Missing columns

Dear Readers,

I've been traveling lately and I've missed sending out my columns. Below are the columns I've missed.

I'm planning some more speaking at the end of Feb. Let me know if you have some places in mind for me to speak in your community.


October 31, 2009
God celebrates like us when something lost finally is found

BY NORRIS BURKES
FLORIDA TODAY
On a cold January day in 1999, my family and I made a windy crossing of Israel's Sea of Galilee.
During the turbulent ride, the boat stopped long enough to allow my wife Becky to read aloud the Biblical story about Jesus stilling the angry sea and calming the fear-struck disciples with the famous phrase: "Peace! Be still."
Scripture says the wind and the waves obeyed Jesus' command, but my wife had no such luck. My peace was coming from Dramamine.
After the boat ride, we went for a sunset walk along the windswept shore in hopes of regaining our land legs. Suddenly, our 13-year-old daughter cried out, "I've lost my $20!"
"Where?" my wife asked.
"There!" she exclaimed with a wave of her arm that encompassed our entire 30-minute walk. With decreasing daylight and increasing wind speed, the situation faded to hopeless.
"It's gone now," I said with an accusing "let-this-be-a-lesson-to-you" tone.
Tears erupted quickly.
"Dad, please, we've got to find it."
"It's pointless. It's probably blown into the sea."
When her siblings pledged their willingness to mount a grid search for the lost treasure, my wife suggested a limited 10-minute search. Always happy to delay bedtime, her siblings jumped on the compromise.
Between the sand and the tears, I had no idea how my daughter could see. She had saved her allowance for weeks. All day, she tightly clutched the bill, hoping to find that one special purchase. Now, it seemed hopelessly blown out to sea.
This wasn't just a monetary value; this $20 had spiritual value to her. This money represented her hard work and preparation. She now grieved the loss of that hard work. Her anguish was something that hurt us more than it hurt her.
Jesus told a parable about a woman who had only 10 gold coins, and she lost one. The woman scoured her house, looking in every nook and cranny. When she finally found it, she called her friends and neighbors: "Celebrate with me! I found my lost coin!"
"Count on it," Jesus said, "this is the kind of party that God throws every time one lost soul turns to God."
Jesus was making the point that if money is so important to people that they'd mount a search for a lost $20 in a sandstorm, how much more valuable are those who are lost from God?
As we looked along the shore for the money and saw how desperately she searched, our hearts softened. I even pulled a twenty from my wallet and suggested to my wife that we plant the bill between a few rocks and coach her toward the find, just the way we'd done for her preschool Easter egg hunts.
Just as we began to think that we should stop supporting her denial and work on helping her to grieve this loss, she cried out.
"I found it!" she announced as she removed the wet bill from the lapping waves of the shore.
"Who wants hot chocolate?" my wife asked to celebrate this find. Incredulous, we all returned to the cabin to celebrate. "For what was lost, now was found."
I discreetly returned my other $20 bill to my wallet.
"I knew we'd find it," I told my wife. "The Bible promised we would."
Pointing out to the sea and recalling the days when we used to call money bread, I cryptically said, "Yeah, in Ecclesiastes 11:1"
"What?"
"Cast your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will find it again."
She let out a groan and then said, "It's a good thing we're visiting the Dead Sea tomorrow."
"Oh, why is that?" I asked.
"Because that's where we're going to lose you." she promised.
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.
November 14, 2009
The day's coming when we all get along

