Reflections Memorial Day 2025
This morning, we hear the words of the prophet Isaiah which invite us to act justly and value peace in our world. Throughout time, there have always been conflicts, and sadly too many have been resolved, not by peaceful dialogue, but by war. We know that the greatest losses in war are those of human lives, both military and civilians. Security, peace, community, and hope are also among the terrible losses for those areas where wars are fought. And the pain, the sorrow, and the haunting memories too often last long after the end of the actual war.
This past spring, we commemorated the 50th Anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War, a war which left a terrible wound on our nation and on so many in Vietnam, on the families who lost loved ones, and on those who returned deeply scarred. Our friend Don Chretien shared some of his stories with us about his service as a helicopter pilot in that war and thankfully, he returned safely to his family. As he spoke, I saw how moved his family was in listening to his stories, hearing of his courage as well as the dangers he faced. So often, vets who return never share their stories because they are too upsetting or sad. I know my beloved Uncle Bill who served in the marines in the Pacific in WWII in some of the most unimaginable places like the Guadl Canal only began to tell some of his stories as he neared the end of his long life. He was a gentle, humble man who once told me, “it is a terrible thing to take the life of another human being.” Let us pray, O Holy One, make us channels of your peace. May we advocate for peace whenever we can, especially in the ways in which our nation may best support efforts toward peace for our neighbors around the world. Bring peace to our hearts and minds this day and guide us in your ways of justice and love. Amen.
And so this morning, Let us pray for those who this day are suffering in parts of the world because of the wars being waged in their lands…from Ukraine to Sudan to Gaza; the damage has been unthinkable; the sorrow immense, and we too share in the frustration of feeling powerless to do much to change things. We also remember and we honor those who lost their lives in our nation’s wars, and especially in the Vietnam War and most recent conflicts in the Middle East. As I was reading some of the stories of those who served in Vietnam, I came upon this reflection from a man Bob Hopkins who served in the 3/13th Artillery, 25th Infantry Division, Vietnam, 1968-1969. He wrote a piece he called “Wall Magic: An indescribable coincidence at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.” In his reflection, he spoke about the ways in which the wall has affected those who have visited, including veterans reconnecting after years apart; a woman meeting the family of a veteran whose MIA bracelet she wore; and a father meeting the nurse who tended to his dying son. Every visit to The Wall is unique, he suggested, and each person has their own story of healing. This is just one story among countless others.
Bob Hopkins shared this: “I can’t fully describe what happened; I don’t know how. The first time I saw the Vietnam Memorial was at the dedication in Washington in November, 1982. It rained all the way from New Jersey, but cleared up shortly after our bus arrived. We were a rag tag bunch of Nam vets from VVA Chapter 12. We lined up on the Mall, marched up Constitution Avenue, and were funneled into the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. It took my breath away! Finally, something positive.
After the ceremony, he said, they were permitted to see it, touch it, cry next to it. To this day, he said, it is hard to describe the feeling. Too many layers, too many emotions.
He felt compelled to return and did, every year, until the 1990s.
In 1983 he visited The Wall with several vets who were attending the Founding Convention of Vietnam Veterans of America. He was one of the two delegates from New Jersey. He had a new friend, Lynda Van Devanter, who over the years had taught him a lot about the issues of women veterans. On that night, however, she was just one of the group, except that it was more difficult for her. Hopkins writes, “ She told me how lucky we men were to know the names of our comrades who had died. She didn’t remember the names of the many who had taken their last breaths in her arms, as she tended to them, in the wards of Vietnam. She couldn’t touch the names nor feel the imprints. She would be joining them in 2002, with the after effects of Agent Orange taking another life sadly.
Hopkins returned every year to the wall on Veterans Day, compelled by an internal force. He said he carried a lot of guilt that he had not done enough, seen enough, or experienced enough in VietnNam. Although he was in combat, he had been slightly wounded during a rocket and mortar barrage, and found himself alone one night, running from Charlie, finally catching up with his unit, and had tasted fear that shook him to the core. He said, “None of this mattered. There was a hole in me that could not be filled.
In November, 1992, he returned to The Wall for the 10 year anniversary of its dedication. Restless still, he went to an area that only had a couple of people and placed his hand on a panel as he started crying. He wrote,“That’s when I heard the voice, “It’s OK, you don’t belong here.” Startled, I looked around. No one was anywhere near me. A peace came over me. The Wall had spoken to me. The guilt was gone.” He returned on Veterans Day, 1993, because of the dedication of the Women’s Memorial and to see his friend Lynda and to see the pride in her eyes. “I have never gone back since that day. I have never felt the need. My comrades who rest there healed my spirit in 1992. I didn’t belong with them. I was truly home.”
Bob Hopkins’s story is among countless stories of that war and the Vietnam Memorial. I imagine many of you have visited it and perhaps you have family or friends whose names are inscribed there. So many young lives lost, so many more who have suffered since that time, now joined by vets from more recent wars in which others from our nation have served. As Pete Seeger once sang, “when will we ever learn?”
And yet, those of us who have studied history and have been following the events with the invasion of Ukraine and the tragic war between Israel and Hamas in Gaza as well as conflicts in parts of Africa, there will always be those with access to power who choose to control other peoples or lands through war. And we know that usually the decision makers are not the ones who serve or suffer.
Jesus spent his ministry speaking about peace and justice. He spoke to gatherings of folks who were living under the threat of violence from the Roman occupiers and he became a threat to their power. And yet, he continued to speak his truth and he brought healing and hope, such as the story we hear this morning in today’s Gospel. Not only did he challenge the Roman authorities, he challenged the religious authorities of his day who were often more caught up in the rules than in the actual suffering of their brothers and sisters. Jesus often seemed utterly fearless. He knew his mission and he understood his sacred calling.
Perhaps this week, we can identify something we might do for peace. As people of faith, familiar with the words of Scripture and the model of Jesus, we are unsettled by so much pain due to war. What small way might we make a difference this week? The Talmud reminds us, “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly now, love mercy now, walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”
May the Spirit of God guide us in the ways of peace. Amen.