Sermon for September 30th

Chaplain Mel Baars

James 5:13-20

“Prayers”

September has been a never-ending month. As one person said to me the other day, it feels as if the month of September has been longer than the whole rest of the deployment. I have to agree. There is a laundry list of contributing factors to our general frustration and misery. Many of us have been here for a long time. We have reached the limits of our patience and have found ourselves wondering how we are going to make it to end of this journey, even when the end is in sight.  For those of us who have only been here for a few weeks, we may be fresh and ready to tackle this mission, but still, there are family issues and worries over home. All of these burdens, and more, become heavier and heavier. 

I really didn’t want to preach on James again, mostly because James can get a little “preachy” multiple weeks in a row. He always seems to have the right answers and doesn’t waste any time pandering to our excuses. His confidence in delivery is almost too much to swallow, as if being faithful is easy. There is a part of me that doesn’t want to dwell on what James has to say because in my heart I know he usually makes good points, even if they are points I would rather ignore. This week he tells us, no matter what our circumstances are, we should be praying, a particular point that I have lost sight of over these past few weeks. 

“Are any among you suffering?” James asks. “They should pray.” Suffering may be too dramatic of an adjective to describe the events of this past month, at least for me. No one has died which was the litmus test I put in place upon deploying here. But there have been quite a few hard days, quite a few disparaging situations. We are continually warned about threat streams against our base, not to mention the other attacks that we hear about happening all around theater. The news of riots around the world over the Innocence of Muslims video which led to the deaths of quite a few people has been deeply discouraging. Marriages between our service members are being patched together with string and scotch tape, and the deployment orders are still being cut. Suicide has been worse this year than ever before, at least in the Army family. Our children are dealing with their own challenges and difficulties without us there with them to help. I could go on and on and on. 

We wonder how in the world we are going to hold it all together. How will we find pathways toward peace in the midst of the fighting and misunderstandings? How will we keep our loved ones safe and healthy? How will we pay the bills and, at the same time, prepare for all the possible misfortunes that are lurking? This month it is cancer from the burn pit, next month I am sure it will be something else. It’s tiring just thinking about it all. 

If any of you are suffering or struggling, you should be praying James reminds us. It is as simple as that. Just pray. I am sure that there are a few people here who live by this mantra. I wish I could say that I am among you, but the truth is, more often than not, I forget my prayers. Before you start walking out in protest that your chaplain doesn’t pray, please hear me out. It’s not that I never pray, or don’t believe in the power of prayer. Of course I do. We happen to be praying quite a few times together during this morning’s worship service. But I think that James is talking about something a little different. I think he is saying that praying should be our way of living. Praying should be how we respond to whatever life unfolds before us, in the midst of suffering, in cheer, in sickness and everything between. I do pray, but normally I don’t remember to do so until all my other problem solving tactics have failed me. Prayer should be my first response but so often, I confess, it is my last. 

But, one of the aspects of this passage about prayer which is so important is that prayer does not only depend on me or any one of you, but prayer, as James envisioned it, was all about the whole community. When he asks, “Are any among you sick,” he doesn’t say, you alone should pray. You alone are responsible for praying for yourself. But, he says, “They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.” James reminds us that the suffering, the cheer, the sickness and all the rest are not to be lived out in individual vacuums. Instead, we are in this as one body, a community of the faithful who have each pledged to walk alongside one another, sharing burdens and sorrows as well as joys and celebrations. This is what relationships are all about. Prayer is at the very heart of following Jesus. It is how we come to know God more fully. 

This year, in the peaks and valleys of deployed life, I have experienced the power of the prayers of my community of faith. Just when I feel like I have hit a wall, and have had all the energy sucked out of me, I will get an email from a friend, simply telling me that I, along with my soldiers, have been prayed for. Even though people have told me that they would be praying for me throughout this year, it always surprises me. Whenever I get one of these emails, I feel wrapped in the presence of God. 

Just this week, I got emails from friends who are elders in my own community of faith. One is a pastor and the other three are ordained leaders in my church, so it is no stretch to think that they would be praying for me, especially because they know that this month has been so challenging. Yet, reading their emails over the past few days, hearing that one of them is lighting a candle each day and saying prayers for us, this was just the reminder I needed. I am not alone. None of us are. And, even when we haven’t remembered to pray first, others have stepped in for us. This is what a family does for one another. 

