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Commentary: Providing support, solace to the troops

 


Commentary: Providing support, solace to the troops

Aug. 12, 2004   

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Chaplain Robert Crawford
By Robert Crawford*

AN NASIRIYAH, Iraq (UMNS)—I serve in the second-oldest branch of the Army — the chaplains’ corps — whose tradition dates back to 1775.

While I am an officer, I am also the closest thing the Army has to a civilian. Under the Geneva Convention, chaplains do not carry weapons, but we do have protectors — specially trained chaplain assistants. Spc. Tavern Smith is the man assigned to watch out for my unit’s ministry team.

The role of the chaplain is somewhat different than you might think. Because our call is rooted in the First Amendment protection of freedom of speech, our primary duty is to ensure that each soldier can worship in the way that soldier sees fit.

Sometimes my work is similar to my civilian job as a United Methodist pastor. I lead worship services, offer prayers and teach classes.

At other times, my work takes me beyond my civilian parameters. I work with a nearby priest to ensure my Catholic soldiers receive the Eucharist, find space for our Muslim soldiers to pray, and get kosher MREs (meals ready to eat) for my Jewish soldiers during the High Holy Days.

The toughest task I have had was performing a brief ceremony on the runway tarmac for three young soldiers killed in a nearby town.

I spend much of my day walking around and visiting soldiers in their various duties. I listen and offer counsel to those who are struggling with the long deployment, or issues at home. Small problems can grow large when families are separated by 8,000 miles and a year away from home. Sometimes you just need someone to listen. That’s why I came.

I was commissioned an officer in the Army Reserve three years ago, at an age most soldiers are thinking of retirement. After many years of work in the church, I was seeking a different place to do ministry among a different group of people. I hoped my presence might provide comfort and calm to those in a stressful and dangerous environment.

My Athens (Ga.) Reserve unit was mobilized in February, and I found myself at Tallil Air Base, just outside An Nasiriyah in southern Iraq.

On the margin of the base stands a ziggurat, a 4,500-year-old brick structure built by the artisans of Sumer and predating the pyramids of Egypt. In its shadow lie the tombs of the Chaldean kings made famous in the book of Daniel, and just beyond, a holy site for three major religions: ruined Ur and the birthplace of Abraham (or to Islam, nabiiy Ibrahim). It is the Mesopotamia of your sixth-grade social studies book. Such a site in a war zone seems out of place, and seeing tour groups made up of soldiers in flak vests and bearing M-16s is odd indeed.

Tallil is noteworthy for its residents: a multinational force that includes elements of the U.S. Air Force and Army and of our coalition partners: airmen from the Netherlands, military police from Italy, armored troops from Romania and Poland, engineers and medical teams from Korea, infantry from Britain. All cross paths at Tallil.

The combination of war and faith can produce extraordinary moments--so many soldiers from so many countries of different faiths, all in the birthplace of Abraham.

It was at Tallil that something extraordinary happened to me.

I was visiting the Italian compound for lunch and looking forward to an espresso. I noticed the flag was at half-staff when some Italian soldiers approached me and pointed to the cross on my collar: “Father?”

“Non, protestante.”

“Padre, our colleague, 24 years old, was killed in fighting yesterday. No priest here,” they said.

Instinctively we joined hands, closed our eyes and began to pray, I in English and they in Italian: “Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. …” The words were different, the cadence the same. The feeling washing over me was one of loss and yet consolation, as we uttered words familiar from childhood and made meaningful in suffering. Opening our eyes, we all had tears.

It was only for a moment, but in that moment I experienced a connection with men from another culture, another country, another continent. Limited by the boundaries of language, prayer offered a bridge that connected us in our grief. In that moment, I experienced again my humanity and remembered why I am here. I came to share my hope with those who suffer by suffering with them.

I am a chaplain in the U.S. Army. It is a privilege to serve.

*1st Lt. Robert Crawford is a United Methodist pastor and reservist on active duty in Iraq with the Athens-based 357th Corps Support Battalion, whose yearlong deployment began in February. This commentary first appeared in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

News media contact: Kathy L. Gilbert, Nashville, Tenn., (615) 742-5470 or newsdesk@umcom.org.

 

 

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