Convicted: A reflection on the film Top Gun Maverick

 

“Here I am; send me!” Isaiah 6:8

There are plenty of critiques of Top Gun, Top Gun Maverick, and of course; Tom Cruise out there. My intention here is not to critique any of the above, but to draw some attention to some themes in the movie that I found to be powerful nods to survivor’s guilt. For starters, my kids wanted to see the film, but I wouldn’t permit them to see it until they saw the first one (yeah, I fast forwarded through a few scenes, and discouraged them from ever “flipping the bird”). It was imperative for them to understand the relationship between Maverick and Goose, particularly Goose’s family. Having grown up on the film -as a child of the 80’s- it was the initial inspirational nudge that planted the seed of military service. The earlier film seemed to lack a bit of emotional authenticity in my eyes, but in the later film; Top Gun Maverick, it picked up the theme as a literary device. Captain Mitchell, although years removed from the incident, still carries the guilt of LT Bradshaw’s (Goose) death. During both films it is reiterated time and again, that the death of his friend is in no way his responsibility. All logic and reason proves this to be a fact, yet it is a fact that Mitchell cannot accept for himself, even if he knows it to be true. 

So herein lies the tragedy of survivor’s guilt. Many of the Marines I served with in 2005 still harbor a range of combat related challenges; post traumatic stress, moral injury, and survivors guilt. To explore those other issues would take more time than I would like to hash out here, but  they are all very unique, and have a tendency to bleed into one another. The consistent theme for those of us who carry the guilt of our survival, is often tied to the missed opportunity to have taken the slightest detour from our actions on that particular day. Without going into details, I am one of those. I have carried the guilt of the death of one particular Marine with me since 2005. I confessed where I had gone wrong up and down the chain of command, to which I was always told that I could not logically draw a direct conclusion that I carried the sole responsibility for his death. Regardless, I still carry it today, and I am fairly certain I will carry it with me to my grave. That sense of guilt has fueled many of the paths I have taken in my life. I left the Marine Corps, and another vocation as a police officer to pursue ministry, which in turn led me to the United States Navy Chaplain Corps. This call and vocation was strikingly odd to many of my fellow Marines, not to mention police I served alongside. I wasn’t their stereotypical “holy roller,” although my faith life was always a big part of who I was.  

Ever since coming back to the military, I have often publicly declared an additional vow taken on, one outside of the oath we take, and the vows of my ordination. I vowed to God and myself when I came back to the military, that I would care for every single Sailor and Marine in my care, to the very best of my ability. I vowed I would care for them the way I would want my own children cared for, if they ever put on this uniform. I have been told this is an issue of maintaining personal boundaries, and that it is unhealthy to bring such things home. I have also been told that it is unsustainable, yet I have continued to pursue my call in this manner, because my personal convictions will not allow me to function in any other way. 

So, this leads us back to the film, and three particularly powerful scenes for me. They are also scenes that I think others may relate to, and for others still who have loved ones who’ve suffered the same, it may shed some light. After Maverick’s credit card is declined, he is humiliatingly thrown out of the bar. Yet, as he picks himself up from the sand and begins to walk away -laughing off his shame- he hears the familiar rendition of “Great Balls of Fire” being played by his old friend’s son; the new LT Bradshaw “Rooster.” I cannot watch the scene without the painful lump in my throat rising up. Whether it is a song, a sound, a sight, or a voice, these are things that impact many of us. Whether you like Tom Cruise or not, his gaze in this scene -along with his expulsion from the bar and the gathering of pilots- captures the reality for so many. There are few moments more isolating than the feeling that no one else can even begin to comprehend the immense tension between being drawn to that pain, yet simultaneously wanting to run from it. In the moment I saw that scene, I saw myself in a grocery store on many occasions, caught off guard by a song, or someone who looks eerily similar to one of our fallen. There are few moments as lonely as that. 

“It’s the only look I’ve got.” -Maverick

There is a flip side to all this, however. Cruise, and the writers also captured that moment as well, whether intentional or not. They capture the vow that I spoke of, because throughout the film, Maverick demands that the command look at the young pilots as more than cannon fodder, he demands they be valued as he sees them; someone’s children, just as he cannot see Rooster in any other way. When he sees Rooster, he still sees the little boy sitting on top of the piano as his father and Maverick jovially sang and played. 

On my first deployment as a Chaplain, I reassured my wife that there was nothing to worry about, after all, “I’m just a Chaplain.” I will never make that mistake again. The night before I left, I took my family to the beach for one last night together. I remember saying my goodbyes, and I remember telling my children I would care for my service members the way I would want them cared for. Most of all, I remember the support of my wife. 

