To Battle We Go: Hallowed Ground
I was privileged as a military bandsman to play for hundreds of funerals at Arlington National Cemetery. Arlington has a special place in our national consciousness because it is near Washington, D.C., and because so many well-known people are buried there, including presidents, high ranking military leaders, and, by contrast, the nameless soldiers interred in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I often read the nearby identical grave markers during funerals and noticed the lowliest privates buried right next to famous four-star generals. At Arlington, everyone is just a soldier.
Funerals at Arlington are beautiful and quite moving. A horse-drawn caisson transports the casket from the chapel to the graveside accompanied by a somber funeral drum cadence. Once at the graveside, body bearers slow-march the casket from the caisson to the grave, accompanied by hymns from the band. At the end of the graveside service a rifle team fires a gun salute and Taps is played, after which the body bearers fold the flag and present it to the family. It’s like a carefully choreographed, slow-motion military ballet.
Our military services spend this kind of money and manpower on funerals to honor the service of deceased veterans. Of course, anyone willing to give up his or her life for their country deserves such a grand sendoff. But military funerals also have a powerful effect on current service members. They evoke a sense of gratitude for the sacrifices made for our country by those being buried, and this is heightened by seeing the thousands upon thousands of similar graves at Arlington. And, somehow, this feeling of gratitude encourages living service members to do their duty and to live up to the standard set by those who have come before them, to not let them down.
Recently, I had the honor of serving as a pall bearer for the funeral of Major David Varney, my “uncle-in-law.” Uncle David, a wonderful saint of God, enthusiastic Salvation Army musician, and encourager to all, was buried at Westview Cemetery in Atlanta, which might be considered the Arlington Cemetery of the Southern Territory. Many Salvationists, from rank-and-file soldiers to well-known Army leaders are buried there, side by side. At Westview, everyone is just a soldier.
Like our military services, The Salvation Army spends money and manpower on funerals at Westview to honor the lives and ministry of fallen officers and soldiers. Uncle David’s committal service filled me with gratitude, not only for his contribution to my life, but through being present on that hallowed ground where I personally knew so many of those buried. At my age, they number in the hundreds at Westview. During the service, to name just one, I happened to look down and see the grave of my boyhood Sunday school teacher, Flora Moore.
The gratitude I felt in that quiet cemetery makes me want to do my duty, to live up to the standard of those who poured into my life. I don’t want to let down the “cloud of witnesses” who have gone before me. I encourage you to reflect on the lives of departed Salvationists who have poured into your life and give gratitude to God. Then, do your duty.