earth."  I became one of those prophecy nuts.  I and many other believers in our unit were convinced World War 3 would happen before our three-year tour in Germany ended.  And in any case, the world was going to end by 1988.  In the field and in the barracks, many of us had long discussions about the significance of every sort of symbol in the books of Daniel and Revelation.  

It was very exciting to have this kind of inside knowledge about world events.  At that time, as now, the people who took Revelation literally also took Genesis literally.  If you thought the world was ending in 1988, you also thought it was created at about 4,000 B.C.

And it was this fact that eventually got me out of the swirling world of prophecy and back into fellowship with believers who were trying to live in faith in the present, not fixate on the future.  Over that first year in Germany, I came to see that those who took the ends of the Bible literally were not naive literalists, but very sophisticated in their literalism.  The same people preachers who push literal interpretations of Genesis and Revelation have very sophisticated reasons ready to hand about why the difficult teachings of Jesus need not be taken literally.  The same person who insists he takes the Bible literally will dodge in a nuanced way the story of the rich, young ruler in the Gospel of Luke, Ch. 18.

"That is for a specific person in a specific time," is the standard answer.  Really?  If literal is your claim, wouldn't it be better to do as Jesus says and risk suffering?  By diving in the deep end of the literal reading pool, I got to see just how incredibly selective literal reading was.  I never found anyone who would or could take the Bible completely literally.  And the rule turned out to be, the less the literal reading interfered with your life, the more literal you were likely to read that passage.    

The following year at annual tank gunnery, I read the Bible through in two weeks waiting for fog to clear on the tank gunnery range at Grafenwohr, West Germany.  This time I read the Living Bible.  The vast difference between the King James Bible and the Living Bible led me to ask about the original.  Where did the Bible come from.  I knew that the Old Testament was written in Hebrew and the New Testament was written in Greek.  But I did not know that the all of the New Testament except Luke and Acts were written by men who spoke Aramaic.  They spoke and wrote Greek as a second language.  

So the people who were so crazed about taking the Bible literally, were trying to be literal with words that were spoken in Aramaic and written in Greek by Aramaic speakers, then translated into English 1600 years later.  

It was at this point that Abel Lopez and I started talking Scripture rather than prophecy.  Abel was the commander of the tank next to mine.  We switched from literalism to the splits within the Church.  On post was both a Charismatic fellowship and a Bible Baptist fellowship.  The Baptists were sure the Charismatics were going to Hell.  The Charismatics just thought the Baptists were wrong.  Both sides wanted Abel and I to take sides.

We learned a lot over the next two years.

Faith in the Military: I Switched to the Army, and Believed in my Tank

By re-enlisting in the Army, I was running away from God, or at least running away from the people who said they knew Jesus loved them.

I volunteered for Armor and became the platoon guide (student leader) at Fort Knox, Kentucky.  From the first day at Fort Knox, I liked the Army so much better than the Air

Force.  I was finally in the military.  We marched, we ran the obstacle course, and we had classes in tanks in the sun in July and August. 

Since I came to faith in America, not in a Muslim or Communist country, I did not know that suffering is one of the definite promises of Scripture. The Lord and the Apostles said suffering is a mark of faith.  And their example is one of intense suffering. 

It would be another year before I would find out there was a “health and wealth Gospel” and a few more years before I understood this was a perverse twist on real faith.  But the Army and leadership in the Army were teaching me the lessons I missed by not playing sports in high school. 

I never stopped believing during the year that followed, but I stopped learning about the faith.  I started learning about tanks.  The first year I believed, in 1974, I read through the King James Bible.  My first year as a tank commander I read through entire operators manual for the M60A1 main battle tank.  As far as I know, I was the only tank commander in the battalion who read the entire 800-page manual.  It worked out well for me.  At annual gunnery my first year as a tank commander we fired in the top 10% of the battalion.  It’s like shooting Expert with a rifle or a pistol.

