Cal and Erma are children of immigrants:
now they work to include the excluded
By Jan DeRossett | Photography by James Luning
 Calistro
(Cal) and Irma Torres are beautiful people. More than perfectly
rendered features, their beauty is like that of a summer sunset
or a waterfall that beckons you down a cool, forested path.
It is obvious on their faces and invites one to sit down and get
acquainted.
When Cal talks
about his ministry with migrant workers, he calls it his “passion”
and Irma agrees. They speak of this with a calmness, but to
Cal, the son of migrants, it is obvious it was, and still is, a
driving force in his life. When he and Irma married in 1951, they
were involved with migrant ministry
together, right from the start. They were made for each other.
At times, however, Irma’s love and her devotion to God were
tested. “It is hard sometimes, you know, as a mother, to put
God before even your children,” she says, explaining the sacrifices
involved in ministering to the migrant workers. Family meals were
lost to their children while they tended to their duties in the
evenings at the camps, and Cal spent weekends away from their home
as he studied to be a deacon. Still, they followed their hearts
and would not have been happy doing anything else. Their children
understood this, and Irma finally came to realize this after many
years of worrying.
In their living room, Cal and Irma have high school pictures hanging
of their five children. As Irma shares the age of her oldest son
with a slight surprise in her voice, she looks to Cal, who smiles
his confirmation. Their children are now all well-educated, successful
people. Cal and Irma must have imbued them with a self-confidence
that comes from a loving, close-knit family. Their love is apparent,
and it speaks of life as it should be – good people going
into the world with the strength of a loving family behind them.
The addition to their house, which is used for family gatherings,
opens up outside their kitchen, which includes a large, long table.
From the beginning of their ministry, Cal and Irma have included
the excluded at their table. Describing his ministry, Cal opens
his arms and says, “We tried to make sure these people know
they are welcome here. We welcomed them.”
The migrant workers – especially in the early days when Cal
worked with Fr. Peter Dougherty, who first took Cal along to minister
to them – were once considerably more reclusive than they are
today.
At one time, Blissfield alone had seventeen camps, each camp
with about two hundred people plus children. As the produce
farmed in the area has changed over the years, the number of workers
has changed and is now a smaller number than it used to be.
 Cal
recalls one incident that, forty years later, still raises ire in
his voice. He had started collecting clothes and gave them to the
‘leader’ to distribute among the people. A leader
is a man who makes the contracts with the farmers for the people’s
work. He usually owns the transport, a truck, as well. The next
time Cal and Fr. Dougherty came to visit the workers, they found
out that the leader of these people had sold them the clothes Cal
had collected. He vowed to himself it would never happen again.
Cal shakes his head ruefully as he speaks of that day long ago,
thinking of how that man took advantage of the workers he had tried
to help.
During the 1960s and 1970s, Fr. Bill Carolin, whom Cal considers
his mentor, received the first funding for the migrant program from
the diocese. It was also in the late ‘60s when the program
started that would eventually allow Cal to be ordained a deacon,
serving at St. Mary of Good Counsel, Adrian. It was a special bilingual
program designed to address the needs of Spanish speaking Catholics.
After his ordination, Cal and the other deacons were able to give
the sacraments to the migrants, fulfilling a dream of service
to God.
Irma heard a different calling. She became the coordinator for
the Migrant Program for the diocese at the time. She put a lot
of thought into the way she handled things. For instance, she knew
it wouldn’t do to bring a box of clothes for a large group
of people and tell them to take what they wanted. This would result
in chaos, and no one would get what they needed. Instead, Irma put
together laundry baskets with basic supplies, like soap and food
staples, and delivered them personally to each family. This way,
she could assess their needs, find clothes that would fit them and
treat people with greater dignity. “Regardless of what you
do, each person has dignity,” she
says, as Cal nods in agreement.
 Both
Cal and Irma stress that being welcoming is the important thing.
Greeting the workers, they would express themselves as “Catholic
representatives of the diocese.” Their hospitality has always
been motivated by belonging to the same Church. Through building
community, they made the Church a continuous presence in the lives
of those they served. For instance, every spring, they would often
have what Irma calls “ice-breakers,” which involved playing
softball and having sandwiches and Kool-Aid, or playing bingo or
another activity that would bring people together.
Each year, the work starts in June, with strawberries, as migrant
families come up from Texas or Florida, and some men come from Mexico
or even Central America. And the work continues, from peppers to
pickles, until the apple harvest. The religious education programs
for the children have to be scheduled around this. Cal and Irma
explain how the migrants often did not like going out from the camps
to go to Church. They always liked to stay by themselves, which
was a big factor in how they were ministered to. Now that there
is a bilingual Mass at St. Mary of Good Counsel, more of the migrants
are coming, Cal says.
At the end of the year, there is a big fiesta, and the sacraments
are celebrated – first Communions, baptisms and even marriages.
Irma has several poster-boards filled with pictures from the fiestas:
little girls with bright white dresses and even brighter smiles;
boys with their hair combed down flat on their heads, with big toothy
grins and shiny blue neckties. It is a beautiful, grand celebration.
