A Spiritual Examen/Unstructured Rant: War Machines and the Eucharist

I was at noon mass yesterday at Saints Phillip and James here in Baltimore. One of my favorite church buildings in town, due to its stunning Greco-Roman and Byzantine style. The dome and the mosaics remind me of the awe inspiring Orthodox churches I’ve been in.

It was the Liturgy of the Eucharist. We were kneeling, soon to approach the Body and the Blood.

Then a deep, rolling, thunderous sound began to the south of us and slowly crept north until finally the sound growled above us and away.

I knew the sound of fighter jets, of course.

At first I wondered, I’ll admit, if something terrible was happening on the eastern seaboard. I was 19 on 9/11. Baltimore is a mere 30 something miles from DC. 

For several seconds my heart dropped. I thought about my wife who was home about four miles from where I was kneeling. What if…? 

Then I remembered it was Sail 250 Maryland and Airshow. ("Presented by Northrup Grumman"!!!!) Those planes were probably the Blue Angels or something. I sighed with relief.

Then I got angry.

Sure, I appreciate the spectacle of such flyovers. The skill on display is undeniable. The machines themselves are marvels. I can see the attraction.

But I was angry.

I was about to take communion. The Body and Blood of the Lamb of God, the Prince of Peace, who was executed by the Roman State in coordination with his own religious authorities, while Death Planes tore across the sky above me. Above the chalice.

The juxtaposition angered me.

Then I remembered that while I was safely tucked away in a beautiful church just steps from Johns Hopkins University with mere military propaganda flying overhead, there were churches in Palestine and Ukraine (and in too many other places) where a fighter jet or a drone passing overhead at the Eucharist has meant and could mean slaughter.

The fact that this church I was in was in the style of the Eastern Churches drove the point home even more. This church looks like the ones in Ukraine. This church, with its Byzantine iconography, dome, and palm tree mosaics, could be one of the ancient parishes in Palestine.

My heart broke. And it was on fire.

These few moments drove home the point: As cool as military flyovers are, they are ultimately demonic rituals. Yeah, of course it’s cool to feel such incredible technological achievement reverberate in your chest. That’s the propagandistic aspect.

The other purpose is, however, to remind us all that at any time these tools of war could be deployed against us. Awe and fear. Evil.

I lament something else: So much of the hype around the USA’s 250th is military adjacent. It’s telling that there won’t be any celebrations of our accomplishments for the common good. We can’t praise ourselves for getting healthcare to everyone. We can’t claim to be a place that immigrants have made great, even though they have, because we’re in the midst of a pogrom. We can’t cheer progress on human and civil rights, since we’re in the middle of not only dismantling them here, but we’re actively working against them globally.

Because we ain’t shit.

What we have is death, destruction, nationalism, Moloch and Mammon, and we have the tools of these. We have the military and Wall Street.

We ain’t shit.

The sliver of light that I can hold onto (other than my relationships, what’s left of the natural world, and faith) is that history is spirals. There are lots of good people out there (and a lot of not-so-good people at least doing the right things) pushing back in big and small ways. Something, something, Hegel.

And I do think about that. And I meditate and pray with that, too. And yeah, I could write a rambling ranting piece about that.

But that ain’t this piece, right now.

I suppose, as I end this very not well structured diatribe, I should say this. That moment–the demon machines flying overhead, over the Body and Blood of Jesus–did have the effect of breaking my heart.

And that’s not always a bad thing.