Paul praised Timothy as a "good soldier of Christ Jesus," and through the centuries, Christians have drawn on the military image of subservient, sacrificial duty to help explain the disciple’s calling. But now the image seems to be shifting. Consider the new Army ad-campaign slogan, "An Army of one."
From a military standpoint, I’m not sure it’s going to thrill junior officers and NCO’s. After all, they’ll have to lead these little individual armies.
Sure, every soldier should see himself as a broadly-competent, count-on-me guy. Cooks need to be marksmen. Isolated riflemen need to be able to scrounge for food in survival, escape, and evasion. All personnel need to serve as though big things depended upon them. And we certainly prize initiative.
But, imagine the poor lieutenant faced with picking guys for some stay-behind detail while the rest of the platoon heads out for some cool exercise with helicopters and all. "But Sir, you don’t understand. I’m more than a rifle range custodian. I’m an Army of one." And what of the truck driver who pulls out of convoy and passes the others so he can get his stuff there first? "What did you think you were doing, Hampton?!" "Sir. Army of one, Sir."
In the face of some disappointing recruiting numbers, the Army has turned to a new ad agency, Leo Burnett of Chicago, who brought us the Marlboro Man. Burnett and outgoing Army Secretary Louis Caldera reason that today’s young are so individualistic and wary of being lost in the crowd that you need to make your pitch beyond their desire for personal maturity ("Be all that you can be") to their "me-now" orientation.
You just hope you don’t get this from the new recruits: "Sorry, Sergeant, I’m not an autumn. That olive drab just doesn’t work with my colors. Anything in a charcoal? That would be best for my Army, namely for me, the Army of one."
The Marines are doing fine with recruitment, and yes, they focus on the quality of the individual; you will be a Marine. But Marines are not Lone Rangers. They’re a part of "The Few. The Proud. The Marines." They’re committed to "The Corps." And "Semper Fi" doesn’t mean, "Always Faithful to Me-Now."
In one of my Army courses, they taught us that each service had its paradigm - the Air Force fighter pilot; the Navy’s carrier captain. But for the Army, it was the citizen soldier, motivated by devotion to duty, honor, and country - John Q. Public joining ranks with millions of farm boys, street toughs, bookworms, and jocks, torn from their mothers’ arms to be sheared, rudely awakened, armed, and barked into formations of another’s choosing.
Somewhere along the line, they came to realize that the universe did not revolve around their self-esteem. But now we seem to be going in the other direction. Instead of "I’m in the Corps," we’re getting, "I’m the core."
Don’t misunderstand me. Army service generates a great deal of pride and self-assurance, but it’s essentially team pride - your squad scored best on the M-16; your platoon aced the compass course; your company led the battalion movement to contact; you wear the Screaming Eagle patch.
In the 1980’s, I reread the Army field manual on leadership. I was surprised to see how it had changed since my ROTC days in the late 1960’s. For one thing, it gave prominent play to psychologist Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs, with food at the bottom and self-actualization at the top. The book said that leaders needed to address needs at all levels.
Well, okay, but we need to be careful. How does this work when a commander has to ask a small unit to hold key terrain and essentially die in place to buy time so that the larger body can maneuver to safety or to tactical advantage elsewhere? "But Captain, what about my self-actualization?" Can Maslow trump service unto death?
It was 2:00 or 3:00 a.m., July 1968, and we’d just stumbled off the trucks in the company street of our tent city, Camp Eagle, Ft. Sill. We were exhausted from a night patrol exercise tacked onto a full day of training in the West Oklahoma wind and sun. Now for a little rack time.
Not so fast. A rifle was missing.
"So what? I have mine."
Our commander explained that nobody went to bed until the weapon was found, never mind that it wasn’t your weapon. You weren’t an island. You were responsible for checking on your buddy, making sure he was squared away.
Just as we were about to remount the trucks, they found the rifle under the seat in one of the cabs, so we were off the hook. But you can bet we lived at an entirely different level of teamship after that.
Secretary Caldera says that soldiers can learn all that stuff about selflessness once they enlist. I hope so. But I wish the Army would play against rather than to the cultural trend. Let me propose, "Tired of being an army of one? Join the real Army. Duty. Honor. Country."
And, pastors, let’s not even think of trying to "enlist" folks with the slogan, "A Church of One." (See 1 Corinthians 12)
(This piece first appeared in Baptist Press.)