One might assume the first Communion clothes are donated, knowing
how expensive they can be. Yet, Irma explains,“They would buy
their own first Communion outfits. It’s special. It’s
a special day for them, and this is something they feel they have
to do.”
All the food for the fiesta used to be made by church volunteers.
Now, they make an effort to have some dishes made by the people
for whom the fiesta is celebrated. “They also want to contribute
to their own fiesta,” Irma says. “It is better this way.”
She waves her hand in a little gesture, as if this is self-explanatory
– and it is. It’s about sharing a table. We each need
to bring our own gifts.
 In
many ways, Cal and Irma have come full-circle in their lives.
Although of retirement age, Cal still is active in his ministry.
Irma shares a story about their youngest son, who grew up to have
a successful career, and when he landed an overseas job, he had
his parents come over to see Europe. “That was something,”
Irma says, “because all the doctors told me that it was either
him or me when he was born. I had a problem with Rh-negative blood.”
She continues, “We were supposed to die – but we didn’t.
God saved us.
 “Anyway,
... our son took us to France. We saw all sorts of places,”
Irma says, gently pleating a napkin by her tea cup. “But we
went to this one church where they had all the Old Testament stories
in stained glass.” She raises her hands, in remembering all
the light streaming through the windows. “Because, you know,
people back then couldn’t read, and it was so beautiful with
all the light coming in.” She pauses and looks at Cal. “And
it came to me how we were there with our son, you know? And with
all that light shining, it came to me, how according to the doctors
we shouldn’t even be here.”
One night long ago when doctors were wrong, God was right.
People often see the world from a limited perspective, but Cal and
Irma Torres have a talent of seeing beauty through the eyes of God.
The story of Michelangelo sculpting the statue of David comes to
mind. When he went to the marble quarry to look for a suitable stone,
he noticed there was a superb piece of marble that had been set
to the side, because it had a large flaw running through it. After
thoroughly looking around, he decided he must have it, despite the
flaw. Michelangelo, as a great artist, had a fine passion for his
art and used that flaw to make his statue of David a masterpiece.
And when asked how he sculpted such beauty, he said he only removed
enough marble to reveal the statue that was already there. He saw
through it to the beauty inside.
Perhaps when we see migrant workers, we see poor people in block
houses who need our charity. When Cal and Irma see them, they
see brothers and sisters in Christ who are beautiful. “The
migrants’ sense of sharing is more profound,” they say.
When they see migrant workers, they see ways to use their imaginations,
to fire their passions, to bring them together – to unite them
as community, unite them as Church. In a way, it’s an art.
ministry focus
migrant ministry
 In
the spring and summer, the number of faithful in the Lansing Diocese
swells by 4,000-plus.
That’s when migrant farm workers travel north from warm southern
states, or from California, Mexico, and South America to pick area
crops.
According to Serapio Hernandez, director of the diocesan Migrant
Ministry department, the workers end up in one of 31 camps in Washtenaw,
Livingston, Lenawee, Eaton, Jackson and Ingham counties.
As Hernandez recalls, Cristo Rey Parish, Lansing, formed the
ministry in the late 1930s or early ‘40s for its large Hispanic
Catholic community. While the state has taken care of the workers’
social needs, the Catholic Church has done its best to provide for
some of the spiritual needs of the migrants. Head of the department
since 1996, Hernandez explains, “I deal mostly with their pastoral
needs.”
Typically, the workers are in the fields six days a week.
On Sundays, some of the priests, including Bishop Carl Mengeling,
celebrate Mass at the camps where the workers also live. “The
migrant workers reflect the average Catholic. They attend Mass when
they are able.” According to Hernandez, all but a very small
percentage of the workers are Roman Catholic.
Because of the seasonal nature of harvesting crops, some workers
have other jobs. “With skills in other areas, some return
home to go into construction or carpentry or they work in canneries
or perform other labor,” Hernandez explains.
 Wages
and living conditions vary. “Some farm owners have very good
(wages) for the workers. Others do not. It all depends on the
financial status of the owners. The state regulates the housing
very well. The owners must have suitable housing,” Hernandez
stresses. He adds that the majority of migrant workers genuinely
enjoy working in the fields.
Martín Espino, 17, qualifies that statement. “Not all
the time,” he says with a hint of amusement. When school is
in session, he works in the fields five or
six hours a day. He picks peppers, pickles, and strawberries alongside
his parents, Martín and María, and his brother, Marcos.
He also has a little brother, Mario, and a little sister, Maggie.
Martín’s parents are originally from Mexico, but the
family has lived in Fort Mead, Fla., the past few years. Martín
was born in Berrien Springs, Mich.
Martín, who has been working in the fields since he was 13,
goes to high school in Blissfield, near Adrian, when he is in Lenawee
County. He lives at Judson Camp. Fr. Thomas Helfrich, OSFS, pastor
of St. Mary of Good Counsel, in Adrian, usually offers Mass at the
camp. “My Catholic faith means a lot to me,” Martín
says.
Asked what he would ask God if he were granted one wish, Martín’s
answer is not unlike any other teen’s with dreams: “That
I could graduate from high school and go to college.” –
Carolyn Smith
For more on Hispanic Ministry and Migrant Ministry in the
Diocese of Lansing, contact Serapio Hernandez at (517) 342-2498.
