Pandemic Lighting of the Advent Wreath

There are some readings that can be handed out to the families of your church without explanation. They know to read the script and light the candles. This is not that.

This Advent is not that. We have learned to do worship differently in the past two years. Our traditions have shifted and we have made room for new possibilities. It will soon be cold and some congregations will return to online platforms for their worship because it’s not possible to safely gather in their sanctuaries at this point in the pandemic. The risk is still there. It is still too great or it may be the designated worship space is being completely remodeled as it is at Old First United Church of Christ in Philadelphia, PA and there is no alternative space that would quite work.

Old First was the inspiration for digging up this liturgy from too many years ago when I first imagined how we might share simple stories about our faith. It has back in those days when we were all excited about testimony. Or at least we were in the United Church of Christ and I spent a whole lot of time trying to imagine how our traditional New England worship would allow for more truth telling. (They were so patient with me and I’m still proud of the risks we took together. I’m so grateful for the ways that they taught me to do church.) The liturgy that follows is adapted from one I wrote way back then but it needed to be spruced up a bit for the wonderful people of Old First who will be using this liturgy with their pandemic pods.

Their brilliant pastor and the elders formed groups to meet on Zoom early in the pandemic. It’s a urban congregation where people knew names and faces and a smattering of tiny details about each person but these groups have introduced a new level of intimacy and connection. They’ve stuck together through all of this and it’s changed their community in the best way possible. Old First won’t have traditional families lead these candle lightings, but these new pandemic families who will share some part of their story and connection as they light the Advent candles.

These scripts do not require a ton of extra explanation for the church people that have done Advent a few times, but they are not the kind of thing that can be read without advance preparation. And so, I offer the following instructions to share with your good people.

  • Please read the whole liturgical moment for your designated Sunday and then decide how the reading might be shared, if it is desired to use more than one voice.
  • Read slowly and with intention. Allow us to feel the expectation and wonder in each word.
  • Pray together with those that you will share this candle lighting about what the vision will be that you’ll share. It does not need to be a long explanation. It may only be two or three sentences to explain something you experienced together. Try to make it personal to your shared experience.
  • You may choose to script the vision you’ll share or invite someone within your group to speak that truth in their own words at the designated moment. Try to make it brief but powerful. Tell the truth with great love.

Surely, you will add to this list as certainly as you will make a series of technical choices that make sense for your community in sharing in this moment of worship. Hopefully, this gets you excited to do this thing that you’ve done so well throughout this pandemic. Dear pastor, you are a true wonder. Thank you for all you do in the world. I am blessed by it and so it is with gratitude I offer this liturgy for lighting the candles of the Advent Wreath.

First Sunday of Advent

Our expectation begins now.
It starts here after so much 
has happened but we still 
expect more.

We begin our journey, like Joseph and Mary,  
in darkness. We cannot see the way ahead.
We cannot know what hope will come but
we trust God to journey with us,
beckoning along with the prophets,

"The days are surely coming, 
says the LORD, when I will fulfill 
the promise I made to 
the house of Israel 
and the house of Judah.
It is coming." This is our hope 
today as we light the 
first candle of Advent.  

[First Candle is lit.]
		
We light this candle 
to remember what was promised
and every dream we dared to dream
about what could be. We light this
candle full of hope because 
we know the days are surely 
coming as we have seen signs 
of God's hope in…  

(name a vision of hope 
you’ve recently seen 
in your daily life, 
in your relationships,
or in the news).

With this hope, we know
that the days are surely coming
and so we pray together:

O God, who gave us the Light, 
thank you for giving us hope 
in the form of a child at Bethlehem.  
As we prepare to celebrate 
the birth of this holy child, 
may we see signs of your hope 
in the darkness of despair. Amen.

Second Sunday of Advent

When so much feels uneven
and unsteady, we push 
into the wild possibility 
that change will come. 
We imagine the peace 
how the world might 
shift in the hope 
John the Baptizer 
dares us to dream,

"Every valley shall be filled, 
and every mountain 
and hill shall be made low, 
and the crooked shall be made straight, 
and the rough ways made smooth; 
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God."
It is in this wild possibility that we light
the second candle of Advent.  

[Second Candle is lit.]

We light this candle 
in search of your peace.  
We look forward to the days 
when all the rough places are smooth, 
but for now we seek your comfort…  

(name a time when
you have recently 
been found comfort 
in words, in a kindness, 
or even in an idea).

