At Peace with War. Harold Ristau
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entirely, although some explosions have been within 200 meters. Yet sometimes, albeit rarely, they get lucky. One happened to land in our midst at about noon yesterday. I heard the squeal, which gives you just enough time to duck your head, and saw a huge explosion not far from me, followed by a cloud of toxic smoke in the sky. There are many squeals throughout the day. Those who work the artillery fire canons whose blasts will literally knock you off your feet. Then there are the IED explosions or “thumps,” depending on their proximity, and bullets gone wild from a gunfire episode. Incoming rockets give off a slightly different sound. Anyway, when I ran to the scene I saw a huge sea container with a six foot hole in its side and a truck on fire. Apparently, the door was open and the rocket passed through it, broke through the opposite wall and hit part of the engine, popping four tires. I learned afterwards that two mechanics were under that truck just a few minutes prior, but decided to grab lunch early that day. As they were walking away the rocket struck. Thankfully, all the dangerous shrapnel was confined in the container and truck.
On another occasion, a rocket landed on a Canadian shelter burning it down. Thanks be to God that no one was in it at the time, and the damage was isolated except for some rips in nearby tents. In both incidents (and, there are not enough pages in this journal to record all the stories of similar “close calls”), the soldiers told me that they were “lucky,’’ whereas I asserted that they were “blessed.’’ There is a difference. Although we cannot know why bad things happen to one person and not another, it is good to give thanks to God for all the times, both big and small, that He rescues us from danger. We are equally sinners and we all deserve the worst that life can throw at us. But why some get off easier than others is beyond our understanding. We can say with certainty that if God wasn’t with us, things would be a lot worse. Do we really understand grace if we make comparisons between ourselves and those that have it better, or worse, than us?
Another spiritual lesson learned is that we ought never get too angry when we are late for an appointment, miss the bus, or get caught up at work. We may even curse God for the unforeseen delays. But who knows what your life would have looked like if everything was on schedule. Perhaps God held you back those few minutes, in the office, or permitted that crisis to occur at the last minute, just to keep you off the road, due to an inevitable car accident that awaited you. Of course, you will never know. But the angels of God do. And I believe that they act on our behalf, in every time of need, which is probably a lot more frequent than we would like to imagine or are prepared to believe.
Lord of the heavenly hosts, I thank You for the angels that deliver to us Your help and rescue, directing the eyes of our hearts to the great salvation achieved by Your dear Son, our Lord. Amen.
October 19
This morning at 0430 I woke up to assist with a ramp ceremony. As I stood there beside the Hercules aeroplane listening to the prayers as the coffin was loaded on, I watched the sun rise over the desert hills behind the heads of the line of soldiers before me. There was complete silence as the body advanced towards us. The sun resurrects, and so does hope. There are very few moments in a soldier’s day in which he or she abides in silence. In silence, one is forced to reflect upon that very silence. Silence either consoles or terrifies. It is always uncomfortable. We are not at ease with silence. Even believers commence their nervous coughs during those lengthy moments of silence in a church service, when those private prayers or confessions are to be lifted to God in the quiet of our hearts. The silence always has a purpose. If it is only to awaken that sense of awkwardness in our inner beings, it is well placed. Silence makes us more resilient, because it reminds us that we are not in control of our emotions or of our destiny, both in the next few seconds or the years ahead. Someone else is in control: the pastor who decides to react to the cough, shortening the silence with his intervening words; the pall bearers who decide to speed up the pace to shorten the awkward moment. And then there is God. I believe that Jesus was often silent. I think that perhaps this is one reason why He loved St. John so much. John, we could say, was the silent apostle. He listened a lot, reflected even more. He was all the more faithful, courageous and compassionate because of it. There was only one disciple who chose to find himself at the foot of Christ’s cross, despite all the risks to his own safety. That was John. May we, likewise, imitate his way. May our soldiers imitate ours.
Father of Lights, whose mercies are new to us every morning, teach me to listen to Your Gospel voice and remind me of the importance of silence both in giving to others and in receiving from You; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
October 24
Apparently Martin Luther once said, “I am so busy I only have time to pray.’’ As a Lutheran theologian, I love such paradoxical syllogisms. This one is intended to prioritize prayer. Prayer changes not the heart of God, but rather the heart of the one who prays. God does not need our prayers, but we ourselves need to pray. Certainly God has already answered many of the prayers that we should have prayed, but didn’t. In short, He is full of grace and cares for us despite our own neglect. However, as Luther said elsewhere, God has a treasure chest full of jewels that He is just waiting to give to us. He is simply waiting for someone to ask. Well, here in Afghanistan, I have more time to pray than I do at home. There, after the busy work day, errands and children take up most of my evenings and weekends. By the time night time comes, my daily prayers have become my family prayers. The bed time devotion routine, which is absolutely invaluable and I miss it dearly, cannot replace that daily quiet time that every Christian ought to have with their Lord, even if it be only five minutes.
Here, on the other side of the world, I have no family and few errands to complete. My laundry is done for me, my meals are cooked for me, and my bunk takes about 10 minutes to clean. My work week follows the track of a roller coaster. I am either really busy or really bored. Nevertheless, most of the time, I can easily find time to pray. Besides noise, there is not a lot to distract me from this spiritual discipline, and so, sad to say, I do it when I have nothing else to do. I realize that it is a bit like giving God the leftovers instead of the first fruits. But our Lord and King is so kind and humble in heart, that He even takes the crumbs, and happily at that. Did not the Gentile woman in the Gospel reflect that heart of God when she boldly spoke, “Yes Lord, but even the dogs take the crumbs from the master’s table’’ (Matthew 15:27)—and so was praised? Is not the Gospel about God coming down to serve us, undeserving as we are, and save us? Is that dynamic different now after the resurrection and ascension of Christ, or does He continue to operate in the same way through the divine liturgy and sacraments? These are some of the wondrous jewels that I have discovered in the repentance over my neglect of a healthy prayer life. What a remarkable God we have! The lessons learned in our sinfulness are as precious as those learned in saintliness.
Our Father who art in heaven, who gives us a Spirit that “prays without ceasing” (I Thessalonians 5:17), teach me to value the gift of prayer and come to You often in petition and praise, not as a burdensome task and work of the Law, but as a liberating privilege and celebration of the Gospel; through our Great High Priest, Jesus Christ, who intercedes for us always before the heavenly courts, Amen.
October 31
As a chaplain serving in the Roman Catholic context of French Canada, amongst cultural Catholics whose worldviews often maintain the worst elements of religion, sometimes I get the feeling that soldiers take me as a superstitious lucky charm. I compare myself to a rabbit foot. From an operational perspective, the CoC is supportive of whatever stabilizes the guys to help them get their jobs done. If a chaplain’s presence achieves that, then all the better. I remember once leaving a FOB for a few days and after returning, one soldier said to me, “Padre, all hell broke lose when you were gone,” while another insisted that there were “more contacts and firing than usual.” In reality, the level of threat had not changed a bit. Rather, their perception was that, when the priest leaves, so does God. Accordingly, they were more sensitive to a spiritual isolation and vulnerability during my absence. At first I was slightly offended by the idea. As a Lutheran I am opposed to superstition, views of an impersonal God, and any doctrine inculcating a soteriological hierarchy expressing divine favouritism among people. However, after some further reflection, it offends me less. The superstition that underpins their desire for a chaplain with them impressed upon me the importance and the impact of chaplain, or pastoral presence, amongst the troops. Although the majority would