Recent columns invoke reader questions

BY NORRIS BURKES
FLORIDA TODAY

"Can you say more about that?" asked my chaplain supervisor, with a sincerity that aimed at the heart of the issue.

Although his tender approach always encouraged more words, I'm rarely able to say everything I want to say in a 600-word weekly newspaper column.

I get a fair amount of questions from readers, so this week, allow me a detour to answer questions about recent columns.

First, I received questions concerning the column I wrote last month about why chaplains can't always use Jesus' name in a public prayer, specially when that prayer is prayed before an audience where attendance is mandatory.

I should have worked harder to say it would be a violation of the Constitution to prevent someone from praying in Jesus' name or the name of any God they worship. However -- and this is a big however -- a government organization is not obliged to host any sort of prayer. If, in the custom of a civil tradition, they do chose to host a prayer, the prayer should best reflect the common belief of all.

In another column last month, I mentioned the baptism of a neighbor's dead newborn. Some readers assumed I did the baptism and called foul because Baptist ministers only baptize those old enough to give consent.

Readers may be relieved to know that I didn't baptize the baby. The family was Mormon, and I assumed they baptized this baby. But a reader recently reminded me Mormons don't baptize babies either.

That's not to say I haven't baptized a baby. I've done it, and not because I believe their baptism is necessary for a heavenly home, but because the parents request it and find comfort in it.

I could refuse their request saying that my tradition forbids nonconsensual baptism. But when it comes to a dying child, it isn't about me or my theology. It's about giving maximum comfort and compassion to the family.

I've also written several articles about my work delivering death notifications to military families. Those articles repeatedly prompted the question: "How do you find the strength to do this?"

The answer is simple.

It's not a platitude to say I only do it with God's help. Last month, just a few hundred feet from one of those driveways, my colleague said, "Chaplain, wait, stop. Can we stop and pray again?"

With each prayer God helps me find inspiration in the ultimate sacrifice the soldier was willing to risk. As I knock -- hands often shaking -- I tell myself, "If these soldiers could do their job without flinching, then, by God's grace, I can do mine."

The soldiers did their jobs in a professional manner because they trusted that their comrades and their chaplains also would be professional as they did this unspeakable duty.

Finally, the reader asking the toughest question is my wife.

"How long can you keep doing these notifications?" she asks.

My sense is not much longer. Everyone has a limit. And having done these notifications more than 30 times in the past five years, I may be reaching my personal limit. As a great pontificator named Clint Eastwood once said in his role as Dirty Harry, "A man's gotta know his limitations."

But, at the end of the day, only God knows how much longer.

Well, God and my promotion board that is. Hopefully, I can say more about that soon.

Burkes is a former civilian hospital chaplain and an Air National Guard chaplain. Write norris@thechaplain.net or visit thechaplain.net. You can also follow him on Twitter, username is "chaplain," or on Facebook at facebook.com/norrisburkes.

War's toll makes me want to scream ---

BY NORRIS BURKES
FLORIDA TODAY

She met us in the driveway determined to repel an invasion of uniforms in her private place.

We were two uniformed officers who brought an unwelcome message.

"Ma'am," the Casualty Assistance Officer asked, "may we come in?"

"No!" she said, her jaw set and eyes focused on the cross I wore above my breast pocket.

"Not if . . ." Her voice cracking, she tried again. "Not if you're going to tell me my child is dead."

Suddenly, in pained recognition of the awful truth, she released a long guttural scream. "No! God, no! Please, God, no!"

"Please, ma'am," my colleague begged. "May we come inside?"

Again, "No!" Then a prediction: "You are going to tell me my son's dead, aren't you?"

Her wails summoned a concerned neighbor who helped us into the home. Soon, we were delivering the news she had tried to forestall. There was more screaming.

What we told her next made me want to scream, too. Her son's death was a suspected suicide.

It had been one of several suicide notifications I've delivered since the war began in 2003. Last year, the Army reported its highest number of suicides, 192. A New York Times story reported this week that during the first half of this year, 129 suicides have been confirmed or are under investigation.

If this trend continues, we'll easily break last year's record. So far this year, we've lost more to suicide than to combat.

It's a record that makes me want to scream.

The causes for suicides in the military aren't that different than suicides in the civilian population. Like civilians, service members who die from suicide usually have a history of mental health problems.

Nevertheless, all suicides usually have a precipitating event. The military has many of the same suicide precipitators civilians have: addictions, financial problems and failed relationships.

These precipitators, however, seem greatly exacerbated by long deployments.