BY NORRIS BURKES
FLORIDA TODAY
"Do you think Muslims and Christians will ever get along?" a senior officer asked during our informal chapel service.
Her question was asked in the shadow of our flag flying half-staff for those killed in the Fort Hood massacre in Texas. The alleged shooter is a Muslim Army officer.
To answer, there are a few things to understand cogitatively and spiritually.
Non-Western Muslims understand the concept of religion differently. Having lived for two years in Turkey, I experienced the Muslim faith to be more about culture than religion. For many Muslims outside Western culture, Islam is equivalent to citizenry and is included on birth certificates. This is different from Western culture where most Christians declare their faith out of personal conviction.
It would be easy to blame the massacre at Fort Hood on a religion, but many times acts of this magnitude are acts of mental illness. While we don't yet know the facts in this case, I do believe religion doesn't cause mental illness; however, it can be a vehicle for the illness.
There are many other vehicles used by the mentally ill such as politics, ethnicity or territory. But in cases such as these, the illness can metastasize to one's extreme view of religion.
Finally, when acts such as these are linked to religion, I find it helpful to remember this analogy. Extreme fundamentalism in the Muslim faith is much the same as the extremist view of Christian members in the Ku Klux Klan. Both are abominable mutations of faith. The alleged shooter no more represented good Muslims than my white-sheeted ancestors represented good Christians.
Spiritually, I've had the privilege to witness the faith of a number of Muslim service members. I recall the unwavering faith of two Army specialists I worked with in Iraq earlier this year.
The first assisted me in the emergency room when we received four patients: three American soldiers and one Muslim translator. They all were dead.
During the aftermath, I, along with a rabbi, a priest and this newly naturalized Muslim American, walked among the trauma staff to lay hands on the heaving shoulders of service members who found this incident too horrendous for words.
The other Muslim soldier, also newly naturalized, helped me work with an Iraqi boy who was burned over most of his body from playing with matches and fuel.
This Muslim American stood with me as I beamed a smile toward the boy's perfect and untouched face. Without much ability to talk to the family, I knew of only one way to offer respect. While our soldier read from the Quran, I paused respectfully and then passed the Quran to the father. He placed his hand on his heart and gratefully received the book by kissing it and positioning it on his son's pillow.
You'll never read headlines about these soldiers who demonstrated strong and exemplary faith, so you'll have to trust me. There are plenty of Muslims in the military who contribute to the good in this world.
Will the Muslims and Christians ever get along?
Sacred text certainly encourages it.
The Quran declares: "Find those who say, 'We are Christians,' " the prophet declared, "because amongst these are men devoted to learning and men who have renounced the world, and they are not arrogant." (Surah 5:82)
Joining the cry for tolerance is the Judeo-Christian prophet Isaiah who predicts we will one day get along.
"The wolf will romp with the lamb, the leopard sleep with the kid . . . the cow and bear will graze the same pasture. . . . Neither animal nor human will hurt or kill on my holy mountain. The whole earth will be brimming with knowing God-alive, a living knowledge of God ocean-deep, ocean-wide."
That's the world I want to live in. Pretty idealistic, I know. But that's what they said to the kids chipping away at the Berlin wall. And 20 years later, we are celebrating its fall.