James was so right. Gather all the elders together and before you do anything else, pray-- for the sick, for the suffering, for those who struggle in mind, body, or spirit. There is lots of work to be done to be sure, but start with prayer and go from there. Let God hear you. Let God be an active part of your life because God’s presence and strength and wisdom and care will make all the difference. 

Still, though, for some of us, it is hard to know where to begin with our prayers. If we have endured unspeakable sadness or disappointment or have struggled with depression, we may find ourselves at a loss for what to pray. When we feel far from God or even angry with God because of the circumstances that we are dealing with, finding the words to pray may not be easy. 

My childhood friend’s grandmother used to talk to us about her prayer life when we were growing up. She had been a faithful believer throughout her life and then one day, her youngest daughter was murdered. It was a random, shocking crime which left their whole family reeling. Though this woman had spent her lifetime praying, suddenly, she found that she couldn’t pray anymore. Her loss, her anger, her grief, her sadness-- they were too painful. Though she couldn’t pray her own prayers, she told us that she still prayed the Lord’s Prayer every day. “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven...” She prayed this, for months, maybe even for years, this prayer which Jesus taught her and all of us to pray. “Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us...” Praying this prayer helped her to survive this tragedy. “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…” In the end, this prayer gave her a way to stay connected to God even when God felt so far away. 

If there are any among you who are suffering, you should pray for God hears your cries and helps you in your distress. If there are any who are cheerful, you should pray, too, giving thanks and praise to God for all of your blessings. If there are any who are sick or struggling, get the elders together to pray, for we are all in this together. Through the love and support of one another, we are reminded what faithfulness looks like, even when it gets dark. We are given the strength and the courage to live our lives as God has called us, trusting that God will be there with us. 

“For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.”

Stemming the Suicide Tides

This week, all around the globe, Army installations from the United States all the way to Afghanistan pressed pause on operations in order to conduct a day of suicide training across all of all forces. Suicide has been a growing problem in the Army for a number of years, having doubled over a five year period and peaking in 2009. The Army’s response to this increasing problem has been more training, or in reality, more power point presentations often delivered by chaplains. Most units are required to do quarterly training on the subject which means that the majority of every audience has heard the finer points of these presentations, multiple times. There is no lack of awareness that suicide is an important issue which continues to impact our brothers and sisters-in-arms.

Despite the efforts that have been made, 2012 is projected to be the worst year ever for Army suicides. In mid-June, there had been a suicide for every day of the year. In July, this number peaked at thirty-eight. At this point, suicide is responsible for more deaths than any other cause, including combat and motor vehicle accidents. Though much has been “done” to stem the tide of death by suicide, these solutions have been largely ineffective.

There are many people within the Army community who are asking, “Why?” The standard answers are still being offered. For instance, some say that the Army isn’t talking about suicide enough. Though they have increased awareness of this topic, it hasn’t been sufficient to keep up with the needs that have exploded exponentially after eleven years of continual deployments on multiple fronts. The stigma associated with mental health intervention also prevents soldiers from seeking help. “Getting help” may be hailed as a courageous act, but, in actuality, the military culture depends on sustaining an emotionless vacuum. Those who have been trained to repress emotions in order to maintain composure and minimize the normative human reactions to trauma while in the heat of combat struggle to deal with these emotions once they rise again to the surface later in life. 

These, and a few others even, are important pieces of this devastating puzzle. These reasons are all cited in research. They are the ones I studied when I was a graduate student, writing papers about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. But, after spending a few years in the Army, I don’t think these reasons are the true, underlying issue. I think our problem actually has to do with conveying the value of human life, and ultimately convincing people one of two ends: either that they are valued and cherished or that they are dispensable. The Army knows all the right words to say, when it comes to leadership, yet anyone who has been around this organization for more than a honeymoon period, knows that many if not most struggle to live up to these words. What is espoused by leaders at the highest ranks comes across in the trenches as lip service. Leadership talks about caring about every last soldier that fills every last one of our ranks, but this talk is empty. If the well-being of soldiers was truly a priority, decisions would not be made based on the easiest and cheapest way to get the job done. Those of us, closest to the ground, are being suffocated by this hypocrisy. 

