After Johnny Comes Marching Home

Winchester Unitarian Society

May 27, 2012

Ten years. Ten and a half years, now. Thats how long this country has been at war, either in Iraq or
Afghanistan, since October of 2001, and this is now the longest conflict we have been engaged in in our
history. We all know that, but on this weekend when we honor and remember those who have given
their lives, its important to name this fact; to acknowledge it.
In preparing this sermon Ive been struck this week by how casually we treat Memorial Day, despite the
fact that we are at war. In scanning my email inbox I began to wonder what a visitor to the U.S. would
think Memorial Day was all about. One online retailer sent a cheerful reminder: Happy Memorial Day!
30% off of everything! Our foreign visitors might think that we commemorate this holiday by taking
advantage of free shipping.
The most blatant misuse of Memorial Day came courtesy of the Democratic Senatorial Campaign
Committee, with a letter from strategist James Carville. Janet, he began. (I didnt know we were so
close.) I bet youre already thinking about the holiday weekend. Backyard full of friends, meat on the
grill, cooler full of cold ones. Now imagine a swarm of ants with Karl Roves face on em crashing the
party.
You can imagine the rest please send money, blah, blah blah.
The war doesnt get a great deal of airtime with the various election campaigns either. I read a comment
somewhere recently that if we wanted the presidential campaigns to discuss the war, we should open a
branch of Planned Parenthood in Afghanistan.

Meanwhile, our young service members are dying. And increasingly, not only are they dying in far off
places like Afghanistan, they are dying by their own hands, here at home. New York Times columnist
Nicholas Kristof wrote, for every soldier killed on the battlefield this year, about 25 veterans are dying
by their own hands. An American soldier dies every day and a half, on average, in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Veterans kill themselves at a rate of one every 80 minutes. More than 6500 veteran suicides are logged
every year more than the total number of soldiers killed in Afghanistan and Iraq combined since those
wars began. (NYT, April 14, 2012)
These statistics are hard to hear. But they are even harder to absorb, so Im going to say it again: for
every soldier killed in battle this year, about 25 veterans are committing suicide.
Its not completely clear why this is happening: the most likely cause is post-traumatic stress disorder
PTSD although increasingly research is also pointing to traumatic brain injuries as a trigger for suicide.
And we are seeing a correlation with brain injuries and suicides in professional sports as well, which
reinforces the idea of a physical cause in some of the cases.
The Veterans Administration is beginning to respond to this epidemic according to Nicholas Kristof it
has established a suicide hotline and is hiring suicide-prevention counselors. The VA is fighting an uphill
battle, however, against the stigma relating to mental illness, particularly within a warrior culture where
people try to hide any evidence of what they perceive as weakness. Changing this culture and providing a
truly adequate response will be an ongoing struggle. Patrick Bellon, the head of an organization called
Veterans for Common Sense, notes that there are going to be 1 million new veterans in the next five
years. They are already having trouble coping with the population they have now, so I dont know what
theyre going to do.

So the question before us this morning is, what are we, what is this country called upon to do? Can we
do all that is required to stop this epidemic of death? We have just heard two versions of the parable of
the Good Samaritan. The familiar interpretation of this ancient story is the focus on relationships who
is our neighbor? Who are we called upon to help, and on whom can we count to help us? But there is
another way of looking at this parable that is equally relevant on this Memorial Day weekend, and that is,
how much help is enough? What are we called upon to do? In the story, the Samaritan came upon a
badly injured man. He could have bound up his wounds and then continued on his journey. He could
have treated his wounds and dropped him off at an inn, and then left. He could have told himself that he
had done enough and left the man at the mercy of others to help. But he stayed at the inn with the victim,
and then paid for the mans lodging so that he could continue to rest there. He paid a sum generally
thought to be about two days wages. And finally, he told the innkeeper he would return to settle
accounts; to pay for additional care should it prove necessary.
If I hold myself to the example set by the Good Samaritan, I can see that my response to the war and its
consequences has been not just inadequate, but practically non-existent. Sure, Ive been to Memorial Day
parades here and there over the years. Ive long opposed these wars, but have never joined my voice
with others in protest. Given my sheltered life of privilege, Im not even sure whether I know many
combat veterans. I read about the issues facing service members and their families, and I feel compassion
for them. But their lives and experiences have very little in common with mine.
I can admit this openly, because I dont think my experience with war is all that different than that of
many Americans. Since the Civil War we have never fought a war on our own soil; we have not had to
bear the full consequences of armed conflict, and have seldom witnessed or experienced the suffering and
loss that other nations endure. As warfare has changed and become far more deadly, our response and

reaction to it has not kept pace. I thought about that this week while reading the lyrics of the old Civil
War song When Johnny Comes Marching Home. The song depicts a simpler time, when it was assumed
that a warm welcome home was all that a veteran would need. Here are the words of the final stanza: (I
promise to not sing it)

Let love and friendship on that day,

Their choicest pleasures then display,
And let each one perform some part,
To fill with joy the warrior's heart,
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
Have we changed much since that song was written? Of course we have, but warfare has changed more.
We know that meeting the returning hero at the train station is not an adequate response. However, the
reality is that most of us are not in a position to offer everything that veterans need in order to resume
their civilian lives as whole and healthy people.
In his book War and the Soul, psychotherapist Edward Tick advocates a much more comprehensive
response to the needs of combat veterans. After working with veterans for over 30 years, Tick proposes
that post-traumatic stress disorder should not be characterized as a stress disorder at all, but rather, as
what he calls an identity disorder, or what he considers to be a death or wounding of a soldiers soul. The
causes of this identity disorder, according to Tick, are many. He compares our society to earlier cultures
or indigenous ones, in which war was considered a rite of passage, where young men undergo ritual
initiations to form them as warriors. Tribal elders led the young warriors into battle. Then, following
conflict, they were integrated back into society with sacred rituals and sustained guidance from
community elders.