Lately, several mothers have written me about the effects multiple deployments are having on her children. In particular, I was moved by a letter from a mother in Minnesota who wrote:

"My son's service to this country has been detrimental to every facet of his life. He lost so much time with his son; my grandson was fatherless for over 27 months of his life, homeless for five months and now knows how it feels to go to bed hungry.

"My son lost time at a good job and now has lost $40,000 because of his deployments. He's been exposed to vaccinations, test drugs . . . and inhaled unknown chemicals from the military burn pits. He now suffers from depression, constant stomach aches, skin rashes, insomnia, etc."

Her letter closed by pointing out the need to support troops in more significant ways than simply having a "We Support our Troops" car magnet.

I replied by stressing the need for her son to seek good local counseling. Without immediate help, I'm concerned this reader might be meeting one of my chaplain colleagues in her driveway.

The week, after my experience with the mother in the driveway, I met her again, this time at her son's grave.

After my remarks, I watched her son lowered into the ground. With each click of the ratchet, the casket lowered a few inches. With each inch, the mother bent her knees a little more until she was completely crouched down to maintain line-of-sight with the casket.

Finally, she stood and held a rose above the casket. She dropped the rose and watched it land just above her son's heart.

Afterward, I returned to my car, rolled up the windows and screamed.

Burkes is a former civilian hospital chaplain and an Air National Guard chaplain. Write norris@thechaplain.net or visit thechaplain.net. You can also follow him on Twitter, username is "chaplain," or on Facebook at facebook.com/norrisburkes.

1. God can see beyond our religious fashion

NORRIS BURKES
SPIRITUALITY

If I were writing a fashion column, I'd surely write it from the airport. The airport has got to be the best fashion laboratory in the world.

In one airport, I find myself staring at a trio of young women who are dressed like they've just walked off the studio set of "Sex and The City." They are laughing loud enough to drown out most of their insecurities when they suddenly stop and turn in my direction.

What were they staring at? My mismatched shirt and tie?

Their voices lower to a whisper as they undoubtedly discuss the fashion boob in their midst.

My inner voice plunges into self-doubt. Is my tie that bad?

The fashion show continues. All around the terminal, I see midriffs on women bare enough to hint at the many children they've birthed.

On the young men, I see trousers riding low enough to give them an entrance into the plumbers union. Old men wear pants high enough to pull over their faces in a dust storm. And middle age men walk around in "mom pants" with elastic waistbands for their growing bellies.

The fashion doesn't improve on the plane, where I sit next to a girl with nails painted traffic-cone orange. She was obviously born prewired for an iPod.

With so many fashion-challenged children of God, airport crowds make a great case study in people.

The crowd reminded me of the one Jesus likely encountered as he walked into a city looking to recruit a Band of Brothers that would change the world. He was a people watcher, too, just not as smug as me. Go figure.

Unlike me, he had a keen eye for the quality of the soul over the quality of the fabric, the cut of a man's character over the cut of his shirt.

This is the gift he used to quickly single out an eager young recruit named Phillip who followed him without so much as blinking.

Exhilarated at being chosen, Phil found his bud, Nathanial, and begged him to come and meet the teacher from Nazareth.

"Nazareth?" Nat, rightly exclaimed, "You've got to be kidding."

No, he wasn't kidding.

"Come, see for yourself," challenged Phil.

Upon meeting Nathanial, Jesus quickly pronounced, "Now, here's the real deal. Not a false bone in his body."

Nat, not easily taken to flattery asked, "Where'd you get that idea? You don't know me."

Nat was partially right. The two had never been formally introduced, but Jesus had observed Nat on several occasions sitting under a fig tree, deep in thought. It was obvious to Jesus that there was something different about Nat.

What was it?

The best translation of the scripture says that Nat was a man "without guile." That means he didn't try to hide who he was. He didn't demonstrate any pretense in his choice of clothing, friends or mannerisms. He didn't need to hide any part of who he was.

"Why not?" you ask.

Well, it's not because he was intrinsically happy with who he was. He knew he was not completely accessorized, and he was willing to undertake a fearless inventory of his soul's closet.

And I think it was his self-awareness -- that he was truly lacking something -- that made him a prime pick for a disciple.

Nat discovered the most profound truth of all: God is always able to pick us out of the crowd, he does it best when we lay aside our pretense and all the religious fashion that goes with it.

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Burkes is a former civilian hospital chaplain and an Air National Guard chaplain. Write norris@thechaplain.net or visit thechaplain.net. You can also follow him on Twitter, username is "chaplain," or on Facebook at facebook.com/norrisburkes.