That We All May Be One

Ted Gup’s op ed piece in today’s New York Times stirred up some old emotions in me. Entitled “Why Trump Is Not Like Other Draft Dodgers” (and subtitled “Men like me who didn’t fight owe a debt to those who did”) the article tells Gup’s story of paying a psychiatrist to diagnose him as having “delusions of grandeur” so he could avoid responding to his number-one-in-the-draft-lottery-status in 1969 and so skip being shipped off to Viet Nam.

I remember the night of that lottery very well. My number was a very high one, but I had already been granted an exemption because I was to attend seminary that fall and, since the Civil War, clergy (and, by implication, divinity school students) have been eligible for such exemptions. I had agonized over the decision to avoid military service. My father had been a B-24 bomber pilot in WW II, my grandfather a balloon surveillance officer in WW I. I had done two years of ROTC at the University of Florida and always assumed I would follow my family tradition of military service.

But this was Viet Nam and I was on a campus during the turbulent 1960s. I had come to believe that the Viet Nam enterprise was not only foolish, but morally bankrupt and was not worthy of our nations’s involvement or the loss of one young life. Mr. Gup has always felt guilty for not serving, believing his actions to avoid the draft were motivated by cowardice and careerism.

I am not a coward and my “career” was not advanced by choosing not to serve in the military. I was not afraid of going to Viet Nam. I was not even afraid of facing possible death. I was morally opposed to the war. Not to all wars for I am not a pacifist. Sometimes military interventions are for the purposes of genuine national defense or to protect innocent victims of some tyrant’s brutality. Viet Nam was neither of these.

Those of us who protested that war never blamed the soldiers on the ground. We knew that they were doing their duty, that many of them behaved heroically, and we knew far too many of them as friends and lovers who never came back. We honored then, and honor now, their service. Our beef was with the government and decisions that were made which got us into that war in the first place, stretching back decades.

Since I had worked in hospitals over the years, I briefly considered going into the Army as a medic, but finally decided that any involvement in the military in those days would be tacit support for the war. And I could not do that. I finally reconciled myself to the decision by committing myself to serve my family, community, nation, and world as best I could by the dedicated life of an Episcopal priest.

Have I felt guilty about that decision? Well, I am guilty of it. Guilt is not a feeling; it is a state of being. Either you are guilty of something or you are not. Have I felt ashamed or sorrowful about it? More “conflicted,” I think, than ashamed.  I remember reading of Bill Clinton’s wrestling with this same issue and coming out on the side of avoiding military service. I expect he feels as conflicted about that decision today as I do.

I wish the idea of “alternative service” to the nation had been as well developed in those days as it is becoming today. I believe that every young person would benefit, and so would the country at large, from a couple of years of compulsory service in education, health care, infrastructure development, or other forms of national service.

Some, perhaps many, would consider me a draft dodger of the same ilk as Ted Gup and those who fled to Canada or otherwise went “underground” rather than fight in Viet Nam in those years. Clearly, I used my privilege to avoid military service. Many others were not so fortunate. I hope my life has been of some service to this country and its people as well as to my church and its members.

I still believe Viet Nam was wrong (as have been a number of wars since then). I am glad I did not support it or become involved in it.  But I grieve for those who did…and for those who died. I would make the same decision today. And would probably be as conflicted about it as I was then.

I hope we all learned some lessons from those years.

But I’m not sure we did.

While Hillary Clinton in 2008 tended to downplay the historic significance of the first woman President of the United States, this year she seems more ready to capitalize on that possibility. Her artful turning back of Donald Trump’s “playing the woman card” by listing certain “women’s issues” she would support and then capping the list with “Deal me in!” has been picked up by many supporters.

Jodi Kantor of the New York Times points out some upsides of a woman being elected for the first time: “The president would know what it is like to be pregnant. Top military leaders would answer to a female boss, when there has never even been a woman on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Workplaces and home life could be transformed through expanded parental leave and pay equity.”

But then, the reality check: “Or nothing could happen. The symbolism would be super-nova-level. The backlash could be withering.”  Of course, no one can predict what the possible election of a female chief executive of the U.S. — and particularly this female — would mean. Here are a few thoughts from my perspective in the Episcopal Church.

After decades of debate and struggle, women were ordained deacons in our church in 1971, officially approved to be ordained priest (after some “irregular ordinations in Philadelphia) in 1976, and Barbara Harris was elected as the first female bishop in the Episcopal Church and Anglican Communion in 1989. Katharine Jefferts Schori became the first woman Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church and first Primate in the Anglican Communion in 2006.

What have we learned? Well, first of all, that women’s gifts and perspectives have mightily influenced and greatly enriched the ethos of our church. I will never forget how the very presence of Barbara Harris (alone for some time and then joined by other women) absolutely transformed the culture and quality of discourse in the House of Bishops.

Stereotypical (but nonetheless often accurate) qualities such as a more collaborative leadership style, the actual experience of being a woman confronting the challenges and opportunities they alone face, and a more compassionate (dare I say “maternal” ?) perspective on those who are often neglected and overlooked have “humanized” our church and made us more open and accepting of all people. Less judgmental.

Does this always occur in the ministries of ordained women? Of course not. It is tempting and sometimes easier for them to join the “good old boys club,” to “go along to get along” in the career path they have chosen. But, by and large, I will say once again that the leadership of women in our church has been an enormous blessing and I am grateful to them, and their supporters and friends, who bore the heat of the battle to make their inclusion possible.

When Katharine Jefferts Schori was elected Presiding Bishop we got an opportunity to see a woman operate, in our context, on the highest levels of executive leadership. Overall, she provided strong, thoughtful, prayerful, and prophetic leadership during challenging times in our church’s life. I did not always agree with her, particularly some decisions she made with respect to the hiring and firing of staff and what I perceived as a certain lack of involvement and support for her team at the Church Center (of which, in total transparency, I was a part).

But whatever mistakes or blind spots she may have had, from my perspective, they had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she was a woman. Many other bishops (myself included) have made similar errors over the years. Katharine’s overall record as the Presiding Bishop of our church was stellar and I have no doubt that we chose the right person for the right time in our history.

I believe that much of what has just been said will apply to Hillary Rodham Clinton. Is she the perfect candidate? Absolutely not. Has she made mistakes and even errors of judgment in the past? You bet. Is she part of the “political establishment” in a year when so many are looking to “throw the bums out” and start all over again? Unfortunately, yes.

But I agree with our current President that there may have never been a nominee for this office more qualified than Hillary Clinton. Her experience is unmatched. Her temperament nearly ideal. Her toughness demonstrable. Her compassion lifelong.

In short, I would not vote for Hillary Clinton solely because she is a woman. But, because she is otherwise uniquely qualified to shoulder this enormous responsibility, I look forward with delight to the particular perspectives and gifts she will bring as a daughter and mother, wife and grandmother — but most of all, because she is a woman!