In September of 1976, then entire 4^th Brigade, 4^th Infantry Division relocated from Fort Carson, Colorado, to Wiesbaden, West Germany.  In Germany, my tank became my job and my faith became vivid again.

Faith in the Military: Which Church to Attend?

First I was blind.  Then I believed.  Then I got my sight back.  I should have quit smoking right at that moment.  It was soooooo hard to light cigarettes when the slightest flash was blinding.  I had to flick the lighter and look out of the corner of my eye to get the cigarettes lit.

As my sight and use of my fingers returned, I had to get to the practical matter of going to Church.  I knew enough about faith from Collin that Christianity was not a solitary faith.  I had to commit to a Church, or at least start attending one.  The base chapel was not an option.  Then as now, whatever the military blesses as faith is what the old soldiers believe.  In the 1970s, the military chapel system was run mostly by priests and pastors from Catholic and Mainline Protestant denominations.

In a later post, I will talk about today's chapel system, but for now, I was not going to the base chapel.

Since I was in Utah, the biggest Church was the Mormon Church.  I went to a Baptist Church just off post.  It was founded by non-Mormons who worked at Hill Air Force Base.  In fact, the pastor of this Church believed his main mission beyond leading the Church was to convert Mormons to Christianity.

This may seem strange, but before 1980, most Churches, especially those that were theologically conservative, had a statement of faith that was central to their mission and membership.  Christians actually believed doctrine was a matter of life and death, at least spiritually.  After I read the Bible (King James, of course) the next book the pastor gave me was Walter Martin's The Kingdom of the Cults.

This book was an encyclopedia of the beliefs of religions other than conservative protestantism and was clear that most of these religions were heretical.  Mormonism, Jehovah's Witnesses, the Bahai Faith, anything that used the name of Jesus, but departed from orthodox Christianity was a pathway to Hell.  Liberal Protestantism was also condemned as was Catholicism.  With this view of the world, more than 99% of the planet was a mission field.  Because pretty much everyone in the world was wrong.

Wow!!!  Being a Baptist was like walking down a slightly cone-shaped cave.  With every step the cave gets smaller.  By the time I finished The Kingdom of the Cults the number of believers in the world was huge, but the number of believers who knew the truth was tiny.  I, of course, was in the elect.  I was in a Baptist Church.

I could have settled in for a comfortable life of knowing I was one of the elect and most everyone else was not.  But then the cave got too narrow.  The pastor said Collin and all of his kind, Pentacostals and Charismatic believers were wrong too.  At that point, I did not know a lot, but if Collin my old roommate was not a Christian nobody was.

At that point I got out of the Air Force and my luminous faith went rather dim.

So I re-enlisted in the Army.

Faith in the Military: Having a Blast, Finding God

November 9, 1973, just after 9 a.m., I was connecting wires to detonators at a U.S. Air Force missile test site in Utah.  Someone turned on the power, and my world turned bright blue and white.  Several minutes later I was strapped in an all-terrain ambulance headed for the first of six eye operations that would eventually restore my sight.  Along with the eye operations, I had surgery to reattach two fingers on my right hand and to remove wires, screws and various pieces of metal from my face, arms and chest.

         
It was Friday.  I had planned to ride my motorcycle up into the mountains for the weekend.  My plans changed. On November 9, 1973, I woke up an agnostic.  

Before the day ended, I believed in God and a few months later, I went the whole way to become a Christian.  I would have preferred a smoother path to faith, but at 20 years old, I test-fired missiles for a day job and rode a motorcycle in mountains of Utah for recreation.  I was not inclined to listen to a still, small voice—blindness was the right size megaphone for God to announce His existence to me.

It would be a week before I could see again with one eye.  A month before both eyes could see again.

Faith in the Military: Belief Begins with Missiles

With Holy Week beginning in a couple of days, I decided to write about faith in the military.

In general, the military makes more clear the muddy world of faith most people live with in America.