With this possibility, we believe
our rough places will be made smooth
and so we pray together:

Prince of Peace, you came to us 
in the innocence of an infant.  
Comfort us when the world feels too rough.  
Give us the courage to find friends 
in unlikely places as we work together 
toward your peace.  Amen.

Third Sunday of Advent

We come find warmth 
together in the light
of God’s love. We have
often felt so misunderstood 
and even unloved, but today
we marvel in the love that
begins in God. We celebrate
the love we have known
in the words of the Apostle Paul,    

"And the peace of God, 
which surpasses all understanding, 
will guard your hearts 
and your minds in Christ Jesus."
It is in this peace that 
our guarded hearts break 
open to welcome the light
of this third candle of Advent.

[Third Candle is lit.]

We light this candle 
to celebrate your love 
that unites all people.  
In the warmth of 
this shimmering hope, 
we dream of that all people 
might experience this kind of love 
that surpasses all understanding. 

(Share a brief story about 
how you’ve experienced love together. 
Begin this story 
with the words, “I dream…”)

With this love made real,
we find new understanding 
of what love could change
and so we pray together:

Loving God, pour into our hearts 
this day the light of your love, 
warming us to one another, 
enlightening our understanding of others,
 and revealing the love that 
guards our hearts and minds. Amen.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

We might not feel quite ready, 
still we praise God. There is
joy in the inexplicable and
the extraordinary. We celebrate wonder
of what could be just as
Mary sang,

"My soul magnifies the Lord, 
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 
for he has looked with favor 
on the lowliness of his servant. 
Surely, from now on 
all generations will call me blessed.”
It is with this joy that 
our souls unite to magnify 
the good news so full of blessing
in the lighting of this 
fourth candle of Advent.

[Fourth Candle is lit.]

We light this candle 
to celebrate our joy for the world. 
Like Mary, we might hesitate
and be cautious with our praise
but when we remember how
what God has done, we 
can only sing with joy.

(Share a brief story about 
you’ve been surprised by joy.. 
Begin this story with 
the words, “I remember…”)

With this deep joy,
our hearts join together
in prayer to God:

Eternal God, who magnifies 
each of our souls, 
surprise us this joy 
in these last few days 
before Christmas. Warm our hearts 
to feel the joy of your presence 
in our lives and in your world. Amen.

Christmas Eve

In the silence of this night, 
we celebrate the tiny hope 
of birth in Jesus, our Christ. 
As we wonder what this 
birth means to us, we recall 
all that we have found
on the way to Bethlehem. 

We remember every bit of
hope, peace, love and joy 
we have shared in sacred story.  
These lights shine bright
as the work of Christmas begins.

(Reader pauses as each candle is lit in order.) 

The light of hope ... (Candle is lit.)
The light of peace ... (Candle is lit.)
The light of love ... (Candle is lit.)
The light of joy… (Candle is lit.)

Now, as the shepherds worship 
and the cattle low, we sing 
with the angels that 
God has come into the world. 
We join in that song, singing,

"Glory to God in the highest heaven, 
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"
It is in this glory and awe 
that we light the candle of our Savior.

(Christ candle is lit.)

We light the Christ candle 
to celebrate our Savior. 
We join the chorus of angels 
with our glad tidings and great joy.
God has been made real 
again. God has come close. 
We add our praise, 
remembering...

(name a time, at Christmas 
or some other time, 
when you’ve been 
able to see God
in another person.)

As God becomes known
again in human flesh
and ordinary wonder,
we join our hearts
to pray together:

Holy God, we rejoice in your presence! 
The birth of this baby at Bethlehem 
gives us wonder and delight. 
The birth of your holy child 
is your answer to our unrest, 
our confusion and our sorrow. 
Tonight we live in Hope, 
we pray for Peace, 
we share your Love, 
as we are filled with your Joy. 
Thank you for sending 
your Child to be our Immanuel. Amen.

As you encourage your good people to find their words, there might be interest in these special workshop opportunities offered by Maren Tirabassi following the release of her book of poems last year entitled Christmas Eve at the Epsom Circle McDonald’s. (I have a copy. It’s really, really good.) This year, Maren is offering two workshops Zoom for the price of 10 books. Find out more here.

