War stories
08/06/16 04:39
I remember some of the listening exercises that were a part of my introduction to theological seminary. Back in those days, our seminary started incoming students out with three “intensives.” The first semester at Seminary was divided into three three month-long courses, taken one at a time. The first was titled “Christian Existence,” the second “Personal Transformation,” and the third “Social Transformation.” Each involved writing, research, and a lot of reading. But they all also involved specific “hands on” involvement in a variety of exercises and experiences. Somewhere in the process I remember being a bit put off by the requirement. I had come to seminary for serious academic study and I was ready to wrestle with substantive academic discussions and had short patience for personal growth exercises.
Each of those intensives, however, did improve my skill at listening. We had specific techniques for listening and responding to others so that they would know that you had listened and heard what they had said. With enough practice, those techniqes became a part of who I am. Later, when I was working as a counselor towards the end of my seminary career, I was grateful for the lessons in careful listening.
Listening is one of the skills I honed in school that I use every day of my life.
I don’t know that I’m one of the best listeners. I am easily distracted. I often will allow pressing business and a busy schedule to keep me from listening as intently as I might. But in general people recognize me as someone who will listen to what it is that they have to say.
Perhaps because I am a listener, or perhaps because I am old enough to have faced a draft during war time, or perhaps because I somehow fit a notion of what a pastor is like - whatever the reason, I have often been the one to whom a person pours out his or her heart.
I know from experience that when someone says, “This isn’t something that I’ve ever talked about,” or “I haven’t shared this with anyone else, but,” it is time for me to pay special attention and listen to what is being shared. It is through such encounters that I have heard some remarkable stories of human dignity, courage, resilience and faith. I have understood compassion at a new level because of some of the things that people have told me about their lives. And I have become a bit of a collector of stories.
Many of the stories that I have heard simply aren’t mine to tell. I know a story, but it is someone else’s story and I don’t have permission to share it. Confidentiality is critical in the practice of any profession, doubly so for a pastor. And people wouldn’t tell me some of the stories I know if there was any chance that I would pass that story along with any identifying information.
Some of the stories fit into categories. Over the years, I have collected a large number of war stories. I started hearing stories from World War II veterans who were nearing the end of their lives. They had been taught not to talk about the war. “Loose lips sink ships.” They returned from the war with their attention steadily focused on raising families and building community and they were amazingly successful at putting the war behind themselves and getting on with their lives. But there were experiences and memories that were lodged deeply within their psyches and they needed someone with whom to share their stories. I happened to be in the right place at the right time. I’ve heard about the process of training high altitude bombardiers, I’ve learned of what it was like to be with the first US troops to visit Hiroshima, I’ve heard of desert warfare and the special troops who used skis to conquer European mountain passes.
Interestingly, the next stories I began to collect in my career as a pastor were stories of Vietnam. I think that movies like The Deer Hunter, which came out the year I was ordained; The Boys in Company C that came out the same year; and Apocalypse Now which came out the next year triggered memories for some Vietnam War veterans about a decade after their war experiences.
Stories of Korea came later in my experience, perhaps triggered by end of life issues for those veterans. If that is the case, I can expect that more stories of Vietnam will be a part of the very end of my career as a pastor.
Of course the reason that I know these stories is that the people who lived those experiences needed to tell their stories, not that I needed to hear them. I listened because it was in the best interests of those whom I was called to serve. Once in my brain, however, the stories don’t go away. They get added to my own lived experiences, the things I have discovered through reading and research and the other stories and experiences that have been shared with me.
As I have said, these stories aren’t mine to tell. Although I probably could write a book of war stories, don’t expect it from me. I will occasionally make reference to a story someone told me, as I did recently in this blog, but I’m careful not to identify an individual and to speak in very general terms about what I have been told.
What I know, however, is that memories of war permanently shape the lives of those who have experienced war. The men (and they are mostly men) who have shared their war stories had lives that were transformed by their experiences, and not always for the better. I can’t help but wonder if I am being shaped and affected by simply having so many stories of such terrible experiences. Could just having heard about cruelty and innocent victims and the trauma of battle shape my thinking and way of perceiving the world? I don’t know the answer to this question.