I joined the Air Force in 1972 an agnostic, not because I had any informed idea of faith, but because I did not know or care if I believed in anything.  Neither of my parents practiced religion in any form.  My Dad was Jewish.  My Mom was Protestant.

Early in our childhoods, somewhere around three years old, both my sister and I got about a month of religion.  My sister went to Church.  I went to Temple.  Then we dropped out.  My main religious instruction was the puppet show "Davey and Goliath" which aired on Sunday morning.  I watched that show pretty much every Sunday morning while my parents slept in when I was four and five years old.

Although I knew a lot of kids who went to Catholic School growing up, I never met an overtly religious person.  In the fifth grade, I got beaten up by Catholic boys who said I killed Christ.  I did not know the story of the Crucifixion at the time, but the Gospels seem pretty clear that Roman Soldiers nailed The Lord to the Cross, not a skinny, 11-year-old Jewish kid.

On my 12th birthday, my Dad started talking about getting me a Bar Mitzvah.  The rabbi in the local synagogue would not allow boys to read a phonetic Torah, so I learned enough Hebrew to recite my Torah passage reading from the Hebrew.

Then religion was over for another seven years.

I enlisted at 18.  After Basic Training and an eight-month technical school, I went to my first permanent duty station at Hill Air Force Base, Utah.  My roommate, Collin, was a 20-year-old who did not drink, smoke or smoke dope and professed no interest in sex before marriage.  He read the Bible every day, prayed on his knees and was really a great roommate--clean, quiet and gone a lot.

Not only was Collin religious, he was Pentacostal.  One Wednesday evening I went to his Church.  Wow!  For a barely believing, barely Jewish Bostonian, Pentacostalism was a circus.  I wanted no part of Collin's faith, but I continued to admire him as a person.  He took a lot of shit from everyone else in the barracks.  But I did not want to be him.  Faith was for old people.

Then November 9, 1973, I rode my 750 Honda to the missile test range at Hill Air Force for work.  We were live-fire testing interstage detonators for the Minuteman Missile that day.  At 9:30 a.m. I started my journey of faith in the blast room where we connected the detonators to our test equipment.

Faith in the Army, Part 3: Bigger World, Smaller Christian World

"To define is to limit," said Oscar Wilde.  In this self-examination of faith I started a few days ago I realized that another vast difference between Sgt. Gussman the new believer in 1974 and Sgt. Gussman in 2007 when I re-enlisted is three college degrees and much personal experience of many facets of the Church in this world.

In one of his best books on the faith, C.S. Lewis wrote about the "Mere Christianity" we all share if we are Christian believers.  Thirty-five years of reading and re-reading C.S. Lewis' 39 books and many hundreds more have left me much more aware, sad to say, of everything that is not mere Christianity.  The stuff we don't share looms large in my mind.

As a new believer, I wondered about different denominations of the Protestant Church, different faiths, different versions of the Bible, different ways of communicating the faith, and spiritual disciplines.  I tried lots of them.  I listened to James Robinson preach in stadiums in Texas and Oklahoma on cassette tapes.  I listened Bob Mumford and Derek Prince teach about the ministry of the Holy Spirit.  I read Sword of Lord newspaper out of Murfreesboro, Tennessee.  I went to the Gospel Service in the base chapel where the training NCO in our Armor Battalion was the lay preacher.

I fasted for up to three days.  I prayed.  I meditated.  I tried everything.  

Then I left active duty, went to college, and started to learn about literature, science, languages, the whole vast world of the mind that I had very little inkling of in high school.  

I learned Greek, I read the Russian greats: Gogol, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and Chekov.  I fell in love with Dante's Divine Comedy.  Politics went from opaque to entertaining after I read Machiavelli.  

I learned relatively little science.  I wanted to be a writer and took mostly literature courses.  But I learned what may be the most important word when science and religion are discussed together: Contingency.  Science was not sent down Mount Sinai on stone tablets.  Science changes.  Often.

