Easter Vigil - TONIGHT is THE night!

 Tonight is THE night!

Tonight is the night!

It is a chorus we hear echoed throughout the Easter Vigil,

And Easter Vigil is a special service indeed.

It is rare we get an opportunity to share in this kind of a service.

It’s an ancient rite that can be traced back to the earliest generations of the church.

It’s a service that took place at night and in darkness,

Not only for the symbolism that surrounds it,

But because many from the early church worshipped in secret.

It is a service that takes place as darkness closes in outside, and the light from within brightens.

It is a service that reminds us that death still lurks outside the door,

But in the promise of an empty tomb, we no longer fear that death.

In fact, we celebrate the promise in the face of death and darkness.

That is the beauty of the Easter Vigil,

Death closes in on Good Friday,

And we come back to find death still lingers, yet life has escaped its clutch,

And that light and life grows and grows in spite of death and darkness.

Therein lies the beauty of the Easter Vigil.

Yet I am sure many of us have never experienced it,

and even tonight our version is much abbreviated.

Traditionally it would last into the very early hours of the morning.

Having just come home from our deployment,

I wouldn’t have entertained this service at all

If not for C, and our experience in Norway together.

I won’t speak for C,

But I’ve never been North of the arctic circle.

Upon our arrival, we didn’t see much of the sun for the first month.

Even when daylight broke through the darkness, the sun rarely breached the mountain tops.

And even when it did, it was often so cold we would often escape to the warmth of a tent or a stove

Forsaking the light, for the sake of the warmth we found in the darkness.

And while it was a beautiful country, the dark and the cold was a constant reminder

That even in the midst of a training mission, we faced some very real risks.

Whether it was rewarming our bodies after plunging through the ice of a frozen lake,

Starting a fire with our hands exposed to the cold for the sake of handling matches and kindling,

Or melting snow and drying clothes by the fire to ensure we were managing liquid inside and outside of our bodies,

There was a threat around us at all times.

I believe we became accustomed to it.

As the days went by, we became more and more comfortable being in the midst of the harsh environment,

And we came to enjoy the unique nature of that land, the climate, the country, and the culture that surrounded us.

But we weren’t just surrounded by the cold and darkness of the weather while we were there,

Ironically, Lent began shortly after we’d arrived.

I marked many with an ash cross upon their foreheads, symbolizing our mortality and the promise of our baptisms,

I used the same bowl to hold the ash that I used to baptize you tonight, Caleb.

Another reminder of the connection between the life we are promised, and death, which still lingers amongst us all.

So, when C came to me to ask if he could be baptized, it broke my heart to inform him I could not.

You see, we don’t traditionally baptize anyone during lent.

We don’t do weddings either,

Because it is a season of penitential reflection.

But tonight,

Well… TONIGHT is the night!

And I truly love Easter Vigil, and I couldn’t think of a more appropriate time or way to celebrate C’s baptism,

And most of all the promise we find in that empty tomb!

Because as we gather here together around a fire,

We do it in defiance of the darkness that gathers.

We come into a church, darkened like a morgue,

Because that is exactly what the church was, is, and always will be.

It is the site of his death and burial, and it is upon his tomb we build the altar and celebrate that promise.

From the church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, to a snowmobile sled in Norway, to here and now; TONIGHT.

We gather in defiance of the darkness and death outside,

We taunt death and darkness as we bury our brother in Christ; C.

In the water, three times, just as Christ was buried for three days,

We eat of his body and blood, and then after we have revived this place from the death that has haunted it

-from the floorboards to the rafters-

We will receive the blessing of our Lord, and we will walk out into that darkness,

Carrying the light with us into that dark world.

THAT sisters and brothers, is the promise of THIS night!

In the book and the film, The Road, by Cormac McCarthy

There are many horrible and disturbing scenes throughout the post-apocalyptic tale.

Cormac McCarthy was well known for the dark brutality of his stories,

But much of his storytelling loses sight of the beauty and light in the midst of his dark narratives.

One of the most beautiful examples was in that story; The Road.

At the ending of the story, the two protagonists; a father and son

Have said goodbye to one another, as the father breathes his last words of advice to his son,

In hopes his son can survive in the brutal post-apocalyptic world alone without his father’s protection.

Having been stalked and hunted by other groups trying to survive by preying on others,

the boy takes his father’s pistol and prepares to continue on the road.

At that moment, another survivor approaches the boy who points his father’s gun at the man’s chest.

Upon learning that the lifeless man at the boy’s feet was his father, the man tells the boy

“Maybe you should come with me?”

The boy points the pistol and asks “Are you one of the good guys?”

