Honoring the Sacrifice
--a service for Memorial Day Weekend--
Rev. Mark Stringer
First Unitarian Church of Des Moines
5/27/07

“War may sometimes be a necessary evil. But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, not a good.  We will not learn to live together in peace by killing each other’s children.” –Jimmy Carter

 

Readings

The first reading today is from Michael Meade, a scholar of myths and rituals of traditional societies.  He writes:

 

“…the coffins rest on coffins in the worldwide fields of war.  For all wars end in funerals, and only funerals end a war.  Marching off to war also begins the funeral march.  As every ear lifts to hear the rumors of war, the coffin-makers hear the call.  Every battalion steps off under the two-sided banner: “Marching to death, marching to life?”  The young ones, compelled from within to march into life, wanting to feel fully alive, don’t see the death side of the banner.  The young, filled with dreams of immortality, can’t feel that the death side could claim them.  The old know better, whether they say it or not.  They’ve seen the other side of the banner….  When the elders don’t speak what they know of their war, they simply grow old and the war begins calling the next generation.  When the dead are given no voice, are no longer remembered to the society, the next generation is already side-stepping to the next war.  When the “body count” in battles is changed or withheld, those bodies “don’t count” and the marching orders for the next generation are being prepared.

  Everything that can be said of war above the ground has been said.  The screaming missiles are given play-by-play sendoffs by TV commentators at launch sites, and fellow commentators describe their arrival in stricken lands.  The nonstop chatter of justification and explanation from leaders and experts rattles on beyond human comprehension, and human decency.  This great “white noise” is not the only voice of the war.  After the generals, the tanks, the cameras, and the news teams have moved on to fresh fields, the voice of war roars and weeps from behind, from below. 

  [And]…when the awful chorus that attends the end of war is denied by the pretend parades of victory, when the chorus of lament is silenced in favor of forgetting, the war is calling to the next generation.”[1]

 

Our second reading is a responsive reading of “The Young Dead Soliders” by Archibald MacLeish.  (#583 in the UU hymnal: Singing the Living Tradition)

 

The young dead soldiers do not speak.

 

Nevertheless, they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them?

 

They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts.

 

They say: We were young.  We have died.  Remember us.

 

They say:  We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done.

 

They say: We have given our lives but until it is finished no one can know what our lives gave.

 

They say:  Our deaths are not ours; they are yours; they will mean what you make them.

 

They say: Whether or lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say; it is you who must say this.

 

They say: We leave you our deaths.  Give them their meaning.

 

We were young, they say.  We have died.  Remember us.

 

 

Sermon    

So I have this sticker on the back of the old Toyota I drive around town…

 

No, I’m not talking about the Howard Dean sticker that has been there for four years now, the Howard Dean sticker that I put on my car back when Dean was one of the only candidates critical of the war in Iraq, the Howard Dean sticker that I have left on my car, first as a statement of protest, then as an unintentional symbol of laziness, then as an absurdity.

 

No, I’m not talking about the Howard Dean sticker.

 

I’m also not talking about the American Flag decal on the back window.  The flag decal that was there when I bought the car around the time the Iraq war began.  The flag decal that I believed wrongly identified me as someone who supported the war.  The flag decal that I couldn’t bring myself to remove, for, after all, I am a proud citizen of this country.  I do care about its health and its actions in the world.  I do care about the promise of our flag and this democracy in which every one of us has a role, whether we accept it or not…the flag decal that, in many ways, has made it necessary for me to keep the Dean sticker on my car.  They kind of go together for me, saying:

 

In this country, I can be a proud citizen and still disagree with our elected leaders. 

I can be a proud citizen and still believe that wars should only be fought when they are absolutely necessary and all other options have been exhausted. 

I can be a proud citizen and still look as crazy as I want to as I drive around town with an outdated presidential campaign bumper sticker on my car.

 

No, I’m not talking about the American Flag decal.

 

I’m talking about a sticker that has only been on my car for a few weeks, but that I believe continues to challenge me in important ways…and maybe it has challenged others, too.

 

The sticker says “Endless War”, but the “less” is crossed out and a “this” is written above it:

 

End this war.

 

I like it because I feel it is clearly critical of the war without directly blaming anyone, without showing a bias for any particular political perspective, without disrespecting our soldiers…. Or so I’ve thought.

 

Not long after I put the sticker on my car, I gave one of my fellow ministers in town a ride to his car from an event at the statehouse.  Knowing he is not supportive of the war either, I said with a smile as we approached my car, “What do you think of my bumper sticker?”

 

His answer surprised me.  He said, “My ministerial ethics prevent me from putting a sticker like that on my car.”

 

“Oh really?” I said.  “Wow.  Mine don’t.”

 

We didn’t talk about it again on our short drive.  I wanted to think about it some before I defended myself or challenged him.  Besides, maybe it was his sense of ministerial realities rather than ethics that he was really talking about anyway.