After Maverick is named team leader of the movies climactic mission, a role he was never intended to take on, he goes to the same bar he was kicked out of, to say goodbye to his new love interest; Penny Benjamin. Now, let me be clear, I hate the Navy whites (both summer whites and the chokers) because I find them to be the most impractical uniforms imaginable, but this scene captures a distinct moment. My Penny Benjamin, who is not only gracious enough to be my wife, but one of my biggest motivators, always reminds me to never lose sight of why I do what I do. While on my last deployment, something terrible happened, and it was my sincere fear when I called my wife that she would demand I leave that location immediately. There were ways I could leave, and although I didn’t want to, I also couldn’t lie to my wife. After confessing I was in the location she had seen in the news, she asked if I was going to stay. Upon giving my answer, I feared her retort, yet with tears in her voice she reassured me “I knew you would. That is why you are there. It is why God has put you where you are, so take care of them.”

Upon leaving Penny on the beach with a long embrace, the music carries over into the next scene as a carrier slices through waves. Maverick stands below deck, looking out across the ocean, asking for Goose to find a way to guide him; “Talk to me Goose.” This scene is the nail in my coffin, because it speaks to where I find myself in this call. I am a pastor, with extensive education and experience, put in a role to lead and care for Sailors and Marines because of that “expertise,” yet this scene encapsulates my own dependence on so many others. Rear Admiral Solomon “Warlock” Bates, is a character that I believe tragically escapes the attention of most movie goers. He doesn’t have many lines, but in this scene Warlock seems to speak for Goose, as he calls to Maverick from outside of view. “Captain Mitchell” he exclaims, as Maverick turns around and the two stand face to face. “This is where you belong” Warlock confidently assures Maverick. Not instructing pilots on North Island off the coast of Southern California, or holed up in a hangar in the Mojave desert. 

I am blessed to have had so many amazing “Warlocks” in my still short career as a Chaplain. My previous Command Master Chief, my senior mentor, my junior mentor, numerous colleagues, friends, and service members I have served beside. In this scene I have seen them all, not suggesting, but reminding me of my vow, my conviction. I long for another deployment, because that is where I belong. I don’t long to be away from my wife and children, but I am convicted to care for those who stand on that line because of what they have shown me, in their love and support. 

What I have concluded from all the reflections in this movie, is that survivors guilt does not have to be an impediment, but a reminder of the gift of this life, and the responsibility we have to use it as the gift it is. Not a day goes by I don’t wrestle with the guilt of those deaths, but not a day goes by that it doesn’t remind me of why I am here, and that fact that this is “Where you belong.”

I’ve never done this before, but I would like to dedicate this entire rant to my mentors, my all time CMC (you’ll always be MY CMC), and my wife. You are the ones who’ve always pushed me to follow the courage of my convictions, and you’ve pushed harder than ever these past few months. You’re all the voices that I hear when I lift up my eyes to the heavens and proclaim “Talk to me, Goose.”

Disclaimer: My thoughts are my own and do not represent the Department of Defense, US Navy, USMC, or the Navy Chaplain Corps. 

References

Kosinski, Joseph. 2020. Top Gun: Maverick. United States: Paramount Pictures.

My Little Corner of The Vineyard

 Luke 13:1-9

Vårnatt i hagen, by Nikolai Astrup 1909 (PD)

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Ukrainians whose blood Putin had mingled with the ruins of their capital city. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Ukrainians suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all the other Ukrainians?”“Or those ten who were killed while waiting in line for bread, by indiscriminate artillery fire – do you think they were worse offenders than all the others living in this world?”

I rarely prime the pump for a sermon this way, but after this past week, I wasn’t sure how I couldn’t. It’s too close to home, or maybe it just isn’t close enough? If the mothers of those whose blood had been shed this past week were our neighbors – rather than distant figures only seen from our living rooms thousands of miles away – what would we tell them? When they ask us why this has befallen them, their nation, and their children?

Because sisters and brothers; This WAS NOT according to God’s plan! This did not happen for a reason! This is not God’s will, And it isn’t an “ACT of God!” There is no good “why” for this travesty that has befallen the people of Ukraine. 

This is the very question that the people are asking Jesus in the Gospel today. They are asking for sound reason as to why tragedy, and horror befall some people. They don’t want to just know why it befalls others, but they want assurance that their righteousness will protect them. Because they want to know that God will repay their righteousness with God’s protection.  Almost as if God is some sort of mafia Don, that deals in the currency of righteousness. 

Its ironic, and it is why the response evoked is so uncomfortable, 

For the crowd in the story, 

For Luke’s audience, 

And for us as well. ~

Luke’s audience was made up of Gentiles, Many of whom were accustomed to making sacrifices in exchange for certain favors. Many had converted from cultic traditions, which had a rolodex of deities. If you needed a healthy harvest, you made sacrifices to a god that took care of crops. If you needed victory in battle, you made a sacrifice to Mars, And if you needed a good batch of wine from this years crop of grapes, you made a sacrifice to Bacchus. For love, Venus. A sea voyage, Neptune, And so on, and so forth. 

