Joyeux Noel, the Christmas Truce, and the Reminiscences of a Retried Military Chaplain

“I belong with those who are in pain, and who have lost their faith, I belong here.”

This is my second Christmas reflection of the season. If you did not read my article from last night I would encourage you to do so. It is something quite personal dealing with my experience in Iraq during Christmas 2007, and the story of Dr. Kurt Reuber and his painting, The Madonna of Stalingrad.

Likewise, I am offering a holiday subscription gift offer that was previously reserved for founding members. If you upgrade from a free or monthly subscription, or a monthly subscription to founding, I will send you an inscribed copy of my book, Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory: Religion and the Politics of Race, in the Civil War Era and Beyond. The publisher’s list price which is pretty much standard everywhere but on Amazon where the price fluctuates wildly, is $36.95, and the publisher strictly ensures that Amazon cannot sell it in bulk quantities, so I too, must go through the publisher. The point is, that I want you to have the book and between the cost of the book, packaging it and shipping this is not a money making deal for me. You can read the reviews at the publisher’s site, https://www.nebraskapress.unl.edu/potomac-books/9781640124882/mine-eyes-have-seen-the-glory/

So, on to my reflection.

Christmas Eve at COP South, 2007

As a veteran who served in the badlands of Al Anbar Province during Christmas of 2007 I can relate to Father Palmer, the Scottish priest and chaplain in the film Joyeux Noel (Merry Christmas) when he makes the comment “I belong with those who are in pain, and who have lost their faith, I belong here.” As is my custom I am watching that film again tonight.

The film is the story of the amazing and exceptional Christmas Truce of 1914. It is a film that each time I see it that I discover something new, more powerful than the last time I viewed it. It reminds me of serving in Iraq, at Christmas from my perspective as a Chaplain, and thereby giving voice to those who serve now, as well as those who served God’s people in hellish places before me. It reminds me of how much I hate war, and how much I often hate the clergy who are all too often, bloodthirsty beasts more interested in using their position to kill the enemies of their nations, rather than preaching a message of peace and reconciliation while ministering to the spiritual, psychological, and physical needs of those committed to their care, which often doesn’t require more than kindness, listening, compassion and maybe an embrace, rather then anything overtly religious.

As a now retired Chaplain I am drawn to the actions of the British Padre in the film, who during the truce conducts a Mass for all the soldiers, British, French and German in no-man’s land. Afterward he goes about caring for the soldiers, both the living and the dead. Later in the film, his actions are contrasted with his Bishop who comes to relieve him of his duties and to urge on the replacement soldiers to better kill the Germans.

As the Chaplain begins to provide the last Rites to a dying soldier the Bishop walks into the first aid bunker in full regalia, a purple cassock, a Victorian frock coat, and top hat. Father Palmer, played by Gary Lewis, looks up and kisses his ring.

There is a silence as Father Palmer looks at his clerical superior while the Bishop looks sternly at Palmer, and then addresses him:

“You’re being sent back to your parish in Scotland. I’ve brought you your marching orders.”

Stunned the Priest replies: “I belong with those who are in pain, and who have lost their faith, I belong here.”

The Bishop then sternly lectures the Priest: “I am very disappointed you know. When you requested permission to accompany the recruits from your parish I personally vouched for you. But then when I heard what happened I prayed for you.”

The Priest humbly and respectfully yet with conviction responds to his superior: “I sincerely believe that our Lord Jesus Christ guided me in what was the most important Mass of my life. I tried to be true to his trust and carry his message to all, whoever they may be.”

The Bishop seemed a bit taken aback, but he then blames Father Palmer for what will next happen to the Soldiers that he has served with in the trenches: “Those men who listened to you on Christmas Eve will very soon bitterly regret it; because in a few days time their regiment is to be disbanded by the order of His Majesty the King. Where will those poor boys end up on the front line now? And what will their families think?”

Their conversation is interrupted when a soldier walks in to let the Bishop know that the new soldiers are ready for his sermon. After acknowledging the messenger the Bishop continues: “They’re waiting for me to preach a sermon to those who are replacing those who went astray with you.” He gets ready to depart and continues: “May our Lord Jesus Christ guide your steps back to the straight and narrow path.”

Father Palmer looks at him and asks: “Is that truly the path of our Lord?”

The Bishop looks at the Priest and asks what I think is the most troubling question: “You’re not asking the right question. Think on this: are you really suitable to remain with us in the house of Our Lord?”

The bishop, turns and goes to “minister” to the newly arrived replacement unit. His message is that of the Bishop of London in 1915.

“Christ our Lord said, “Think not that I come to bring peace on earth. I come not to bring peace, but a sword.” The Gospel according to St. Matthew. Well, my brethren, the sword of the Lord is in your hands. You are the very defenders of civilization itself. The forces of good against the forces of evil. For this war is indeed a crusade! A holy war to save the freedom of the world. In truth I tell you: the Germans do not act like us, neither do they think like us, for they are not, like us, children of God. Are those who shell cities populated only by civilians the children of God? Are those who advanced armed hiding behind women and children the children of God? With God’s help, you must kill the Germans, good or bad, young or old. Kill every one of them so that it won’t have to be done again.”