Kristin says: "I grew up with those children
the pro-abortion movement refers to as 'unwanted'. though some of
them were perhaps 'unwanted' by their won parents, we wanted them.
We loved them. Each child is a beautiful creation of God's and deserves
life and love."
 an
advocate for the unborn:
why did she dive into political controversy?
By Duane Ramsey | Photography by Christine Jones
“I feel very blessed to work for
something I feel so passionate about and privileged to be a part
of the greatest civil rights issue of our time,” says Kristen
Hemker, who works as the Legislative Liaison for Right to Life of
Michigan. “I was led to this job because of the organization’s
mission to respect and protect all human life from the moment of
conception until natural death.”
“My conviction comes from my family and my faith,” says
Kristen, who was raised Catholic in Branch County near Kalamazoo.
“My parents taught me to respect God’s precious gift of
life through their living example and openness to God,” she
explains. Kristen believes her parents’ decision to practice
natural family planning strengthened the love in their marriage
and family. In addition to her six brothers and sisters, her parents
opened their home and hearts to several foster children who had
been neglected or abused.
“I grew up with those children the pro-abortion movement refers
to as ‘unwanted,’” Kristen says. “Though some
of them were perhaps ‘unwanted’ by their own parents,
we wanted them. We loved them. Each child is a beautiful creation
of God’s and deserves life and love.”
Not surprisingly, her parents have been long-time advocates in
the pro-life movement, too. Her mother, Rita, served as president
of the local Right to Life affiliate in Branch County. Her father,
Tony, supports the pro-life cause through his involvement in the
Knights of Columbus. They show by example what they taught Kristen
from a very young age: “If we do not respect human life when
it is most vulnerable, we cannot respect it at all.”
The Hemkers adopted their youngest child, Theresa, when she was
a baby. Kristen, who is 13 years older, was chosen to be her
godmother. For Christmas one year, Kristen recalls receiving a framed
picture of Theresa. When giving it to her, Theresa said with a smile,
“I know you collect those.”
After high school, Kristen went on to attend the University of Michigan,
Ann Arbor. There, she majored in business administration and became
involved in the Students for Life organization. “It’s
a pretty strong group for being on a secular campus,” she notes.
Upon graduation in the spring of 2000, she expected to go into
business and likely leave her home state – but she was steered
in another direction. One of her friends saw an ad for the position
with Right to Life and encouraged her to apply for it. Kristen reviewed
the ad and learned they wanted someone with legal or legislative
experience, which she did not have.
After interviewing for various business positions with several companies,
Kristen found herself coming back to the opening at Right to Life.
She interviewed for it and was offered the position. Since August
2000, she has been a registered lobbyist with the State of Michigan,
working with legislators, the governor and state government to support
pro-life
legislation.
 Kristen
also does public relations work for Right to Life in the Lansing
area, speaking to classes and conducting interviews for newspaper
articles, radio and television broadcasts. In the two and a
half short years that she has worked there, she has seen some of
the tragic impact abortion has had on people’s lives. “Women
are suffering physically and grieving their dead children several
years later,” she explains. “The men involved also suffer
long-term emotional consequences.”
“An important part of my job is to educate people about
the life of the unborn babies,” says Kristen. If people
knew about the development of the life in the womb and the reality
of abortion, she believes that nearly everyone would be pro-life.
“I hope it’s just a matter of education.”
 She
points out that many of the founding proponents of abortion rights
are now pro-life. Norma McCorvey, alias “Jane Roe”
in the Roe v. Wade case, has switched sides and is now a vocal anti-abortion
activist. McCorvey went public with her identity in the 1980s, and
she has written an autobiographical book, Won by Love. Now 50, she
operates a ministry called Roe No More to fight for the rights of
the unborn and counsel pregnant women in Dallas.
Even Dr. Bernard Nathanson – who led the movement to legalize
abortion and was the director of the largest abortion clinic in
the U.S. – has admitted his personal responsibility for taking
thousands of innocent lives. “He now works within the pro-life
movement to try to save people from repeating his mistakes,”
explains Kristen.
“If anything, this job has strengthened my faith,” Kristen
admits. “It requires more prayer than the typical job would.
Going to the Lord in prayer is so important in preparing for my
job. It would be too easy to despair if I didn’t go to the
Lord for help.”
Knowing that there are a lot of people in the legislature who
support the right to life gives her hope. “It’s interesting
how much legislators really open up when they talk about their faith
and their position on abortion,” Kristen says. “There
are a lot of perks in my job mostly based on faith. I get to talk
about something I’m passionate about and share my faith with
people.”
 Still,
Kristen recognizes that her responsibility to defend life extends
far beyond her job. “To be Christian is to be pro-life,”
she says. “Abortion goes against everything Jesus taught.”
At the last judgment, she believes we will see how all of our decisions
affected other people, for better or for worse. “We will see
how a vote for a pro-abortion political candidate caused yet another
woman to ‘choose’ abortion and suffer the rest of her
life as a result of that choice.”
