Sacramental Children

This weekend I had the pleasure of seeing two children participate in sacraments in ways that really show what theology means. On Friday I had the honor of baptizing a two-month old in the bell of one of my ships. This is a long Navy tradition and the baptism on Friday was the 6th in the short history of the USS Kidd. When his father handed him over to me, a complete stranger, he was upset and began to cry which is significant because every day we don't want to leave our comfort to follow Christ. The call on our lives is difficult and I think that deep down, when we baptize infants they understand what is happening in a way adults just tend to blow off. That water on their heads is shocking and causes many to cry out much like a two-month old did on Friday. I think that they also know that some people made a difficult promise on their behalf and they are none too happy about that. But something else happened on Friday. An infant accepted the water and calmed down as I walked him around to see his new family. He found a new comfort on the other side of discomfort, a lesson we could all learn from this particular child.

And this particular sacrament has meant something to a number of people as the photo below, taken by my fellow DESRON Chaplain is probably the most commented on photo I have ever posted on Facebook. It is a moment that many others have wanted to participate in from afar:

As if that wasn't a significant object lesson, on Sunday I saw something I have never seen nor imagined. The church I attended shared communion and they participate in a manner I haven't seen elsewhere in that they pass two plastic cups stacked together. The bread in the bottom cup and juice in the top cup. Well, as they were passing out the elements they missed a 4 year old girl and her father who were sitting in the pew in front of me. The first time an elder walked by the pew, the girl started to feverishly look around wondering when they were going to serve her and her father. As a second elder passed near she locked her eyes on him like tractor beams and was doing her best to will him to see her and serve them the elements. Unfortunately, he too passed the little girl and her father without skipping a beat.

Then, she burst into tears. It took me a second to realize that she was crying because they forgot to serve her communion. A four year old who was so distraught at the possibility of not partaking in communion that she was crying. How many adults view the importance of communion in such a manner that we will make a scene if we can't partake? Do we view it as something of significance rather than just a part of worship to get through quickly to get to lunch or home to watch the game? I have to admit, in that moment I felt wholly unworthy to partake. So I did what anyone should do when a four year old is schooling you in theology. I leaned forward and gave her the elements I had received. She wanted and needed it more than me. And through her I participated in one of the more memorable and truest communion meal I have ever had the privilege of partaking in.

Poppies over Parades

As someone on Active Duty, it gets real annoying every November 11th as my Facebook feed explodes with people saying Happy Veterans Day. I've never understood why we call this a happy day. I sometimes think we focus on the day off and happy thoughts to forget why this day even matters.

At the end of World War I (the war to end all wars), an armistice took effect at 1100 on November 11th. In the years after that war, the day was set aside to remember all those who participated in such a brutal war that saw the advent of trench warfare and poison gas against troops. Armistice day was designed for parades, public meetings and a brief suspension of business (most would participate in two minutes of silence at 1100). After World War II and the realization that war may never end, remembrance was set aside on Memorial Day (a holiday from the Civil War) and Veterans Day was established to remember all who served in any war.

Perhaps we need to get back to remembering Armistice Day rather than seeing which corporation can offer the best freebies to the military. Because in doing so we have lost sight of two things. First, war is horrible, brutal and has long lasting effects. Armistice Day stood as a hope for peace, a hope to never have to send young men against their will to fight other young men holding weapons against their will across a field over an argument neither of them really had any true understanding of. I'm no pacifist, and realize that we will probably always have war and will sometimes need to resort to force in protecting the innocent. But that doesn't mean we can't work towards truly making the next war the last war as was the hope on that initial Armistice Day in 1918. If that is the reason you are saying thank you and not putting the military on some weird pedestal, then go right ahead.

Second, I think we don't want to keep the original impetus behind Armistice Day because we don't want to reflect on the sadness that comes with service in the military. We in America love to think happy thoughts and will do almost anything to avoid dealing with death and dark things. We can't run from it. If we avoid the dark side of military service we end up with a Veterans Administration that doesn't really help veterans with problems because they aren't living into the narrative we want. We end up with veterans on the street and unemployed because employers are scared their PTSD is a ticking time bomb. We honor the dead on Memorial Day and those who currently serve on Veterans Day because they aren't going to speak up about the horrors of war and what we ask our young men and women to do on our behalf.

Two years ago I was in Afghanistan when one of British civilians working with our battalion came into a meeting a few weeks before Veterans Day wearing a red poppy on his lapel. I had no idea why he was wearing a flower, so I asked. He talked of how that was the tradition on his side of the pond from November 1st until Armistice Day (sometimes called Remembrance Day) to honor those who served and died. He then told me of a poem "In Flanders Fields" by John McCrae written in 1915 that inspired the wearing of the poppy. It made me think that we have lost sight of the hopes of those who served in WWI. I have included it below:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie
         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

Maybe we can learn more about ourselves and reignite the hope that this war is the last war if we were to heed the words of this poem and spend more time wearing poppies than celebrating on a day like today. 

Greatest Job in the World

I know it has been quite a while since my last post, but I've been busy taking a vacation in Europe, driving across country and settling in at the new command. Seeing how I'm out to sea again tomorrow I figured I'd stop by here briefly and provide a glimpse into life with the Surface Warriors.

