Military chaplaincy

Last week, I had an interesting experience at the Fort Dix military processing center in New Jersey. I am reluctant to draw any sweeping generalizations about the makeup of our military based on such a limited experience, but I thought it might be interesting to pass along what I saw there, and let you, the reader, infer as much or as little as you find appropriate.

First, some background:

Before beginning rabbinical school, I had heard about military chaplaincy and had read several interesting books on the topic. Among them were An American Rabbi in Korea: A Chaplain's Journey in the Forgotten War, a fascinating inside account of a war I never studied much growing up, and the experiences of a Jewish chaplain.

A second is the highly troubling memoir called For God and Country: Faith and Patriotism Under Fire. Written by a Muslim chaplain with the rank of captain, it tells how the Army wrongly accused him of treason after he began serving inmates held at Guantanamo Bay. Both are really worth reading.

I also began reading about the first female rabbi to serve as a chaplain in the U.S. military, Bonnie Koppel. It turns out, she is a Reconstructionist, and I called her a few years ago at her home in Arizona, and we had a fascinating conversation about her experiences as a liberal, a woman and a Jew serving 28 years in the Army Reserves.

My interest is also partly personal: My paternal grandfather served in World War II, and was, to my knowledge, one of the people in charge of overseeing the oil and gas supply lines to the troops in Europe. He narrowly survived numerous bombing raids from his position in London, where I believe he was mostly based.

My family never spoke about his military service as something to be proud of – though this might have partly been a reaction to who he was as a person: A bit on the grumpy side and emotionally remote. It might also be because of his own attitude about military service. It was a real source of pride to my father that he resisted his own father’s intense pressure to enlist. Apparently, this pressure took the form of blackmail against both my father and his brother: If you don’t join the service, I won’t pay for your college. My uncle acquiesced, and my father did not.

I can understand why my dad never thought much of military service, but I have to say that I never really understood why no one ever thought that what grandpa had done was admirable in any way. The more I’ve moved into observant Jewish life and community, the more I can’t relate to this kind of thinking. Plainly put: I think it’s pretty cool my grandfather helped kick it to the Nazis. And, as a liberal Jew, I feel tremendously grateful to be living in the one place where it has been easier and better to be a Jew than in any other place in the world (and that includes Israel!)

Chaplain candidate program
The military offers a unique training opportunity for all seminary students enrolled in accredited programs of study. The Army, Air Force and Navy/Marines (which is combined) each offer “chaplain candidate” enlistments whereby you basically receive paid chaplaincy training throughout your time in school. When you graduate, you have the option (but not the obligation) to enlist, either in Reserves or Active Duty. The program has protected status; you are guaranteed not to be forced into Active Duty or to do anything that would compromise your academic study.

Once you complete chaplain school (which for the Army is one month in January and one month in June), you can work as much or as little as you want with your local reserve unit doing chaplaincy-type stuff. You’re paid an hourly wage at whatever your rank is, which to start out is as an officer, second lieutenant.

I called all three branches before I started school 1.5 years ago. I was 34 at the time, but I wouldn’t actually begin school until I was 35, which is the official cutoff for all military enlistments. It turned out to be a Catch 22. You can’t enlist after age 35, but you can’t be approved to be a chaplain candidate until AFTER you’ve begun school. After many months of phone calls, the Army was the only branch willing to work with me and try to secure an exemption. I’ll spare you the long convoluted story, but basically, it’s taken 1.5 years for that to happen.

Last week, all of the exemptions finally in line for my (old!) age and various physical ailments (shoulder injury, LASIK surgery, etc etc), I drove over the bridge into New Jersey to the Wyndham hotel where the Army was putting me up for the night. It turned out, the “MEPS” has a permanent office there on the second floor. Six days a week, everyone going to Fort Dix for enlistment physicals or tests for any of the branches are sent to this hotel the night before. The reason is simple: 4 a.m. wakeup call.

Okay, try not to laugh. Try not to bust up any new sutures. Yes, yours truly really did wake up at 4 a.m.

I arrived at about 10 pm the night before, and my roommate was arriving at the same time. 17 years old, Stacy was a senior in high school and after taking one look at me, blurted out: “How old ARE you?” followed by “Which service are you enlisting in?” When I told her the Army, she made a face and fell silent.

“What are you enlisting in?” I asked her, to which she quickly answered “Oh the Marines, I’m Marines. They’re the best. I know because I researched it, and so they’re the only ones I wanted to join.”

We had an interesting conversation as we got into bed, in which I learned that she works part time at a grocery store, and that her mother is very opposed to her enlisting, “but it’s not up to her.” Stacy doesn’t know what job or training she wants to receive – she had been interested in medical, but the Marines doesn’t have any medical training. Since she cared more about being in the Marines than doing anything medical, that meant she stuck to the Marines.

Stacy asked me if I was excited to go to boot camp, and I tried explaining that I wouldn't go to boot camp – I would go to chaplain-training school. But I don’t think she knew what a chaplain was. For her part, she was VERY excited about boot camp, which begins in July and which lasts 13 weeks -- the “longest of any of the branches.” This was clearly another source of pride for her.

I should add here that Stacy is black, my height (5’3”), and can’t way an ounce more than 105 pounds. When I told her the hotel would be giving us a wakeup call at 4 a.m., she said: “What’s that? How are they going to do that?” and when I suggested she look at the thermostat and turn up the heat in the room, she said: “What’s a thermostat?”

I must tell you friends, my heart really broke for this poor girl. She really had no bloomin’ idea WHAT she is getting herself into; all she knew is that she is getting out and away from a life she can no longer tolerate.

At Fort Dix
The next day, a bus took everyone to the military base about ½ an hour away. My recruiter had told me to follow behind the bus in my own car, which I really didn’t understand. When I asked the guy in the MEPS station why I should do this, he said: “Because you’re an officer candidate and your recruiter assumed you wouldn’t want to ride with all the enlistees in the bus.”

I took slight offense at this idea – that I would think I’m somehow too good to ride on a bus with everyone else – but it turned out to be for the better. It only took four hours to process me because as an officer candidate they push you through first. Also, there were so few women, things like the urine tests (which only accommodate two people at a time) went much more quickly. If I had taken the bus, I would have had to hang out there another six hours waiting for a bus ride back to the hotel and my car.

The physical wasn’t nearly as bad or embarrassing as it’s cracked up to be. Yes, a woman watches you pee in a cup to take your urine sample, but she was sweet and kind about it, and apologized to all of us for having to do so. And yes, you do have to stand around in a room in your underwear and crouch down and do the duck walk in front of two doctors. And yes, a doctor does briefly check where the sun don’t shine as part of the overall exterior exam. But all in all, it wasn’t so bad.

Out of the 50 or so people being processed that day, there were only four women. The other three were all 17 or 18, and either black or Hispanic. Only one of the 50 was an officer candidate (as opposed to an enlistee), and that one was me. The code on the sticker I wore on my shirt made this distinction to anyone who worked there, and so I was always given “important” duties like helping pass out pens and making sure every new person who came in the room was given a breathalyzer tube.

It’s just a guess, but I’d say overall, about 10 or 15 percent of us were white. Blacks were the most common, followed by Hispanics, and Asians or general darker-skinned people of color.

So am I an official chaplain candidate?

No, not yet. Stay tuned.