In fact, the best path to fame in science is to take on the biggest theory in science and change, improve, modify, or overturn it.  Einstein corrected Newton.  Someday someone may do the same to Einstein.  In any case, the current theories of science are the best description of reality in their respective fields:  Evolution, Quantum Electrodynamics, Universal Gravitation and others are the best description of reality that millions of working scientists can come up with.

All this exciting new knowledge had the effect of limiting my Christian world.  I knew Christian Television was a non-sequitor even before Neil Postman explained why in "Amusing Ourselves to Death."  Because I knew and loved the ministry of Kanaan in Germany where Cliff lived, the Prosperity Gospel looked both ridiculous and heretical.  

End Times obsession combined with Creation Science in my mind as the playground where you can take the Bible literally at no personal cost.  Taking the words of Jesus literally could lead to giving away all your money to the poor, preaching without pay, going on a mission trip with nothing but a bowl and a staff and other things no literalist takes literally.

So there I am, trimming away fellowship with vast swaths of the Church in this world.  In my current Church, my family is one of the three token Democrat families among 300 Conservatives. So even where I belong, I don't completely.  

And there is more.

Faith in the Army, Part 2

I got several responses on Facebook about this post, and two in person.  Two sergeants in my class seemed worried about me this morning after they read yesterday's post.

After reading the responses on Facebook and talking to Brian and Lealan (not a misspelling) I was thinking about something else vastly different abut my current experience of the military.  In the 70s when I was on active duty, I shared long stretches of time with the men who became my best friends.

For several months, I was Cliff's roommate.  For almost three years, Abel and I were in the same tank platoon.  For a while we commanded tanks next to each other in the motor pool and in road march order.

Shared time, better yet, shared hardship, is the best soil for friendships to grow in.  The time is the soil, the hardship is the fertilizer.  So Abel and I had time for endless conversations about faith, the Bible, the second coming, whether Pentacostal believers were crazy or more faithful than us, and a thousand other topics only discussed by people with lots of time and curiosity.

Soldiers don't really have much time together in the National Guard.  One weekend a month and two weeks in the summer is usually jammed with training.  In 1977, our battalion went to Grafenwohr, Germany for annual gunnery.  Fog blanketed the base for two weeks.  During those two weeks we sat in our tanks and waited for the fog to clear for days on end.  That was the first time I read the entire Bible cover to cover.

Even in Iraq, it was clear from day one that we had missions, requirements, and would be working a lot.  My roommate and I worked in different places, on different shifts and had very few interests in common.  Being roommates with Cliff was different than any roomie I have ever had in the military.

Cliff was getting ready to get discharged.  After he went home for a few months, he planned to come back to Germany and be a Franciscan Brother at a monastery in Darmstadt, Germany.  To this day he is Bruder Timotheus.  I had the chance to visit him many times during the last few months I was in Germany while he was a Novice at the monastery.

Anyway, I really like some of my current classmates, but as Brian has pointed out several times, I go off and do my own thing when people are eating together during the week and have gone home on the weekends so I seldom go on the class trips around the Baltimore-Washington area.

But the point of yesterday's post was the folly of looking for faith in the Army.  I met faithful men in the military, but the military was not the source of their faith.  Since returning to the Army, I have met some of the best people I know.  But they came to the Army with virtue they got from parents, family, their own faith and the grace of God.

The Franciscan monastic community where Cliff lives requires a vow of poverty, chastity and obedience.  Although many of my fellow soldiers believe themselves to be poor, and we are more obedient than most Americans, no one I know is taking the middle vow.

Faith in the Army?

The pictures would seem to clear up my ambiguous headline:  is this post about being a person of faith who is in the military, or about having faith in the Army as an institution.

The answer is yes to both.  And then again, no.

Some recent comments by several friends indicate that I am complaining more about my current stint of active duty than about Iraq, Fort Sill, and every I have served since I re-enlisted.

