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Hymns:
Opening, Now Sing we of the Brave of Old, #107.
Closing, Abide with Me, #101
Reading: The Young Dead Soldiers, #583
 RR
Tolkien’s vivid fantasy classic trilogy, The Lord of the Rings,
is a story of good, evil, and war. It also contains a moving tale of
heroism that we need to remember for our times. It was written in 1946,
just after the end of WWII. No accident that the books reflected their
time, as the themes of that war still dominated the world. The Lord of
the Rings can certainly be read as an allegory of that war.
In the story, two ordinary hobbits, the most ordinary and meek of the
inhabitants of Middle Earth, are sent on a suicidal mission, to return
the great ring of power to its birth place, Mt. Doom, a steaming,
belching volcano deep within the evil kingdom of Mordor. Frodo has the
ring in his possession because his uncle Bilbo brought it to him from a
previous adventure, not knowing what it was. But the wise Gandalf,
wizard and friend of the hobbits, finds out what the true nature of the
ring is, and along with a diverse company of committed friends, set off
to destroy the ring in Mt. Doom.
Along the way, of course, much happens to keep them from their goal. The
company is assailed by the nazgul, powerful creatures of the night who
are servants of Sauron, the evil wizard who is the leader of the country
of Mordor. Saurons power comes, in part, from the ring that Frodo
carries, and he will do anything to recover it. They are harried by orcs,
hideous creatures of no pity who are the footsoldiers of Mordor. All out
war then begins as a secret ally of Saurons, Sauruman, creates an army
of super orcs called urukai to defeat the allied gathering of men and
elves in their fortress. They are defeated at the last moment when Ents,
the herders of the trees, guardians of nature, come to the aid of the
men who have preserved the forests against the orcs who had cut them
down.
Then all of the resources of the men and elves of Middle Earth must be
rushed to the great city of Minas Tirith, for now Sauron’s vastly
superior forces were going to strike one great blow, the destruction of
the most powerful of the cities of men, then good would perish and evil
would rule Middle Earth.
While all this was unfolding over several weeks of time, Frodo and Sam,
his friend and servant, were facing their own dangers as they slowly
made their way toward Mordor with the ring. First, a word about hobbits.
They are about half the size of men and women. They have furry feet and
an insatiable desire for comfort. They love their bucolic shire, their
pastoral country from which they come. They love good food and drink.
And having a smoke with their long pipe after a rich and rewarding meal
is as good as it gets for them. They only want to live this good life.
They are creatures of peace and bother no one. A fateful choice, indeed,
for the most important errand of this world’s history.
Frodo and Sam must face orcs of course, but they also must cope with
another companion, the ambivalent, half good/half evil Gollum, who was
the accidental keeper of the ring before Bilbo found it. Gollum is the
only one who can guide Frodo and Sam through the rugged country that
lies between them and Mt. Doom, but he also may kill them before he gets
them there.
The details are too great to enumerate here, but suffice it to say that
Frodo and Sam are almost killed several times, they begin to starve, to
die of thirst, but still they go on. The ring has a power of its own and
weighs heavier and heavier on the chain holding the ring around Frodo’s
neck, and weighs even more heavily on his psyche. The ring wants to be
returned to its owner, Sauron, and does all it can to pull Frodo down.
Time and again, as all seems lost, one or the other calls on an inner
strength and saves them. Simple Sam emerges as a loyal friend of great
strength who literally carries Frodo part of the way. They are both
heroes.
On the fighting front, the armies are led by the wise king to be,
Aragorn, for whom the elves re-forged a magic sword of a past, legendary
king. Legolas, an elf and master archer. And Gimli, a dwarf. Legolas and
Gimli become the best of friends despite the fact that elves and dwarves
have always held great enmity toward one another in Middle Earth. Along
with Gandalf and two other hobbits, Pippin and Merry, these six help to
gather the armies and fight the hideous forces of Mordor.
The battle rages. First in Minas Tirith, then at the gates of Mordor,
and just as all seems lost, at the last moment, Frodo reaches the top of
the Mountain and drops the ring in, losing his finger to Gollum’s teeth
in the process. With the destruction of the ring, Sauron and his armies
are destroyed. Evil is defeated. Good triumphs. Our heroes are properly
rewarded and life is in balance again.