There is one more candle lighting buried in the archives of this blog. You can find it here. You might also be interested in this Pandemic Liturgy for Advent from last year. If you’re looking for more ideas for Advent, you can find some liturgies and group studies in my kitchen. I have a few more things cooked up for you as the season draws near including the my very occasional potluck newsletter that is just about ready to land in your mailbox. You can sign up here.

I am praying for you, dear pastors, liturgists and musicians. I’m praying for you so much as this season of wonder and light comes again.

Pandemic Prayers for Vacation Bible School

It is Vacation Bible School week in our house which means there is a ton more screen time than usual as we share in learning about the light of the world. It’s a curricula entirely created by the staff and volunteers at our sweet Texas church and I’m reminded again how amazing it is to witness what can be accomplished in these strange times where we choose not to gather for worship.

There are also a number of amazing resources for VBS that have popped into my email including Tumbuh’s God’s Global Kids and Illustrated Ministry’s Compassion Camp. Both feel timely and wonderful as people continue to swarm into the streets to march and protest for the simple fact that black lives matter.

My mornings are spent with Bible crafts, singing This Little Light of Mine and sharing with my sweet toddler what this faith means. I’m also spending a lot of time thinking about what I’m teaching her about race and racism. That might seem unimportant. It may seem like I should be working harder on my own racism but this reminder that how the littlest ones test our faith made me wonder about how white people pray with their children to resist and oppose racism.

Gathering Together

Psalm 100 challenges me to consider the songs I’m teaching to my children. I might not be bringing them to protest right now but I want them to know the songs when we get there. Many of those songs are songs of faith so what if worship began with some freedom songs? I’d be eager to include this one and this one both sung by the Freedom Singers. I’d encourage kids to find some noise makers even if they’re just banging on pots and pans to make a joyful noise.

Perhaps then there should be some gathering words inspired by the Psalm. The children might continue to bang their pots and pans or whatever noisemakers they’ve found every time the refrain “make a joyful noise” is offered. Prompt the children to listen for those words and pause each time to look at the gallery of delight in your Zoom worship.

Gathering Words
Inspired by Psalm 100

Make a joyful noise, all the earth.
Praise God for young minds
and older hearts
eager to grow and change.
Praise God for sunshine
and babies
and the radical hope
that nothing is impossible
with your love.
Make a joyful noise, all the earth.
Gather us in with songs
of protest and freedom
of hope and change.
Teach us new songs
to sing in the foreign lands
that almost seem normal now.
Make a joyful noise, all the earth.
Bring us together
from the many places we are
with powerful internet connections
and spirits eager
to be renewed.
Make a joyful noise, dear children of God.
Know that God is good
and that we sing praise to
all that is good.

You might also choose this Intergenerational Call to Worship by Carolyn Brown or this Improvisation on Psalm 100 by Maren Tirabassi though I might add something about digital doors because “these doors” doesn’t mean the same thing in the midst of pandemic.

Prayer for Children

I always opt for prayers for children from Marian Wright Edelman. Over here on Prayers for School Children, I might adapt the final prayer for all children as a blessing for VBS. Or I might opt for something like this with language that is familiar to young children.

Blessing for Vacation Bible School
Inspired by Matthew 9:35-10:8

God, as Vacation Bible School begins,
our children will go about villages and cities
sharing your good news. May they feel love
from every adult who reads a story
and every song leader.
May they learn that faith is big
and sometimes really hard.
May they find joy in wondering
and delight in listening.
May they know that there’s
so much more to learn
and be excited to go on the next adventure.
God, we bless [names of children].
These are the names of the children
we will hold close in prayer
this week as Vacation Bible School begins.
Amen.

Passing of the Peace

A few weeks ago, I referred to an idea from a mentor of mine where individuals might be invited to share reflections of peace in the passing of the peace. I wonder if instead we might model to our children and remind ourselves of the work we are struggling to do to wrestle with our whiteness by sharing something we did or read or heard that challenged the racism that lives under our skin.

Maybe two or three people offer this short reflection and concludes by saying something like, “The peace of Justice and Love also be with you.” For those using Zoom, there might be some musical interlude that follows where people could share in the chat what other things they’ve wrestled with in their racism. That list could be gathered from the chat and shared in the weekly email that follows that week so that the conversation might continue as much as our support of each other in doing this work.

That’s all I’ve got for this week.

Dear pastors, liturgists and musicians, I’m praying for you, as always.