If we want to prevent more suicide in the Army, we need to start with teaching soldiers that they are valuable individuals who matter. The best way to teach is through our actions, not our words. In many ways, this is counterintuitive to the way the Army operates. On the other hand though, this concept of worth has always been a part of our organization and how we build a team. We are only ever as strong as our weakest member and therefore, we are deeply connected to each person and his or her resilience and capacity to thrive even in difficult circumstances. Part of the Soldier’s Creed, which every soldier memorizes as a part of basic training, reminds us all that we never leave a fallen comrade behind. Every life is worth fighting for. We can’t just say our creeds but, ultimately, we must make decisions with these tenants in mind. It is true that the higher one gets in a hierarchy, the harder it is to remember the realities on the ground. Yet, the future of our forces depends on it.

Sermon for September 23, 2012

“Servant Leadership”

Mark 9:33-37

At times, Jesus can really be annoying.. It’s impossible to sneak anything by him and his special Jesus mind reading powers, at least I am sure that is what it felt like to the disciples when, out of nowhere, he asked them, “So, what were you arguing about back there.” Talk about being caught red handed. They answered his seeming innocuous question with silence, which, in a way, was answer enough. None of them wanted to admit to their petty immaturity. They knew Jesus would not be impressed with their conversation topic—who was the greatest. 

It is moments like this when it is clear how well Jesus perfected the art of the “rhetorical” question. 

“Which of these three, do you think, was really a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers (Luke 10:36)?” 

“Suppose one of you has only one sheep and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath; will you not lay hold of it and lift it out? How much more valuable is a human being than a sheep (Matthew 12:11-12)!”

"Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake (Matthew 7:9—10)?"

We can imagine how uncomfortable his audience might feel in the wake of these questions. Jesus doesn’t accuse or reprimand with venomous words or at loud decibels, instead he gently points out the obvious. He holds up a mirror so that those who are listening can see their own foolishness.  Today’s passage is all about the disciples’ need to feel superior to one another. We are not given the gory details about their pissing contest, but if we are honest with ourselves, we may admit that we know this scene all too well. 

So, what did you get on your PT test? I got a 290… says one, while the other retorts with an even better score. Top block on an officer evaluation, promotion below the zone, or even better, my kid got on the honor roll, did yours? I am not saying that we shouldn’t be proud of our kids or even ourselves when we have had a significant accomplishment. But, as one of my friends would say to me whenever I would talk about how many pull-ups I could do-- nobody likes a bragger. 

In our passage this morning, the disciples are so focused on who is “greatest,” more valuable than all the rest, that they lose sight who they are to one another. In their blind pursuit for glory, they forget all they have learned from their time spent in Jesus’ company, that they are called not to win, not to be the best, but to love and serve one other. This is what Jesus has been teaching them from the very beginning. This is the reason he called them away from their fishing nets and their families and friends in the first place, so that they could learn this lesson of self-sacrifice from him. In the end, Jesus put the needs of the world before his own. It may be an impossible example for us to ever follow, at least fully, but still, Jesus is our only real model of leadership.  

Luke phrases this same exchange between Jesus and the disciples like this: A dispute also arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest. Jesus said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves (Luke 22:24-27).

Back in the 70s, an entrepreneur of sorts named Robert Greenleaf, coined the term “servant leadership.” After working in business for a number of years, he became concerned with the authoritarian, power centric leadership that he witnessed. He retired early, and decided to spend the rest of his life promoting an alternative model of leadership: the servant leader. In one of his first essay’s on the subject, he wrote,

"The servant-leader is servant first… It begins with the natural feeling that one wants to serve, to serve first. Then conscious choice brings one to aspire to lead. That person is sharply different from one who is leader first, perhaps because of the need to assuage an unusual power drive or to acquire material possessions… (Robert K. Greenleaf. The Servant as Leader, an essay that he first published in 1970)”

According to the Greenleaf Center for Servant Leadership, a servant leader embodies certain characteristics. 