The picture of her sister Theresa – which is in a pink,
heart-shaped frame – now sits on Kristen’s desk at the
Right to Life office in Lansing. It serves as a constant reminder
of why she’s there. Acknowledging that living her Catholic
faith is not always easy, she often tells herself, “We are
called to love. We are called by Jesus to lay down our life for
our friend. That friend is an unborn child, a scared pregnant mother,
a post-abortive woman or man.”
ministry focus
in a crisis over an
‘unwanted’ pregnancy?
there is help:
Diocese of Lansing Crisis Pregnancy Centers:
• Adrian CPC Pregnancy Counseling & Services (517)
263-5701
• Ann Arbor Ann Arbor Pregnancy Counseling Center (734)
930-0013
Problem Pregnancy Help (734) 975-4357
• Charlotte A New Beginning Pregnancy Center
(517) 543-7077
• East Lansing Pregnancy Services of Greater Lansing
(517) 332-0633 or
(800) 223-4442
• Fenton The Listen Center (810) 629-1876
• Flint Flint Crisis Pregnancy Services (810) 767-7153
Flint Pregnancy Counseling Center (810) 767-1262
Heartbeat of Greater Flint, Abortion Alternatives (810)
232-3101
Answer Center for Women (810) 234-7777
Catholic Social Services of Flint (810) 232-9950
• Howell Pregnancy Helpline (810) 632-5656
• Jackson Birthline (517) 784-9187
Catholic Social Services (517) 782-2551
Center for Women Pregnancy Counseling (517) 787-4673
• Lansing Project Rachel (800) 968-0968
Shared Pregnancy Women’s Center (517) 484-1882
Hannah's House (517) 482-5856
Sister’s Maternity Home (517) 371-3128
• Owosso Pregnancy Resource Center (989) 723-4025
Catholic Social Services (989) 723-8239
• St. Johns Beacon of Hope CPC (989) 224-0328
• Ypsilanti Family Life Services (734) 434-3088
Project Rachel: is a Catholic ministry that helps women and
men who have had a traumatic experience because of an abortion.
A team of trained counselors, clergy, and support group leaders
are available to those who are seeking help with abortion issues.
Don’t be afraid to get the help you need to find peace. Call
Wilson Perkowski, program director of the Diocese of Lansing
Project Rachel office, at (517) 342-2581, or toll-free (800)
968-0968. Or, visit the Web site at: home.catholicweb.com/projectrachel/
"Mary and I act as patients' advocates". says Sr. Fran.
The residents live at Emmanuel House for free. Yet, the most important
thing that the sisters and volunteers of Emmanuel House can offer
is unconditional love.
 what
would you do if
you were alone and sick?
meet the Emmanuel House sisters
By Patricia Majher | Photography by Christine Jones
Srs. Fran DePuydt and Mary Zielinski, members of the Servants of
God’s Love religious community, have taken on the challenge
of their spiritual lives. And they couldn’t be more delighted.
The two sisters are the founders of Emmanuel House, a residential
ministry
based in Washtenaw County. Their focus is on elderly men and
women who have limited income and family support and who –
for their own safety – shouldn’t live alone.
“Some have no family, or their children can’t take
on the added responsibility of caring for them,” explains Sr.
Mary. “So we take them in, becoming their (surrogate) sons
and daughters.”
One of the unique aspects about Emmanuel House is that the residents
live there for free. And no one is paid, from the board members
down to the kids who mow the grass in the summer. “Everything
is donated in a spirit of selfless service to our residents and
the Lord,” she continues.
The idea for this ministry originated with Sr. Fran, a physical
therapist by trade. “I’ve always wanted to take
care of people, to take my patients home that didn’t have nice
places to go to,” she says. Five years ago, she shared her
concerns about elder care with members of her community and with
friends at Christ the King Church, Ann Arbor.A core group studied
the efforts of the Human Service Alliance of Winston-Salem, North
Carolina, which pioneered the idea of operating care facilities
using solely volunteers. Then, after much prayer and reflection,
the group decided to approach the diocese about finding suitable
shelter. “We’d hoped there might be a convent or other
church building that was available,” says Sr. Fran. “Instead,
the bishop and his advisors agreed to purchase a house for our use,
as a demonstration of the value of human life to the very end.”
A real estate search uncovered a ranch-style home in northwest Ann
Arbor that could be adapted for wheelchair accessibility. In the
summer of 1999, the first of three residents moved in.
 The
two women admit that the first year of operation was rough.
“We had a small volunteer base then, and had to cover all the
shifts with just 22 people,” notes Sr. Fran. Today, about 40
volunteers share the responsibilities. “We also learned a lot
about what the residents expected of us,” adds Sr. Mary, a
geriatric social worker.
 From
the start, Emmanuel House caregivers – which also includes
Sr. Kelly MacDonald – have tried to accommodate the needs and
interests of each resident. One senior loved to play board games,
for instance, and volunteers got to join in the fun. Another senior
who was wheelchair-bound was interested in vegetable gardening,
so an Eagle Scout constructed raised beds to accommodate her request.
Residents who are ambulatory are often included in shopping trips.
“One woman would go to Kmart every day, if we let her,”
jokes Sr. Mary. There was even an outing to Ypsilanti’s ‘Elvisfest’
last summer.