Pandemic Prayers for Pentecost

For churches in the United States of America, there seems to be some creative tension between the winds of the Spirit and the President’s order for churches to reopen. There’s something about the hot air coming out of the White House that contrasts so powerfully with what the church is called to be and do. It’s something I feel like I missed in that Invitation to the Offering last week. It’s something I’m trying to illustrate from my own isolation bubble and something I’m wondering about how to teach to my children. 

Going to church has become the moment where Mommy grabs her iPad and we settle onto the couch. It feels like a gift each and every time and I wish that my littles allowed me to bop around to the many worship services I’d like to attend virtually, but I shudder that my sweet girls might think that church is something on a screen. (Will they remember this time? How long will this actually go on?) I want them to know that the church is an action. It’s a movement. It’s a response to the world’s deepest need and a desire to dream of of God’s greatest love in every living thing.

I confess I’ve been uncertain that the world will look any different after this is over but if the church is the church, then change must come. It must be the change in our prayers.

Opening Worship

I don’t know how many churches are embracing this season as an interim time. I thought these were wise and wonderful words about that possibility. Embracing this interim pandemic season might mean delving into that wide and curious of what makes the church the church. Worship could begin with individuals sharing a testimony of what this church has meant in their life or those same two or three voices could speak to the ideals of what brings them to be part of a worshipping community before concluding this opening with Acts 2:16-21.

Worship could instead begin with a familiar hymn and an invitation to consider our breath. The liturgy I wrote last year for my Texas church began with words adapted from Walter Bruggemann’s To Make Things New That Never Were from Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth which would follow this hymn nicely. Another possibility follows.

Gathering Our Breath

Breathe on us, Breath of God.
Fill our lungs
with courage and hope
so that your life
beats through our veins
and urges us toward
justice and peace.

Breathe on us, Breath of God
because “I can’t breathe”
was heard again
and we’ve whispered too often
that we don’t know what to do
to put an end to racism.

Breathe on us, Breath of God
and remind us what the church is called to be.
Fill us with the fire of your love
and the promise of your peace.

I also really like the Call to Worship by Julia Seymour in the RevGalBlogPal’s Worship Words this week.

Passing of the Peace

In the limited church hopping that my children have allowed me, I haven’t yet seen a passing of the peace happen on Zoom or Facebook Live. I suppose it would be super awkward if you record ahead of time but especially if you use the above Gathering of Our Breath or if you plan on preaching on the Gospel Lesson, it seems like this should be the Sunday to try it.

It could be a moment of Pentecost wind where everyone is unmuted and the whole host of angels greets each other in the name of Christ. It could hurt your ears or you might opt for something more structured.

Maybe you prompt your community to bring a pen and paper to worship. When this moment of peace approaches, the congregation is invited to name one thing that brings them anxiety to share in a word or two on the paper. Hold that paper up and then someone leads this Breath Prayer for Anxious Times. That prayer time might conclude with everyone ripping up their paper and throwing it in the air like confetti. (Sorry for the mess.)

Or instead, invite a youth who would have been confirmed this year on the chancel steps if it were safe to gather for worship to share one thing that has brought her peace in these pandemic days. Maybe she shares something in particular about the beloved community in her youth group experience. Invite her to conclude that thought by saying something like a blessing.

May the peace of Christ also be with you.
May the Spirit of God bring you hope.
May you feel the love of God
in every breath. Amen.

That’s all I’ve got for this week.

Dear pastors, liturgists and musicians, I’m praying for you, as always.

Ready, Willing and Able for Peace

featured101217-300x199We were told that there would be booms. It was one of the first things that we were told about our new home. We’ll hear the booms, they said. Booms that shouldn’t frighten us or cause alarm, but are simply the noises of the military base thirty miles away.

It was just something they had said until I sat outside one morning with my book and my coffee and heard the booms. I felt the vibration each time.

Read more at New Sacred.

Worship with Fire

This is a tough week. The words from the Revised Common Lectionary that will inspire our worship this Sunday are hard. It is hard not to feel like a finger is being pointed directly at you. It’s hard not to feel judged. It’s difficult to feel like there is any bit of grace, but there is. There always is.

So, let’s start there and acknowledge that there is grace. Even when we don’t feel it, even when we don’t deserve it, there is grace. Let that be the first ingredient that we add to our worship planning. Let there be a heap of grace thrown in first. Make sure there’s enough for you, for me and anyone that might show up to worship on Sunday. Throw in an extra dash for those that you don’t really like. Or the people that have made you doubt grace. Say, for example, internet trolls. Or maybe politicians. I won’t suggest which ones though you may well know where my alliance lie by now. Ahem.

