2023-09-15 A Meditation on That Spirit

“For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. 9 Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. 10 He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again. 11 You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.” (2 Co 1:8–11 ESV)

Lagging in supplies, diminished in hope, asked to brook the impossible: behind every tale of heroism is cold makeshift life in the trenches. Heroism came about rather matter-of-factly, par for the journey, a reality awakened to upon return to “civilization”, as though something factual, impossible quite to believe or stomach, some dearth of quiet reflection or rather some wealth of coping and needful expressions. For the outlays, belligerent in tone yet innocent in measure, no self-aggrandizing walk, but par for the journey, come what may, life, life discovered as to be so rich and butterflies in the stomach and just the simpler joys of life at the serviceman, servicewoman’s, mark.

That is, the return to civilization is as though to transport through time and space: heard through the stratosphere, of a pause in the day’s work to honor and then to listen to one another. For the life of service is equipped with its own marks and telling signals; you wouldn’t understand, is said under the breath. Yet understand we do, upon an experience that to be sharp is not to be militant nor to be belligerent, but to fuss and make much of simpler beauties, beauties of character, of social progress, of people getting together and getting along, of friendships formed. Of tutelage and of parenting, of ambitions to surpass even our dearly loved parents and their generation, complete with its hauntings and flaws. No, you wouldn’t understand. Yet understand we do, rife with the astonishment of the snipers crosshairs now leveled at us, an increase in the number of warheads aimed right at us, a Call unto sanity at the home front, but insane courage at the war front. For it is again a wild place, and grafted in we are through an Experience. To know how and why we soldier into those trenches that in worser hour seem just a rich man’s ploy and distraction and game; yet to live and die in orders of holy stamp, in service, in camaraderie, is to make a difference. It is to be fully-realized. It is to grow all up quick. There is immaturity and unthoughtful paths unto the fighter’s spirit, but one True Spirit that prevails over the warring madness: the Spirit of humility, personal recognisance and responsibility, and corporate willingness to labor together, to discover the bellicose amidst the innocent, innocent of personal sins. We fight with tack and resolve precisely because we have uncovered our sharp stand, righteous indignation, forgiven as we forgive.

The addict, the warmonger, the murderer, all these fail to discover that patient relationship with a neighbor that is comedic in manners or just exuberant at the occasion to say hello: yes, more of that, please. At the occasion to put forth a proposal that, together, we march under a banner of love, that together we get up a good church service, that together we aim for Grace to triumph over Law. Even as all around us the world is translating its perches into checkpoints and razor-wire. Even as all around us the harsh tanks of judgment are setting out. Even as all around us legal devices are freezing life in a past situation, an untenable and unsustainable situation: S.O.S. and friend of the court needs to have a number to dial. Yet soldier on we shall, as friend and teacher denies our outreach; get used to it: you will alight upon your own gestalt and vibe, your own game, your own boone and beneficiary you shall be of the labors of many, incommunicado and excommunicado.