The Priest

I dreamt about my grandfather last night; the Reverend Fred Rea who died in his bed in 1984 after a mercifully brief battle with pneumonia.  Gramps never really died however because he crops up in my dreams every so often.  Sometimes it's just a quiet, smiling presence.  Sometimes he's taking a walk with my brother and me as he used to do in Zimbabwe's Eastern Highlands when we were kids. Last night he was - somewhat improbably given his staunch Methodist position on liquor - assisting as a barman at a charity event I was attending.  It was he who taught me (patiently) how to play golf (impatiently) and much of my earlier church memories revolve around the stirring and erudite sermons he was known for.

Last night's dream came hours after a cell group discussion on 1 Peter 2 vs. 9 in which we examined the servant heart we believers are required to adopt when we operate within the systems of this world. "

"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light"

Earlier yesterday, I had been listening to an audio book entitled "What it's like to Go to War" by Vietnam veteran Karl Marlantes.  At 18, the author abandoned a Rhodes Scholarship for a place at West Point.  Soon after, he was serving his country as a second lieutenant in Vietnam.  Marlantes recalls the particularly violent defense of a forward operating base on the border of Vietnam and Laos in which he and is men were nearly over-run by the NVA.  It was Christmas but the enemy didn't seem to care. Shortly after the firefight, a helicopter arrived to deliver ammo, medical supplies and mail.  On the helicopter was the Army Chaplain who, writes Marlantes, was "armed with a case of Jack Daniels and a fresh supply of dirty jokes".  Marlantes was furious.  Here was the one man who could provide perspective on the atrocities that had just taken place - yet all he could do was lower himself to the level of his surroundings.  He probably thought he was doing the men a favour.

A couple of years before her death in 1997, my grandmother wrote a book about her and Fred's lives as Irish missionaries in Africa.  It was entitled "The Best is Yet to Be" and, amongst many other nuggets of wisdom, contains excerpts from my grandfather's war diaries.

During World War II, Fred had served as a Chaplain in the SA 6th Armoured Division that fought in Egypt and Italy.  He occupied the rank of Captain and was exposed to more peril and horror in 5 years than most people see in a lifetime.  My brother and I were mostly oblivious to this, romanced by the popular images and vainglorious stories of WWII found between the pages of the Victor and Hotspur annuals.  But once when I was very young, I remember showing him a picture I'd drawn of a battle scene.  It contained all sorts of detail:  tanks, soldiers, planes and even mortar explosions.  "That's not what mortar explosions look like" he said with a frown as he took the pencil from me,  "when they explode they look more like this..."  

As I contemplate servanthood and the true meaning of priestly duty I am reminded of a section in my Gran's book containing the citation that accompanied his decoration as a Member of the British Empire. This honour he received for his "consistently magnificent example in disregard for personal safety".  I am most proud of what it says and it inspires me whenever I feel I am losing my grip.  It reads:

Award of the M.B.E. (Military Division) to Captain the Rev. Frederick Beattie Rea

Captain Rea received his MBE for inspiring devotion to duty, outstanding courage beyond the call of duty, and for his consistently magnificent example in disregard for personal safety.

Throughout the campaign in Italy, with the 6th S.A. Armoured Division, Padre Rea was attached to the Engineers and Signal Corps.

During this time Padre Rea never spared himself the smallest effort.  He visited the troops in the most inaccessible places, lived with them, worked, talked and laughed with them.  Whenever he heard of troops moving forward, he was there in his unassuming and reassuring way.  if on arrival he found, as he often did, that the troops were going out to repair demolitions under cover of darkness, his normal request was to be given a shovel and to be allowed to join the working party.

His ready smile and reassuring manner, together with his complete disregard for personal safety and discomfort, have been an inspiration and example to all ranks and a factor in morale which is unsurpassed.

Added to this, his practical work in attending men and preparing the dead for burial was done with such dignity and grace that even this became a source of inspiration for all present.

If ever there was a priest AND a servant then surely Fred Rea was it.