Image of a broken spirit

This environment is so unpredictable. Just when people are beginning to feel a little security, something happens that jars that delicate state of mind. It’s not just the rocket attacks, or casualties among our unit. Part of it is that every man who has lost his life in Baghdad – his remains come to our airfield to be flown back home. So we see all the fatalities – not just those from our unit.

We load more than ten flag-draped caskets every week into the back of a plane. We pray over them, we salute, and send them off to their families. My heart is pummeled every time. But yesterday, after sending off six more Army soldiers, my soul felt shredded.

This one was a little different. I don’t attend every memorial, but the ones I usually go to are at night, and only a few Airmen are there. This last one, however, about fifty Army soldiers traveled to our airfield to see off their fallen brothers. After we loaded them on the aircraft we gathered around the caskets for the chaplain to pray. We asked God to receive them, said Amen and then we stood at attention ready for the call, “Present Arms!”

Now a salute is always given at attention, maintaining a rigid body and stoic face. We all try to remain strong. In front of me there were four soldiers in my line of sight. They were big. They had hardened, angular faces and shaved heads – but they were struggling. The soldier directly in front of me, a man I did not know, suddenly squeezed his eyes shut. His lips became thin and spread downward across his face. While holding his salute his broad shoulders began shaking, and tears made tracks on his cheeks. His rank was sergeant. I will never forget this sight, because it pierced me; it burned its image permanently in my soul. I wept again – a usual occurrence for me here.

I know the loss of physical life is not as tragic as the loss of a soul. In the Bible God puts a much higher value on following him, than on maintaining one’s life. That’s why he calls some to die early. But there’s something about it that causes great pain to us – something that makes us fight hard to prevent it. Seeing that soldiers face made me want to do something to help him, something to take his pain. This must be why Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb. It wasn’t for Lazarus – Jesus was about to raise him. It was because he saw on the faces of Mary and Martha what I saw on this soldier’s face: a broken, grief-filled spirit.

But a broken spirit is the state of mind that God is closest to a person: “The Lord is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit,” (Psalm 34:18). C.S. Lewis agrees that war is a great evil, but he admits there are times when fighting is necessary. In fact, he suggests war is a “safer” place to die.

All men die, and most men miserably. That two soldiers on opposite sides, each believing his own country to be in the right, each at the moment when his selfishness is most in abeyance and his will to sacrifice in ascendant, should kill each other in plane battle seems to me by no means one of the most terribly thing in this very terrible world (Lewis, The weight of Glory).

From our position, the position of a rank-in-file combatant, our job is to fight; not to make policy. Ours is to be faithful to one another and to work hard for the greater good. Ours is to keep our “selfishness in abeyance” and be willing to sacrifice. And ours is to comfort those who have lost ones they love. In this way we are the image of Christ to other people.

After all, these situations force people to recognize their mortality. People here are looking for God when they otherwise wouldn’t be. Maybe this is the meaning of the proverb: “Grief is better than laughter, for sadness can improve a person” (Ecc. 7:3).