Da Nang CHRISTMAS
Saguaro Church – Tucson, AZ + Dr. Gary Straub + December 1, 2018
Any Advent Sunday I am not preaching, I’m busy praying for all who are. Especially because while Advent gathers Light, it also attracts a fair share of despair which yields to Light only with great begrudgment. This Advent, I found a tiny inkling, an array of Kindly Light in a book of Viet Nam stories: “1968–Year of the Monkey” by Bryan Smothers.
The dark hell of Viet Nam still overshadows my generation. Fifty yrs later, war’s atrocity still arises to damage & disturb. Smothers does some heavy lifting emotionally in his recall of the guts of jungle war. The night jungle holds a trove of terrors easily triggered even in “safe” circumstances. Like many an old warrior vet, Smothers came home, tried to adjust and reap GI bill benefits. Meanwhile, his wife became his psychiatrist and the keeper of his soul.
Bryan opens a window into war’s psychic decimation as he got wounded and evacuated to Da Nang. Suffering intolerable pain, he’s also relieved to finally be delivered from filthy muck, madness and mosquitoes. He lands in a sparkling Med Center w/ skilled docs, modern equipment and efficient care. These months provide a place for the recovery work of body and soul. He quietly testifies how the nurses saved lives daily— including his own. A blessed memory lingers around the night of his own soul-saving encounter with an Army RN. His own story adds honor to the history of American war nurses. Here is Bryan’s tribute to those he calls…“The Florence Nightingales in Olive Drab.”
In his words: “The same RN always came into my ward every night— after lights out. She sat down beside a different bed each time. One unforgettable night, she came to my bed and sat down beside me. I tried to speak. She put her finger to my lips to hush me. I never saw her face, but even now, I can smell her Pond’s hand cream. She never spoke— she held my hand in both of hers and laid her head down next to mine …. and wept.”
This Da Nang December midnight embodies the inner healing work of God’s Holy Spirit, who comes alongside, hushing our troubles of mind & turbulence of soul. Out of the quiet hush, an invitation arises: step beyond time into the grace of an Eternal Moment. Bryan’s portrait of pain pushes us past pretty words to Divine Reality. His ward’s RN beckons him beyond… to pierce earth’s veil — that thin permeable membrane between heaven and here. With silent tears and intimate tenderness, the Spirit expresses the inexpressible, and offers the ineffable. I sense Almighty Nearness, ministered by gentle touch. Here is almost overwhelming sensuality without overt sexuality…yet no hint of prelude for sexual encounter. I wonder if this moment may be what the mystics describe as being ‘irresistibly drawn in the Spirit’s tether.’ Just for a heartbeat, the Holy had this soldier’s absolute, ultimate attention. I sense in this instance a touch of intimate Spirit— undiluted, undefiled and undefinable. Bryan’s recollection preaches to me: not every moment of HOLY commUNION requires bread & wine. For many men, it is rare to experience or abide in this holy place for any length of time. For reasons shrouded in mystery, men cannot bear much intimate Light ministered thru the female soul —often by a jolt of unitive spiritual energy. This out-pouring of a sacred touch initiates their healing and wellbeing.
Every December, I remember The DaNang Christmas moment, which honors the precious memory many soldiers silently carry. I believe an RN angel hushed and healed a broken soldier. There’s no Congressional Medal for this…
