Memorial of Saint Athanasius, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

Lectionary: 270

But the one who comes from heaven is above all.

He testifies to what he has seen and heard,

but no one accepts his testimony.

Whoever does accept his testimony certifies that God is trustworthy.

For the one whom God sent speaks the words of God.

Each year, on this second Wednesday of the Easter season, I am drawn to this passage and Jesus's teaching, "that God is trustworthy."

In his book, Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character, Jonathan Shay presents his findings about PTSD and moral injury among American Veterans of the Vietnam conflict in the light of Homer's Iliad. He recalls the betrayal of Achilles by King Agamemnon when the king demanded and took Achilles' prisoner, a Trojan woman. Achilles was the fiercest, boldest and ablest of all Agamemnon's soldiers; he led a major group of his countrymen into combat. Outraged at the theft and humiliated before his own warriors, he refused to fight for several days, leaving the Greeks to be pummeled by the Trojan Hector and his men. Only when his dearest friend was killed in combat did Achilles return to the field, with devastating results for the Trojans. Knowing that he would not survive the war and no longer caring, he became "a killing machine."

Recalling Agamemnon's betrayal, Shay considers the experience of American Veterans and their outrage. The men who stood face to face with the enemy often felt utterly abandoned by those who sent them into combat: the military brass, Washington leaders, and the American public. To this day Veterans will tell you they never lost a battle in Vietnam, but we lost the war. Stories of that debacle are still fresh on their minds, and are often refreshed by movies like The Post.

Is it any wonder so few Catholic Veterans of that war resumed their religious practice upon their return? They were graduates of the Catholic school system at its height. They had been taught in primary and secondary religious schools with motivated, competent teachers, including many religious sisters and brothers. Many, if not most, had served Mass. But, returning home, they found the Church transformed by the reforms of the Vatican Council. And they found the message changed from support of the war to protests against it.

Discovering a changed, unfamiliar political and social environment, returning Veterans often would not say where they had been during their absence. They spoke to no one of their experience. I met one fellow who shared a college dorm with another student. They were together for two years before they realized they were both Veterans. But they agreed to tell no one.

Young people like to think of themselves as sturdy, self-reliant and adaptable. Very often they have little idea of how much they take for granted, and how much they rely on dependable persons and institutions. They are like people who climb a flight of stairs, assuming that every step is solid, sturdy and able to bear the load. Should one step be faulty and collapse under their tread, causing injury to the leg, they are far more careful about ascending any further. They won't be singing the praises of stairwells and those who build them. The same people, discovering their church is unreliable, have mixed emotions about the God this church has worshiped.

When we speak of "moral injury" or "spiritual distress," we speak especially of damage to our ability and willingness to trust.

"Hurt me once," we say, "shame on you. Hurt me twice, shame on me! I should have learned not to trust you." Making that resolution we have every intention of carrying it for the rest of our lives. If it's changed it will be a deliberate act, conscious, careful, and tentative. I may realize my "religion" opposes this attitude but that's a risk I'm willing to take, a burden I can manage. An act of congress would not persuade me to change my firm resolution, an act of God might.

But that decision will change only my willingness.

My ability to trust still suffers injury, perhaps a lifelong disability.

An injury to the flesh may take a long time to heal; a psychological injury, much longer. A spiritual injury may never heal. Or its cure may be effected in the twinkling of an eye. Blaise Pascal somewhere said, "Begin by taking holy water, and you will end by becoming a believer."

The Lord's teaching -- "that God is trustworthy" -- stands as an invitation and a challenge. When we are ready we may be healed, if we want to be healed.