LITMIR.BIZ

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military campaign.

      On Being Selective in One’s Service

      During the late 1960s and into the 1980s the conflict in Vietnam caused the National Selective Service System to operate at full bore. Commonly known as “the draft,” young men, eighteen years of age and older, were vulnerable to being “called up.” Having registered as required, any day the letter might arrive indicating the recipient’s number in the lottery had been drawn.

      Given the nature of the conflict—its undeclared status and its questionable ethical legitimacy—many young people and their advisors sought to discover their status as possible “conscientious objectors” (CO).

      During ministry in Grand Rapids, Michigan, I associated with colleagues in learning about the vagaries of the system. We learned that most draft boards demanded proof of a peace orientation prior to age eighteen, not allowing that as a “Johnny–come–lately” one could be a CO. We learned that some five–member draft boards frequently provided for CO status, while others scarcely ever did so. We learned about various avoidances of the draft, e.g., go to Canada, etc. With this and related knowledge we offered counseling. We became aware that having a background with “peace churches”—Brethren, Quaker, Mennonite—gave one an advantage in claiming CO status.

      When arriving in Pullman, Washington, in 1971, this subject continued to demand attention. The Peace Discussion Group of the church joined in seeking to understand the Selective Service System “so that it might support people interested in the CO status “and others needing information as to their legal options” (Church Newsletter, February 1972).

      Later on a local and tangible fulfillment of this learning process came to fruition. In 1973 a Conscientious Objector Committee was formed. Working alongside the ecumenical Common Ministry on the WSU campus, we hired a young man to complete four months of his two–year alternative service term. Authorized by Lieutenant W. R. Orr of the Washington State Selective Service System, David Richard of Tacoma, Washington, came among us to do “facility improvement of churches” and “person to person work with local agencies.” The nature of the work? “Community service.”

      In order to supervise David Richard’s work, a committee—the Ecumenical Committee to Employ a Conscientious Objector—was formed, including persons from our congregation and other like–minded churches in the community. One newsletter from July 1973 stated that David “is hard at work on the third floor of Koinonia House, the location of WSU’s Common Ministry.” He worked on improvement of local church properties, volunteered at a convalescent home and engaged in several other community projects.

      Those in the parish concerned about providing young people legitimate, legal options to actual participation in the Vietnam conflict found satisfaction in playing a role in fulfilling this objective.

      As late as 1981 I wrote to the congregation saying, “I believe that American Christians need to take seriously the current registration of young men for an eventual draft. At their request Rev. Jim Nielsen, WSU Campus Minister, and I have been assisting high school administrators and counselors in refurbishing their knowledge about this matter . . . For Christian people the prospect of conscription and participation in war raises moral issues we may well help each other think through” (January 13, 1981, newsletter).

      David Richard, where are you? I hope your work remains conscientious and community oriented. Thanks for being a witness to peace!

      “Good Morning, Vietnam!”

      Certainly before, and afterwards as well, the expensive to treasure and blood conflict in Vietnam occupied our attention in 1972 and 1973. Serving in my second and third years of ministry in Pullman, Washington, adjoined to WSU, I was pleased to be located in a congregation that took seriously the social dimension of the Christian faith.

      On January 4, 1972, I wrote in “The Communicator,” the weekly newsletter from our congregation:

      Christian people everywhere cannot help but be reduced to profound sadness on account of the recent extensive bombing of North Vietnam. Some will find it necessary to defend this action as a necessary evil. I understand that rationale but I am not able to accept it for myself. Let each of us allow our thoughts/feelings to be influenced in depth by the truth as it is in Christ and then express ourselves in appropriate ways. Now is no time to be quiet. If we keep silence the rocks themselves will cry out.

      Having come to the conclusion a decade earlier that I did not want to be associated with a denomination that hid out from the issues of poverty, racism and war, concerned only with personal piety, I at that time found the UCC a body amenable to a socially sensitive point of view.

      Early in 1973 UCC President Robert V. Moss wrote: “My own view is that the U.S. Armed Forces should withdraw from Southeast Asia immediately only conditioned on the return of American prisoners of war.” He urged UCC members “whatever their views” to communicate with the Nixon administration and Congress on the matter.

      On January 17, 1973, “The Communicator” reported actions in support of a petition entitled, “Concerned Voters to End the War.” We wrote to Representative Tom Foley, Washington State Fifth District Representative:

      The undersigned support this petition urging Congress to take a more active role in ending the Vietnam War. Specifically, we urge Congress to enact legislation terminating funding for military operations in Vietnam if a peace agreement is not signed by January 20, 1973.

      The eight–member committee placed the petition at the entrance to the Student Union Building on the WSU campus in order to obtain further signatures.

      One of my political heroes at the time, Senator Mark O. Hatfield, Republican from Oregon, addressed the National Prayer Breakfast on February 1, 1983. Seldom have pertinent prayer and proper politics been better welded together. In part, he said:

      If we as leaders appeal to the god of civil religion, our faith is in a small and exclusive deity, a loyal spiritual Advisor to power and prestige, a Defender of only the American nation, the object of a national folk religion devoid of moral content. But if we pray to the Biblical God of justice and righteousness, we fall under God’s judgment for calling upon His name, but failing to obey His commands.

      We sit here today, as the wealthy and the powerful. But let us not forget that those who follow Christ will more often find themselves not with comfortable majorities, but with miserable minorities.

      Today our prayers must begin with repentance. Individually, we must seek forgiveness for the exile of love from our hearts. And corporately, as a people, we must turn in repentance from the sin that has scarred our national soul.14

      Senator Hatfield made no explicit reference to the Vietnam conflict. But when he spoke of “the sin that has scarred our national soul” there could not have been anyone in the room to mistake his reference.

      Eventually the voices in the pews and the streets were heard. With agonized withdrawal the conflict ceased, but only after massive loss of life and treasure. The guns fell silent. From the silence came the sounds of sorrow.

      Clergy Day at Trident

      The Naval Submarine Base Bangor, the west coast Trident nuclear submarine base, lies to the west of Seattle and Tacoma near Bremerton, Washington, on the Hood Canal. One day I received word that a “clergy day” would take place at the base to which we were all invited. I went.

      I remember climbing onto a bus along with other clergy. Ironically enough, our tour guide proved to be a young Japanese–American officer. As we began to wind our way around the base he pointed out the wild turkey and the white–tailed deer inhabiting, what one could soon see, a piece of God’s good earth worthy of national park designation.

      Only one difference. Along the base road ran a continual fence of thick barbed wire. Then behind that a few yards another similar fence. And behind that, at regular intervals, turrets imbedded in the earth with large caliber guns projecting from the emplacements.

      The tour continued. At length, we arrived at the center of the base where stood an impressive chapel and related buildings. We were introduced to five chaplains, each of

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