What I do know is that a great deal of courage and heroism goes un-heralded. I know that the cost of war is extremely high. I know that those who die are not the only victims of war.
Perhaps it is possible to learn from the experiences of others. If so, perhaps their stories should be shared in an appropriate way in due time. I don’t know for sure. I’m hoping that time will tell.
Each of those intensives, however, did improve my skill at listening. We had specific techniques for listening and responding to others so that they would know that you had listened and heard what they had said. With enough practice, those techniqes became a part of who I am. Later, when I was working as a counselor towards the end of my seminary career, I was grateful for the lessons in careful listening.
Listening is one of the skills I honed in school that I use every day of my life.
I don’t know that I’m one of the best listeners. I am easily distracted. I often will allow pressing business and a busy schedule to keep me from listening as intently as I might. But in general people recognize me as someone who will listen to what it is that they have to say.
Perhaps because I am a listener, or perhaps because I am old enough to have faced a draft during war time, or perhaps because I somehow fit a notion of what a pastor is like - whatever the reason, I have often been the one to whom a person pours out his or her heart.
I know from experience that when someone says, “This isn’t something that I’ve ever talked about,” or “I haven’t shared this with anyone else, but,” it is time for me to pay special attention and listen to what is being shared. It is through such encounters that I have heard some remarkable stories of human dignity, courage, resilience and faith. I have understood compassion at a new level because of some of the things that people have told me about their lives. And I have become a bit of a collector of stories.
Many of the stories that I have heard simply aren’t mine to tell. I know a story, but it is someone else’s story and I don’t have permission to share it. Confidentiality is critical in the practice of any profession, doubly so for a pastor. And people wouldn’t tell me some of the stories I know if there was any chance that I would pass that story along with any identifying information.
Some of the stories fit into categories. Over the years, I have collected a large number of war stories. I started hearing stories from World War II veterans who were nearing the end of their lives. They had been taught not to talk about the war. “Loose lips sink ships.” They returned from the war with their attention steadily focused on raising families and building community and they were amazingly successful at putting the war behind themselves and getting on with their lives. But there were experiences and memories that were lodged deeply within their psyches and they needed someone with whom to share their stories. I happened to be in the right place at the right time. I’ve heard about the process of training high altitude bombardiers, I’ve learned of what it was like to be with the first US troops to visit Hiroshima, I’ve heard of desert warfare and the special troops who used skis to conquer European mountain passes.
Interestingly, the next stories I began to collect in my career as a pastor were stories of Vietnam. I think that movies like The Deer Hunter, which came out the year I was ordained; The Boys in Company C that came out the same year; and Apocalypse Now which came out the next year triggered memories for some Vietnam War veterans about a decade after their war experiences.
Stories of Korea came later in my experience, perhaps triggered by end of life issues for those veterans. If that is the case, I can expect that more stories of Vietnam will be a part of the very end of my career as a pastor.
Of course the reason that I know these stories is that the people who lived those experiences needed to tell their stories, not that I needed to hear them. I listened because it was in the best interests of those whom I was called to serve. Once in my brain, however, the stories don’t go away. They get added to my own lived experiences, the things I have discovered through reading and research and the other stories and experiences that have been shared with me.
As I have said, these stories aren’t mine to tell. Although I probably could write a book of war stories, don’t expect it from me. I will occasionally make reference to a story someone told me, as I did recently in this blog, but I’m careful not to identify an individual and to speak in very general terms about what I have been told.
What I know, however, is that memories of war permanently shape the lives of those who have experienced war. The men (and they are mostly men) who have shared their war stories had lives that were transformed by their experiences, and not always for the better. I can’t help but wonder if I am being shaped and affected by simply having so many stories of such terrible experiences. Could just having heard about cruelty and innocent victims and the trauma of battle shape my thinking and way of perceiving the world? I don’t know the answer to this question.
What I do know is that a great deal of courage and heroism goes un-heralded. I know that the cost of war is extremely high. I know that those who die are not the only victims of war.
Perhaps it is possible to learn from the experiences of others. If so, perhaps their stories should be shared in an appropriate way in due time. I don’t know for sure. I’m hoping that time will tell.