We did what humans frequently do: we created a ritual.

None of us are mission-making machines.

We collectively share the sorrow of those individuals in the armed services who lost their lives in war.

Memorial Day is not to be celebrated. It is to be observed, scrutinized, and witnessed on behalf of the true witnesses of our human failure to love our neighbor as ourselves.

Think of where you feel safe and at peace. What’s the signal that tells you it’s okay to be at peace? (Ask for answers.) For people in the United States military, there’s a special signal that says “you’re okay, and you’re at peace.” It's a melody called "Taps," and it's only 24 notes...

A haircut, a cup of coffee, or just an honest “How are you?” can be transformed into a powerful moment between two people living in a hard world.

Spirit of life and love, God of memory, mourning and history, Bring before us the truths of serving in war Bring before us— In compassion and in gratitude— Those who faced violence so we may know peace We remember these sacrifices through monuments We remember these names, carved into stone...

We come this day, called by war By the suffering we inflict and endure When minds across borders fail to reason and compromise. We come this day, called by loss, The deaths of those who serve in our name, Those whose lives end before their natural course In service to a cause greater than their own.

In the moment that I switched to “teacher mode,” I recalled moments in which I had inadvertently said ungracious things. I was fortunate enough to have professors, ministers, and friends illuminate my clumsiness for me. They did so in a way that was gracious enough that it increased my appreciation and respect for them, and clear enough that I will never forget the teaching.

Gracious God, A warrior fights for those who cannot fight for themselves. As a warrior prepares for battle, there is a solemn responsibility: to know how and when and if to take life, just as a warrior must know how and when and if to risk their own life....

He's not where he is supposed to be. He should be practicing sprints in the desert sun with all the other aspiring Marines, but instead he is here, retreating into the quiet shade of the chaplain's office, the one person who won’t yell at him. Since he was seven years old, he wanted to be a...

In honor of those who have served, And those who continue to serve, At home and abroad, for peace and in war, We light our chalice, And we offer our thanks.

The first stop on U.S. soil after a deployment is the airport. From there, it’s all downhill until you get to see your family and loved ones again. But the airport is its own scene when you’re a soldier in uniform. On my trip home, I’m reminded of the last time I was in the airport—returning...

As I ride through Kandahar City’s Sub-District 9, I see a naked dust-covered kid playing along the road. That is not the strangest thing. But when he picks up a large rock and hurls it at the truck, I wonder aloud, “What the hell? Who lets their kid run around naked throwing rocks? What kind of...

I lean back in the chair and exhale a long breath of thick white cigar smoke into the night sky. It rises upward, swirls in a light breeze, and disappears. I think to myself, “Damn this is a good cigar, a good night, and a good place to be for these few moments.” Earlier today, I walked through...

My son has sent me a “Build-A-Bear.” Dressed in the latest digital camouflage ACUs.* (Build-A-Bear hasn’t yet caught up with multicam.) It came with a note in my eight-year-old’s handwriting: “Press left paw for I love you and I miss you.” Sure enough, when I press the left paw, my...

I sit alone, planning the rest of the day. Last night, I was joking and smoking, in broken Pashto, with the resident contingent of the AUP.* I introduced them to the beauty of Dominican tobacco, hand-rolled and perfectly aged. They all seemed to enjoy this symbol of Western democratic values, the...

The first time I ever played “Taps” was at summer camp when I was ten years old. That was the year I started playing trumpet, so I can only imagine how it sounded. I know there was no way that I could have hit the high note near the end. The first time I played Taps in honor of those who died...

In honor of those we have known and loved in the past, In recognition of the gifts and sacrifices they have made on our behalf, And in our sincere hopes that we may be worthy of their memory, We light our candles, We give our thanks, And we offer our prayers. AMEN.