“Yeah, I’m one of the good guys, now why don’t you put that pistol away?” replies the man

After discussing the boys options, the boy again asks “How do I know you’re one of the good guys?”

To which the man honestly replies “You don’t, you’ll just have to take a shot.”

The boys continues to inquire about the man’s family, and what things he has or hasn’t done to survive in that harsh world, but his final question for the man is ironic and simple;

He asks, “Are you carrying the fire?”

“Am I what?” comes the man’s reply

“Carrying the fire” the boy repeats

“You’re kinda weirded out aren’t ya kid?” says the man

“Well, are you?” cautions the boy as he raises the pistol again

“Yeah, I’m carrying the fire” assures the man

“And I can come with you?” asks the boy

“Yes you can.” Replies the man as the story concludes

Tonight, we lit a new fire,

At the entrance of the sanctuary,

In the Paschal Candle that was lit from that fire,

In the hands of each and every one of you,

In your hearts as the words were read from our ancient stories of salvation,

In C as he took his place among all the saints in the church triumphant,

In this meal we are about to share,

And I hope and pray that TONIGHT, this very night,

We all,

Each and every one of us take at least a very small ember of that fire,

If not a blazing torch,

Out into the darkness of this world in defiance of the sin and death we have not yet fully escaped.

Reassuring others that we are carrying the fire.

A fire ignited on a cross,

A fire that we have lit together once again on this most holy of nights,

Just as Christ’s Church has done for over 2000 years.

Amen

Sources: 

McCarthy, Cormac. The Road. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2006.

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

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.

Pick up YOUR cross.

Isaiah 50:4-9 and Mark 8:27-38

Andrea di Bartolo, Way to Calvary 1400 PD

It has been a pretty odd week. 

In the midst of the normal day in and day out, a significant day was solemnly marked this week. 

I was asked to participate in a command 9/11 ceremony, offering the invocation and benediction. 

That fairly standard task, that all chaplains are asked to do quite frequently took a different toll on me than it would under the normal circumstances. 

I found myself sifting through my own emotions and memories as I attempted to craft a prayer that would hold significance to those of the same faith, those of different faiths, and those with no faith tradition they called their own what-so-ever. 

On top of it all, my children came home from school with questions. 

In contrast to other years, they seemed to be hearing a lot more about September 11^th than they had ever heard before. 

They started to ask questions, like; 

“What is 9/11?”

“What happened on September 11^th?”

And “What is Patriot Day?”

On the eve of the September 11^th Ceremony I was to participate in, I had prepared my uniform and printed out my prayers. 

After reviewing everything carefully my family and I sat down for dinner, and amidst the chatter at the table, my kids began to once again discuss 9/11. 

Their reactions were sometimes more somber than others, sometimes even taking an inappropriate turn. 

They’ve heard us talk about 9/11, and I believe they had an idea about it. 

They have seen pictures, watched videos, and throughout the week we’d seen tributes on the television about it. 

But they still didn’t seem to fully grasp or understand it. 

It’s a foreign concept to me, and I think many of us, who just take it for granted that 9/11 is a scarring memory, etched into our heads and hearts universally. 

With so many junior sailors, officers, and students in this command, I have become increasingly more aware that many who’ve raised their right hands and donned the cloth of our nation don’t even have a memory of that fateful day. 

In conversation about it with my children, and so many others, I have come to realize it is not a day that they can “Never Forget” because they have no memory of it at all. 

More and more over the years I have heard that proclamation; “Never Forget” or “Always Remember” morph from a shared burden we all carry together, to a demand imposed on others. 

If one’s profile picture is not changed on social media, or we do not publicly broadcast our whereabouts on that fateful day, we are somehow opposed to those who do suffer so publicly. 

In light of my own emotions, the events of this week, my children, and the texts for today, it has haunted me how we carry this cross. 

Andrea Booher, 19 SEP 2001 FEMA Photo Library PD

Today’s text finds Jesus with his disciples, asking them to identify his role and place in society, and among his followers. 

Peter’s confession of faith is a well-known episode in Jesus’ ministry. 

Peter and the other disciples advise Jesus that he is seen as the return of one of the prophets in days of old, and perhaps even John the Baptist. 

Upon proclaiming that Jesus is the Messiah, Peter and the others are sworn to the secrecy of Jesus’ identity, before Jesus saves the bad news for last. 

What is most interesting about the text, and the texts we couple with this one, is that none of the disciples or Peter identify Jesus as Isaiah, or “the suffering servant” from our first lesson. 

I know that text particularly well. 

It was one of the first Hebrew texts I ever translated in seminary. 

I wrote an extensive paper on this lesson. 

