From BBC:
How does a chaplain reconcile his faith with serving in the armed forces? Padre Clinton Langston, who has served in Omagh, Bosnia and now a training camp in Staffordshire, explains his calling. Joining the Army was not an easy decision for me; I did have to go through a lot of soul-searching. But I feel that in this imperfect world of ours, there comes a point when diplomacy fails because people don't listen.
People do hurt others, threaten others, and appealing to their better nature doesn't always work. History reveals that for us. So sometimes people have to be physically stopped. That is why I feel I can serve in the Army. But I appreciate that there are Christians - and people of other faiths - who believe that force is not the answer.
Recently a recruit pointed out that one of the 10 Commandments is 'Thou shalt not kill'; but as I read them out last Sunday I realised that it says 'Thou shalt not murder'. Sometimes the government does give the right to its armed forces to take other people's lives.
Some ask me to pray for help with their map-reading - I can relate to that one
Clinton Langston
My job as a padre - as the Army refers to its priests, chaplains and so on - is not to oil the wheels of war but to help the humanity caught up in it. We do wear fatigues, but the fact that we do not carry weapons is symbolic of our peaceful role.
I carry in my mind this story about a padre in World War II; following the ferocious fighting after D-Day, a British soldier saw this padre coming down the road and realised that was what he was fighting for - to be able to live in peace, to not have to carry a weapon. He saw that padre as an image of peace, an image of home.
Even in peace time - or here, at a training regiment - the Army aims to develop the whole person, so moral and spiritual training is as important as the physical and mental skills needed to be a soldier.
My job is to run services every Sunday as well as courses on the Army's core values - I expect there are recruits who think they must have signed up to train as a monk, not a soldier. So I have to get where they are, to explain why I'm here and how I can help even those who don't believe in God. If nothing else, the church can provide a moment's stillness from the bustle and shouting of the barracks.
It's quiet in here; a recruit can sit and think, or ask me to pray for their loved ones. Some, if they're struggling, might even ask me to pray for help with their map-reading - I can relate to that one, having had to do basic training when I joined up.
The church here at ATR Lichfield is quite unusual in that it's a lovely Victorian era chapel - in my 10 years in the Army I've worked out of a converted garage, a leaky 60s church, even the back of a lorry out in the field.
In Bosnia, it was the shooting gallery in the bombed-out stadium where ice dancers Torvill and Dean won their gold medal in 1984 - the Olympic sign was still clinging to the roof. Because accommodation was so tight, a lot of the American soldiers had to stay there too - during services, the hymns were sometimes interrupted by loud snores.
Just as happened in build-up to the Falklands war, the Army chapels in the Gulf are getting fuller and fuller.
For if you're facing the possibility of your own death - and that of friends and colleagues - it can be a time to reflect on the quality of life that you've had, and on questions of faith and spirituality.
It's important that soldiers wrestle with these questions; imagine getting into a situation where you may have to put your life on the line and you've not given it any thought - it's going to cause you no end of anguish.
So it's very important that a chaplain be on hand to provide support and encouragement. It's also a marvellous opportunity to spread the word of God to people who wouldn't otherwise go to church.
How does a chaplain reconcile his faith with serving in the armed forces? Padre Clinton Langston, who has served in Omagh, Bosnia and now a training camp in Staffordshire, explains his calling. Joining the Army was not an easy decision for me; I did have to go through a lot of soul-searching. But I feel that in this imperfect world of ours, there comes a point when diplomacy fails because people don't listen.
People do hurt others, threaten others, and appealing to their better nature doesn't always work. History reveals that for us. So sometimes people have to be physically stopped. That is why I feel I can serve in the Army. But I appreciate that there are Christians - and people of other faiths - who believe that force is not the answer.
Recently a recruit pointed out that one of the 10 Commandments is 'Thou shalt not kill'; but as I read them out last Sunday I realised that it says 'Thou shalt not murder'. Sometimes the government does give the right to its armed forces to take other people's lives.
Some ask me to pray for help with their map-reading - I can relate to that one
Clinton Langston
My job as a padre - as the Army refers to its priests, chaplains and so on - is not to oil the wheels of war but to help the humanity caught up in it. We do wear fatigues, but the fact that we do not carry weapons is symbolic of our peaceful role.
I carry in my mind this story about a padre in World War II; following the ferocious fighting after D-Day, a British soldier saw this padre coming down the road and realised that was what he was fighting for - to be able to live in peace, to not have to carry a weapon. He saw that padre as an image of peace, an image of home.
Even in peace time - or here, at a training regiment - the Army aims to develop the whole person, so moral and spiritual training is as important as the physical and mental skills needed to be a soldier.
My job is to run services every Sunday as well as courses on the Army's core values - I expect there are recruits who think they must have signed up to train as a monk, not a soldier. So I have to get where they are, to explain why I'm here and how I can help even those who don't believe in God. If nothing else, the church can provide a moment's stillness from the bustle and shouting of the barracks.
It's quiet in here; a recruit can sit and think, or ask me to pray for their loved ones. Some, if they're struggling, might even ask me to pray for help with their map-reading - I can relate to that one, having had to do basic training when I joined up.
The church here at ATR Lichfield is quite unusual in that it's a lovely Victorian era chapel - in my 10 years in the Army I've worked out of a converted garage, a leaky 60s church, even the back of a lorry out in the field.
In Bosnia, it was the shooting gallery in the bombed-out stadium where ice dancers Torvill and Dean won their gold medal in 1984 - the Olympic sign was still clinging to the roof. Because accommodation was so tight, a lot of the American soldiers had to stay there too - during services, the hymns were sometimes interrupted by loud snores.
Just as happened in build-up to the Falklands war, the Army chapels in the Gulf are getting fuller and fuller.
For if you're facing the possibility of your own death - and that of friends and colleagues - it can be a time to reflect on the quality of life that you've had, and on questions of faith and spirituality.
It's important that soldiers wrestle with these questions; imagine getting into a situation where you may have to put your life on the line and you've not given it any thought - it's going to cause you no end of anguish.
So it's very important that a chaplain be on hand to provide support and encouragement. It's also a marvellous opportunity to spread the word of God to people who wouldn't otherwise go to church.