Srs. Fran and Mary do point out that there’s much more to
life at Emmanuel House than entertaining the residents. “There’s
cooking and cleaning and helping them with their personal needs,”
says Sr. Fran. “Whatever task needs to be done on a shift,
our volunteers do it, with no concern for themselves.”
 The
medical needs of the residents are managed by each person’s
primary care physician. “But Mary and I act as patients’
advocates,” says Sr. Fran. That means driving the residents
to appointments, getting their prescriptions filled, and keeping
them company if a hospital stay is warranted. And, if the end is
near, the sisters work with hospice agencies and their own volunteers
to envelope the resident in an atmosphere of compassion, concern,
and respect. One resident, named Mabel, drew out the humanity in
everyone who came in contact with her during her final days.
“It was amazing to go and visit with her,” Sr. Mary remembers.
“Every night of the week before she died, there was a group
of volunteers who would come in together and pray the rosary for
her. She had a big double bed, and there were always a couple of
people on the bed with her and a stack of folding chairs nearby.
People would come after work just to be there for her and help hand
her off to the Lord.
During an experience like this, the most important thing that
Srs. Fran and Mary and the volunteers of Emmanuel House can offer
is unconditional love. “There is something very powerful
about being loved in 40 different ways by 40 different people,”
notes Sr. Fran.
And those people range in age from children working alongside their
parents to 70-somethings who are the residents’ peers.
 The
two women have nothing but good things to say about their volunteer
staff. “It’s not always easy to work here,” Sr.
Mary explains. “You may not get all the warm fuzzies you want,
but our volunteers choose to love in this way. They do things they
didn’t think they could do, and they find God in it. It’s
pretty amazing.”
To recruit volunteers for Emmanuel House, the sisters periodically
visit parishes around the county. “And nearly all of them have
responded,” says Sr. Fran. One example is the work of St. Joseph
parish in Dexter. St. Joseph’s Knights of Columbus Council
was instrumental in renovating an Ypsilanti home that recently opened
under the Emmanuel House banner, and the Knight’s auxiliary
led the effort to restore the landscaping. This second house, mortgaged
with the diocese, took in its first resident in December 2002. Eventually,
four elderly people will live there.
 Another
house means another corps of dedicated volunteers must be found.
Sr. Mary, who is the Ypsilanti house coordinator (Sr. Fran remains
at the first house), has already planted the seed among her neighbors:
“A couple of people on this block and another lady around the
corner have agreed to be caregivers.” She can also turn to
a novice from her motherhouse that recently joined the caregiving
effort: Rebecca Mierendorf.
Are there plans to open any more Emmanuel House facilities?
“Ask me again in two years,” laughs Sr. Fran, citing the
challenges of the start-up phase. But both women acknowledge their
gratitude to God for allowing them to serve Him in this way.
“It’s such a privilege to do this” says Sr. Mary.
“I cannot believe He lets me do this full time. I love it.”
ministry focus
Emmanuel House is supported solely by donations of money or materials
and volunteer time. If you would like to make a contribution
or become a volunteer, please contact Sr. Mary Zielinski at
(734) 528-9031 or at e-mail her at ehypsi@juno.com.
"After that night, I was thinking to myself that,
'These people are out there trying to kill me.'" He laughs and
comments, "I think I did that. ... You get into a situation like
that, and you find you might want to reassess your position (with
the good Lord.) Suddenly, my faith became something more than just
a mere ritual
Exclusive
 what
is war like for our soldiers?
this General knows
and found God in the process
By Ronald Landfair | Photos courtesy of Gen. Repichowski
"Going in, you need to understand
what our military is about: Defending the country, defending
the freedom and fighting our nation’s battles. You need to
understand that going in.” – Maj. Gen. Steven Repichowski,
United States Army, Retired.
Committed soldiers do not question their orders. Yet, they
are not robots, pre-programmed to perform a function of military
duty – devoid of feelings and emotions. They are our men and
women, our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers, our daughters
and sons. They are our military, who by their decision have chosen
to serve, protect and defend the United States both at home and
abroad. They are the most recent in a long line of endless patriots
from every possible background who bear arms on behalf of their
country. They train, they fight, they kill and sometimes they die.
Meet Steve Repichowski. Married for nearly forty years to
his wife Diana, he is father of two adult children and grandfather
of three. He is a retired major (two-star) general of the U.S. Army,
former General Motors engineering executive and member of the Hall
of Fame in the Military Science Department of Michigan State University.
His great delights in these, his solstice years, are his beloved
MSU Spartans, the Detroit Pistons and the seemingly endless “honey-do”
list of chores that all married men know well.
Perhaps those parts of his story would be enough for some, but there
is much more. Steve belongs to a small fraternity of people who
have borne arms for his country, have seen both friend and foe alike
fight and die on the battlefield and have lived to tell about it.
 “I
was actually a replacement for one of the soldiers in the Seventh
Calvary who was wounded in the Battle of Idrang Valley (a battle
made famous in the recent film, When We Were Soldiers) in the fall
of 1965. That was the first battle for the U.S. with North Vietnamese
regulars and took significant casualties. I was assigned as a ‘forward
observer’ and my job was to call in artillery fire. That means
that although I was assigned an artillery battery, I was further
attached to an infantry company – Alpha Company, 2nd battalion,
12th Cavalry, which was the infantry unit. I worked with Alpha Company
as we worked our way through the jungles, calling in artillery fire.