 

Ministerial realities are the facts that go with the job:  at any given time there will be people in the congregation who will disagree (sometimes vehemently) with the minister…and conventional wisdom says that a responsible minister should leave room for those who disagree and should be careful about not being seen as too closely aligned with any particular perspective, especially political, because to be honest about one’s convictions with one’s congregation is somehow a dangerous thing to do. 

 

Certainly many congregations were torn apart during the Vietnam War era when clergy took it upon themselves to crusade against the war.  I’ve heard the cautionary stories.  In fact, the UU movement lost a lot of steam in the 70s due to these conflicts around what is appropriate for a minister to say.  And clearly, I would jeopardize our church’s tax-exempt status to encourage you from the pulpit to vote for a candidate or even a cause I support.

 

So maybe to drive around town with an “End this war” bumper sticker is a little too revealing about where I stand.  Maybe some of you are uncomfortable with me trumpeting my anti-Iraq war stance.  Maybe you think that I should develop a stronger sense of ethics.

 

You wouldn’t be alone.  Over four years ago, just before we hit Iraq with the “shock and awe” that I think we can agree has never really ended, for them or for us, I preached a sermon saying that this was the wrong war at the wrong time.  A member approached me after the service and said I wasn’t balanced in my comments.  I’m glad I didn’t share with him my first thoughts: “Balance this…” It’s not really my ministerial or theological style to say that to a church member, nor does it represent the kind of person I want to be.  So, instead, I heard my friend out and followed up the next week with a little more room for others to disagree with me.

 

The fact is, my belief in and commitment to creative interchange as “The Source of Human Good” does require that I be just as committed to humility, to understanding that I don’t always have the answers, that other perspectives have their own share of the truth, even when they don’t match my own.   But I do have to ask, how are my ministerial ethics compromised by my clearly stating that I do not support this war, that I want it to end, that I no longer want to see members of our military returned home in coffins, that the cost we have paid for this war of choice--cost in dollars, cost in lives, cost in our nation’s standing in the world--has been far greater than any perceived accomplished (or unaccomplished) mission…though perhaps not as great as the ever-growing bank accounts of the war profiteers? 

 

To me, the kind of ministerial ethics I think are most important demand that I share what I think about topics like war…especially this war. Oh, I know that some of you won’t agree with me.  But why should that stop me?   Creative Interchange and this democracy we share both rely on honest (and respectful) engagement…even when it makes us uncomfortable…even when it asks us to rethink our commitments, our positions, even our ethics. 

 

But there’s an inherent complication to my (and anyone else’s) opposition to this war.  Opposition to the war may be interpreted as a lack of support for the troops.

 

I know this because my wife told me so.  Well, not in so many words.  You see, sometimes, she ends up driving my car, and, in turn, being the keeper of the bumper stickers.  She just started a new job and in her first few weeks, the office staff were particularly kind and welcoming to her.  Then, one day last week, one of them asked her, “Hey is that your little, blue car out there?” 

 

“Yes” Susan responded, before making some joke about the car’s age and its rusty condition.  “Oh,” the woman said before what can best be described as a chill settled into the room.

 

When Susan made her way back out to my car, she figured out why she had suddenly gotten the cold shoulder.  One of the cars in the lot next to ours, no doubt this woman’s car, had its own bumper sticker: 

“Home of the free because of the brave.”

 

Other than leaving me to feel bad for putting my wife in an awkward position at work, this story brought to mind something about the Iraq war debate in this country that I just don’t understand, especially on Memorial Day weekend, when each of us should be encouraged to remember the true costs of war, specifically the sacrifice of lives.  Why is a conviction that the Iraq war was a mistake, that we have created a mess that we will only prolong by aiming for “victory” (whatever that means, since no one in Washington can seem to define it) and that we should extricate ourselves from this mess as quickly, as safely, and responsibly as possible, seen as dishonoring the troops?  I want us to get out of Iraq in large part because of the troops…because of the brave women and men who I contend should not be put in harm’s way on behalf of a short-sighted and ill-conceived foreign policy which, by ignoring the likely consequences of our mission in Iraq, has done more to dishonor our troops than any of us who want the war over ever could.

 

I want this war ended because I don’t want to further add to the roll call of next year’s Memorial Day, nor do I want more veterans to return home from Iraq less than whole, with the kind of family problems, drug and alcohol abuse, untreated post-traumatic stress disorder, and depression that often follow the soldiers and marines who have actually experienced combat. 

 

Do I wish to dishonor the lives of those who have already been sacrificed for a questionable cause?  Of course not.  These women and men chose to serve their country and I respect and honor their choice, just as I respect and honor their sacrifices even when I don’t agree with the justification of their mission.  Indeed, I respect and honor their sacrifices (past, present and future) so much that I don’t want any of our military (and their families) to have to sacrifice any more than they already have.

