Sermons

"Souls in the Dust"

A sermon delivered by The Reverend Daniel S. Schatz
BuxMont Unitarian Universalist Fellowship
March 23, 2003

In 1982, during the height of the Falkland Island war between Great Britain and Argentina, The London Sun ran a story about the sinking of an Argentinean battleship, with the loss of more than 300 lives. The headline was "GOTCHA!"

Less than ten years later, workers in an American factory which had constructed one of the weapons used against Iraq cheered as they watched footage of that bomb slamming into the barracks of the Iraqi Republican Guard. We do not know if there were any survivors.

That the cruelties of war often give over to such displays I attribute not to a lack of dignity or empathy, but to the inability of the average human being to comprehend the devastation that war brings. Today, as we face a new war in Iraq we must not allow ourselves to be seduced by jingoism or by any argument that the killing is righteous. The killing is not right. It may be necessary— we have in our country many views on these issues - but with each life that ends our world is diminished.

I do not raise these issues this morning as part of a campaign against or for the war in Iraq. Unitarian Universalists search for truth with many paths, and we have, not surprisingly, many opinions, some of them very strong, about whether war is necessary or justified. War with Iraq is no longer an issue; it is a reality, and the time has come for us to adjust and respond to the reality, not the possibility, of war.

Whatever our opinions, we take no joy or smug satisfaction in the actions of war. Let what we do in Iraq be done with a profound sense of regret and responsibility. This is not a game in which we cheer for goals or touchdowns; it is a brutal reality in which real people are hurt and real mothers weep for their children. War is a disaster, no more winnable, as Congresswoman Jeanette Rankin once said, than an earthquake.

There is a midrash, a Jewish commentary on the Bible, that speaks of the Exodus of Hebrews from Egypt. As the waters of the Red Sea parted to allow the Hebrews through and closed to drown the Egyptian army, the Talmud says that the angels in Heaven began to cheer, raising a hymn of praise. God silenced them, and said, "My children are perishing in the sea, and you are going to sing in celebration? Do not rejoice."

We do not rejoice at the death or suffering of another human being. In a world of ever-increasing interconnection, this injunction rings true more than ever.

That does not mean we do not support the soldiers who carry out this war. On the contrary, they deserve every support we can give them. They are being asked to risk their lives, their bodies and their psyches in battle. They did not ask for the assignment, but I believe that they will carry it out with honor. And because they are there, seeing the realities of war, they will also carry it out with regret. They deserve our support now and upon returning, because what they are being asked to do - to face death or to inflict it - does not come naturally to the human being. In another war, decades ago, a soldier who had killed for the first time said, "I felt sorry. I don't know why I felt sorry. John Wayne never felt sorry."

But these soldiers are neither actors nor faceless machines, one out of three hundred thousand. They are human souls, fathers and mothers and daughters and sons, lovers and friends and workers, souls in the dust of a foreign war. We will celebrate their return, but we mourn the task that sent them away.

They are not alone. Suffering with them are soldiers of the Iraqi army, mostly conscripted young men whom fate has chosen to place in peril. That some of them honestly believe in the cause they are fighting makes their death no less tragic. They are human beings and if their death is considered by some of us to be a necessary evil, it is still an evil, as is the cruel practice of sheltering those soldiers in civilian homes. This compounds one of the many tragedies of war, that it is never the soldiers alone who suffer and die.

To remind ourselves of these realities in no way detracts from the greatness of our country. Indeed, if we are to take that greatness seriously, we will act not only as warriors, but as healers of the world with the other nations of the world. "The abuse of greatness," wrote Shakespeare, "is when it disjoins remorse from power," and we will not allow the greatness of our country to be abused. Whatever else may happen, we will and must remember all the souls in the dust of Iraq.

We remember the people of Iraq and the soldiers of all sides, and we remember more than these. This war has touched all of us, though in differing measure. Some of us have children or other family or friends in the armed services, or who are in the Gulf region as journalists, peace activists, or diplomats. Most of us, whether we realize it or not, know someone who this moment fears for a loved one.

And all of us are touched in a broader way by the reality of war. We know the fear and anxiety. We know that acts of violence are being committed in our name, and whatever our opinions about their justification, that ought to sober us. We are all souls in the dust.

Yet in this interconnectedness lies the beginning of our hope. We are souls reaching out to souls; we are not only dust. Although we cannot prevent the suffering that is taking place, we can begin to work to alleviate that suffering. We can prepare for the aftermath of war - the people of many nations will need us. We can support American soldiers who are fighting for our country, and we can give our love and care and comfort to their families. We can make donations to organizations that provide war relief. If you are planning your budget for the next several months, think about where you will donate funds to alleviate the horrors of war. If you are planning your calendar, think about when and where you will donate your energy. We can begin the healing.

Three weeks ago I received a letter from a friend of our congregation, someone whose feelings about war are profoundly mixed. This is part of what she wrote.

"As I sit here, there is a young man named Kevin Wilson somewhere in the Kuwaiti desert. I do not know him. In a few days he may know of me. One can no longer send letters or care packages to "Any Service Member" like I did… during the Gulf War. I found a website online that matches up people like me with men and women who are serving in Kuwait, their names and addresses submitted by family readiness programs and similar organizations. It took several weeks for them to respond with a name, Kevin's name and address. We went to the store and collected various toiletries, Tastycakes, batteries, Pringles, magazines,... as a gesture of support. Not for war. Not for peace. But for this man we do not know who is there in a desert far from home, far from his family and friends, so that I can enjoy my freedoms. I do not know the exact nature of the sacrifice he is making, if he is leaving a job or dependents. I only know that he has made a choice to risk his life for mine, for a greater purpose."

This is what hope looks like. This is what it means for us to be souls in the dust reaching to other souls, lessening the pain of war.

Vaclav Havel wrote of the importance of responsibility as the only genuine backbone of all moral action. "Responsibility," he wrote, "to something higher than my family, my country, my company, my success. Responsibility to the order of Being, where all our actions are indelibly recorded and where, and only where, they will be judged." Hope comes when we take responsibility and action to lesson the agony that war brings.

We are souls in the dust. And our triumph is in carrying out the hope of responsibility, the affirming flame of healing, binding wounds, caring for the people of the world and for one another. We cannot afford "to sit down and feel hopeless," said a great soul, "there's too much work to do." Let this be our prayer, not a soldier's prayer but a prayer for those at home:

O God of strength and gentleness,
be pleased to make us nothing less.
Help us to view war through honest eyes,
And keep us from despair.

Give us strength to live our hope
And when the fighting is done,
Help us all then to become
Souls reaching toward one another in the dust.

May the love that transcends all differences,
and the hope that surpasses all despair
be upon us and all the world,
and may the time come soon
when nation and nation
join together in the blessings of peace.

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