February 9, 2010 |
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Military ministryThe Diocese of Venice has seven priests who have served or are serving as chaplains in the armed forces. One of them, Father Robert Cannon, reflects on his experiences ministering to military men and women.  Father Robert Cannon, center, visits with Father Bashar Wada, CSsR, right, the pastor of one of the Chaldean Catholic churches that was bombed in Iraq. Father Cannon was among a group that brought donations to the parish and local orphanages, an effort coordinated through the chaplain office. In March of 2003, I left Epiphany Cathedral Parish to serve as a chaplain in the Air Force in Iraq. I have served at bases in the U.S. and abroad. I have met the president, ambassadors, religious leaders and three- and four-star generals. At Dover Air Force Base in Delaware, I received our fallen heroes and cared for bereaved families. In Iraq, I scrounged for food and clothes for orphans and school supplies for kids. I have joked with young Marines less than half my age who enabled this old chaplain to peacefully lay his head on his pillow at night. I have walked countless miles through the corridors of the Pentagon for meetings and to celebrate Mass at the Sept. 11 memorial chapel. As a chaplain, I have done nothing special. Military chaplains get into the cracks, seek out the hurting, challenge the mighty and the lowly, pray with the wounded and hug the mother who has lost her son or daughter. It’s what we do every day. We strive to be visible reminders of the holy. I have my experiences that have scarred my heart. One moment stands out in my mind. When I was deployed to Iraq in support of the U.S. embassy mission in the Green Zone as the Joint Area Support Group Command Chaplain, a Marine lieutenant colonel rushed into my office. He had just gotten word that one of his Marines had been shot by a sniper. I ran to the combat support hospital a couple of blocks down the street. Sitting beside the unconscious Marine who was fighting for his life was another young, tough-looking Marine. When I walked into the emergency room, he turned, stood and lit up like a spark plug. A big smile broke across his worried face. Although we had never met, he said, “Father, gosh, thanks for coming so quickly. This is my kid brother.” I was stunned. Brothers. Both were Catholic. They had been altar servers as kids. He chuckled a little when he said that he and his brother used to get all of the good gigs because they lived near their parish. Their pastor could easily nab them when needed for weddings and funerals. I invited the Marine to put his hand on his younger brother’s shoulder as I anointed him. We prayed the Our Father, Hail Mary and Glory Be together. “My parents will be consoled knowing that my brother was anointed,” the older Marine said. For a few moments, we both prayed silently. Then, very hesitantly and in a grave tone, he asked me, “Do you think he’ll make it?” “I don’t know,” I answered gently. “But I do know that Jesus hasn’t forgotten all those Masses you and your brother served.” “I hope so, Father,” he said in a hushed tone. Jesus Christ was there with us in that combat hospital room in Baghdad. The young Marine was flown to Germany that night, but his wounds were too severe. I offered Mass for him and his family when I got the news a few days later that he had died. People often ask my opinion about this war. I respond by saying, “Which war? Attacks on innocent life in the womb, the war on drugs, the global war on terror, poverty, hunger, good versus evil? What part of the world? Iraq, Afghanistan, Darfur?” I don’t carry a weapon. I am a noncombatant. The weapons I bring to the fight are the same that we have all been given: the Gospel message of the angels to the shepherds, “I bring you good news.” Our faith and hope in Christ teaches us that love, forgiveness and mercy conquer the weapons of hate. Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” My daily prayer is “Maranatha, come Lord Jesus, stop all of the insanities of humanity. May your peace come upon every human heart and troubled land.” Troops face the height and depth of human experience. During the holidays, they long to be home with those they love. The camaraderie in the military is a great support and eases the longing, but what the faithful can do for our troops is pray and fast for peace for them and their families. I would love to be back in the diocese pastoring a flock. Yet, in my heart, I know I am where I am supposed to be. Finally, if you get a moment, say a prayer that the Lord will continue to grant me strength and courage to fight the good fight. Father Cannon has been a priest for nearly 30 years and an Air Force Reserve chaplain for 20 years. He is a lieutenant colonel and serves as staff chaplain in the plans and programs division at Bolling Air Force Base in Washington, D.C.
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