Long-time readers of this blog will also remember that my intent in re-enlisting was to serve, to face the hardships of an old man in a young man's game, and that I would strengthen my faith.

If you are laughing at the idea of joining the Army to become a stronger man of faith, you should be.  But the error was an honest one on my part.  Joining the military more than 40years ago was the path I took from vague agnosticism to faith.  

All through my first years in the military, I made many friends who were serious believers.  They were mostly young men, though some were older (not as old as I am, of course!), and were ready to do things like fast, pray, and read the Bible cover to cover.

I have met many believers since leaving the Army, but the two men I call my best friends are men of faith from my three-year tour in Germany in the 1970s.  The only person I know who is as strong as Abel and Cliff spiritually is my wife Annalisa.  

So I thought that re-enlisting would allow me to serve and possibly to meet men like Cliff and Abel.

But from the first, the experiment went wrong.  It turns out, re-enlisting was not the hardship I expected.  I am in much better physical shape than I was when I was a 20-year-old smoker.  And the soldiers I serve with are generally in worse shape than the men in my tank unit 35 years ago.  

So within a few months, far from suffering, I was one of the top people in my unit in physical training.  Fitness is status in the Army, especially for old guys.  Far from the Army being a place where I would be the old guy who could barely keep up and thereby gain in humility, I was pacing runs that 20-year-olds were dropping out of.

Not that I was actually anywhere near the best in fitness.  The young men and women who were in shape were in WAY better shape than me.  But the average soldier was fat, lazy and pale from playing video games.

A few months after I joined, our unit got a mobilization order for Iraq.  So I was going to Iraq at 55!!  Not a big occasion for humility there.  C.S. Lewis correctly says pride is the first and central sin and humility is the route to real spirituality.   

Every step further into the Army became a step away from the kind of faith I was supposed to be seeking.  

During the deployment and after, I grew and grew in confidence in myself.  After returning from Iraq, I began running half marathons.  After nine of them, I ran a marathon.  I limped home in just under six hours, but I made it.  So now I am training for an Ironman.  I am much better with weapons than I was the first time around, both the rifle and the SAW machine gun.

I fasted one day every week for two months before calling the recruiter in 2007.  I haven't fasted about a single decision since.  

At this 90-day school, I have finally reached something like the kind of difficulty I thought I would face when I first joined.  Getting up at 4 am is far more difficult for me than staying up till 3 am.  The whole school experience is really difficult because i am perpetually tired.  

This is suffering for real.  I should be embracing it.  

I am bitching.  

In three weeks when this school is over, I will be celebrating.  Not just because this school is over, but because I now know that the Army is really not the place to be more spiritual.  Taking care of widows and orphans is the most often-repeated path to pleasing God in the Bible.  Next month should end my last stint of active duty.  

After all this time, I can finally see that ending this Army experiment is for the best.

Army Morality

In other posts I have said how strange, sad, and funny by turns our "morality" lectures were, especially during training for deployment.

No one was ever talking about a real moral code of any recognizable religion. The Army is the government and since our government separates Church and State, it would be wrong to impose any single religious view on the Army. So the Army makes it up.

Like every bad youth organization, whether religious or secular, the Army tries to use the sins of the spirit to keep us from the sins of the flesh. It uses cold-blooded sins to keep us from warm-blooded sins. In case you have not reviewed the Seven Deadly Sins lately, they are (from least to worst):
Lust
Gluttony
Greed
Sloth
Anger
Envy
Pride

Some lists switch lust and gluttony as the least, but all ancient lists are clear that the disreputable sins are the least and the arrogant sins are the worst. Sloth sits in the middle because it can be both physical laziness and spiritual laziness. So the sins of the flesh: lust, gluttony, greed and laziness are different from despair (spiritual laziness), anger, envy, and pride.

The sins of the flesh are those committed by those pictured on the pages of People magazine--too much sex, food, and money. The sins of the spirit are those committed by the readers of People magazine: hating, envying, and finally looking down on those who are pictured in People magazine.

