The Tabernacles of the Lord -- x

December, 1943

December 2:

We left the bivouac area for  Camp Shelby at 7:00 p.m. We had to travel in black-out conditions  through a dark woods and long narrow winding roads with steep ditches on both sides. This was the most scary ride I ever had. I was afraid that we would land in the ditch at any time.

I visited the hospital this afternoon. Leonard Dowdie said, "I followed your advice, and now I go to chapel service every Sunday. I wrote my mother about it, and it made her very happy." He had spent 45 days in the hospital.

I talked with Morris Weinberg, a Jew. We talked about Christ as being the Messiah. He said what  a wonderful world this would be if Christians would only live like Christ wanted them to live. "Why is it," he asked "that Christians do not live in accordance with the principles of Christianity? If they did, it would be much easier for us Jews to be persuaded about the reality of the Christian faith. But I hear profanity every day from those who profess to be Christians."

That Chaplain Van lets that go by without substantive comment suggests that he shares the perception. He's developed a methodology with Jewish soldiers simply through repetition (there are other such encounters earlier). It seems that just then--early December, 1943--his chaplain's corps was without a Jewish rabbi for Jewish GIs. If Chaplain Van tried to wrestle his way out of the soldier's denunciation, there's no record. Instead, there's this, almost an apology for "Christian" soldiers:

I was sorry that I had to tell him that many so-called Christians are Christians in name only and that many Christian churches have departed far from the fundamentals of Christianity. So it is also among the Jewish people. They too have orthodox and liberals. I told him to make a good study of the Old Testament and then he would, by grace of God, begin to see that Christ was the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecies. 

That he doesn't quite know what to do with the Jewish soldiers in his company doesn't surprise me. What he believes is that every last one of them need a savior; what he doesn't know is how not avoid being a weapon himself.

He's much more at home wrestling with the record of standard sexual sins.

I talked with Capt. Storm about divorce, marriage problems, and adultery. I had a very interesting conversation with him. 

December 4:

Col. Bettenburg called me to his office and informed me my promotion had gone through all the required channels, and my Captaincy was approved. 

He asked me what could be done for the recreation of the soldiers during bivouac exercises. The CO is responsible for all the religious services of the regiment, Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish, even though the chaplains have charge of the services.

I've never been in the military. My chaotic heart kept me out in 1970. I don't know exactly how people like Chaplain Van--or any soldier at the time--would take promotion, but it's clear that this man doesn't glory in it. There's no celebration, not even an exclamation mark. My guess is that his promotion to CO had been in the works for some time, that it wasn't a particular surprise. Regardless, that he doesn't celebrate it even a bit--not even in his diary--suggests how incidental it was to him, how huge the war's imminent dangers sat in his mind and heart. A promotion--he's now Captain Van Schouwen--almost escaped mention entirely. The next day, "the temp was 75 degrees at noon." 

That's how important the promotion must have been to him. 

 

December 5: 

The temperature is 75 degrees at noon. I purchased Christmas decorations for the chapel. I tried to purchase some phonograph records to play during bivouac exercises but had no success.

Chaplain Van doesn't speculate frequently about his own life after the war. Fear doesn't possess him. I can't believe he is obsessed with the danger he's facing, that it's impossible for him to project himself into a world where there is no German tanks, but he doesn't. He doesn't say much about his wife, for instance, who is living nearby Camp Shelby, close enough to be deeply appreciated. I don't think his not mentioning her suggests some estrangement or even some wartime effects on his ability to love her. Chaplain Van has too much to think about really, too much to worry about in the immediate days ahead. His promotions adds even more to the list of responsibilities he carries in his notebook in his soul.

So it's a little odd for him to say what he does in the diary on December 5 because what he envisions projects his story into a future where there is no war. It's a vision, and it's sustaining, I'm sure. It's what he wants his future to be.

Once again, I'm speculating here, but what brings on this bout of visions of the future is Christmas. He decided to pick up some Christmas decorations for the men, and just for a minute he's drawn back to life before the war. What specific memories were there? He doesn't say. What he does say is that he's learning something important about taking hold of the blessings he maybe hadn't really appreciated before. He doesn't do that often. He couldn't.

After the war I want to preach a sermon on "How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord." We begin to see the great blessedness of the church and church life when we are away from it for some time and are deprived of Sabbath day services. David knew what it meant to dwell under the wings of the Almighty--covenant blessings, covenant fellowship, covenant music, and covenant message. I have never understood these words sufficiently about the tabernacles of the Lord.