Thank you, Buck!
As I read “The Good Kill Just War and Moral Injury” by Marc LiVecche, so many people came to mind. Living and pastoring in the Washington D.C. area has given my husband and me the unique honor of having many congregants who work for the CIA, State Department, and Military. Many have served our country in a variety of high leadership capacities.
One such man was “Buck.” Buck was a retired veteran who headed our usher ministry for many years. He ran his ministry position with great precision and care but was also a force to reckon with if someone overstepped a boundary. Though he had a soldier-like disposition, his story resonated with the grief so many veterans face when they return home, changed by what they experienced in combat. Buck would share his story repeatedly. After returning as a young soldier from Vietnam in his twenties, PTSD became his constant companion. He had recurring nightmares and became abusive to those around him. He drank all the more and lost his marriage and family. He speaks of those years as extremely dark and hopeless. However, in his late thirties, he surrendered his life to Christ. In that very instant, he found freedom. He would smile with such thankfulness as he recounted that night. It was the night that his nightmares stopped and never returned. God was gracious to meet Buck in a very special way and grant him freedom. However, if you were to ask Buck what he experienced in combat, he still could not talk about it.
Buck’s story is unique and yet not so unique. It is for the soldier like Buck that LiVecche writes this book. He unpacks the “soul wounds” or “moral injuries” that often come along with doing something that goes against something one deeply holds as a normative belief system.[1]LiVecche aims to “unburden warfighters from unnecessary burdens of guilt” and draws a distinction between actions that are issued in sorrow rather than sin.[2]
LiVecche addresses the questions that are tough to address. Is it morally justifiable to kill other human beings? Do Christian values prohibit war? Without hesitation, he advocates for a “just war” proposal, where the “image of the enemy-as-neighbor requires the cultivation of callousness as a virtue.”[3] The “calloused warrior” is one who can kill with lament and does not rejoice in doing so.[4] He further questions the pacifist’s position when there are beasts who will harm innocent prey without the necessary backbone of moral injury.[5]The calloused warrior no matter how tough, often bears deep sorrow and guilt. Eve Poole in “Robot Souls” makes mention of the soul as “the active ingredient in our humanity”[6] and quotes John Cottingham as saying:
The notion of the soul as the true self that represents the best that each of us can become, the moral core of our being, whose loss is the greatest risk we can incur; and whose preservation and fostering are the key to our moral and psychological health and well-being.[7]
This definition of soul mentions the “preservation and fostering” of the soul. It is this matter of soul that creates the paradox where the killing of those who would harm others is necessary.[8] It is here that LiVecche stands firm that this kind of killing should not produce moral guilt. In addressing this, he confronts various theological veins of thought and gives his own theological response of love and war being intertwined to bring peace.[9] It is the Christian response that should not inflict more guilt but rather as Travis Vaughn in his blog, Moral Injury vs. Moral Bruising and a Green Beret Father mentions to extend friendship and understanding.[10] Their sacrifice is often not only the experience of their time in uniform but rather the ongoing trauma of their sacrifice.
In closing, I want to say, “Thank you, Buck!” And “thank you” to all those who fight for the greater good.
[1] Marc LiVecche, The Good Kill: Just War and Moral Injury (Oxford University Press, 2021). 3.
[2] Marc LiVecche. 202.
[3] Marc LiVecche. 177.
[4] Marc LiVecche. 177.
[5] Marc LiVecche. 9.
[6] Eve Poole, Robot Souls: Programming in Humanity (Bacon Raton, FL: CRC Press, n.d.). 133
[7] Eve Poole. 132
[8] Marc LiVecche, The Good Kill: Just War and Moral Injury. 38.
[9] Marc LiVecche. Chapter 3.
[10] Travis Vaughn. “Moral Injury vs. Moral Bruising and a Green Beret Father,” accessed April 2, 2024, https://blogs.georgefox.edu/dlgp/moral-injury-vs-moral-bruising-and-a-green-beret-father/.
About the Author
Esther Edwards
Esther has served in ministry leadership for over 35 years. She is an ordained minister, an ICF and CCLC certified coach, and licensed coach trainer. Her and her husband have launched their own coaching practice, Enjoy the Journey Leadership Coaching and seek to train ministry leaders in the powerful skill of coaching. Esther loves hiking, reading, and experiencing new coffee shops with friends and family. She enjoys the journey with her husband, Keith, their four daughters, sons-in-law, and their five beautiful grandchildren.13 responses to “Thank you, Buck!”
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Esther, great post, thank you!
You wrote, “Their sacrifice is often not only the experience of their time in uniform but rather the ongoing trauma of their sacrifice.” The sacrifice is huge. Putting their lives on the line for others and then having to relive their experience in their memories. I am grateful.
I imagine his experience in Vietnam and his return home was hell on earth for Buck. As a mom of three boys, one of my heartbreaking worries has been for them to have to go to war. I’m glad Buck found hope and and at least some healing.
Pastoring in and around D.C. must be interesting!