Basically, my job was to call in artillery fire to support the ground
unit I was working with in the proper place, at the proper time,
with the proper ordnance. The biggest problem of course was knowing
where you are in relationship to the target, which was not always
easy in the dense jungle with overhead canopy (trees and vegetation).
You have no landmarks or anything to assist you. This was obviously
pre-GPS (Global Positioning System – a method of locating oneself
or targets based on satellite relayed coordinates, the method used
today). We used an azimuth (a compass) and previous strikes to pinpoint
the target location.”
Unlike most people, soldiers in battle may not rouse from slumber
by the sounds of an alarm clock. They may be startled awake
by the sounds of shouting, gunfire and thunderclap explosions, and
are suddenly expected to perform their duty. “The first time
I fired my weapon in combat was during a ‘firefight’ (close
shooting battle with enemy soldiers) on February 18, 1966. It was
terrifying. It was night. I had never been under fire before. I
had only been ‘in country’ (soldiers’ slang term
meaning ‘in Vietnam’) for less than a month. I really
had no idea what to expect. One minute, you are sleeping soundly
or as best you can, given the conditions. It’s dark and all
of a sudden all hell breaks loose, requiring some quick decision-making.
You have to know where your equipment is. You have to get it. You
have to get to the foxhole. You have to then do what you are trained
to do. I would have to locate my radio operator and make sure that
he and I were together so that we could then communicate with the
artillery company to call in the necessary strikes.”
It’s a guarded sleep, as it usually is the entire time you
are ‘in country.’ “The only thing that goes through
your mind is survival. And you are scared – scared like
you wouldn’t believe. You just want to live. There are folks
out there shooting at me – wanting to kill me, trying to kill
me – and you have to respond to that. In the night like that,
you don’t see the attacker so much as you do light flashes
from their automatic weapons. As an officer working with the company
commander we weren’t on the front lines but we weren’t
very far behind (normally a distance of not more than thirty or
forty yards). He had to be in a position to command and control
his soldiers, and I had to be there with him to coordinate the artillery
fire so we wouldn’t hit our own people.
 “After
that night, I was thinking to myself that, ‘You know, this
was fairly serious business! These people are out there trying
to kill me, and maybe I ought to reassess my position with the good
Lord.’” He laughs and comments, “I think I did that.
Up to that point, I had not done anything extraordinary from a religious
perspective. I mean I continued to go to church, tried to live my
life as best I could – basically the same things I had been
doing before I entered military service. But you get into a situation
like that, and you find you might want to stand back and reassess
your position. I think I did that. I really think I did. Suddenly,
my faith became something more than just mere ritual. It obviously
became much stronger, and I thought about it a lot more. You certainly
do a lot more praying, and in a way, it is a conversion moment.
You become much more aware of God’s presence – the presence
of the Holy Spirit and the ties that bind you. No question about
that.”
Here then is the dilemma of the “soldier of faith”:
to stop and pause – to be reflective in the midst of battle
invites hesitation, which could in turn bring death. To do something
other than what the soldier has been extensively trained to do in
that specific time could bring disaster. Emotional suppression is
not just a coping mechanism. It is perhaps the only sane response
to an otherwise insane proposition. One cannot kill unconsciously;
it is by nature a visceral, first-hand experience. A strong sense
of faith is no doubt quite necessary and obvious for one’s
emotional and spiritual survival. What is less obvious is what to
do with the emotions, the memories and the knowledge that you try
to leave behind you. It’s a minute-by-minute decision making
process of life and death that you enter into. A friend or foe can
appear to be either, and sometimes both, simultaneously.
 “It’s
a decision that has to be made very quickly,” Steve says.
“I can understand what our military is going through in Iraq.
As people approach these checkpoints, identifying friend or foe
is not always easy. We had the same difficulty. I don’t really
know what the resolution to all that is, or if there even is one.
In both situations (Iraq and Vietnam), we are fighting in their
country. They know the terrain, the environment and the people better
than we do. They fit in better than we do, and we stick out like
a sore thumb. The identification of friend or foe is very difficult
and a split-second decision. Making those kinds of decisions –
hourly, daily – can you always be 100% right? I’d like
to think so, but in practical terms, I don’t know if that is
possible.”
Even now, some things are difficult for him to recall, to discuss.
The memories are too vivid, the emotions too raw. He stares off
as he recounts a story, unheard by anyone, anywhere, including Diana,
his beloved spouse. “We received some new intelligence information
that there were North Vietnamese in this one particular area, a
pretty good concentration of enemy soldiers. Being with the 1st
Cavalry, we moved by helicopter. It is the same basic unit as the
101st that is in Iraq right now. It was night, and we loaded up
our choppers, and made this air assault into the jungle. I remember
that it was kind of a hilly area, because the helicopters couldn’t
land, so we had to jump out. We sent out a unit of about 250 men.
We walked about an hour or so into the jungle and I remember seeing
pieces of meat hung up in a tree. Obviously, there were enemy soldiers
in the encampment there – probably for some time and that was
part of their food stuffs. We get the company fanned out and start
probing forward towards their base.
