In the days to come,
The Mount of the LORD's House shall stand firm above the hills.
The peoples shall gaze upon it with joy.
They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks,
Nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
nor ever again shall they train for war.
Then everyone shall sit under their own grapevine or fig tree
with no one to disturb them.
Micah 4: 1-4
Like most of you, my mind has been on our military veterans lately as we give pause to honor their heroic defense of the land we call home. My father, for whom I am named, joined the United States Army during the Korean War and served in the Demilitarized Zone shortly after the cease fire agreement between the north and south was reached in 1953. Dad’s role was to ensure the safe distribution and inventory of armaments from the ammunitions depot. Dad knew the weapons being issued from small arms to large artillery. He was also responsible for creating landing zones for helicopters used to evacuate wounded service personnel. Dad witnessed many of the horrors of “peace keeping” including the deaths of two soldiers that shook him to the core. He was 20 years old when he went to “Hell” and came back.
For most of Dad’s life following the war, he didn’t say much about his experiences, which is more typical than not for veterans. During the past twenty years through reunions with fellow veterans, he has been able to share some of the experiences that shaped his adult life. Our family has heard several stories more than once and each time he tells them we listen as if they are brand new, because we honor his courage and his need to share them.
Last summer, I was blessed to travel with family three generations deep to our nation’s capitol the week of my dad’s 76th birthday. Teri & I had been there and had seen many of the monuments, but our sons and my parents had not. Selfishly, I was most interested in fulfilling a promise that I had made to myself that I would make sure that Dad would get the chance to visit the Korean War Memorial at least once in his life. On his birthday, we drove our rented van to the National Mall to visit the memorials. We spent the entire day seeing the many tributes to our nation’s women and men who answered the call to duty and served the cause of freedom as well as the edifices of government and historical preservation of our diverse heritage. Maybe I am biased, but I think the Korean War Memorial is one of the most moving of all the monuments. Etched by laser into giant vertical slabs of polished granite are actual photographs of women and men from every branch of service looking back at the observer as if to say, “don’t forget us.” As you look closer you see your own face reflecting among the faces of those who bravely fought for a people they truly didn’t know. And perhaps most moving are the just larger than life self standing statues of a platoon making their way through the cold, swampy muck cloaked in ponchos, packs on their backs, with eyes hollow from the haunting memories of war that seem to follow the onlookers. My dad was moved to tears more than 50 years after having felt as if our nation had completely abandoned his comrades when they returned home to no celebrations, no hero status, no respect and no honors.
We bought Dad a Korean Veteran hat at the kiosk and he wore it proudly later last summer at a parade route for service personnel returning from Afghanistan to the Kankakee area. As the time drew near for the buses to pass by the place where we had parked, Dad made his way to the street where the sea of folks gathered parted to allow him to move right to the front of the line. One woman standing with her small son said to her little guy, “shake that man’s hand, he was in a war, he’s a veteran.” The boy, who was probably about 6 years old, stretched out his hand toward Dad and said, “Mister, Thank you.” My dad smiled, shook his hand and said, “Well, thank you.” The buses rolled by and Dad stood in salute welcoming home a new group of veterans.
As the Prince of Peace, Jesus’ ministry was always about bringing reconciliation and healing to a fragmented and hurting world. Sometimes Jesus brought physical healing, and more often he brought the kind of healing that restored honor for folks who had been kicked to the outside of their communities. And, he calls us to do so today. How have you carried healing with you to those who are broken? How have you helped restore someone’s honor? In this coming Sunday’s lectionary scriptures, healing and restoration call us to courageous compassion. May we have courageous hearts full of compassion and ready to bring healing and honor for all people.
Reprinted from The Central Visitor June 2, 2010 Edition.
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