In the opening moments of Steven Spielberg’s shattering film,
Saving Private Ryan, we are allowed to see the closest
approximation that could be re-created in a film of what it is like to
go into real war. Soldiers are crouched in a landing craft as it makes
its way to Omaha Beach in Normandy in June 1944 to begin the ultimate
defeat of Nazi Germany. The Germans had meticulously prepared for this
moment. They knew where the assault would come. As the boats come close
to the shore, the power of the withering fire is unimaginable. Men cry
and sob as they die all around the boats. Blood and body parts are
everywhere. It seems like butchery rather than war. The sounds and the
feel of that moment permanently put to rest any romantic haze that any
may still have around the horror of war. It is sheer horror.
Out of that chaos emerges a leader, one of many that day, who organize
and rally and find ways to fight back, to inch their way forward, and
finally, to take the coastal fortifications. Capt. John Miller, played
in the movie by Tom Hanks, gathers what is left of his patrol and begins
his mission inland. He will eventually be killed too, as the movie
progresses, but not before achieving his goal. He saves Pvt. Ryan. He,
too, is a hero.
We no longer easily see or honor heroes. I chose these two fictional
stories to tell because they are a reflection of the last war of good
and evil, a black and white, good guy, bad guy war in which we knew we
were fighting to preserve a way of life that was precious to us, worth
dying for. Millions of young men, and some women, died as soldiers in
WWII. Many millions more died as helpless civilians, first in cold
blooded executions by the Nazis, especially in Russia, then in the most
hideous crime of history, the Holocaust. It is a picture of the worst,
the darkest side of human experience. It begs an explanation of the
origin and existence of evil.
When WWII joyfully ended many felt that the last war had been fought,
that peace would reign from then on. How could humans ever go back to
such darkness?
As you know, wars did not end. Realpolitic, the clash of
ideologies, particularly communism and democracy, and sectarian
violence, have made the time from 1945 until today one of the most
violent in the world’s history. Korea, Vietnam, Serbia, Bosnia, Kosovo,
Rwanda, Cambodia, Israel/Palestine, Pakistan, Iran (years of war between
Iran and Iraq in 1980’s), now Iraq. At the Bay of Pigs, nuclear war was
barely averted. It has been a time that has changed us to weary skeptics
and cynics about war and the warriors who fight it. Our cynicism has
also led us to believe that there are no more heroes. But in truth, they
are still among us.
Where are the flesh and blood heroes now? Where do we find them? We are
so averse to war now, so untrusting of the petty causes, the hatreds,
even the self defending post 9/11 philosophy, that we cannot now
separate our abhorrence of war from the warriors, some of them heroes,
who do the fighting.
It is these warriors, most of them regular, life loving, family men and
women who we honor this day. Hobbits of planet Earth, they go off to war
because they are called to defend their way of life, and to defend those
whom they love. It matters not that we liberal, learned men and women
see not their cause. It matters only that they do.
The Rocky Mt. News has done a wonderful job of covering the people who
are fighting the war in Iraq, our latest war. Columnist Bill Johnson
spent several months in Iraq. His articles were full of the dust and
fear of daily experience there for those who must fight. More recently,
the News was awarded a Pulitzer prize for the story of Maj. Steve Beck
of the Marines. It was his job to knock on the doors of the families of
Marines in this area who had been killed in Iraq. In that series, they
followed Beck as he delivered his awful news. Here is an excerpt. It is
powerful writing, a necessary part of following the human experience.
In the opening part of the story, Katherine Cathey is about to meet the
plane that carries the body of her husband, 1st Lt. Jim Cathey. She
sits, pregnant, attended by her best girl friends in the car as the
plane pulls up. The photograph of the passengers on board the jet
watching as the casket is unloaded by 6 Marines in their dress blues is
a part of what won the Pulitzer. It is striking. On board the plane is
Jim’s best friend.
“When a young Marine in dress uniform had boarded the plane to Reno, the
passengers smiled and nodded politely. None knew he had just come from
the plane's cargo hold, after watching his best friend's casket loaded
onboard.