1. Servant leaders know how to listen both to what is said and even to what is left unspoken. Being tuned in helps them make decisions which positively impact the whole team. 
2. Servant leaders are empathetic to those they lead, striving to understand better what their people are going through. Ultimately, nurturing these relationships further contributes to both the individual’s personal development as well as the performance of the team as a whole. 
3. Servant leaders make room for healing. They value healthy problem solving by encouraging resolution of conflicts and aiding reconciliation where damage has been done. 
4. Servant leaders are aware both of themselves as well as what is happening within the community. They are more interested in the truth, than being comfortable, even if the information is hard to swallow.
5. Servant leaders are persuasive instead of coercive. They do the hard work that is necessary to get all the team on board, even when it takes extra time and effort. 
6. Servant leaders have foresight. They look beyond the status quo, the way it has always been done, and strive to create a better future for the community through understanding the past.
7. Servant leaders are stewards of the privilege of leading. They view those they lead as more than workers, but as individuals who are worth investing in both personally and professionally. 
8. Servant leaders give themselves to their team, realizing that the community is only as strong as the resources and investments that have been made on its behalf, starting at the top. 

This model of leadership echoes Jesus’ own instruction. And, we know that this concept of servant leadership is important because it doesn’t just appear in one place in the gospel but is an ongoing theme. Those who want to gain life must be willing to lose their lives. Those who are first will be last and those who are last will be first. Jesus turns everything on its head and this is why following him is so important. We don’t know how to live upside down without Jesus to guide us. 

Sadly, when given even a modicum of power or prestige, most of us don’t handle it very well. It goes to our heads. Despite when we have sworn up and down that we will not become one of those leaders, it often happens without us even realizing it. But Jesus sees this coming before we have even begun. And, just as he is there with the disciples, reminding them of the servants they are called to be, he is also here with us, holding up a mirror so that we can find our way again.   

“Those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the one who serves… I am among you as one who serves. (Luke 22:24-27)”

We are each called to serve. We may forget what this looks like on some days, but Jesus reminds us of the purpose of our calling. We look to the one who has given us life, the one who has taught us how to live our lives well. With ears to listen, minds prepared to grow in awareness and foresight, hearts willing to empathize and assist with the difficult process of reconciliation, and, always, always, as stewards of the privilege of leadership, may we endeavor to serve one another in a spirit of love and generosity. To first be a servant of all, this is where true leadership begins. This is what Jesus has shown us. It is what Jesus has done himself. May we follow his lead. Amen.

Forever September

September has been interminable. It is as if time in Afghanistan has stopped altogether. Though it is not rational, and I know, at least cognitively, that time has passed no differently this month than any other month of my life, it still feels as if October will never come to pass. 

Experienced deployers assure me that this feeling is perfectly normal. It is a part of the deployment cycle. No one is able to fully escape its clutches. I like to think that the departure of my closest friends and the added frustration of the burn pit have made my last thirty days that much more challenging. The headaches and allergic reactions alone are enough to put anyone on edge. 

I have never been one to bargain with God, but these past few weeks, I realized that I have been making deals with myself. I will be in a good mood if the burn pit blows in the opposite direction of camp, I have thought. I will be satisfied even when the burn pit is operational during the day if, at night, when the wind typically shifts in our direction, they stop the fires, I have reasoned. Despite my deals, nothing with the burn pit has changed. Every morning, I peer out of my door to face its ugliness. Every time I look in its direction, I am disappointed again. I don’t know why I think tomorrow will be any different. My irrational expectations have continued to be my downfall. 

Today, though, I feel as if I turned a corner. Perhaps I have just reached that last stage of the process of grief: acceptance. I will be here until the end of my 365 days, and there is nothing that I can do to change this. I have no control of my surroundings but only influence the way I respond to my circumstances. I know this. I have known this, but I have been fighting it all month. Whatever prompted my emotional reboot, I am grateful. These would have been three very long weeks had I not regained my sense of care for everyone around me. There is a camp full of people who have to stay many months after I leave. I don’t need to infect them with my misery. It’s not a good scene when the chaplain is the one making the room darker by her mere presence. That is not who I have ever been, nor is it who I want to become, even when things are tough. 

Yet, I also realize that it has been a long eleven months. I have used the last of my reserve and the fumes (literally) are not enough. But, one of the interesting observations I have had over these days is the how much little gestures of kindness have given me needed energy. One of my neighbors helped me remove a splinter from my finger last night, and it was as if she had offered one of her kidneys. Another neighbor brought me a stuffed animal which she found at the airport on her leave. Yet another, one who probably has the busiest job on camp, took from her precious sleeping time to commiserate with a group of us in the bathroom. I have spent so much of this deployment giving, that I haven’t noticed just how much of a difference receiving can make, even when the gift is something small. 

