by Daniel Gibbs
David recalled in his childhood how his father would read the Torah to him. He used to tell me that because I was named David, someday I would grow up to be strong and mighty in the eyes of God. I wonder what he thinks of me now?
“David goes on to say that God sets a table before us, in the presence of our enemies, He anoints us with oil and our cup overflows. He finishes his psalm by asking that only goodness and kindness pursue him throughout his life and that he be allowed to dwell in the house of the Lord forever. What can we learn from this today? Jewish tradition states that David wrote this after being miraculously saved by God. I believe the text illustrates his faith in God and serves as a roadmap for the rest of us. Regardless of the horror of the days we lived before this day, God delivered us and allowed us to see today. I believe the fact of our survival means anything is possible, and I charge all of you, regardless of our beliefs, to not give up, do not fear this enemy we fight… but to press on. I will now say a traditional Jewish prayer for the dead, again in English, so that everyone may follow. Yes, I know my Orthodox brethren, it’s not how we normally do it. Today is not a normal day. This prayer is known as the Kel Maleh Rachamim. The literal translation from Hebrew is God, full of compassion,” Kravitz finished with a smile, before bowing his head.
As the sermon went on, David found himself checking out more and more. Why does God allow this? So many dead, maimed, and lost… why? Still, he was a Jew, and bowed his head for the traditional prayer, whispering along in Hebrew.
“God, full of mercy, who dwells in the heights, provide a sure rest upon the Divine Presence’s wings, with the range of the holy, pure, and glorious, whose shining resemble the sky’s, to the souls of those who perished in our battle against the League of Sol, for a charity was given to the memory of their souls. Therefore, the Master of Mercy will protect them forever, from behind the hiding of His wings, and will tie his soul with the rope of life. The Everlasting is their heritage, and they shall rest peacefully upon His lying place. Let us say amen.”
“Amen,” David said along with virtually everyone else in the hangar; it was a sound that shook the deck plates.
“Thank you all, and may God have mercy on us. General?” Kravitz said, stepping back and turning toward David.
David stood and approached the podium, exchanging a heartfelt hug with Kravitz as he did. In place of his now normal Lion of Judah ballcap, he wore a small black yarmulke that was pinned to his hair. I can’t show my feelings here. I must soldier on and show them confidence. Grasping the podium with both hands, he leaned forward to speak loudly into the microphone. “Thank you, Rabbi, for those words and a time-honored prayer for the dead. Today wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to win the victory without significant loss of life, with a clear-cut triumph of Terran Coalition and Saurian Imperial technology and fighting spirit over the massed manpower of the League of Sol. But it didn’t happen,” he said, his gaze sweeping the thousands of men and women seated on the deck. “And here we lie. We honor our dead, we remember their sacrifice, and then we must move on. We must fight another day and finish this battle with a victory. Serving alongside all of you is an honor. I want everyone to know that. Admiral Kartal considered leading this fleet the greatest honor of his life, and he died so that we might live. Wherever you are now, Admiral, Godspeed.”
David clenched his lips together, fighting to control his emotions. “We will begin with the Islamic funeral rite. Please welcome the Lion’s imam, Major Mahmoud Karim.”
Once David had walked away from the podium, a symbolic coffin—a simple pine box—was brought to the front of the room by several soldiers in dress uniforms. They were wearing traditional Islamic head coverings, known as taqiyahs. As they performed their duty, another man walked to the front of the room and took the podium. He, too, wore a CDF uniform, with the flag of the Arab Republic in the country position. “I greet you all in the name of the prophet Muhammad, and by the grace of Allah. I am Major Mahmoud Karim, the Imam assigned to minister to the faithful on the Lion of Judah. I want to thank General Cohen for his words of encouragement in what is a fateful hour. Our non-Muslim brothers and sisters, please feel free to join in as you wish, or to watch in silence as we perform the customary prayers for the dead.”
Mahmoud stepped down from the podium and turned to face the portable qiblah; it indicated the direction of Mecca so that the Muslims in the room could pray as the Quran instructed. He led them in a recitation of the traditional prayers, beginning with the Al-Fatiha. Afterward, he spoke in English for the benefit of all who had gathered, reciting the prayer of Muhammad for the dead.
“O God, if those who have died were doers of good, then increase their good deeds. If they were wrongdoers, then overlook their bad deeds. O God, forgive them and give them the steadiness to say the right things. O God, give those who have perished a good home in the afterlife, protect them from the torment of the grave, and save them from the fires of Hell,” Mahmoud prayed before reciting a final verse in Arabic. “Assalaamu ‘alakum warahmatuallah,” he said before smiling and repeating the phrase in English. “Peace and blessings of God be unto you.”