When I think of grace, especially having read the gospel for this week, I can’t help but think of baptism. It sounds a bit like Penecost. There is a new spirit in these words that comes with the fire and water that John foretold in the beginning of this gospel. Each and every one of these readings picks up on fire. There’s the raging fire in Hebrews, Jeremiah’s word that is like fire and the vines that have burned and cut down in the Psalm. Fire is the stuff of passion. It’s the stuff of hope. These prayers hope to cook with such fire from the Spirit.

*Call to Worship (Responsive)

One: Kindle the fire of love today.

All: Ignite the hope we need this day.

One: Burn our pessimism into a fine mist.

All: Spark our imaginations with signs of peace.

One:Let embers glow in all our words.

All: May our hearts no more be divided. 

Prayer for Confession (Unison)

Restore us, O God, from the destruction we bring upon ourselves. You entrusted this world to us. You asked us to tend and keep it but instead of caring for this earth, we have burned it with fire. We have cut it down. We have ripped it apart. We have caused the seasons to shift in our carelessness. The scorching heat only causes us to bellow your name, O God, demanding you to clean up our act. Restore our love for all creation. Allow us to be as gentle with ourselves as we might be with this earth. For, we know, you love us both. You call all your creation good. Help us to hear that blessing in this present time as we seek your forgiveness.

Affirmation of God’s Grace (Responsive)

One: In this present time, even as fires still rage, God’s word breaks our hearts into pieces. God makes a way for peace where there was none by saying, again and again:

All: In Christ we are forgiven. Alleluia! Amen.

Prayer of Dedication (Unison)

Let us not divide these offerings like lots. Let us use these gifts to radiate the love of Jesus Christ in all of our ministry. May all that we offer in your name, O God, spark hope for our broken world. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen. 

Check back for more Ingredients for Worship next Tuesday and don’t forget to share what you’ve cooked up in the comments below!

That Peace Might be Possible on Super Tuesday

I don’t consider myself to be especially patriotic.

I don’t even consider myself to be all that political but I am certainly not patriotic.

I am reminded of this each and every time I put my hand over my heart and rise to sing the National Anthem. I see it in the service women and men around me. When the flag is marched into the room, and they all stand at attention with their hands upon their hearts, they feel something. They are connecting with some greater set of ideals and it means something to them. It means everything to them, but it doesn’t to me.

Each and every time I attend one of these military functions, on the arm of my beloved, I am reminded of how detached I am from that set of ideals that means so much to them. I just happen to sing a different song. It has lyrics written by Lloyd Stone and I sing it with my whole heart.

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
this is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
O hear my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine.

Mine is a song of peace. There are no bombs bursting in the air or ramparts to watch. There’s just little hope for peace of the country where my heart is and every other part of this world. It may sound naive but I have never stopped believing that peace is possible. I really don’t want to give up on that faith. I can’t give up on that faith. It’s the hope I share with the soldier I love. Peace must be possible.

It’s what we both imagine in the work we’re doing. It’s this hope that keeps us going but I am terrified of what is going to happen to that possibility if Donald Trump becomes the nominee for the Republican Party.

What peace can come from the hatred from his mouth? It is not merely a matter of decency but of respect and it seems that this is a man who demands respect from others but doesn’t have the grace to offer it. He belittles and dehumanizes those without his power and wealth so that he plays politics like it’s a game. He just wants to see what will happen and so he pushes that button and pulls that lever. He pokes at people like they are his own personal playthings. What will that mean for our foreign policy?

Former CIA director Michael Hayden told Bill Maher last week, “I would be incredibly concerned if a President Trump governed in a way that was consistent with the language that candidate Trump expressed during the campaign.” Mr. Hayden went as far as to say that an illegal order would not have to be followed. Maybe so. But, I want Mr. Trump and every candidate to respect our service women and men. This isn’t a question of decency but a reality check about how our foreign policy has impacted the rest of the world. Peace still hasn’t come but maybe that should make us pause for reflection. Rather than continuing to perpetuate the cycle of violence and hate we began so many years ago, let’s reflect on what has happened. Let’s remember the number of soldiers that died. Let’s remember that there were no weapons of mass destruction and that maybe we shouldn’t have invaded. Let’s think about how long we’ve had troops on the ground despite so many promises to bring them all home.