“All of a sudden, all hell broke loose (small arms shooting,
yelling, etc.). We were severely under fire. We started calling
in artillery fire. In combat, the shooting doesn’t start until
you get into the killing zone (the area where you can hit what you
are firing at) whether it’s our troops walking into theirs
or their troops walking into ours. When you hit that zone, that’s
when everything opens up. Because of the density of the jungle vegetation,
that zone is relatively close, measured in terms of yards or sometimes
even feet. I can remember the artillery fire landing so close to
me that I could hear the shrapnel bustle through the trees. We were
hugging the ground as close as we could; even my uniform buttons
seemed to get in the way. I’m there with the company commander,
and he’s yelling doing his thing, and I’m trying to call
in a strike.
 “We
see one guy in black pajamas break through the line. (A suspected
Vietcong – the North Vietnamese Army regulars normally wore
fatigue uniforms.) He gets within about fifteen or twenty yards
of where we are. He’s behind this tree that is lying on the
ground. We’re both shooting at him. I see him stand up. I see
him pull the safety pin out of a hand grenade. I see him throw the
grenade. I see the grenade land four feet away from me. The other
four or five guys in the foxhole with me jump out. I did not jump
out, because I knew that grenade would not detonate. I knew it,
and it didn’t. It was four feet away. I guess at that particular
time you could say that the good Lord was in that foxhole with me.
I really believe that. I never moved, and I just knew it wasn’t
going to go off. From that day forward, every time I put my uniform
on, I remembered that day. It was my re-affirmation or re connection
with the Lord, and I haven’t forgotten it since that day.
“The battle went on for another two or three hours. We subsequently
fought to a stalemate. I never looked back at the grenade; it might
still be laying there for all I know. Those battles take a tremendous
amount of energy out of you, until you come back (if you come back),
emotionally, physically and spiritually drained. We consolidated
our forces and spent the night there. I couldn’t stay awake.
I was drained and exhausted. You don’t process the moment when
it happens. There is too much happening, too many instant decisions
to be made. It’s not until later in the solemnity of your thoughts
that you reflect and realize what happened. Every time I put my
uniform on, I remember February 18, 1966.”
Once it has been decided that we are going to war, the military
mission becomes to fight it and win. Steve observes, “The
debate on whether the conflict is just or unjust takes place prior
to that. But in truth, no one wants war less than the professional
soldier. We are the ones who ultimately have to fight it. We are
not trained killers, but rather people trained in the art of warfare.
I’ve lifted a few body bags onto the helicopters, but you don’t
have time to grieve while you are there. The mission is still going
on. The battle is still going on. The war is still going on. You
have to continue to function. You do your duty. It’s difficult
to describe, but you are still there, and you have to function.
While you’re there, the time for grieving is short.”
 Finally,
when asked “What part of you was left behind?” Steve pauses
and then says, “My innocence, my youth.” When asked, “What
did you bring back?” Steve again stares off and reflects, “I
think you need to ask my wife that question. One of the things I
never really realized, or never gave enough credit to was my wife.
I spent a lot of time visiting my soldiers. In my last command I
had 10,000 soldiers I was responsible for. In those thirty-four
years, I missed a lot of ballgames, a lot of birthdays. To try and
carry on with some sense of normalcy, with one parent there trying
to do it all, is very difficult. She picked up the slack, supported
me and allowed me to do that. I’m not sure she got her just
reward. Maybe she will in the next life. She more than deserves
it.”
ministry focus
Catholic Relief Services
Respond to Needs in Iraq
Catholic Relief Services supports the work of Caritas Iraq, which
is supplying medical centers, clinics and hospitals with equipment
and supplies and has provided training to doctors and volunteers
who will be able to provide life saving medical care to injured
civilians, should the need arise. CRS is also working with
partners in Iraq’s neighboring countries to prepare for the
possibility of refugees crossing Iraq’s borders.
Catholic Relief Services has provided substantial levels of humanitarian
assistance to the people of Iraq since 1999, such as supplemental
food programs for undernourished children, pregnant and lactating
mothers, the elderly, handicapped and very needy.
CRS can accept contributions should individuals or dioceses wish
to assist. For those wishing to make a contribution, please
ensure the checks are clearly marked (“Iraq Humanitarian Response”)
and send contributions to Catholic Relief Services, P.0. Box 17090,
Baltimore, MD 21203-7090.
Please continue to keep all people affected by the war, including
the relief workers, the civilian population, and our servicemen
and women in the region in your prayers.
For more information, log on to catholicrelief.org.
The Problem of Evil: When is Violence
OK?
By Fr. Charles Irvin
 Even
though the regime of Saddam Hussein has fallen, the problem of evil
still confronts us. There are any number of responses to the
question of evil, many types of analysis. For instance, from whence
comes evil? Why does God allow evil? And so forth.
The immediate question that faces us is: How should we here and
now confront evil here and now? It’s a larger question
than that of the moral legitimacy of the war and occupation of Iraq.
Some questions which engender debates today over non-violence vs.
the use of deadly force include: The death penalty -- is it morally
legitimate? When should law enforcement officers use deadly force?