Mahmoud waited as the Muslims continued to sit on the deck but turned back to face him on the podium. “Brothers and sisters, thank you for coming to see our hallowed dead off into eternity. I echo the sentiments of Rabbi Kravitz in that I believe God weeps for those who were lost… I also believe Allah smiles on those of us who remain. In Islam, a funeral is a simple affair. We all know death will visit us, and we long for the ever-after. There is something that I believe must be said, however. I would say this to anyone in this hangar, regardless of if you are Muslim, a believer in any religion, or nothing but science and reason. In the end, this is all we have left,” he said while gesturing toward the pine box. “Wealth, fame, and things all mean nothing because someday we will all perish. Once we die, we will be judged by God. He will weigh our lives, and everything that we have done will be put in the balance. If there is only one thing you leave here with today, let it be that what we do matters. How we treat each other, how we conduct ourselves, how we are truthful or dishonest, how we are kind or mean, how we obey the Commandments, which most of our religions agree upon, or flagrantly break them personal gain. Consider your motivations and your actions… If there’s the remotest possibility they are wrong, think on this. For we will all be judged, brothers and sisters. I don’t wish to be found wanting when that occurs. Thank you, and may Allah protect us, guide us, and help us to win victory over the infidels of the League of Sol!”
Leave it to the imam to put life into perspective. The pine box is a nice touch… what will happen when God finally judges me? David’s gaze swept the hangar and saw the vast majority of expressions were ones of contemplation.
Mahmoud walked away from the podium and took his place behind it on the stage, where the rest of the speakers sat. Next was a short, balding man who had old-style glasses that looked like antiques to David. He, too, wore a CDF uniform; he had no patch in the position for religion, and his country was denoted as the United States of America. He took the podium and looked out at the crowd before beginning to speak. “Soldiers of the CDF, warriors of the Royal Saurian Navy, and last but never least, Marines of the Terran Coalition Marine Corps, allow me to introduce myself as Chaplain Linden Fairchild. I’m a secular humanist, which I’m sure today is the first time most of you have seen one of my kind,” Linden said to polite chuckles.
“On days like today, even I wonder why there doesn’t seem to be a balance to the universe, a force that administers some form of justice. We’ve been united for centuries… our branch of humanity, striving to uphold a set of ideals. The brave men and women who died in this latest battle gave their lives to secure and safeguard those ideals. I don’t have prayers for you, I don’t have answers for you. What I ask you to do is to remember your friends and their sacrifices. If we never forget them, they never die. Imam Karin had some wise words for us. Do remember to b
e kind, to treat every day as if it was our last, to be the light we wish to see in the universe. We do this, not because we believe in a higher power that demands it of us, but because it’s just the right thing to do. Please join me in a moment of silence to honor those who were lost.”
David sat stoically. The hangar was so quiet that breathing was akin to shouting.
After a minute or so, Linden spoke once more. “Thank you all,” he said quietly and returned to his seat.
A woman then stood up; her CDF uniform bore the Christian flag in its religion location, directly under the flag of the Greater British Empire. She walked to the podium and adjusted its microphone up, as she was taller than Linden by several inches.
“Thank you, Chaplain Fairchild, Imam Karin, and Rabbi Kravitz. My name is Grace Estrada. I too am a chaplain in the Coalition Defense Force. I minister primarily to the Christian flock on this ship, and I feel the incredible sadness we all do today. It’s a pain deep within our souls. I don’t think there’s anyone in this room that hasn’t lost a friend in the last forty-eight hours,” Grace began.
“I’ve had so many come to me in the last day and ask why. Why does God let this happen? Why does God allow evil to exist… why does God allow the League of Sol to exist? There are many answers to those questions. Ideas based in theology, the Bible, and in what various priests, pastors, and ministers have written throughout history… all the way back to the Apostle Paul himself. I could sit here for hours today and talk about that, but it won’t bring back our friends.”
Grace paused for a moment. “Today, we have to continue. That is my mission in all of this, to minister to everyone. I believe to the depths of my soul that God loves all of us, that He gave up His only Son to save every human and every sentient form of life in this galaxy. The truth is, every being has free will to do whatever they desire. Some follow the path laid out for them; some do not. Some are acutely evil and delight in the harm and hurt of others. Some believe they can compel, by force of arms, everyone else to follow their beliefs. Ultimately, we can turn hurt and loss into something better. We can grow from it, we can embrace the idea we will see our friends and loved ones again someday after everything is said and done in this life.”
As she spoke, David found himself showing no outward emotion, but internally grappling with his innermost thoughts. Why is it that we continue to suffer loss after loss? Why is it that God, who says He is there for us, doesn’t appear to be around? Where is justice? Why did someone like Sheila have to die, why did all these people die just a couple of days ago?
“To go back to something I said when I started a few minutes ago, so many have asked me why evil is allowed to exist; why would God inflict it upon his creation? I’ve grappled with the question. I’ve come to this answer. Without evil, there can’t be good. Since we all choose our actions, if there were no evil, there would be no choices. Humans, Saurians, Matrinids; we would all be mindless automatons doing the will of a divine puppet master. I’m convinced God doesn’t want that. So, in his infinite wisdom, evil is allowed to exist for a time. After this life, however, our tears will be dried, and God will comfort us. The Bible tells us that those who are afflicted will be comforted and that someday we will know death, mourning, crying, and pain no more. I look forward to that day, but until it comes, we must strive to soldier on in our duties and our faith. Let us pray.”