I have realized in these difficult weeks just how much community matters, even when it is not the close friends and family that we might choose if we had a choice. The never-ending month of September has reminded me that, ultimately, completing this deployment will be possible because of the people I am surrounded by, people who step up to remove splinters or take an extra moment to write a note of encouragement. I will only get to the finish line because people have been willing to share their support and remind me, the one who is supposed to be doing the reminding, that we are all in this together. It is okay to lean on someone for a little while, even if that person is a stranger.

Someone once said, “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day which says I will try again tomorrow.” Living through September has taught me that this is so true. 

Sticks and Stones - Sunday Sermon, September 16, 2012

Chaplain Mel Baars

September 16, 2012

James 3:1-12

“Sticks and Stones”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Most of us grew up reciting a version of this nursery rhyme. I can’t recall when I learned it, but I am sure it was at some point in elementary school. Teaching our children this little adage is a means of building their resiliency, thickening their skin so that they can handle the bullying or the gossip mill that they will likely encounter in school. We all have our own memories of playground scenes and the taunting and teasing that transpired between classmates. I don’t know if I ever shouted out the rhyme, but I am sure that it crossed my mind whenever harsh words were thrown my way.

There is some dissension over the saying’s origins. According to Wikipedia, everyone’s favorite all knowing, all powerful internet mega-resource, this nursery rhyme first appeared as advice in a publication of Tappy’s Chicks and other Links between nature and human nature by Miss George Cuples in 1872. Other internet dictionary resources cite a volume of The Christian Recorder in 1862 which said, “Remember the old adage, 'Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me'. True courage consists in doing what is right, despite the jeers and sneers of our companions.” Either way, this saying has been around for a while.

Sadly, name calling is part of growing up for most kids. They are either victims or perpetrators of these harsh words. Typically, those kids who are apt to throw harsh words at their peers, have caught their fair share of them at home from their parents or older siblings. At times, verbal abuse seems more contagious than the stomach flu and certainly as virulent, which is why I always thought the Sticks and Stones phrase wasn’t very helpful. Words can really hurt, sometimes worse and for much longer than sticks or stones, especially if they are lobbed at us by someone who is supposed to love us. Perhaps this is why some have altered this phrase a little to better reflect this reality. A recent article in the journal, Psychology Today, twisted the adage like this, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will cut me deeply.” Words either build us up or tear us down, and we all know that it takes a lot more time and energy to build something than it does to destroy it.

The tongue wields remarkable power and must be controlled which is why James belabors his point, using not one but four different examples which illustrate the truth of his point: a bit in the mouth of horse can yield obedience, a rudder on a ship if piloted well can guide the vessel with precision and safety, a spark, left unattended, can set a forest ablaze in minutes, and a wild animal can wreak havoc if left untamed. James sticks with real life which makes it easier for us to understand and then identify similar examples in our own lives.

This past week we have watched the world catch fire over words captured on a video that was uploaded to youtube. Whatever your opinion is on this video, The Innocence of Muslims, and trust me, I have my own opinions, this week, all over the world, we have witnessed the power of the tongue and its capacity to have incredible influence with rapid speed. Who knows what the intention was of those involved with this, whether they anticipated the kind of explosion which happened, but their words have been used as a powerful weapon of hate and violence. This is exactly what James is talking about without, even, our present context of a global, web-based society. Twenty countries across the Middle East have been affected, including Afghanistan. There have been multiple deaths with many more injuries. It’s hard to say just how far this particular fire will spread. It is a sobering reminder that words matter. Words can bring a blessing or a curse; words can even mean life or death.

James realizes just how critical the tongue is in maintaining healthy relationships between one another. I think this is why he begins his third chapter with this statement: Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. All teaching is based on relationship. A teacher gives and her students receive. A teacher has the authority to speak while her students are required to listen. Teaching uses the tongue, and not just in a private setting, but publicly, with the potential of affecting whole handfuls of people. While this may seem a simple concept, James is well aware, probably from his own personal experience, how difficult controlling the tongue can prove to be, especially when emotions, like anger or frustration or exhaustion, are involved. But being in a position of influence means that there isn’t room for much error. It is funny how many of us are more likely to hold on to the negative words than the positive ones. As teachers, or even parents, every time we open our mouths to speak, what we say may be etched into the very fabric of our pupils. Once the train has left the station, it’s not easy to stop it. Even a pencil mark that has been thoroughly erased leaves a hint of a smudge.

