You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly!
Our older son, Paddy, knew from about the
fifth grade on that he wanted to be a teacher.
After he graduated from college, he took his first teaching job at the
Caesar Chavez School, an inner city charter school in Washington, DC. It was the kind of place where teachers were
instructed to leave before 5:00 P.M. to go home and not to walk to the metro
station alone after dark.
I
went to watch Paddy in the classroom one day.
I took the metro from our hotel through downtown Washington. All the well-dressed federal workers with
their laptops and briefcases got off at Federal Triangle. All the summer-clad tourists with their
cameras got off at the Smithsonian stop.
By
the time we got to Minnesota Avenue, which was where I got off to walk the
three or four blocks to Paddy’s school by myself (he was going to meet me, but
got waylaid somehow – and it was not after dark), I was the only white person
on the subway – kind of like the racial make up of the school, which was about
75% African-American and 23% Latino, with everyone on the federal free lunch
program.
Backpacks
were checked at the door of the school.
Kids walked through metal detectors each day as they entered the
building. Bulky coats were not allowed
in the classroom. There were not enough desks or chairs for the 35 teenagers in
Paddy’s classroom, so some students sat on the metal heaters by the window
sills or on the floor instead, and the school had three different principals in
three years.
I
was rather glad when Paddy began his second teaching job at the White Mountain
School in Bethlehem, NH. It was hard for
Paddy to leave DC. He loved the kids. However, we also knew that the area of
Washington where he taught was sometimes called our nation’s murder capital and
that, in the heat of the Iraqi War, Paddy had a greater chance of being shot
going to and from work than a US soldier on patrol in Baghdad.
There
are many ways to serve one’s country. Yet,
we seem to focus exclusively on Memorial Day – Remembrance Day – on those who have
served in the Armed Forces. Now hear me
out. I am not gainsaying the loyalty,
dedication to country, or patriotism of soldiers and marines.
And I am certainly not diminishing the
ultimate sacrifice that so many of these young people have made in too many
wars and bitter conflicts.
However,
on this Memorial Day Sunday as we reflect on peace, peacemaking, and
peacekeeping, let’s not forget those young men and women who have chosen to
serve their country through the Peace Corps, through various Christian aid
groups, and through other humanitarian organizations.
Let’s
not forget those young people who walk into areas of conflict without the
benefit of firearms to protect them, whose greatest weapon is their neutrality
and passion for the agricultural, educational, peace keeping, and community
building projects in which they are involved.
Those
of them who also made the ultimate sacrifice died in ways not dissimilar from
those who chose to serve in the military. They too were taken down in tragic accidents, by
illness, through violence, and by suicide.
As
well as the soldiers we remember this day, let’s also remember the 296 Peace Corps volunteers who, over the years, have
sacrificed not only their energy and time, but also their lives while pursuing
the Peace Corps mission. Let’s remember
the 3223 UN peacekeepers who also died in the line of their duty. Let’s remember the over 500 Red Cross workers
who have been killed providing aid to troops in two world wars, Korea, and Viet
Nam. Let’s remember the aid workers in
Afghanistan alone in 2012 and 2013 who encountered 412 attacks with 47
people killed, 70 wounded and 140 detained or abducted. (New York Times)
Let’s
remember all who have served. Please
join me in our Litany for Peace.
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