The sermon is chilling and had it not been edited by the director would have contained the remark actually said by the real Bishop that the Germans “crucified babies on Christmas.” Of course that was typical of the propaganda of the time and similar to things that religious leaders of all faiths use to demonize their opponents and stir up violence in the name of their God.

When the Bishop leaves to preach, the Father Palmer finished his ministration to the wounded while listening to the words of the Bishop not far away in the trenches. He meditates upon his simple cross, takes it off, kisses it and hangs it upon a tripod where a container of water hangs.

The scene is chilling for a number of reasons. First is the obvious, the actions of the Bishop denigrates the efforts of some to bring the Gospel of Peace into the abyss of Hell of earth, and then to incites others to commit violence in the name of God by dehumanizing the enemy forces. The second and possibly even more troubling is to suggest that those who do not support dehumanizing and exterminating the enemy are not suitable to remain in the house of the Lord. Since I have had people, some in person and others on social media say similar things to what the Bishop asks Palmer the scene hits close to home. There are too many preachers committed to preaching hatred in our country today in the Trump-MAGA cult, and it is not just against foreign enemies, but their fellow Americans.

When I left Iraq in February 2008, I felt that I was abandoning those committed to my spiritual care, but my time was up. If I chosen to we could have accompanied the advisors to the First Iraqi Division to Basra, far out of our area to retake it from Al Qaida Iraq forces. Because of my orders I missed going with men who I had built a pastoral relationship with. My departure from our area of operation barely over a month after I had celebrated what I consider to be my most important Masses of my life at COP South and COP North on December 23rd as well as Christmas Eve and Christmas Day on the Iraq-Syria Border. Those were really the last masses that I felt the mystery and awe of the love of God that I used to feel so much.

When I left Iraq, the new incoming senior Chaplain for First Marine Expeditionary Force Forward refused to speak to me. The previous senior Chaplain was not only a friend, but was his enemy. He refused to take my replacement from the Iraq Assistance Group, which left our advisers without any dedicated support. He then slandered me behind my back because what I was doing was not how he would do things, and because I and my relief was under someone else’s operational control. It is funny how word gets back to you when people talk behind your back. Thankfully he is now retired from the Navy. So I cannot forget those days, and every time I think about them, especially around Christmas, I am somewhat melancholy. I think that is why I can relate so much to Father Palmer in the movie.

It has been sixteen years since those Christmas Masses and they still feel like yesterday. In the intervening years my life has been different. Just a year later I was walking home from church where my wife, Judy who was going to sing in the choir during the Christmas vigil mass. I couldn’t handle the crowds, the noise, and I felt so far away from God. Before the Mass began I walked home in the dark cold of that Christmas Eve, looking up into the sky asking God if he still was there. If there had been an open bar on the way home I would have stopped by and poured myself in.

Since Iraq I have dealt with severe and chronic PTSD, depression, anxiety and insomnia. That was compounded over the next two years, where due to my struggles I lost faith and was for all practical purposes an agnostic. I felt abandoned by God, but even more so and maybe more importantly by my former church and most other Chaplains. It was like being radioactive. There was and is a stigma for Chaplains that admits to PTSD and go through a faith crisis, especially from other Chaplains and Clergy. But be sure, and let no one tell you differently: no Soldier, Sailor, Marine or Airman who has suffered the trauma of war and admitted to PTSD does not feel the stigma that goes with it. Sadly, despite the best efforts of many caregivers, there is a stigma. I prefer not to go into detail about the stigma and how many times ministers and chaplains make it worse, but not now.

I still suffer the effects of the PTSD, especially the insomnia, nightmares and the night terrors. I also still have anxiety in crowded places and in bad traffic, but with the help of a number of therapists I have developed relatively decent comping mechanisms. As for faith, I do believe, more often than not, but I doubt. While I still consider myself to be a Christian, I am also an agnostic who echoes the cry of the man who cried out to Jesus, “Lord I believe, help my unbelief!” I believe and yet, I don’t and that is a not bad thing, I think it helps me understand those who no longer believe, especially those that struggle, and those who were raised as Christians and have left the faith. I understand that because over the past ten years of Trump’s MAGA Christian cult, most people who call themselves Christians and most churches scare me to death. I cannot blame others from fleeing the church or Christianity, but they still need priests and ministers to care for them, people who won’t reject them.

The French mystic Simone Weil said “He who has not God in himself cannot feel His absence.” I think that sums up President Elect Trump and his most ardent Evangelical and Roman Catholic supporters. I don’t think they would recognize Christ if he walked among them, and would have been among those shouting “Crucify him!” but of course I could be wrong in some individual cases.

So, this Christmas, like the theologian Paul Tillich I have come to believe that “Sometimes I think it is my mission to bring faith to the faithless, and doubt to the faithful.” In other words I am going to be faithful to the Crucified Christ and remain a complete pain in the ass to them until the day that I die. Likewise I will do what I can to be a vessel of God’s love to all.

Have a good night, and whatever holy day you celebrate, even if it only the friendship of others, please do it with gusto.