At 24 years old, Sgt. Gavin Conley was only seven days younger than the
man in the coffin. The two had met as 17-year-olds on another plane -
the one to boot camp in California. They had slept in adjoining top
bunks, the two youngest recruits in the barracks.
All Marines call each other brother. Conley and Jim Cathey could have
been. They finished each other's sentences, had matching infantry
tattoos etched on their shoulders, and cracked on each other as if they
had grown up together - which, in some ways, they had.
When the airline crew found out about Conley's mission, they bumped him
to first-class. He had never flown there before. Neither had Jim Cathey.
On the flight, the woman sitting next to him nodded toward his uniform
and asked if he was coming or going. To the war, she meant.
He fell back on the words the military had told him to say: "I'm
escorting a fallen Marine home to his family from the situation in
Iraq."
The woman quietly said she was sorry, Conley said.
Then she began to cry.
When the plane landed in Nevada, the pilot asked the passengers to
remain seated while Conley disembarked alone. Then the pilot told them
why.
The passengers pressed their faces against the windows. Outside, a
procession walked toward the plane. Passengers in window seats leaned
back to give others a better view. One held a child up to watch.
From their seats in the plane, they saw a hearse and a Marine extending
a white-gloved hand into a limousine, helping a pregnant woman out of
the car.
On the tarmac, Katherine Cathey wrapped her arm around the major's,
steadying herself. Then her eyes locked on the cargo hold and the
flag-draped casket.
Inside the plane, they couldn't hear her screams.”
I re-tell this story now to bring us all to this place, this time.
Today, men and women are fighting in Iraq and Afhganistan because they
believe they are doing the right thing. And, it is their job. Unlike our
past citizen’s armies, ours is now a professional army. And they are
still us. They are our mainly poor, neighbors. Whatever we may feel
about the correctness of war in general and this war in particular, we
must remember this above all. They are the sons and daughters of God
sent to fight the sons and daughters of God from a different culture.
Our prayers must be of compassion for all.
Then there are those soldiers who return alive, perhaps wounded
physically, almost always wounded psychically. When Frodo and Sam
returned to their beloved Shire, things were not the same. Sam and a few
others knew that Frodo had literally saved the known world by his heroic
feat. No one else seemed to care. They were ignorant of his sacrifice or
uninterested in his great story. Within a few years,
uncharacteristically grown melancholy, Frodo left the Shire and returned
to the home of the elves, there to journey to the island of eternal life
with Gandalf, never to return.
Such is the outcome for many of our real life warriors who return from
combat. Unappreciated for their sacrifice, wounded deeply by all they
have seen and experienced, they have a difficult time resuming civilian
life. Post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) has been blamed for many
personal and societal ills, particularly since combat vets began
returning home from Vietnam over 30 years ago.
So, today, we honor them. We honor those who returned, and those who did
not return. We honor those who fought in all the wars for all the
armies. We honor them because they left their families to answer a
higher, dangerous calling. We honor them because our soldiers protected
us, protected our freedom. We honor them because some of them are
heroes.
MEDITATION AND RITUAL
Sit in quiet and remember those who you personally know who have gone to
war. And those you have been told about, but you may not know
personally. Hold them, or their memories, lovingly in your hearts. Those
of you who pray, or believe in a loving God, hold them in your prayers.
Then, when I ask you, please say the name of those whom you wish to
remember out loud. We will respond to each name by saying, “we remember,
and we honor you.”
We end now with the following quote from a UU ministerial colleague.
“The first and most specific thing to be remembered on Memorial Day is
that war is always too great a sacrifice. The quarrels of kings and the
stratagems of the rich, the ambitions of generals and the resentments of
the ignorant-all these are follies that are not worth one drop of
youthful blood or one parent's tear. War is always a failure of
goodwill, good sense, and self-control; it is not heroic or glamorous,
but ugly and wasteful and, in the end, pointless. If we could only know
this all the time-enough of us, in every land-we would cease this tragic
wickedness, and that would be the last, best tribute we could pay to
those who never came to the fullness of their own lives, for the sake of
guarding ours.”
Amen.
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