November 21, 2009
Instead of being cheeky, turn the other cheek

NORRIS BURKES
SPIRITUALITY
"Are you kidding me?" I asked the hostess at a restaurant in Zanesville, Ohio.
I had just been told me restaurant staff had discarded the speech I'd left behind in my dining booth.
"I'm sorry," the hostess kept repeating, watching my face redden.
To me, my words were valuable. I couldn't imagine someone putting them in the compost pile.
"I'm sorry too," I said. "I have to deliver the speech in the morning, so you'll have to dig it out."
I'm embarrassed to tell you how surly I became.
"Don't you have a lost-and-found? I was only gone 10 minutes! Would you have discarded a book or a purse?"
Soon a regretful staff member returned with my soggy text at arm's length.
Again, I asked, "Are you kidding me?"
It was the second occasion for the question in the past week.
"Are you kidding me?" I said responding to a call from my auto insurance company telling me my collision with road debris totaled my car.
"I'm sorry," said the agent, preparing his final blow, "but since your car has a salvaged title, it will only be worth about half of its value."
Again, I slowly repeated, "Are you kidding me?"
And again, I was a bit surly. "As a company that only insures military officers, I expected more. I've paid full premiums on a 2001 model with low mileage. I expect a full return."
Like the restaurant, the auto insurance company devalued what was, personally, very important to me. Both the restaurant and the company looked at my valuable possessions and immediately dismissed them as something much less valuable.
Not only that, but I felt personally devalued when the hostess identified me as a chaplain from the soggy words on the paper and the insurance agent called me "Chaplain" in that tone a mother uses for your middle name.
The incidents left me with the question, "How does a person of faith react when someone discredits, undervalues or discounts something that you find important?"
Doesn't Christian Scripture tell us to turn the other cheek?
Yes, but does that mean it would be better for me to accept the disposal of my text or the devalued worth of my car than it would be to fight?
Many folks see this as a command to be passive and to accept the misfortune that comes our way. But I learned another meaning of the phrase.
Picture this: If someone slaps you with their right hand, they will strike you on the left cheek. In some good defensive advice, Jesus urged us to turn our cheek. Turning our cheek toward the direction of the incoming slap makes a second strike less likely because there is no exposed cheek surface.
It's best pictured by acting it out with a friend, but the point is that turning the cheek is a defensive posture that discourages further blows. It's not a passive one.
So, no, I didn't just accept the soggy answer the restaurant gave because Jesus also said, "Be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves."
Which means, don't get cheeky, just be smart.
Remembering that I had my speech on a computer memory stick in my pocket, I pulled out the stick and asked with a smile, "Do you have a printer?"
They did. I left a happy customer.
As for my insurance company, it's tempting to show them another kind of cheek, but I'm quite sure that's not what Jesus had in mind.
Burkes is a former civilian hospital chaplain and an Air National Guard chaplain. Write norris@thechaplain.net or visit thechaplain.net. You can follow him on Twitter, username is "chaplain."

November 28, 2009
Get rid of unneeded stuffing this year

NORRIS BURKES
SPIRITUALITY
As you read this column, I pray that it's not too late to interrupt the season-long process of stuffing yourself.
No, I'm not talking about holiday cookies and office party potlucks. I'm talking about the post-Thanksgiving sales. These are the sales that start before God wakes up and continue past your New Year's hangover.
Frankly, I've had enough of these stuffing sales. In fact, pardon the attitude, but I'm stuffed with way too much stuff. I've had enough of the super-sized, grande, vinti, jumbo, all-you-can-eat super-warehouse StuffMart materialism.
So, this year I have a few ideas designed to keep you from overstuffing yourself.
The first idea was inspired by a challenge Jesus issued to a visitor who asked what he must do to become whole.
"Go and sell all your stuff," Jesus said, "and give the profit to the poor and your treasure will be in heaven."
The Scripture says the man left sorrowful, because he could not bear to lose his stuff, even if it meant saving his soul.
"What does it profit a man," Jesus would later ask, "if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?"
So, last year, I took a hard look at my stuff, especially the stuff I loved.
Among this stuff was my bedside television, my iPod and its docking clock, even an expensive night-vision monocular I use to view wildlife.
I took all those things and wrapped them as gifts. They were gifts I couldn't normally afford to give. My hunter brother-in-law, who usually gets a Starbuck's gift card from me, was astonished to receive my monocular. My son couldn't believe his dad relinquished his precious iPod, and my daughter was astounded that I was giving her a television set for her room.
Not only did these things make good gifts, but they were a token representation of the stuff that weighed down my soul with materialism. They weren't so hard to give as they were hard to give up. This was the stuff Jesus was talking about, stuff I wouldn't replace.
The second idea came to me the year I returned from the Hurricane Katrina cleanup. The sight of mountains of stuff that had been robbed, ruined and ransacked reminded me of words from the world's most famous homeless man, Jesus. "Don't store up for yourself treasures on Earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
Inspired by these words and the Katrina catastrophe, I begged family and friends to "make a donation on my behalf to the Red Cross, Doctors without Borders, AidChild or the Heifer Project. Buy some warm blankets for the homeless. Send a donation overseas to the latest earthquake, flood or fire victim."
That was the year my sister-in-law gave me a certificate that honored the donation she gave to the Red Cross in my name. My mother-in-law gave me a hand-written certificate indicating she'd given money to Katrina victims in my name.
And you know what I did when I opened these gifts?
I cried.
My wife and kids followed with similar donations. And I cried again. It was the truly the most amazing gift anyone has ever bought for me.
This year as you consider your strategy for interrupting the stuffing, I hope this is the year you discover that real treasure isn't what you buy; it's not even what you give. It's what you give up.
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.