One day, when I was about seven, I remember my Dad saying a “bad” word in front of me, maybe it was dammit but I don’t know. I think he had dropped a glass and spilled its contents on the carpet. He was annoyed. Now, I didn’t grow up in an excessively religious household. I heard my parents, on occasion, say some four letter words, but I was taught that these words were “bad.” I wasn’t allowed to say them. I remember, when my father let this word slip, saying to him, quite incorrigibly, “Isn’t dammit a ‘bad” word.” I bet my hands were on my hips when I scolded him. What I remember more than anything from this exchange was the look on his face when I brought this to his attention. It was a mixture of frustration and disappointment in himself. He sat down on the stairs, eye level with me, and admitted his mistake, “Yes, you are right, and I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

All these years later, I still remember the incident well. But, what I remember most about that day was my Dad’s apology. It wasn’t the “bad” word or the details of his mistake that made the truest impression on me, but it was how he responded to what he said, the way he recognized his mistake and then attempted to rectify it. There is a reason we are warned not to take on the mantle of teaching, preaching, leading, shepherding, or parenting. We are all going to make mistakes and say things which we regret. It’s part of being human. Sometimes these mistakes have serious, even deadly consequences. How we handle these mistakes though, even the worst of them, may make all the difference in what happens next, in how the landscape for our pupils, our soldiers, or even our children, is affected for good or for ill. 

Admitting our mistakes or that we have been wrong is not an easy thing to do, especially in this business. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of room for failure even though we all know that our days are filled with the evidence of our imperfections-- the email we forgot to send which put quite a few co-workers in the hot seat, the moment we snapped at a co-worker for no good reason, the words we uttered in anger or frustration. We all make these mistakes, and we can’t take them back either. We can’t rewind the clock and do a second take. There are no do over’s.

But, what makes a good teacher is recognizing the errors that have been made and then taking steps to put the pieces back together. For as much as there are mistakes, there is also forgiveness. Every time we come together to worship, we confess our mistakes, the harm of our unbridled tongue, all that we have done and left undone and everything between. Confession is a practice of Christian faith. It is the way that we begin the process of repairing the damage we have done. And God’s response to our confession is forgiveness and pardon. In a gesture of restoration, God heals our wounds, both the ones that were self-afflicted and the others that we have caught in the crossfire of our lives. Our confession and then God’s forgiveness-- it is never one without the other.

Because of words, our worlds may be set ablaze. And, as we know too well, what started as a spark can explode, incinerating everything in its path. As teachers, as those who speak while others listen, we are called to do the hard work of putting out the fire, of recognizing our failures and our mistakes so that we can begin the long process of healing and restoration. This is how we sow seeds of heaven. This is how we share the good news. It may take our whole life, and even the lifetimes of those who follow us, but we can trust that God will be there too, lighting our paths and guiding us every step of the way. Amen.

September 12th

I remember waking up the morning after 9-11, expecting to hear bomber jets flying overhead. Though it is unlikely that Durham, NC would ever be in a flight path for U.S. war planes, I wasn’t sure what unthinkable pandemonium I should be preparing for in the wake of the terrorist attacks on our own soil. I was a new freshman in college, far away from the security of my home and family. I had spent the day before huddled around the common room television in our dorm, watching the instant replay of the twin towers collapsing into the Manhattan cement. 

There were whispers of which students had parents who worked either in the towers or in the surrounding blocks. We waited with them, our collective breath held, wondering how the news would unfold in the coming days. Would the phone call be a huge relief or a nightmare come true? With Duke’s freshman orientation week a fresh memory, I was still trying to find my way around campus and figure out when and where to find my classes. Suddenly, it seemed as if the whole world had turned upside-down. 

Eleven years later, watching reports of new conflicts and assassination, in northern Africa as well as continued upheaval in Afghanistan, I still experience echoes of that same anxiety I felt on September 12, 2001. The details have changed over time, but the underlying fear that the world might one day unravel completely, always lurks right beneath the surface. 