Kally,
Yes. Northern VA has been quite the unique place to pastor. The backgrounds of people’s lives are fascinating. One morning I was introduced to the retired Head of Commerce of Liberia. She was an amazing lady who walked with such humility and finally retired live with her sister who attends our church. So many more stories to tell. However, the downside is that it is also very transient because so many come here for jobs and stay an average of 3-5 years, especially those in the CIA and State Dept. Our strategy is to involve people quickly so they can feel a part of a church family and grow in their faith for the time they are with us.
Esther,
Thank you for sharing Buck’s story. You wrote, “He speaks of those years as extremely dark and hopeless. However, in his late thirties, he surrendered his life to Christ. In that very instant, he found freedom. He would smile with such thankfulness as he recounted that night. It was the night that his nightmares stopped and never returned. God was gracious to meet Buck in a very special way and grant him freedom. However, if you were to ask Buck what he experienced in combat, he still could not talk about it.” This is so powerful. I love that you highlight how God graciously granted him freedom upon his surrender. It really breaks my heart that what soldiers experience is traumatic that they don’t talk about it. My relatives that are Veterans would/will not discuss it. Based on your experience, how can the Church best support veterans living with PTSD.
Jonita,
I believe it might be best to engage them in relationship and if they do want to talk, listen. Many times PTSD causes the desire to isolate so intentionally encouraging the church congregants to invite them personally to a smaller group setting where they can build friendships has great impact.
Thanks Esther. I found LiVecche’s distinction between moral injury and bruising interesting on a few different levels, most notably, his recognition that killing another person is inevitably going to bruise the soul of the one doing the killing, whether ‘justified’ or not. This suggest to me that killing another person irrespective of the situation, goes against our God-given nature. It might be necessary on some occasions and the right choice to do so, but it is still ‘a necessary evil’ in this broken world (or the best bad choice). This is where LiVecche loses me….that somehow it’s a totally loving choice towards the one we kill. It seems he goes too far in trying to erase all moral injury for combat veterans in his argument and I wonder if he takes it too far? Lots to ponder!
Scott,
Truly no easy answers. However, I do understand why LiVecche uses the point of a loving choice. Love, not of war, but of the principles that need to be defended, or the people that need to be kept safe. Personally, I don’t know how someone can kill another person, but I have never been put in that position. Would I kill to defend my husband, daughters, sons-in-law or grandchildren? I really don’t know if I could, but then again, out of love for them, I probably would.
Thank you for such a thought provoking post.
Like a number of our peers, I so appreciate how you personalized your post. It’s important to have names and faces to our stories, and not just inanimate objects (countries, buildings, compounds, etc) that bombs drop upon. These are real people dying, and real people “doing the dying” both a those in a position to kill during war, and at the same time, “dying” inside because of the ongoing soul wounds. Appreciate you and your post Esther!
John,
The term “soul wound” is one that haunted me as I read LiVecche’s book. These wounds of war are so much deeper than we can imagine. Though a just war is at times needed, knowing that each casualty has a name and a face brings us face-to-face with humanity and how God must grieve over the plight of man.
Hi Ester,
You wrote, “Their sacrifice is often not only the experience of their time in uniform but rather the ongoing trauma of their sacrifice.”
There is just no going back when one causes death. It could be a traffic accident, or when your ship smashes into a bridge killing the immigrants working on it.
I think that is correct for us to be so troubled. To grieve. What kind of human would we be if we didn’t.
But my prayer is that pastors with soldiers in their congregations can wrestle with this topic BEFORE we have the inevitable conflict that takes our sons and daughters from us.
Before they depart, we need to give them armor for their souls.
Shalom..
Russell,
What an excellent way to put it, “armor for their souls.”
I also often think of the chaplains who are called in in times of war. What powerful forces they are of God’s grace and mercy.
HI Esther-
One of the things that I like about your post is that you really created personal connections to the ramifications of our policies. One was with Buck, who is living through the personal impact of a 30 year-old experience that was imposed on him by his leaders. This cost is hard to calculate and I think often minimized when leaders make all kinds of decisions- not just those involving violence.
Second, I appreciate your highlighting the somewhat intangible role of our souls should play in weighing out our choices in this domain. I recall from earlier lectures I have heard supporting pacifism that at its core, the argument against war is to provide our enemy with as many chances for redemption as possible.
There are so many ways to look at morality of the political choices we make as a country. Sitting in the location you do, how do you create space for your congregants to have the inevitable varied viewpoints?
Jen,
Remaining curious is one way to handle varying views. We all take stands based on our experiences, understandings, and values. Trying to see beyond the differing stance of a person and their why, creates the ability to validate that person while still disagreeing.
Also, your comment on pacifism as giving opportunity for redemption is a very heroic motivation. I think of Jim Elliott and his friends who died in Ecuador while trying to share the gospel with the Huaorani people. They had weapons but refused to use them because they knew their eternal destiny whereas the Huaorani people did not have that hope. That shows the deep love they already had for this unreached people group.
Thank you for sharing Buck’s story. What a concrete reminder that meeting Jesus changes our lives, and yet does not completely erase the past. Through friendship and understanding, as you say, we can journey together as changed but imperfect humans. Thanks for your thoughtful post, Esther!