Sorry, Mike Rowe, but soldiers do the real dirty jobs

Here's my column, but first a few shameless plugs...


I'll be speaking at at Faith Fellowship Church in Melbourne FL at 7 p.m. Nov. 14 about "Sustained by Faith." with a panel of local veterans talking about the trauma and affirmation of their wartime experiences. The church is at 2820 Business Center Blvd.

In Mansfield OH at 7 p.m. Nov. 20 at the Lexington High School Auditorium, 103 Clever Lane.

AND 7 p.m. Nov. 21 at the Masonic Lodge, 1250 Middle Bellville Road in Mansfield.




BY NORRIS BURKES
FLORIDA TODAY

If you've ever watched Mike Rowe's show, "Dirty Jobs," you've probably seen a good bit of the gross.

The Discovery Channel Web site describes the series as profiling the "unsung American laborers who make their living in the most unthinkable -- yet vital -- ways."

In the month we observe Veteran's Day, the title causes me to recall the veterans I've watched accomplish dirty jobs. No, not dirty in the sense of greasy, grimy or gross, but dirty in the sense of unenviable jobs few people would want.

For instance, this week I saluted Marine Cpl. Joseph Gonzales as he escorted the body of Kyle Coumas, his childhood friend and the only child of Michael and Lori Coumas, home from Afghanistan. Gonzales received Coumas' body at Dover Air Force Base in Maryland and bought him back to California in a cramped business jet.

In a scene reminiscent of the movie "Taking Chance," Gonzales stood vigil and delivered dignity to the process.

Earlier this year while serving at the Air Force Field Hospital in Balad Iraq, I worked alongside Sgt. Jennifer Watson in her job as our patient liaison. While hers doesn't sound like a dirty job, it was. When one of our patients died, she took it upon herself to ensure the soldier wouldn't die alone.

Holding the hand of each dying soldier, she sat with them until the end, no matter the hour.

"I talk to them," she said to Staff Sgt. Dilia Ayala, "thanking them for what they have done, telling them they are a hero, they will never be forgotten."

Four years ago, the National Guard had a dirty job in New Orleans. Upon arriving there, I was attached to the 1/179 Infantry Battalion, 45th Brigade of the Oklahoma Army National Guard as they armed themselves and donned body armor to go into the sweltering slums to find looters, survivors and bodies.

Each mission was dirty, dangerous and often gruesome. During our days there, we kicked down doors to find rotting corpses and chased bad guys down back alleys. It was a dirty job, but thankfully our military was there to do it.

Last month, as I watched reports of the Coast Guard searching for the bodies of nine downed flyers off the California Coast, I recalled what a dirty job that can be. Six years ago, on a sultry morning in June, I waded into the north end of Lake Okeechobee to help recover the remains of Air Force Reserve Maj. Samuel D'Angelo III.

Occasionally, swamp water filled our waders as the medical folks warned about the heat index, waterborne pathogens and water moccasins. We sifted through the pond scum, desperately praying to find the intact body of our comrade. Instead, we only found parts.

When something was found, a call would ring out: "Find!" People stopped. Reverence held us still. The mortuary affairs officer stepped forward to place the remains in the flag-draped ice chest.

I'm often told I have a dirty job because I knock on doors to bring the news of a family member killed in action. But to me, it's a rewarding job, as I'm sure it was for many of the people described in this column

They are godly jobs. They were done with a mind toward a better place. They were selfless acts honoring those who paid the ultimate price.

There are too many dirty jobs to mention in this column, but as we pause to remember our veterans, these are the ones I'm holding in my heart. I do this because their stories represent the countless veterans who did the dirty jobs and the thankless jobs. But if I have anything to say about it, they always will be the never-to-be-forgotten jobs.

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