 

My colleague at All Souls Church in Washington DC, the Rev. Rob Hardies, contends that we have not been adequately educated on the sacrifices that have been made on our behalf and describes the parade we won’t see this Memorial Day weekend, but that we all need to see.  He writes,

 

“The parade I’m thinking of takes place right here in Washington, DC, every few days or so.  Its route begins at Andrews Air Force Base and winds around the Beltway before proceeding down 16^th Street and stopping at the back door of the Walter Reed Medical Center.  Its convoy consists only of a few military buses and vans.  The procession I’m describing is the parade of wounded soldiers returning from the war in Iraq.  The reason you won’t see…this parade, is that the government of the United States of America doesn’t want you to.  This procession always takes place at night, under the cover of darkness, when no one’s paying attention.  Not only are the convoys at night, but photographers are prohibited from taking pictures of the wounded soldiers as they are brought to Walter Reed, just as they are forbidden from photographing the flag-draped caskets filled with dead soldiers that arrive every few days at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware.”[2]

 

The fact is, these photos have been forbidden since the first Gulf War. Maybe those who call our troops into battle know that if we all had to face the real costs of war, we might decide that war isn’t the best option.  I have to think that for the citizens of this country to be intentionally restricted from seeing these returning wounded and dead, from having to grapple with the realities of war, the costs in life and limb and spirit, is a far greater dishonor to the sacrifices that have been made than any bumper sticker or pulpit expression of wanting this war to end ever could be. 

 

How can we allow our fellow citizens to return dead or injured from a war zone, where they were fighting in our country’s name, without more acknowledgement?  How can we talk about supporting our troops and be content to allow these women and men to make the ultimate sacrifice when most of the rest of us have not been asked to make any sacrifices for this war at all?

 

In an interview in the New York Times, Paul Rieckhoff, a veteran from a 2004 tour of duty in Iraq, described his advocacy organization called Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America by saying,

“We have a very diverse membership….We’ve got Republicans and Democrats and everything in between. But one of the key things we all have in common is this frustration with the detachment that we see all around us, this idea that we’re at war and everybody else is watching ‘American Idol.’ … The president can say we’re a country at war all he wants. We’re not. The military is at war. And the military families are at war. Everybody else is shopping.” [3]

 

Rieckoff contends that if the public were more aware of the on-the-ground realities for our combat soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, we would be taking the wars there more seriously.  As it is, most of us have been asked to do virtually nothing.  In fact, we are intentionally kept from seeing the toll war takes on all those it touches.

Memorial Day is a day to remember, a day to acknowledge our military families past and present, a day to honor the sacrifices that have been made…and that will continue to be made…especially if we are not paying attention and making sure that our men and women are called into battle only as a last resort.  We at least owe our military and their families that much, don’t we?

My bumper sticker suggesting that we end this war is one way I have chosen to remember that there is a war being fought…and that this war threatens to be endless until enough of us stand up and say, no more.  I can’t see that bumper sticker without thinking about my own responsibility to end this war. What better way to honor those who have already given their lives than to work to prevent others from having to give theirs?

I am not a pacifist.  I am not naïve.  I understand that war is sometimes necessary and perhaps impossible to avoid. Sigmund Freud wrote about two conflicting forces within each of us: the force of Eros, or life instinct—the instinct to preserve and care for—and the force of Thanatos, or death instinct—the instinct towards aggression and destruction.  Because of this constant tension between life and death within our very psyches, Freud believed that war is inevitable. Even when Eros is prevalent in society, Thanatos will rise again.  Chris Hedges, a former war correspondent, has written that after the Vietnam War, Eros was ascendant because the American people were forced to take an honest look at ourselves, to see our own capacity for evil.  Over the thirty years since Vietnam, however, the pendulum has swung back again toward Thanatos, towards death, enabling us to revel in our military power, our weapons, and our perceived infallibility as a nation.[4]

I’ve heard many pro-Iraq war pundits and politicians who sidestep the issue of how we got into this war, saying that we can’t live in the past…what’s done is done.  Then they launch into sweeping fear-filled characterizations of the “war on terror” never acknowledging that our presence in the Iraq civil war is creating its own terror…terror that is impacting our military and their families, jeopardizing our ability to be a force for good elsewhere in the world and leaving our nation to have debates about who supports the troops rather than the real debate that is needed: why are we over there and how can we get out?

These pundits and politicians also suggest that the men and women who have given their lives in this conflict will have died for naught if we pull out “before the job is done.”  But I contend that as long as we pay attention to the real cost of war, the ultimate sacrifices that have been made, these lost lives we have to acknowledge will offer the greatest lesson of all:  War is a horror that should be avoided at all costs.  If we pay attention enough and this lesson sinks in, maybe the pendulum will swing toward Eros once more…and maybe our nation will not be so easily misled into battle again…at least until future generations have to learn the same painful lessons.

So this Memorial Day, let us hear the voice of war roaring and weeping from behind, from below… calling to us to remember, to honor the sacrifices that have been made and that are still being made.  And may we be inspired to do our part to help create a world where peace is an expectation and war is a last resort.  May it be so.  For our loved ones who have come before us.  For ourselves.  For our children.