My wife and I have just

returned from a week-long event at a Naval Air Station in

Maryland where we attended the annual Convocation of the

Diocese of the Armed Forces for our denomination.

I attended numerous

sessions with military chaplains and taught one session

while she ministered with and to the wives who were in

attendance. It was a wonderful experience to share a week

with men who have dedicated themselves to the spiritual

guidance and well-being of those who serve in uniform.

Our bishop described these men as the "cream of the

crop" among the young ministers of our fellowship.

Why, some have asked,

should there be a chaplain presence at all among the

military forces? In this day of the politically correct

but unconstitutional doctrine of "separation of

church and state" (check it out - it's not

in the constitution), how can one justify the presence of

paid religious professionals among the military officer

ranks?

Chaplains, themselves,

sometimes feel that their ministry is unappreciated,

under-utilized, and disrespected. "C'mon, Wolinski!

If the bleeping, bleep chaplain can't do these

push-ups, surely you can do them!" the drill

instructors screams. Sometimes, a recruit is accused of

"goldbricking" if he requests permission to see

a chaplain. And, under normal circumstances, attendance

at military chapel services is nothing that would make

the headlines in national religious magazines.

In the Beetle Bailey comic

strip, the chaplain is a kindly old geezer who dispenses

advice that no one ever listens to. In the popular

television program M*A*S*H*, now in reruns for all

eternity, the chaplain is a young, innocent Catholic who

seems misplaced much of the time.

So, why, among Marines, and

I suspect the other branches as well, are the two most

highly valued noncombatants the corpsmen (medics) and the

chaplains?

In 1993, I attended the FBI

Chaplain's Academy at Quantico, Va. During the training,

an FBI agent addressed the 100-plus chaplains present and

said, "Why does the FBI need chaplains?"

She paused, then continued,

"We have the best of everything. We have the best

equipment, the best facilities, the best psychologists...

whatever we want, we get. We're the FBI. We are the best

and we demand and get the best. We can afford it because

your tax dollars pay for it. So, why do we need

you?"

The agent went on to

describe how, during the recent earthquakes in

California, when freeways were collapsing on each other

like pancakes, the agents who were stationed there went

into shock and panic. Initial reports indicated that tens

of thousands were dead. Fortunately, those reports were

in error, but that wouldn't be evident for days and most

communication was down.

"We didn't know who

among us had been killed. We didn't know if our families

were safe or dead. We didn't know if our homes had been

destroyed. We felt abandoned by God," she said.

We listened intently as she

said, with a faltering voice, "Most of the time, we

will probably consider you a bother, an intrusion. We are

tough and we can handle most anything. But you are here

among us to remind us that, no matter what, God has not

abandoned us. Your presence reminds us that there is more

to life that what we can see with our eyes. And, when all

hell breaks loose, we will need you."

So, these military

chaplains run with the troops, do marriage counseling,

listen to young men and women plagued with homesickness

and fear, and do their normal religious and social

duties. They will teach classes, conduct religious

services, and will be given Mickey Mouse assignments

totally unrelated to their jobs by their commanding

officers.

But when the shooting

starts, as it will someday, they, along with the medics,

will take their place on the front lines. As the medics

rush to the soldiers whose bodies have been broken and

maimed, the chaplains, likewise, will move among the

terrified, angry, bleeding, dying young men.

He will comfort, encourage,

and support. He will celebrate the sacraments on the

battlefield, baptizing in muddy foxholes and offering the

bread and wine from the hood of a jeep, or whatever they

drive these days. His Sundays crowds will now be standing

room only and his officers will desperately request his

prayers. His will be the last face that some soldiers

will see.

But now, he will be in his

element, reminding our men and women, by his very

presence, that God is among them... they are not

abandoned.

Some will die on the

battlefield, cut down as they hold the hands of the

wounded and offer prayers for the dying. But until that

day, which they, and we, pray will never come, they do

their duties and go about their ministry. They are quiet

reminders that, no matter what happens, God has not

abandoned us.

[Father

David Epps is rector of Christ the King Charismatic

Episcopal Church in the south metro area of Atlanta. He

may be contacted at [email protected] .

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