It is a pretty graphic portrayal of a Prophet, speaking out to his people. 

He is speaking out not only to them, but in support of them.

He is attempting to strengthen them, support them, and allow them to grow as God’s people. 

In response he is brutally punished and silenced. 

This isn’t the end of the plight of the suffering servant, in the next song of the suffering servant, it becomes even more graphic. 

In the fourth act, the people become the voice in the song, announcing the servant’s death and their own responsibility for it. 

There is a tone of remorse in the voice of the author, and there is much debate in academic circles just who the servant was; an individual prophet like Isaiah, 

Or the collective nation of Israel. 

It matters both a little or lot, depending on the context of its use, 

But for today, the most significant thing is the fact that the vulgar brutality described mirrors the foreshadowing of Jesus’ own humiliation and death. 

An image Jesus alludes to in the Gospel today. 

Scattering the hopeful optimism of his followers that he will usher in a new age of what they see as justice and God’s intention for the world. 

Jesus foreshadows his own suffering, but the worst part is he in fact invites more suffering. 

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it.”

That one portion of the text has just been a recurring quote in my head this week, over and over again; 

Take up THEIR cross and follow me. 

Jesus isn’t asking us to be crucified on his cross. 

He isn’t asking us to suffer in the same way he did. 

He is asking us to “set our faces like flint” as Isaiah says, essentially staring down our pain, our grief, our bondage to sin, hatred, and anger. 

He is asking us to steer our ship into the storms of our worlds. 

Photo by Author

So, we did a thing in my house. 

We watched the events of 9/11 play out on old footage online. 

We told our children the stories from that day. 

My wife and I wept, and my children remained confused. 

Confused about what emotions they should or shouldn’t express. 

And in this moment, I leaned on Jesus’ Word. 

I approached the questions and confusion realizing that this is not my children’s cross. 

They are no more familiar with the events of September 11^th than I am with the events of December 7^th 1941. 

They cannot know what that NYC skyline meant to our collective nation, so we closed the lesson with a video montage we found of iconic movie scenes where the WTC could be seen in the background. 

They’ll never know how that day wounded me, or their mother, or our nation. 

They have no memory of what was lost that day. 

But what is more, just as I could not know December 7^th the way my grandparents or my great Uncle who blazed the trail I would follow when he responded to those attacks by enlisting in the USMC

They too cannot fully understand 9/11. 

My great Uncle rarely spoke of his experiences leading to WWII, or his role at Peleliu and Okinawa. 

But it was a cross he bore all his life, from that black and white photo of a young Marine surviving a brutal fight with a squad sized company of other Marines. 

He didn’t ask me to bear that cross for him, 

Perhaps it was due to his stoic nature, or post-traumatic stress?

But maybe, just perhaps, he knew this would not be the last cross young men and women would have to bear?

Perhaps he knew that a young Marine recruit would be standing at attention before a BN commander, announcing to a full company of Marine recruits that they would now be charged with carrying their own cross; 

A twenty-year multi front war. 

There are many crosses we must bear, and God help us all, who are we kidding when we demand others never forget?!

How does one even forget such a day as that?

But those who never knew it cannot be expected to carry that cross, nor should we want them to, 

Because this world is still broken, flawed, and damned by what we’ve become. 

The next generation will face their own crosses, so who am I to ask them to carry mine?

Unless we do better, we will continue to build the crosses that our children and their children will carry. 

Jesus doesn’t demand we carry his cross, he only demands we carry the ones we are faced with, 

But the crux, the hope, the grace, the resilience can be found clearly in the fact that in the midst of being called to carry our own crosses, the only one not carrying their own in that story is Jesus the Christ. 

He carried it for us, and the promise is that he will be the one taking it onto his shoulders when we believe we can go no farther. 

Amen

Lost Cause

Jeremiah 20:7-13

Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction of Jerusalem
Rembrandt, 1630 (PD)

Being Prophetic was the predominant aspiration of most of my seminary classmates. 

We were certainly attending seminary at a crossroads in modern American history. 

Myself, having left the Marine Corps and police work to attend seminary, it was awkward to be surrounded by friends and classmates whose prophetic voices sounded interestingly like condemnation, and even damnation for my alleged sins. 

The places where I felt most welcomed were the places where people would ask me questions about what I had done, rather than providing me with an immediate scolding upon learning how I had earned a living up until that point. 

Questions like why I served and fought in a war that I may not have agreed with. 

Questions like how I could profess my role in making arrests, in poor urban communities predominantly occupied by systemically oppressed generations of black men and women. 

I began seminary in 2012, as all these questions were beginning to churn again, and visions of a revolutionary church providing the justice that uniformed police and military could not, filled my classmate’s agendas, heads, and hearts. 