When should high-speed chases be employed? When should human life
in a woman's womb be constitutionally protected from deliberate
destruction?
In John's Gospel account, we read of Jesus making whips and driving
people out of the Temple. (Jn 3: 14-21) To be frank, the Prince
of Peace used violence. How should we interpret that? Nevertheless,
we later find Jesus standing mute in his trial before Pontius Pilate
immediately prior to his Crucifixion. Furthermore, and to the point,
we find Jesus eventually turning himself over into the care of His
Father: "If it be possible, let this chalice pass from me,
but not my will, thine be done."
The moral question that continually confronts us, particularly
now, is: Is it moral to require others to be non-violent? When
others are being attacked with deadly force should we as Christians
reject violence in protecting them? Is it immoral for us to employ
deadly force against those who employ terror and violence against
others?
Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., once wrote: "Peace is
not the absence of conflict; it is the presence of justice and brotherhood."
Upon reflection, however, I wonder what he meant by the word "conflict."
Does conflict include violence? Certainly Dr. King promoted non-violent
resistance to oppression. But what would he have to say to the violence
we face today on the part of Saddam Hussein as well as on our part
in confronting Saddam's employment of terror against his own people
as well as his enemies?
The question of loyalty surfaces. How can I be loyal to the
pope and my president? How can I follow the lead of the Vatican
and as well as the lead of our government? Can I be loyal to both
pope and president at the same time?
 One
thing is clear to me, personally - I cannot in any way diminish
my support for the young men and women who have faced death in the
conflict against Saddam Hussein's regime. Whatever the role
of our soldiers and others in all of our Armed Services, I cannot
abide with demeaning them and repeat the mistakes of the anti-war
movement in the 60's and 70's made in that regard.
In 2 Chronicles 36, the Hebrews committed some abominable sins,
even in the Temple in Jerusalem itself - in that holy place dedicated
to their worship of God. They had grown morally soft - they had
corrupted themselves from within. The consequence was weakness,
and in their weakness the Assyrians descended upon them from the
north, pillaged and leveled Jerusalem, slaughtered Jews in great
numbers, and carried off their educated and skilled classes to Babylon.
(Babylon was located a few miles up the Euphrates Rivers from present
day Baghdad.)
Years later Cyrus the Great, a Persian (not an Assyrian), conquered
territories extending from what we know of as Turkey to India, Georgia
and Armenia to Northern Africa and Egypt. It was a vast empire.
Yet, Cyrus was a very insightful and somewhat benign ruler without
being weak in any way. His policy was to establish local governments
based on the customs and mores of those peoples, including that
of allowing them to practice their unique religions. Thus, Cyrus,
upon conquering the Assyrians and Babylon, allowed the Jews to return
to their own land and worship their God in their own restored Temple
in Jerusalem.
Once again, we need to abandon our own narrow perspectives and
see the broad picture. Once again, we need to acknowledge God's
prerogatives over life.
Principles to Follow:
1. It is God who issues ultimate judgment - we don't. God
alone condemns. And God forgives, even when we don't. Our pronouncements
and condemnations need to be conditional, not absolute. God sends
His chastisements but His chastisements are always accompanied
by a call to repentance and conversion. God's justice is always
accompanied by His mercy.
2. Men and women of conscience and intelligence may, and
do, differ on the morality of employing deadly force in desperate
situations wherein they face deadly force used against them; men
and women of conscience and intelligence. Just because they may
disagree with me does not mean that they are stupid!
a - There are two response situations, (1) when someone is personally
and individually attacked with deadly force, and (2) when
others are being attacked and one feels morally obliged,
or is by office sworn to protect them.
b - What a government is obliged to do and what an individual
may choose to do in the face of deadly attack involve two different
sets of moral norms and judgments.
3. Regardless of our past history of moral compromise we must
now turn to God, seek His mercy and do all in our power to follow
His will. No matter what has already happened we must turn
to our Father in heaven who is ever eager to give us His love,
mercy, His power, presence and strength.
The ancient Hebrews, held in captivity in Babylon,
did in fact turn back to God and were restored to their land. By
God's grace they were able to return and rebuild Jerusalem as well
as rebuild their temple.
This story also reveals to us that God can even use a pagan king,
namely Cyrus, to accomplish His purposes. Once again I need to proclaim
that it is the prerogative of God to bring light out of darkness,
good out of evil, order out of chaos, meaning out of absurdity and
life out of death. In this light we can not only better understand
Nicodemus' encounters with Jesus but also actually follow Nicodemus
in his quest for God's light in the midst of our own darkness.
With God's help we can rebuild our world and reveal God's kingdom
in doing so. We can build a better world, one based on peace
and justice, built on the presence of brotherhood, built on the
awareness of the Spirit of the Living God dwelling in each and every
one of His sons and daughters walking the face of the world He made,
a world in which God intends us to live in truth and goodness, justice
and mercy -- a world in which we treat others exactly the way Jesus
Christ treated all who knew and encountered Him.
May God bring peace to our world quickly, justly and with compassionate
care for all who have suffered.
– Fr. Charles Irvin is the Founding Editor of FAITH Magazine
and is now retired.
For resources on the Church's teaching about suffering,
click here.
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