So, for Luke’s audience any relationship with a deity is dependent on its transactional value. It’s actually quite a pagan tradition, one that has very sadly bled into our own faith quite often. We aren’t much different from Jesus’ audience, When we do good, we want to know what’s in it for us. We want to be certain, that we will not only be rewarded, but protected. So when we see travesty befall another, we justify the reasoning for such calamity. It isn’t for the comfort of those who suffer, but the one observing such suffering. It is us, seeking the comfort that travesty will not befall us. 

Jesus offers no such certainty, only assuring us of one certainty; life is certainly full of uncertainty. ~

Jesus’ response is a testament to how far we have fallen from how he saw that word; “repentance.” He responds to their inquiry about these tragedies with a word of warning; “No, they were not worse sinners than any other, but I tell you; unless you repent, you will all perish, just as they did.”

Now, if you think my sermon started pretty abruptly, you should ask yourself how Jesus would’ve kicked things off with a reply like that?! It sounds harsh, but it is because we do not fully understand the intention of repentance anymore than Jesus’ audience did then, just as we don’t understand sin. Repentance and sin are pretty loaded words for us Lutherans. Those words conjure up images in our heads of floppy bibles being waved from pulpits by slick haired preachers pointing fingers, But these are not terms meant to evoke fear of condemnation, but a coaxing away from the true plight of sin, turning towards something greater. 

Sin is simply that which separates us, from God, from God’s creation, and from one another. Anything that distracts us from being part of the those relationships which God created us to be part of to begin with. Repentance, or Metanoia, is literally a turning. Turning not only away from sin, but towards something, 

Something greater than us. But that is what makes it so hard, because that turning requires us to turn away from ourselves, putting God, and others before ourselves. ~

Jesus ties it all together today with the parable of the fig tree, an analogy that has been lost over time. He uses the fig tree to illustrate that turning away he is calling for us to model. Because a fig tree is a terrible tree if left to its own devices. Fig trees have a terribly invasive root system, and if left unchecked, the root systems will invade the roots of other trees, killing them by attacking neighboring trees roots below the surface. Those fig trees with the deepest roots have the worst fruit, and destructive root systems – damaging sidewalks, buildings, and barriers. 

It is a lot like sin; self serving, destructive, detrimental to our own growth, and adverse to the production of the good that can be produced. But the farmer in this parable offers a solution; He proposes a technique used to this day, not only digging around the roots, but in Jesus day they would wall in the root system with brick or stone so the roots would only grow downward, not outward. And in order to feed that limited root system, those walls would be filled with rich manure forcing the good nutrients upward and outward, Producing healthy fruit by turning the tree away from it’s own interest, in harmony with the other figs and plants in the vineyard. Because it is with the aid of the gardener we can turn away from ourselves, and exist in harmony with the other that resides in the vineyard. ~

I wish I could refrain from making the connection, but I am convicted by it, Because this past week I have wept as I watched the roots of one invade and strangle another. I’ve watched from across the vineyard, perhaps many of us have. I’ve watched as I have wondered aloud if their roots cannot travel this far. And as I have watched its roots strangle the life out of another, sitting a safe distance away; A whole globe away, I realized how deeply connected I am to that tree struggling to survive the attack of its neighbor.

I watched on Wednesday when President Zelinsky showed a video of the attacks on his country. It was a graphic video, raw and violent. And I have seen the horrors of war, as a Marine, and as a Chaplain, But when I saw the lifeless body of a little girl lifted onto a gurney, and the hysterical weeping of a little boy searching for arms to protect him; I saw my own children. 

Sisters and brothers, that is what God saw, that is what God sees, and that is what God will see, until we finally realize that the vineyard is not as big as we have come to believe. God came to the vineyard once, because we called out to God to deliver this vineyard. So help me God, I believe Christ is still working on that vineyard, But that work came at a price, because that gardener was nailed to one of those trees. The life of the whole vineyard comes at a price, but first we must recognize the value that God holds for the entire vineyard, not just our little corner that feeds our own roots. 

Amen

~

The hymn of the day today is the hymn This Is My Song.

The tune for the hymn is Finlandia, by Jean Sibelius. The music was written in 1899 in response to the Russian policy of Russification, which was intended to abolish cultural identities and administrative autonomy of any non-Russian minorities within the Russian empire.

This policy of forced cultural assimilation was systematically enforced on Finland, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Latvia, Poland, Lithuania, Moldova, and the largest country in Europe today; Ukraine. Sibelius' musical piece was a response to that forced assimilation back at the turn of the 20th century, by a Finnish composer as a covert form of resistance. Finland was a country made up of 98 % Lutherans in that day, with 70 % still claiming to follow the Lutheran tradition there to this day.

Russification is the policy that is still a central motivating factor in Russian foreign policy today.

*This is my personal blog. Thoughts and opinions are my own and are not necessarily those of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the U.S. Navy, Navy Chaplain Corps, or the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.