I didn’t mock their idealism then, and I do not mock it today. 

I do, however, see it as an unrealistic vision of what it truly is to be prophetic. 

I have shared this before, perhaps too many times, but when I was interviewed for my first call, I was asked how I would serve as a charismatic leader for others to follow. 

I told them I didn’t want to be. 

There is only one charismatic leader for us to follow, and that is the Christ, Jesus. 

And it didn’t turn out so good for that guy, now did it?

I only got one awkward laugh, from the senior pastor, following that comment. 

The truth is, carrying any cross, or claiming the voice of a prophet, is not only a lonely position to occupy, but it can be a dangerous place to occupy as well. 

~

In the first lesson for today from Jeremiah, we hear the prophet’s reaction to humiliation and condemnation. 

He is responding to the sharpest rebuke and disgrace imaginable following a physical assault from the high priest, Passhur,  and having just been released from the stocks outside the Temple. 

Humiliated by the highest ranking religious leader, outside of the holiest place imaginable, all for passing an honest and ominous warning to the people, to his very own people. 

A warning no one really wants to hear. 

Perhaps because they don’t believe it, or perhaps because they just don’t want to believe it. 

The pure and simple fact is that the most accurate prophetic proclamations, are most often a sad fate that is ignored by the community to which they are delivered. 

Most prophets are condemned as pessimists or fools. 

Jonah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, John, Jesus, are all but a few examples of prophets who are doomed by the words that they spoke. 

Spat upon, laughed at, defeated and disheartened. 

Even the prophet Jeremiah that we hear from today is not known as Jeremiah the wise. 

Biblical scholars refer to Jeremiah today as “the weeping prophet.”

And while perhaps not intentional, it certainly conjures up an image of a whiner, does it not?

The role of a prophet is not a comfortable role to claim, and while many boldly make that claim, in attempts to gain notoriety and attention, the loudest prophets are perhaps the one’s we should be the most wary of. 

Those prophets whose quotes seem worthy of hallmark cards, best seller book lists, and framed motivational posters in the waiting rooms of many dental offices, are perhaps not really voices of prophets at all. 

Perhaps those are the voices of the opportunists who seek out the glory of their own two thumbs, rather than the uncomfortable justice and peace that God lays out before us in these stories, songs, poems, and histories we claim have so much power over us?

Prophecy in scripture is most often the ignored predictions of the damned and the defeated. 

But, that is where this story is so much different, because it is in the silenced lips of the true prophets that God can draw truth from lips that can no longer even draw breath. 

Christ Carrying the Cross
Hieronymus Bosch, 1498-1516 (PD)

Carrying a cross is an overused idiom. 

It is a prophetic word that has been oversimplified, because I can truly say, that it is not all that it is cracked up to be. 

I proudly wear the cross on my uniform, and while it is not the first time I have worn this uniform, the past few years of wearing the cross on this uniform has taught me a valuable lesson about what it means to carry the cross, and what it means to speak an undervalued word. 

I joke often with friends, that the cross is placed above the rank, to allow those with whom you speak to know just how many times to demote you. 

As an O3 Lieutenant in the Navy, I usually assume that I function as an O1 Ensign. 

The formula is quite simple, you take the rank of the chaplain, and demote them by two. 

I’ve been under fire five times in my life while wearing the cloth of my nation, but as a chaplain I hold no tactical command in times of combat. 

I do hold the authority and role to give advice on what is moral, ethical, and contributes to the well being of those I serve beside. 

But that advice is nothing but a mere suggestion, which can be easily ignored. 

Luckily, I am rarity. 

I am an introverted chaplain and pastor, and although I try to speak truth, when it goes ignored, I don’t usually take it too personally. 

Thankfully, I have a good model to follow. 

I don’t seek out the most powerful or authoritative, I seek out those on the margins. 

Rather than the powerful, I seek out those tax collectors, those prostitutes, those beggars. 

On this last deployment, most of my congregants never saw the inside of the tent where I held worship, unless they were playing video games or watching a movie in that dual purposed space. 

But when they called home to speak with their families, many wives and girlfriends were shocked when they exclaimed “YOU’RE hanging out with the Chaplain?!”

When we have a prophetic word to share, it will likely be ignored by most, but we should always be aware of just who is listening, because that is the most fertile soil where the ignored seed is planted, the ignored soil is also by far the richest for us to till. 

~

Jeremiah’s words today, and the words that follow, all the way to verse 18 is a lament. 

Jeremiah laments for not only his condemnation, but he laments being chosen as God’s prophet. 