Modern warfare, for Americans, in contrast, is disconnected from our society. It takes place overseas,
where few Americans witness or experience it. War does not involve the clear purpose of defending our
territory and so is not as morally defensible. American soldiers at war are far from home, far from their
communities, and we here at home share virtually nothing of their experience, nor do many of us even
acknowledge it. Consequently, when soldiers return home, they are isolated, unable to connect or
process their experiences. Tick writes, They cannot shape their new self into an identity that can give
them inner order, strength, and meaning and help them find a place in society and the cosmos. Tick
maintains that standard treatment involving counseling and medication, is not sufficient to heal veterans
souls.
In addition to the disconnection from their home and society, there are other problems inherent in the
way we currently conduct warfare. The technological advances have made modern warfare more
destructive. Our basic training is designed to create soldiers who will reliably fight when called upon to
do so. It does this by breaking down aversion to killing, and by dehumanizing the enemy. Think of the
ugly nicknames we give opposing forces for example, gooks in Vietnam, or towelheads in the Middle
East. And in the Iraq and Afghan wars, in the absence of a draft, we have relied on re-deploying the same
soldiers, thereby compounding the psychological damage inflicted upon them. What happens when a
young man or woman suddenly recognizes the humanity of an enemy, but is forced to follow orders to
kill? What if a soldier has been trained to believe that he is one of the good guys, but then is forced to kill
civilians? According to Edward Tick, the soldier can suffer a wound to the soul from which it is very
difficult to recover.
This is a hard topic, but I have one more issue to bring up. In becoming aware of the damage being
inflicted, we must also acknowledge that the American way of warfare is a justice issue. People of lower
socioeconomic status are more likely to enlist. But in addition, a 2008 study by the Committee on the

Gulf War and Health noted that people of lower rank and of lower socioeconomic and educational status
were more likely to suffer from PTSD and other emotional disturbances. The most vulnerable among us,
those with the fewest resources, are disproportionately bearing the burden both of the fighting and of the
consequences.
As more and more of our veterans return home in the coming years, what might a fuller response to the
suffering of our veterans look like? Its easy to say: more funding, more mental health professionals,
better access to care. None of those things would hurt. But a broader response is called for; the
equivalent of the Good Samaritans committed care of the stranger by the side of the road. Edward Tick
proposes several steps to help heal veterans who have suffered great wounds to their soul. He would
follow the example set by other cultures and provide more sacred ritual as part of veterans
reintroduction into civilian life. Tick also suggests greater opportunities for storytelling; chances for
veterans to share their experiences, not just with each other, but with the broader population. Most
importantly, Tick advocates for the society to help veterans heal by accepting responsibility for war.
After all, we elect officials who hire military leaders, who together make decisions to enter into and
conduct warfare. Soldiers are asked to do terrible, brutal things in our name. Ultimately, we are
responsible. Tick writes, to our internal self-image, it does not matter that we had no choice; we are
still haunted by the awareness that by killing we have committed the greatest wrong. The soul freezes on
this moral crisis point. It says: I killed my own. Or, I killed whom I should not have killed and that is
murder. I have become foul and cannot get clean again. Can our society absolve soldiers of sole
responsibility, and help lift their burden?
Edward Ticks proposals are beyond what most of us as individuals can realistically do to help. There are
steps we can take, however. First, we should pledge to remember; to hold our veterans in our thoughts
and offer them our support and gratitude whenever we can. The original intent of Memorial Day was to

visit and decorate gravesites, but everyone can pause and reflect for a moment on the lives being lost in
service to this country.
Then, if we are given the opportunity, we can ask questions and listen. Ben Patton, grandson of General
George Patton, noted that while growing up he and his siblings were trained to listen to veterans they
met and to encourage them to share their stories; they were told that it was their duty. As veterans
return to civilian life, they face isolation as they leave behind the intense relationships and bonds that
they form overseas. We can help build bridges to help them find their place, to feel valued and important.
In the end, though, perhaps our most important role, our fullest response, is to work for peace not just
an end to the current conflict, but peace as a way of life. We live in a violent culture, with our guns, our
violent movies and TV shows, the video games, the hate speech. UU theologian and minister Paul Rasor
notes that we take for granted a perpetual state of war and preparedness for war. (UU World, Summer
2012, p. 32.) Rasor calls attention to Americas theology of violence, in which bad violence is always
overcome by good violence the superior force and superior moral power of the good guys. He goes
on to say that war isnt just about what we do its about who we are. We have been at war for over 10
years. What is that doing to us as a people? Poet John Donne wrote,
Each mans death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
We can work toward a culture in which non-violent responses are the norm, where war is considered an
anomaly rather than a common reaction to crises worldwide. Unrealistic? Perhaps! But look at the
damage being done to our veterans our young men and women our future. What do we owe them?
My friends, we have been at war for a very long time, and those who are waging it for us are suffering.
Our war is so distant from most of us that it is easy to almost forget, day to day, what is happening now in

Afghanistan, both to our own people and to the Afghan people as well. There is an urgent need to do
more; to treat our veterans with the love and care exhibited by the Good Samaritan helping the injured
stranger by the side of the road. We can listen, we can remember, and we can work for peace.
Ive got peace like a river, we sang. Ive got peace like a river in my soul. May all those who serve find
that peace in their souls, and may we all play a part in helping them to be at peace.
May it be so.
Amen.