Desert days

Lutheran, The, Aug 2004

In Iraq 'there is no need to add drama or superlatives. The duty here carries itself day to day.'

Michael Lembke knows what Iraq and war, military service and Christian ministry look like-and how they intermingle to illumine each other. A U.S Army chaplain, one of 14 ELCA clergy in the war zone, he serves the 1st Infantry Division, working from Tikrit on the Tigris River, north of Baghdad.

Like soldiers in many wars, Lembke writes letters-to colleagues, to family and friends, and to The Lutheran. We share excerpts from his notes, glimpses of his ministry and faith that shed light on his situation and the service of those called to this ministry.

March 12

This morning was clear and cool as we took off for my first venture out of the operating base since arriving Feb. 29. ... I was going to attend a memorial service for one of our soldiers. ... The flight took seven or eight minutes, and then we landed and proceeded into another world, a world of grief and honor. ...

At the end of the service is the roll call. It's a tradition for the first sergeant to call the names of the people in the squad, concluding with the deceased. There is no answer. The name is called out again, this time rank, first and last name. There is no answer. Finally, rank, first name, middle initial and last name, and then taps. The loneliest song in the play list. And it's over.

But, of course, it's not really over-the memory, the grieving, goes on. Today presented us all with the reality of this place. There is no need to add drama or superlatives. The duty here carries itself day to day.

May 4

Here is normal: I went to a memorial service yesterday, drove for three hours one way, convoy of eight pretty heavily armed vehicles. After the service we chaplains always have prayer. As we prayed there was a large explosion about [440 yards] away. We continued to pray. I found out later that it was an improvised explosive device, and the guy trying to set it up blew himself up ... not us. There are many times like that here, but that is part of normal.

So here I am, part of the church in this place. ... I am here as part of an occupying force, which has its joys and sorrows. But I am here ... and so my duty, as put forth by the church and also by the Army, is to minister.

This is best done, even at the higher level at which I find myself, in simple acts of charity ... not forgetting to say "thank you" or "please"-or as I did yesterday, from behind my armored door, to wave at the kids along the way. And they waved back.

In Iraq sincerity has a gesture. It's to touch, very gently and repeatedly, the hand to the heart. When I waved I brought my right hand over my heart. It's unlikely most of the people saw this gesture, but it created something in me-a small, cultural awareness.

May 20

Rain is falling. It's the type of rain that never stopped my dad from fishing. No lightning, no wind, just the gentle tap of the drops. We could sure use more of this type of rain in Iraq. It would be nice if the transition process would fall a little more gently. Unfortunately, most of the time ... the process has been like the weather-random, violent, lots of flash and noise, but little lasting effect.

At my level and throughout the 1st Infantry Division, we continue to work for a safe, secure and stable environment that promotes the self-determination of Iraq by Iraqis.

While this seems a difficult path, it's not without success. We are opening a training school for the Iraqi Civil Defense Corps. There is a strong effort to develop Iraqi cadre and leadership to include a commandant and chaplain (imam). Iraqis in these positions will greatly assist in the transition to an Iraq that is governed and empowered by Iraqis.

Right now this is mostly concept, so we must live in hope. In the Army, the quip always is: "Hope is not a course of action." For Christian people, however, hope is more than a course: it is the course of action. This hope we have is not an idle wish but a call to trust-faith and confidence in the Lord to work his will.

May 26

I've been inside most of the dav. so the 107-degree heat didn't bother me too much. ... As I was leaving my quarters, I noticed an Iraqi gardener working in the flowerbeds along the driveway. He does a nice job, and you think, "How can he get that stuff to grow in this place?"

"Of course," you say, "he has water, sunshine and the willingness to tend the garden."

I saw further evidence of this perseverance as I flew over field after field of harvested wheat. The fields are in perfect circles. They use the watering method where the device turns in a circle. Anything in the circle is alive; anything immediately outside is dead. This is how it is in this mission. If you, even for a short time, are outside the nourishing word of God, you will quickly fade and perish. I think it is about that simple. The more difficult the mission and the demands of the day, the more important the daily dying and rising to new life in the word.

June 2

We are counting down to sovereignty. ... There is a lot of counting. Counting down, counting on each other, counting the cost, counting the number of rocket-propelled grenades in the latest cache, counting the months and trying to make each day count. The problem isn't in the counting-it's in the sum. What does it all add up to? To quote Midwesterners, "We'll see."