These past few days, besides the extra rockets that were hurled our way in “celebration” of the anniversary of 9-11, our biggest concern has been a new trash burning pit erected on the perimeter of our camp. For the last week, as the winds have picked up in the evening hours, thick smoke has enveloped our camp, causing a plethora of physical symptoms as well as a growing panic. The air quality has always been bad on Bagram because of burn pits which destroy the hundreds of tons of trash created by the 40,000 some odd people who live on our around our air base. Watching a plume of smoke spread angrily into the sky day after day, not even 200 yards from some our housing units, has made many of us wonder just how bad the health repercussions will be for us. 

Last night, as I fretted about the cancer I knew I was developing and tried not to breathe too deeply so I wouldn’t choke on the lingering smoke, I realized the one thing I had not done in these days of worry-- pray. In the midst of my woes, I am often surprised to remember that I can always pray. One would think that a pastor would not so readily forget this powerful resource, but I do. I have been indebted though, especially throughout this year of deployment, that there have been many others who have remembered. Friends and family from every one of my life’s seasons have uttered prayers on my behalf. On many days, reminders of their prayer through emails, facebook messages, and letters, have made a remarkable impact on me, helping me cope better with the chaos unfolding around me. 

In some ways, it will always be September 12th, a day when it feels as if the world is coming apart at the seams as well as a day when we discover that life goes on despite the uncertainty. We wake up, get our kids off to school, do our work, tend to our chores and between all the running around, attempt to love one another as best we can. As life swirls around us, we remember that there is very little we can control. We have been given a gift of life, without any guarantee of number of days or even moments. Spending time preserving this life is a natural response to the harsh reality that our time is constantly running out. 

Yet, I am grateful for the moments when I realize that vain attempts of security simply take away from living life well. Whether it is a plume of smoke or any other darkness which threatens us, in the midst of our worry, in glimpses of grace we remember God’s presence which is steadfast and true. We have been promised good things. Even when I am afraid, I know that this promise will still be enough. 

But none too much - Sunday Sermon, September 9, 2012

Chaplain Mel Baars

September 9, 2012

James 2:1-10, 14-17

“But none too much..”

We all know how this works, particularly in the military. Special people get special treatment. In our community, it’s not gold rings and fine clothes, but it’s a bird or a star or two which garners the special treatment. When a person of that kind of stature appears on the scene, we do the scramble dance. We are at their beck and call with our “Yes Sirs” and “Yes Ma’ams.” No request is too much. The question is not if we will jump, but just how high. This is how we train, starting from our first experiences in basic training. The rank structure exists for good reasons. I want to be clear, I am not proposing an all out rebellion against it.   

It is actually the second part of James’ point which applies to us. He says, “but if a poor person in dirty clothes walks in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes saying, ‘Have a seat here, please,’ while to the one who is poor you say, ‘Stand there,’ or ‘Sit at my feet,’ have you not made distinctions among yourselves.” Respect is not just for the ones who have the stars on their chests. They may be the ones who get the seat at the head of the table. We stand at attention when they enter the room. This is our protocol, and it is important. Yet, that does not preclude us from extending respect to all the rest, even the ones with hardly any rank at all.

Respect of the office is paramount to doing our business, but it’s not what James is referring to here. Instead, he is talking about how we treat one another. The idea that no matter who comes to us for help, we respond generously because he or she is first and foremost our neighbor. We see them for their humanity and not for their wealth, or in our case, their rank. As much as we know this, too often we forget. When we amass, even a modicum of power or influence, it’s easy for it to go to our heads. We task someone “under” us to do the dirty work, just this once because we are too busy with more important work. But then one time turns into two or three, and the snowball continues. We walk into a room, looking past all the lower enlisted, figuring out with whom we can rub our elbows. Just this once, we say to ourselves. We have to think of our careers and our next promotion board. One thing leads to the next, little compromises and moments of neglect, and sooner or later, we have lost sight of respect and love altogether.