David bowed his head respectfully as Grace led a prayer in the name of Jesus; at its conclusion, he uttered, “Amen.”
Then it was time for him to stand once more; he walked to the podium as Grace stepped away, thanking her with a handshake. Once there, he spoke into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the colors.”
Somberly, an honor guard marched into the hangar bay, on cue. Holding the flags of the Terran Coalition, the Saurian Empire, the Coalition Defense Force, Terran Coalition Marine Corps, and the Saurian Royal Navy out on poles, they moved with slow, deliberate precision to the middle of the space. The flags were kept standing high, while a group of five soldiers, some CDF, some Saurian, took a step forward and to the right.
“Present, arms!” the sergeant in charge shouted.
The five raised polished antique rifles to their shoulders and aimed them in the air.
“Fire!”
A volley rang out; blanks that only produced sound and smoke. After two more volleys were unleashed, the sergeant spoke again. “Port, arms!”
As the honor guard snapped their gleaming rifles back to their shoulders, a bugler began to play the notes to “Taps.” As its sad notes reverberated throughout the hangar, each one made David’s heart heavier. Finally, the last note died away, and two bagpipers in full kilts and Scottish regalia began to play “Amazing Grace.”
As the music to the old hymn swept through the hangar, almost everyone present was affected. Men, women, enlisted soldiers and officers, fleet soldiers and the Marines, human and Saurian, cried, hugged, and otherwise just for a few minutes let the pain flow out. Tears flowed down David’s face as he considered that at least some of the people who had died did so because of his orders. How could I feel so happy about escaping from Seville’s trap, that I bested the man and his evil army, when it cost so many lives? What am I becoming? Fighting down more emotions which would’ve left him sobbing on the podium in front of those that he led, he forced himself to remain in control. If only to be a strong example to the rest of them.
The next and final song was the CDF hymn, “Eternal Father, Strong to Save.” A staple of the armed forces for eight hundred years, it too had a solemn meaning. One voice, then many, then all assembled began to sing.
“Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm has bound the stars, who bidst the mighty void of space, its own appointed limits keep; Oh hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril in the void between the stars. O God of love and power! Our shield in danger’s hour, from tempest and storm, fire and foe. Protect us wherever we go; then evermore shall we sing to Thee, glad hymns of praise from stars and the void.”
Once the haunting melody to the hymn died away, David spoke once more. “Thank you all for attending today as we show honor to those who paid the ultimate price. In the days ahead, we must strive to ensure that they did not die in vain. We will face more death, more destruction. We will also find a way to defeat the League once more. You are dismissed.”
It took some time for the hangar bay to empty; David, for the most part, stood mutely, flanked by Aibek and Ruth. The others had blended into the crowd, while the chaplains did the same.
“Are you okay, sir?” Ruth asked.
“I’ll be okay, Lieutenant,” David replied, all the while his mind and feelings raged within. Why did this have to happen? It's like Sheila’s death all over again. Why couldn’t I make it better? “I suppose we’d better get back to our duties,” he said after a long pause. “God knows there’s a lot that needs to be done.”
“The Saurians are organizing what humans might refer to as a wake for our fallen warriors,” Aibek said. “I would like to attend.”
“Of course,” David said. “Take whatever time you need.”
“Thank you, sir,” Aibek replied. “Good day, Lieutenant Goldberg,” he said toward Ruth before walking off, leaving David and Ruth on the podium as the space continued to clear.
“I think I need some time alone,” David announced. Need to get away, clear my head, try to force myself onward, he thought.
“Are you sure, sir? Sometimes being alone can be bad at times like these,” Ruth countered.
“I think so, but thanks,” David answered, thankful that someone did care about his wellbeing. “Godspeed,” he said as he walked away, wading through the sea of people and out of the hangar.
Several hours later, David found himself in an even worse place mentally. It was hard enough during the service, around thousands of other people where he had to show strength and display the confidence expected of someone in command. Now, in his quarters at 2300 hours,
his real emotions surged to the surface. The specter of doubt and incompetence roared into his mind like a demon. I caused this. I let it all happen by not seeing through the League tricks sooner, one side of his mind said. Stop whining! It wasn’t your fault. They fooled everyone in the fleet, the other side of his brain replied.
Lost in depression, despondency, and general despair, he decided to make his way to the shul, in hopes that bearing his soul before the Lord would offer some comfort. At the late hour, there were very few crewmembers in the passageways of the Lion of Judah as he walked through them. Cold comfort that at least he didn’t have to face the people he felt he’d let down somehow. Walking into the synagogue, he removed his tallit gadol out of the simple cloth carrying bag his mother had given him at his bar mitzvah. One of his most prized possessions, he wore it every time he entered the shul.
There was no one present at this late hour, not even Rabbi Kravitz. David was thankful for the quiet, as he merely hoped to worship and commune with God in peace. Sitting down in the front row, he clasped his hands together and began to rock, as all Orthodox Jews did as they prayed. “Oh Lord, God of the universe, Creator of all things, hear my prayer, I beg You,” David began, speaking in Hebrew.