Jeremiah laments being enticed, in this poem, or perhaps a more accurate interpretation is being courted and wooed by God. 

Jeremiah voices regret over falling in love, passionately for God, only to walk down a road of heartache. 

At one point, in verse fourteen, which wasn’t included in today’s reading, he even voices regret for the very day he was born!

He curses his community, he curses God, he curses himself, and he curses the world, out of defeat, frustration, and a deep emotional and even a physical consequential pain. 

Now, who would choose this?

I have to admit, there are days I feel like Jeremiah, but I also give thanks that I am not a renowned prophet just yet, and I should count myself among the lucky ones. 

~

Martin Luther King Jr. was a prophet, and he was most definitely a renowned one, 

but perhaps one of the most significant prophets of the 20th century has escaped notice by most.

Although some know his name, very few know the significance of one particular prophet in the civil rights movement.  

Emmett Till was a young teenage boy, visiting his family in Money, Mississippi, all the way from Chicago, Illinois. 

Emmet and his friends went to the Bryant Grocery store to buy candy, where one of the shop owners, a 21 year old white woman, was working at the time. 

There was some kind of exchange at the store, but even the most serious claims amounted to the young Emmet Till taking her by the hand and cat-calling at her. 

The response to the story was severe. 

The woman’s husband and one of his friends recruited two other men to pickup the 14 year old boy, beat him within an inch of his life, shoot him, tie him to a fan, and leave his body weighed down in the middle of a river. 

Three days later, when Emmet’s body was discovered, naked and brutally disfigured, Mamie Till insisted he be transported back to Chicago, and be displayed for all to see at an open casket funeral. 

Even in death, Mamie, the wounded and grieving mother of Emmet knew he had work to do. 

Emmet’s death was so horrifying and brutal, that the barbarism of lynch mob justice, which had been ignored for so long was brought to the light. 

The Prophet Emmet, who never spoke from behind a pulpit, spoke words to the nation and lit a spark that ignited the civil rights movement. 

He also warned the nation of what was to come, what has come, what will come, and what will continue to occur if we do not listen to that prophet and so many other prophets who came before, after, and will continue to come. 

A few weeks ago, when I watched video of the Ahmaud Arbery killing, I heard Emmet’s voice again. 

The Emmet Till Memorial Triptych by artist, Sandra Hansen
1 June 2011 (CC)

I’m a runner, and during my time in Seminary at Gettysburg, one of my favorite memories was running along the battlefield. 

I used to run past the line where Confederate artillery batteries sat, pointing at the Union position. 

Early in the morning, while fog settled across the battlefield, I would hear the ghosts of the men who’d fallen. 

Some days, I would stop a mile and a half into my run, looking out over the sight of Picket’s Charge. 

Somehow that event became widely known as Picket’s Charge, even though it was General Lee’s decision to execute the attack, and make the greatest military blunder of all time. 

General Longstreet warned Lee of his predicted outcome, and it was ignored. 

Longstreet was not the first to warn of a confederate defeat. 

At the Constitutional Convention of 1787, the forebears predicted that the uneasy agreement between slave and free states would drive a wedge into our fragile republic. 

They predicted that the issue of slavery would bring the nation to the brink of collapse, and they warned that kicking the can down the road would only deepen the wound. 

Everyone knew from the nation’s birth that the original sin of slavery would wound the nation, but like Longstreet’s warning to Lee, those objections were not heard. 

Those warnings died on the lips of those who screamed words of warning. 

Those warnings died in halls of Congress. 

Those warnings died on the fields of battle.

Those warnings are still being shouted out as that war we thought ended long ago, still rages today. 

Those warnings cried out time and again of a lost cause, which was another title awarded to Picket’s Charge and in all reality, the civil war at-large; “The Lost Cause.”

It was all a lost cause, and it remains a lost cause that haunts us again and again. 

Yet the only prophetic word that rings out are the words that rise from the lifeless lips of the oppressed; 

Those who did not choose to be prophets, but those who’ve become the fertile soil of God’s warnings. 

I am capable of sharing prophetic words, but I am no prophet. 

We don’t need prophets. 

We need to listen.

We need to hear their words, because they rise from the grave. 

The longer we ignore their words the deeper that wound will cut. 

Ignoring the whispers of those prophets that haunt us is nothing but a lost cause, 

Let us allow the prophets to finally find peace. 

Let us heed their warnings, abandon the lost cause of ignoring their prophetic words, and find peace for them. 

Perhaps even work toward finding a peace for ourselves, where all the screaming will finally cease. 

Amen

Artillery piece overlooking "Picket's Charge" at Gettysburg
Photo taken by Author

*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.