On this particular Super Tuesday, when so many Americans are casting their ballot toward the next presidential election, I don’t want us to give up on working for peace. I’m not a politician but I know that it’s really important to put down the bullhorn and think about what you’re saying. I have to do it every week. I am a pastor. Every week, I step up to the microphone and announce good news. I pray that it doesn’t come from me but comes from God, but I know that’s not always true. And so, I need to step away from the microphone and think about the lives that are impacted with each word that comes out of my mouth. Words matter. History matters.

Let’s learn from the past as we dare to imagine our future. Let’s not just make America better. Let’s make the world better. Let’s remember all of those hopes and ideals that come when the flag marches into the room.

Let’s dare to believe again that peace is possible.

 

 

Bridging the Civilian-Military Divide

bridge-600510_1280Just recently, Time Magazine published an article entitled Bridging the Civilian-Military Divide With Stories. I love stories thought as I eagerly clicked on the article. Because I want — more than anything — to figure out how to bridge this divide.

For so many years, I’ve been a pacifist. That fact hasn’t changed. I’m still a pacifist. But, I fell in love with a soldier. I fell in love with a man who sees the world differently than I do. In the end, we want the same thing. We want peace. We want to believe it’s possible — but we see it coming about differently. I want to engage in conversation. I want to believe that war isn’t necessary, that are other ways for peace to come.

I fell in love with a man that has seen and done things that he struggles to share with me. Perhaps because this bridge is so far and wide. He sees peace differently so that sometimes this bridge seems so long and wide.

So, eagerly clicked on this article in Time Magazine to find a new old friend, Thomas E. Ricks. Ricks has written many articles for Foreign Policy Magazine that I’ve eagerly shared. But, this article — this article in Time Magazine — only posed questions. Questions I want answers to but this article refused to answer. I was not satisfied. So, I sent Ricks an email.

Because the article concluded in such a way that it made me believe that he had more to say.  I was right. He wrote back almost immediately. I was shocked. I was shocked that he wrote back. I was shocked he would entertain such questions from silly preacher. I was even more shocked by his answer. His answer was simply to ask questions. Ask lots of questions because there is so much that we can’t possibly understand about the soldier’s experience. I came to an even deeper understanding of this after reading Karl Marlantes’ What It Is Like To Go To War. There are things that I knew. Things that I even thought I understood but it wasn’t until reading this book and asking questions of my love that I came to understand what he was afraid of telling me. There are things that I thought I was supposed to say to honor my love’s dedication but I didn’t really get it. I was too far on the other side of the bridge.

It was one thing to read about the perspective of two theologians in Soul Repair: Recovering from Moral Injury after War  but only a service member can really explain the breadth and depth of moral injury. Only a member of the military can really explain what it’s like. It took falling in love for me to learn this. It took getting over my own ideas about pacifism and military action and let’s be honest some really bad theology to understand that there is more to this story. As much as we want to talk about post-traumatic stress, it’s much, much more than a solider returning from war that lashes out and drinks excessively. It’s way more than American Sniper. But, apparently, looks something more like Restrepo. (It’s streaming on Netflix. You should watch it.) This was assigned to me by my love. If I was going to understand this, I needed to watch this film. Stupidly, I did so while he was still deployed. Bad move. It is incredibly hard to watch but you should see it if you are like me. If you want to figure out how to bridge this divide between the civilian world and the military world, it requires becoming uncomfortable enough to watch something so brutal. Because — as my soldier has told me — it’s one of the only films that shows how it really was. Or really is.

This is the hardest part for me. It’s the reality that these stories didn’t end with Vietnam, the Gulf War or even Iraq. These stories are ongoing. And for whatever reason, especially post-9/11, civilians aren’t pay attention. We can’t grasp these stories. We haven’t even listened. I’m certainly at fault. I never thought it was my fight. I just wanted peace — but love is teaching me that peace comes from every side of the story. It doesn’t come from insisting that military spending be decreased or demanding that our troops be sent home. Some of that peace has to come from crossing that divide by uncomfortably asking questions you’re not sure if you really want to hear the answer. Some of it has to come from understanding what it’s like to serve a member of the military right now.

The best way to do this — according to both my love and Ricks — is to watch and to read. I now have a long list of books and movies to work my way through as I try to cross this divide toward peace.