The hours are essentially the same, just replace all the time out in the field with time underway (especially this month as I am underway at least one day each week this month). So instead of spending nights out in the woods under the stars, I spend the night floating on the ocean in a bed and can go to the bridge wing to see the stars. And if the ship pulls in late I get to see San Diego from the harbor at night, which is an amazing sight and make me glad I was called to ministry in the Navy.

I deal with the same types of issues with Sailors that Marines face, just a bit more in demand due to a larger number of people in this command. During Chaplain school there seemed to be a bit of an urban legend that only the Marines knew how to utilize chaplains and would treat us better than the Navy. Based on my experience with 6 different command I can say that isn't the case. Every ship in our squadron wants their own chaplain which makes my services in demand and they roll out the red carpet for me when I am on board. It has been a great 6 weeks so far and I expect it will be just as rewarding and exciting when they force me to move in two years.

I can't think of a better calling than as a Navy Chaplain. Its never dull and we get to live in wonderful cities and work with amazing people.

Just one view from my "office:"

Faith and Leadership

This is the link to a reflection piece I wrote following the tragedy in Hawthorne, NV:

http://www.faithandleadership.com/content/russ-ferguson-beauty-the-midst-chaos-and-carnage

Bridgeport Memorial Service

We held a memorial service out at Bridgeport, CA a few days after the accident that took the lives of seven of our Marines. Due to the lack of computer time, I had to write out my comments and as tends to happen Mr. Murphy showed up and the motivated Marines that immediately returned the podium to its rightful place removed my notes with said podium. So I had to wait for the DVD to transcribe what I said that evening and today with NMCI down for the count I had the opportunity to listen and type at the same time. Below is what I said in the immediate aftermath of the tragedy and sets the stage for what I said last week at the public memorial service. I publish these remarks today as the families of 1/9 were not afforded the opportunity to attend this service and may never get their hands on one of the DVDs.

What now? Other than why, that is probably the most frequent question I hear and the one that is probably the most prominent on the mind of everyone in this hangar. Where do we go from here? What do we do? What do we say to our friends, the families, to each other? This is my take. We get through this and we go on together. But that is easier said than done. So, what now?

First, we remember. We come together tonight and hear stories that remind us of the treasures that we lost. We go to an airport and help our brothers start their long journey home. We laugh and joke about them over a beer. But we must remember that we can never drink Monday night away. It will always be with us so we remember together than to attempt to forget alone. We also need to remember the heroic acts of people sitting with us tonight and people in hospital rooms in Reno. They saved lives.

We heal together. Remembering allows space for our emotions to run. Talking together eases our pain and soothes the wounds. You do not need me or the OSCAR to heal. But if you need to talk with one of us, I am always here for you. As the pain fades, we can acknowledge what happened and then we can see the moments of beauty among the chaos and carnage. I knew this battalion had started to heal at about 1300 on Tuesday. When I saw a crowd gathering and I thought it was the First Sergeants giving a brief about the movement plan to get on the buses. As I walked up I saw it wasn’t a First Sergeant led brief, actually no one was talking. People were walking up and putting stuff on the hillside. As I got closer I saw that the 81’s platoon had started a memorial of rocks they had written on. By the time I got there people were putting their ranks on the memorial. I have told everyone that at that moment, I knew we were going to get through this together. This kind of healing lets us tell the stories of Ripp, Josh, Joshua, Rog, David, Mason and Billy.

And we live. We honor our fallen by living a full and vibrant life. WE let their stories meld into our stories and we carry on their dreams. WE make their families ours and incorporate them into our lives. We don’t let defeat us. We show death that it is not worth being our enemy. Because life is our friend. Death pisses us off, so we fight death by helping others to live it. Live the life those we send off on the angel flight wants us to live. If that guides us the memory of Josh, Joshua, Mason, Rog, David, Billy and Ripp will never be forgotten.

Remembering Seven Fallen Brothers

Yesterday morning we held a memorial service at Camp Lejeune for the seven Marines we lost in a mortar explosion while training in Hawthorne, NV. For all the 1/9 families and friends that were unable to attend, as is my tradition (which I really would like to never have to do), here are my remarks from the service:

Five weeks ago, our lives changed forever. Nothing can change that. Nothing can erase that day. It was a night of chaos and carnage that gave way to a day of beauty and courage. I don’t want to forget that night, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. We owe it to Ripp, Josh, Joshua, Billy, Rog, Mason and David to remember that night. But, we owe it to them to remember not just the tragic but also the good and heroic. And what better way to honor the events of March 18^th and the men of Hawthorne than to reflect on what it means to be a Deadwalker.

Most normal people would recoil at the prospect of joining an organization nicknamed the Walking Dead. That or they would think it’s just a fan club of the TV show where they could hunt zombies. Like many of you, when I received word I was coming to 1/9 I went to the two sources of all information, Google and Wikipedia, to learn the history of my new unit. After reading the history of the unit and discovering the unit called themselves the Walking Dead, I found the name a bit morbid and chalked it and the Grim Reaper logo up to the infantry obsession with skulls. And two years ago, like many outside our unit, I would have thought it odd to call someone a good Deadwalker. But, after March 18^th we know there is honor and deep meaning in wearing the title of Deadwalker.

