Christmas in the Afghan desert

LCC chaplain, Rev. Captain Harold Ristau is serving his second tour of duty in Afghanistan

by Chaplain Harold Ristau
Normally, pastors have the delicate task of encouraging people to come to church without sounding too pushy. This can become tiring after many years of ministry. The one exception is Christmas. Providing Christmas services for our Canadian troops in Afghanistan was no different. I had the opportunity to conduct several in both French and English in some fairly remote locations.

Even those soldiers who do not normally attend church, or would not consider themselves Christians, are eager to hear the Word of God more often than we think. Yet there was one immense difference. Usually, on Christmas, people tend to be in pretty good moods. After all, right after service they go home with family, open presents, eat turkey, etc. In war, as you can probably imagine, things are very different. There is no family, turkey or presents. We have no holidays or “days off.” On Christmas Eve, people didn’t enter the make-shift chapel (usually a tent with some benches) with big grins on their faces, chit-chatting about holiday plans with their neighbours.

Neither were they particularly eager to leave chapel, since, after all, there is nowhere else to go, except back on patrol in search of insurgents and IEDs. It is all rather depressing, in one sense; which, incidentally, was the topic of my sermon that evening.

I received several compliments that night, but not from bright happy faces. Somehow, compliments to pastors from expressionless faces seem more sincere. One Canadian mentioned how it was the best service he had ever attended. This was definitely not my doing. I am not the most interesting preacher, nor the best of singers. We had no musical accompaniment, candles, decorations, or a printed liturgy. All I had was a small stand-alone crucifix, placed on a table and I wore a stole. In short, the ambiance was less than ideal for a Christmas service. Yet the soldiers were not distracted by the lack of traditional church fixings.

The Gospel was preached, heard and believed

The positive comment was a reaction to the content of the sermon, and nothing more. The Gospel was preached, heard and believed. Sadly, it is becoming less and less present in sermons today, which, can at best be considered theocentric but certainly not christocentric. In other words, they talk about God, but not about God enfleshed in Christ for our salvation. How can you tell? Well, next time you hear a sermon, ask yourself if it would still hold together if you pulled out the message of Christ’s atonement. If the answer is “yes”, then the Gospel is not its foundation. It may be present, as a kind of add-on or an after thought to a long discussion of Christian morality, but it is certainly not its basis. The point is that we shouldn’t be overly surprised when others are pleasantly surprised by what they hear in one of our services. It is somewhat of a new experience for many. At least for this one soldier it was.

So what did I preach about? The sermon began with a criticism of the sentimentality of Christmas. All the “warm fuzzies” of the popular depiction of the manger scene romanticize this monumental historical event and people. For Mary and Joseph, it would have been a lonely and frightening experience: the birth of their first born, away from home, in an unfamiliar place, etc. And even after the Saviour was born, and the shepherds came, and the angels sang, they were still strangers, trying to provide for their basic needs in the midst of a cold winter desert. The circumstances were not ideal, and emotions probably mixed. Yet, one thing had changed, and this made the difference: Christ was there; born in a manger, to die on a cross. And, as any proper nativity scene depicts, Jesus’ arms were already stretched open in infancy, to welcome all of our sins unto Himself.

The promise of God goes with you; the love of God that transcends any of your emotions or feelings follows you.

You probably see the similarities with our troops: they too are away from home and family; Christmas in a desert not much different from that of Israel. Yet I think the notion that hit home for that particular soldier is when I said something like this: “you probably won’t leave this place tonight with a warm feeling in your heart; you may leave here as depressed as you came in, but something is different. The promise of God goes with you; the love of God that transcends any of your emotions or feelings follows you. The light of the Crucified One shines in your darkness, even when you don’t notice or feel it. It is a joy deeper than any sentimental experience of Christmas happiness. And sometimes, we can only come to realize that, in a place like this. For that reason, we are even more blessed than all our friends and family back home. Here, there is nothing in competition with that Gospel message; nothing to distract us from that reality. Emmanuel is present with us here. The light of the world shines in the valley of darkness, through which each of us must one day pass through. However, we all know too well that the odds of passing through that valley are slightly higher for those in a war zone. Yet, that same Jesus, who was born to Mary and Joseph, is born unto you, to go with you, and go with your cross.”

I realize it wasn’t the most eloquent proclamation of the Gospel, but it worked nevertheless. And, in the end, in a place like this, the standards aren’t all that high and the after-service criticisms are practically non-existent. Chaplains are wonderfully blessed to be able to minister in desperate places and to desperate people, and for that reason, we are highly appreciated by our deployed troops, and so is God’s Word.

Rev. Captain Harold Ristau is Lutheran Church–Canada chaplain for the Canadian Forces, serving his second tour in Afghanistan.

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