Anyway, the Army tells us not to drink, have sex, and take drugs. First we are threatened in various ways, but then the poor guy who is giving the lecture appeals to our self-respect and says we are (or should be) better people than that.

But the Army does it with a lighter touch than a bad youth leader. Because nearly all of our morality lectures ended with something like a plea not to get caught. If you have sex, drink or whatever don't get caught.

Any real morality comes from the inside and shows its results on the outside. The only thing the Army can do is impose moral standards from the outside and hope for some appearance of obedience.

This is very funny on the subject of pornography. The Army bans pornography and makes a big deal of telling us how we can get busted, fined, lose rank, go to jail, etc. for possessing porn, especially on deployment. But the lectures on not having sex often end by saying something like, "Keep your porn to yourself, don't get caught, and wait till you get home for the real thing. In the meantime give yourself a hand."

An Old Friend's View of an Old Soldier

On the way home from New York City Thursday night, I called Abel Lopez, one of my two best friends from when I was on active duty in the 1970s. If I haven't mentioned him before, Abel left active duty in 1978, a year before I did. He was the commander of the tank next to mine in Bravo Company 1-70th Armor in Wiesbaden. We talked a lot about faith and about life, the universe and everything when we served together and have kept the conversation up for past 32 years. 

Abel and I seldom see each other, but talk every month or two about our current views of the same things we talked about back in Germany. He went home to Chula Vista in San Diego County and became a Federal Fire Fighter. He recently retired from the fire department. I talked to Abel on the 100-mile drive from Trenton to Lancaster, from just over the Pennsylvania line to my driveway. If you think it is wrong to talk on a cell phone while driving you should stop reading now. 

Anyway, the first thing Abel asked when I got on the phone is what I think the summary of my year in Iraq is. "I don't know," I said. We talked for a long time. He, like my friend Meredith Gould, think I went a very long way to prove L. Frank Baum (Author of the Oz books) was right, "There's No Place Like Home." One of my goals in going to Iraq was to become less tied to the life of luxury I was leading. 

That didn't work. My previous posts on the things I have done, bought, etc. since my return to America make it pretty clear that self denial is not one of my strengths. Abel thought that if I write a book about this year, it ought to be for all the people he sees in California who get to be our age and think they can reinvent themselves. They need to figure out how to do the best they can with who they are. And given the considerable lengths I went to in finding out how much I liked my life, I could make fun of my self in a big way writing that book. It also fits with my sister's advice to write one of the currently popular "One Year" books. 

I do know now that joining the Army and serving in Iraq is a great way to clarify what you really want from life--at least it was for me. It also made very clear that goodness has so many forms that one life and one place can never support it all. It is yet another thing that draws me to life beyond this life. I love the beautiful, civilized, literate world I returned to. 

Today I went to the Evolution Table at F&M and enjoyed the conversation of 22 professors and local professionals about current developments in Life Science. Tuesday I return to work with co-workers who have an average of 2.2 college degrees. But I already miss the courage and laser focus I met every day among the men and women I served with in Iraq. I clicked my heels three times, I traveled a long way, but I can't figure out which end of the trip is Oz.

Screwtape Loves Creation Science

Screwtape: The Devil as a mid-level bureaucrat.

We are currently reading Screwtape in the CSL group here in Iraq. I wrote this a few days ago. It's how Screwtape would look at Creation Science. 

If you haven't read The Screwtape Letters, this won't make much sense--and if you had to choose, it would be better to read a the real Screwtape Letters than my imitation. 

My Dear Wormwood, 

Very true, I did tell you in my very first letter to keep your patient away from science, but I meant real science based on math in which theories are the best current description of observed reality. And the theories are not absolute: the latest discovery can make last year's greatest theory obsolete.

Of course you should let your patient immerse himself in Creation Science. That ridiculous pairing of words is one of the many recent triumphs of our Infernal Marketing Division. 