So what does it mean to lay claim to the name Deadwalker? What sets us apart from other people? Other units? For the guests who aren’t familiar with the unit’s history, our name came from the time those who walked before us spent in Vietnam. After a particularly difficult and brutal battle we had suffered the worst day for the Corps in Vietnam both in sheer numbers and in percentage of casualties. One Viet Cong General reportedly stated that we were never going to win and were essentially walking towards our death and burial and called us the Walking Dead. That nickname was even broadcast over Vietnamese propaganda radio by the infamous Hanoi Hanna encouraging us to go ahead and die. We embraced that name, but not in the way they expected. They had no clue what made up a member of the Walking Dead. Even death itself cannot defeat a Deadwalker.

          

Today we remember seven men who embodied everything it means to be a part of the Walking Dead. As you have heard from many others today, these seven Marines weren’t just great Marines, they were outstanding young men who had much to offer the world. They had already made a positive difference here in the unit as well as their communities back home. These men looked death in the face on the night of March 18^th and just grinned because they knew death wasn’t getting the final say in their lives.

        

Death will always lose when it is up against infantry Marines that are willing to argue with each other that they are the best potential date for Taylor Swift. Death doesn’t stand a chance against the sarcasm of these Marines. Death’s darkness can’t overcome the illuminating smiles and powerful sense of humor of these men. Death can’t bully men who refuse to succumb to peer pressure. Death can’t recover from men who will do anything to save their brothers and put others above their own safety in a time of need. Death’s grip isn’t strong enough to compete against the beauty of a simple memorial of rocks and chevrons created by brothers in arms. The fear of death will always be overwhelmed by lives that inspire thousands of people in communities around this country to come out and pay respects to their fallen sons. 

Men such as these change lives for good and are the shoulders that the Corps stands upon. We take men such as these for granted because we expect great things from them. Men like Ripp, Joshua, Rog, Billy, Josh, David and Mason defeat death because they show us how to live. Their bodies are buried, but their lives will continue on and their impact will multiply as we live lives that honor the way in which they changed our lives for good. 

We call this battalion the Walking Dead and the men Deadwalkers not because they are walking around awaiting death or because of a morbid sense of humor. No, we call ourselves Deadwalkers because we walk through death with no fear. We show death it is nothing in the face of such men. Time and again, death has tried to defeat this battalion. Time and again, death has lost because we live lives inspired by men such as Josh, Billy, Mason, Joshua, Ripp, David and Rog. Lives that inspire others to live well. Lives that death can’t extinguish. So the next time the Battalion Commander ends a formation with his familiar call and response, don’t look at it as cheesy false motivation. Answer his call with pride that you are part of this storied unit and that you are willing to honor the lives of these seven and all those before you who proudly bear the name Deadwalker. 

And here is a photo of the memorial that I alluded to in the remarks:

Arlington

I had the privilege yesterday of performing a burial at Arlington National Cemetery for one of my Marines who was killed in Hawthorne, NV on March 18th. I had hoped to never be called on to perform such a task, but sometimes we don't get exactly what we want. Below are the remarks that I made. I would have posted the memorial service remarks from Bridgeport, but I didn't type those up and lost my notes so I'll post them once I can transcribe from the DVD.

Today we gather on sacred and hallowed ground with heavy hearts to remember the life of a great Marine, but more importantly the life of an outstanding young man. It will take time for us to comprehend that Taylor is gone. But we can find a measure of solace in the fact that Taylor led a good life and embodied the spirit that earned his unit the nickname of the Walking Dead. It may seem odd to call someone a good Deadwalker, but I think after the events of two weeks ago we better understand what it means to claim the title of Deadwalker.

The Vietnamese claimed that our battalion was dead and awaiting burial, so they called us the Walking Dead. Unfortunately they didn’t know what made up a member of the Walking Dead. Even death cannot defeat us or stop us from making a difference in this world. Billy’s life and the way he had a positive effect on all those around him prove that death didn’t get the final say so on the 18^th of March.

Death just can’t defeat an infantryman that is willing to vehemently argue that Taylor Swift would choose him over any other Marine. Death can’t win against someone who begrudgingly accepted being called Billy, a name he couldn’t stand, because his brothers in arms gave him that name. Death has no chance to outlast the legacy of someone who conquered three deployments and three weeks on the mountain at Bridgeport. Death can’t claim victory over someone whose smile and love of life were infectious to all who encountered him. Death has no chance to outlast the legacy of a man like Taylor.

Men such as Taylor change lives for the better and are what the legend and lore of the corps are built upon. Marines like Taylor, lead and shape lives in ways they never realize in life. Only upon their death do we begin to see the full impact of their actions on the lives of their brothers and every person they have known. We take men like Taylor for granted because we expect great things from men such as him and in his absence we see the effect he had on our lives. Men like Taylor defeat death because they show us how to live. Today we bury his body, but we will never bury his life because that will continue to live on and multiply in the lives of those he changed for good.