Just a glance at James and it’s obvious that he isn’t in the business of sugar coating. He asks his audience a simple, albeit, excruciatingly uncomfortable question. “Do you people really believe in Jesus?” After assessing the landscape and observing their behavior patterns, particularly their treatment of the poor and powerless, James has come to a pretty dismal conclusion. Though they say they believe, they don’t act like it. They don’t live as if their belief in Jesus makes any real difference in their lives.

James’ question is as pertinent to us as it was to them. Assessing the way that we behave, examining our actions, would James ask us the same question? Do we really believe in Jesus? Do we live our lives as if our belief in Jesus makes a difference? I guess a better question might be this: How should a believer live? James answers this question by reminding his audience that we are accountable for all of our actions and, in some cases, our inaction. We may follow some laws really well, never murdering or committing adultery, but if we forget to love to our neighbors, if we judge others mercilessly, then we have, in effect, broken all of the laws. It’s not a game of picking and choosing. We are accountable for what we have done and left undone, and because we are human beings, it’s a safe bet that we have fallen short somewhere.

James spends quite a few verses of this chapter talking about the poor, which is rather appropriate for us as we are living in one of the poorest countries in the world where about 42% of the population in Afghanistan live on less than $1 a day.[1] It is hard to know where to begin in a place with these kinds of statistics, but all of us have more opportunities than we may realize to respect our neighbors, even here within the walls of our camp. Whether it’s at the dining facility, when we are served our food or find ourselves standing in line next to a local contractor, or just walking by the latrines and acknowledging those individuals whose job it is to clean up after us, it all begins with our willingness to see. Once we see the humanity of another person, once we realize that this is our neighbor, too, we may find more strength to act, and subsequently, to live like the believers of Jesus that we claim to be.

James makes some pretty controversial conclusions in his letter about faith and works, or more pointedly that “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.” Some of the reformers, in particular Martin Luther, didn’t think James was an authentic apostle. Some would have liked for him to be thrown out of the Bible completely because this chapter has continued to fuel a debate over whether faith or works grants a person salvation, a debate still unsettled throughout the church to this day. As a good Presbyterian, I must say first and foremost, it is God who saves us, and not ourselves. But, James asks an important question, “What good is it if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds?”  “Can such a faith save them?  Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food.  If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?”

What good is that kind of faith? James reminds us that faith is about more than what we say. It is not about our lip service, but it is about our discipleship. Faith is about how we live and love and serve God and God’s many diverse children. True faith moves us both to our knees in prayer and thanks and then out into the world to become witnesses of God’s good news. When we live our lives as if our belief in Jesus actually makes a difference, then we endeavor to follow that great commandment, to love our neighbor as ourselves. We attempt to see all people as neighbors, no matter what rings or rank that they wear. And though we fail to do this completely, we also don’t ever give up.

In 1895, British Nobel Laureate Rudyard Kipling wrote a poem called If. Though originally published over a hundred years ago, it is a favorite among many, including myself and my late grandfather who first taught it to me when I was in the sixth grade. It has influenced many notable personalities, including our own General Petraeus who publicly cited this poem as one of his sources of strength, particularly during hearings on Iraq.[2] In one of its stanzas Kipling says this:

“If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much.”

Perhaps he took a page straight out of James when he said—“If all men count with you, but none too much.” Though this is not an easy thing to do, we are still called to try, to do our best to love and serve our neighbors, remembering that God is present with us, giving us the strength we need to reach out again and again and again, even when it hurts. The poverty in our world is surely vast. And, it’s not just material, but also it is an emptiness of the heart. We all suffer from this kind of hunger. We are all desperate for ways to be fulfilled.

God has promised to give us what we need, to make us whole again, and to wipe all the tears from our eyes. So, write this promise down. Remember it well, for it is trustworthy and true.[3] Go out into the world in peace and with courage. Honor all people as you go. Live your life as if Jesus has made all the difference-- because, in the end, he has. Amen

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[1] "Afghanistan: Food still unaffordable for millions". IRIN. 12 March 2009. Archived from the original on 27 August 2010. http://www.irinnews.org/Report.aspx?ReportId=83417. Retrieved 11 October 2010.

[2] "Crocker, Petraeus Address Report on Iraq 'Progress'". The Washington Post. 12 September 2007. http://media.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/politics/documents/crocker_petraeus_news_conference_091207.html. Retrieved 06 September 2012.

[3] Paraphrase Revelations 21:4-5