Real science is wretched for us. The Enemy has made the material universe so complex that the deeper the humans penetrate reality the more surprised they are at what they find. And He made it so vast that in time and space that no one can fully comprehend it. 

We know he did this for the sophomoric reason that he wants the human vermin to be free to choose to Love Him, or not. The universe is so complex from the micro scale to the galactic, that no amount of mere facts can convince anyone of the Enemy's existence. All this disgusting beauty is more of what He calls Love. 

Creation Science does away with all that. It says Einstein was wrong, Darwin was wrong, Mendel was wrong, Watson and Crick were wrong, and an Australian biology teacher who built a museum with saddles on dinosaurs is RIGHT! 

All the messy reality of life, the universe, and everything is tied up with a bow in Creation Science. All of modern science that does not conform to their particular literal view is wrong. Wormwood, it is wonderful. I could show you cages full of proud fools who watched a four-hour Deep Science video series and from that day were able to look down on the millions of people who have held science PhD degrees in the last hundred years. 

Pride, Wormwood. It is the best path to Our Father's House and who could be more sneeringly proud than a man who cannot solve the equation that describes a falling rock yet believes he knows physics at a deeper level than Einstein. If we spirits had lips I would kiss the man who dreamed this heresy up. 

Your Affectionate Uncle, Screwtape

A Report for the New York CS Lewis Society

The following is a report I just wrote for the New York CS Lewis Society. I have been a member since 1980 and, as far as I know, the only member in Iraq.


One of my big goals when I knew I was getting deployed to Iraq was to start a CS Lewis book group and, if possible a Dante group. We arrived here in early May 2009 after two weeks in Kuwait and two months at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. I thought about starting the groups right away, but I went on leave five weeks after I arrived, so the book groups started in late July. The CSL group, Beyond Narnia, met on Monday nights at 8pm. Our first book was The Weight of Glory. The Dead Poets Society started meeting on Tuesday nights at 8pm reading Inferno--it would be hard to find a more appropriate book. We read five cantos a week for six weeks. During each of those six weeks, the mid-day tempo topped 130 degrees.

The first night of the Beyond Narnia Group, I talked about CSL's life and works. Then we read "Why I am Not a Pacifist." I thought it would be good to start with an essay that describes CSL's clear-eyed view of pacifism and his service. On the following night, the Dante group had a long discussion of the Seven Deadly Sins and their order in Hell. From the first week the two groups had a surprising (to me) difference in
participation that has carried on right to the end (as I write there will be just two more weekly meetings before I go to Kuwait and back to America).

The Beyond Narnia Group was older, almost all officers, and was very steady in attendance except when on missions. The Dead Poets Society was almost all enlisted soldiers and airmen under 30. When I say old I mean 40s. At 56, I am beyond Methuselah in Army years. I was surprised because I had the idea that the Narnia movies (which I have not seen) would inspire someone to read more of Lewis. The Captains and Colonels in my group all had wanted to read CSL long before the movies ever came out and for one reason or another had not got around to it. After The
Weight of Glory we read The Four Loves and are finishing with The Screwtape Letters. Over time the group became more and more animated.

One of the Chaplains in the group disagreed with CSL on something every week, but was very happy to discuss more. The meetings were set for an hour, but The Four Loves discussions went almost two hours.

After Inferno, the Dead Poets Society voted to read Aeneid. We are now reading Purgatorio and should finish it by the time I leave Iraq. This group was very taken with Virgil and upset that Dante kept him in Hell, especially when they found out Cato was going to go to Heaven.

These groups allowed me to meet and talk with soldiers who really care about books and ideas and the Faith--at least in the case of the CSL group. The Dead Poets Society included non-believers. Despite everything and anything I had to do, I never missed these meetings. And I am sure I will miss them when I return to America where weekly
meetings to discuss books is simply impossible. But I am also very ready to go home.