CENTER SECTION: CATHOLICS WITH DISABILITIES
When Veterans Come Home to Our Parishes

by Rick Curry  |  Summer 2009

In his letter to the Philippians, St. Paul exhorts us: “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others (Phil 2:4).

The return of Catholic veterans who have served in Iraq or Afghanistan provides us with the opportunity to celebrate the many gifts of individual members of the veteran’s parish community. The needs of the veterans are vast and complex but they will furnish the parish with a gifted moment for the expression of Christian faith in action. Members of the parish (and not just parish staff) can step up to help the returning veterans reintegrate into civilian life and help them regain their rightful place in society. This can be done in concrete ways. How, for instance, can you help? Begin by asking yourself what you do and what your gifts are. The veterans, along with their families, have many spiritual, physical, financial, legal, and emotional needs, and the parish is the perfect place to meet most of those challenges.

Whatever your political stance is on the present wars, the members of the military—all of whom are, in a sense, volunteers rather than drafted—and their families deserve our deep gratitude and support. The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are not exactly like any wars we have witnessed in our history. Because of the intensity of this experience many of the returning vets suffer from post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

PTSD is a condition that results from a life-threatening personal experience. It often produces intense psychological reactions in the forms of intrusive thoughts about the experience itself and fear-related avoidance of reminders.

I got a glimpse of this disorder when I was invited in 2003 to a reception in honor of newly returning veterans who had lost one or more limbs. The hosts of this reception thought it important to invite me because I had from birth a missing right forearm and I have also been dealing with persons with disabilities for the past thirty years in my work with the National Theatre Workshop of the Handicapped (NTWH) that I founded in 1977. However, little prepared me for what happened at that reception.

In the middle of the afternoon a young soldier who had lost a leg pulled me aside and sat me down at a table. He would not let go of my hand. His own hand trembled as he told me he had no idea what he was doing on this earth. He felt alien to his wife, his children, his boss, his parish community, and even to God. This sorrowful soldier told me that dealing with the loss of his leg was only the tip of the iceberg of the adjustments he felt were in front of him. He believed he was an outsider and he was unable to relate to his wife and family. He was overcome by a great sense of guilt and kept saying, “Brother Curry, I’ve seen too much.”

He was, however, most anxious to tell me the story of how he lost his leg and was equally determined to introduce me to his fellow military amputees, many of whom he had just met. Each vet greeted me warmly and asked how I lost my arm and then without further preamble immediately told me how he lost his own limb. Each story was unique and at the same time each veteran was proud that he could make this sacrifice for the country that he loved so much.

Returning home from that reception I wondered what NTWH could do to help these newly disabled veterans. NTWH had helped so many persons with disabilities by providing courses in the theater arts and thus enhancing not only their communication skills but also their self-confidence. I doubted that these “Wounded Warriors” would be very drawn to theater, but I believed that an introduction to the life of the imagination in a workshop setting was precisely the key to their personal healing. I also believed that before much healing would take place each injured warrior would have to come to grips with the fact that he or she was, in some cases, joining the ranks of the permanently disabled population. NTWH’s philosophy includes belief that the growth of the disabled artist is in direct proportion to that person’s acceptance of his or her disability as in some mysterious way a gift.

Recalling the warriors’ eagerness to tell me their stories gave me the idea that they might benefit enormously from the writers’ program that we offer to our students in our residential facility in Belfast, Maine. In our writers’ program we train the student to write a dramatic monologue and home in on one strong emotion whereby an audience begins to grasp with some understanding a facet of the disabled person’s life. We match up each disabled student with a gifted and eager writing teacher who guides the student through the sometimes emotional waters of “getting their story out.”

We began the Wounded Warriors Writers’ program in the summer of 2004, and the results have been outstanding. We not only got some terrific monologues from veterans but we encouraged many of them to perform their own monologues in front of a live audience. The interaction that took place between the audience and the monologists was transformational for all involved. The experience of the monologist to be able to tell the story without fear of being interrupted was therapeutic for many of them, and it gave them courage to begin the healing of PTSD. In other words, this theatrical experience validated them.

During these ten-day workshops there were more personal moments outside the classroom from which we learned of the many challenges that these valiant young men and women have faced upon their return to civilian life. Their needs are many, but they are proud, and often it takes time for them to ask for help. For the past year, with the encouragement of Georgetown University’s president, John DeGioia, I have been exploring ways that the university can help the Warriors make a transition into productive civilian lives.

Like a parish, a university has many resources that might not be self-evident. Certainly the university could offer some academic courses to help the returning vets, but upon exploration we discovered a treasure trove of other possibilities. For instance, a group of physicians and scientists at the Medical College suggested they could offer neurological testing for the vets, while the Law School offered these returnees legal advice. The students pursuing MBA degrees have volunteered to help with financial counseling while other students provided tutoring assistance in reading and writing. Campus Ministry has begun to schedule retreats for the Wounded Warriors. Gym facilities at Georgetown Prep have been made available, and a group of personal trainers have volunteered to help the vets regain some semblance of their former physical prowess. Georgetown’s Student Services and its School of Continuing Education have offered career counseling. We are presently forming an advisory board of generous folk who want to meet regularly and discover additional ways in which boldly and imaginatively the university can assist the vets as well as their families.

It seems to me that a parish could be even more helpful because a parish could assess the vet’s family needs in a very personal and direct way. Each parish has such great talent among its members, and these members could make the lives of returning vets and their family much more tolerable. It just takes imagination.

Remember that each person who entered the military thought that he or she was doing something very special for our country. It is now our hope and expectation that these veterans will be treated as special people upon their return. Ministry to families challenged by post-deployment issues is often overlooked, but it’s a huge opportunity and grace for a parish to embrace its fellow parishioners in need. Combat usually affects soldiers’ relationship with God. It deepens their faith but it can also produce temporary disillusionment or bitterness. A parish alert to the vets’ needs and the needs of their families can deepen its own experience of the goodness of God. By helping to look after our returning veterans, a parish has an opportunity to unselfconsciously renew itself and in so doing truly celebrate this Year of St. Paul by “looking after the needs of others.”

Brother Rick Curry, SJ, Ph.D., is the founder and director of the National Theatre Workshop of the Handicapped and director, Veterans Academy at Georgetown University, Washington, D.C.