A Day at Sea with LT Yonatan M. Warren, US Navy

It begins with that God awful whistle. 

I don’t know who thought that giving a boatswain a whistle to blast into a microphone (sorry aboard ship it’s called the 1MC) was a good idea, but I would like to have words with that individual.

"Reveille! Reveille! Reveille! All hands heave out. Reveille!”

Fair boatswain, you thought you got me at that whistle.  But you are sorely mistaken.  I relish sleep, eat in the wardroom and don’t have to stand on line for breakfast.  I shall return to sleep!

And then.  The wake up song.

“Good morning.  This is your wake up song”

It doesn’t take more than two chords to recognize it.  It’s going to be either ZZ Top or…

“Let’s go girls.”

Oh no.

“Come on.”

Really?  Isn’t this a warship?

“I'm going out tonight, I'm feelin' alright, gonna let it all hang out…”

Its Women’s History Month aboard the USS Ashland and thanks to the Boatswains Mate working the 0200-0800 watch, I will have Shania Twain’s “Man! I feel like a woman!” in my head for the next day. next three days. 

Making matters worse, pulling from imagery lodged deep in my memory the song goes hand-in-hand with disturbing images of my holy friend, Rabbi Joshua Scott Rabin.  In drag. Making a run as top contestant in the 2000 Ms. Seaboard USY Pageant.  Nothing will ever purge that image.

Now, I’m awake.

I get dressed in the same pajamas that I wear every day: Woodland Marine Corps Cammies.  They might not be designed for sleeping, but they are super comfortable.  I head down to the wardroom for breakfast and a primer of coffee.  The first of what will inevitably be many cups.  0830: the first meeting.  Another day has officially begun for me and the Marines embarked out here.

I’m well into the third week of being at sea.  At this point, I only hit my head on something on average of twice per day.  I’m really getting good at that.  Though I will be walking with a severe hunch for several months following this little trip.

Days aboard the USS Ashland (LSD-42) flow into one another seamlessly.  The gentle rocking of the ship makes me sleepy at all times.  That is unless the ship is in extremely rough waters, when the crazy rocking makes me simultaneously sleepy and nauseous.

Speaking of rocking:  a physical training regimen is highly encouraged on ships like this (although there is very limited space in the gyms).  Things people don’t think about: when you run on a treadmill on a ship, sometimes you run downhill and sometimes you run very steeply uphill.

My schedule changes based on counseling needs and classes that I might be teaching.  Two days a week, I run a Bible Study.  We’re deep into the Book of Judges, and I have to tell you.  It’s pretty darn good.  I recommend reading it again, if it has been some time for you.  The whole thing is under 21 chapters (which I know for a fact is fewer than the first Hunger Games book).

Three times a week, I go up to the bridge at night.  With the helmsmen keeping the ship on course, quartermasters hovering over their charts (not maps, maps are of land; charts are for water), and boatswains doing whatever it is that boatswains do. 

At exactly 2155, a boatswain steps up to the 1MC.

“Tattoo.  Tattoo. Stand by for evening prayer.”

I get on the 1MC, do my thing.  Being liturgical I don’t mind repeating myself.  I pray about a trend of the day, muse about morale, or speak to fears.  The prayer is to put people’s minds at ease before shuffling into bed.  Like a big bedtime Sh’ma for 700 people.

“Help me, O God, to lie down in peace. Let me not be troubled by bad dreams. Grant that I may awaken, to a renewed life, again tomorrow. For you are our Eternal guardian, Source of comfort and peace.  And Let us say, Amen.

Good night, USS Ashland. Semper Fidelis, 31st MEU.   Rabs Out.”

Time to go to bed.

"Taps! Taps! Out all white lights. All hands turn in to their racks and maintain silence about the decks. Taps."

anchors aweigh

Well, Yoni is officially gone, off to spend 6-8 weeks on the USS Ashland as part of the 31^st Marine Expeditionary Unit.

While there was no official send-off with flags and balloons and a brass band (too many people and too much stuff to on-load, I guess), I did get a chance to visit the ship with Yoni a couple of days before he left. We weren’t on board for long – Yoni was just dropping off some of his bags – but it was long enough to check out the accommodations and get a sense for what it might be like to live on a US Navy vessel.

First of all, I have to say that ships were not built for people as tall as Yoni. Putting aside having to step through every porthole/doorway and the million and a half opportunities to trip there are onboard every day, Yoni barely cleared the light fixtures. I’m not convinced that he won’t come back with a permanently bruised head. At least he fit in his bed – even if it was just barely.

Speaking of beds. In the Officers’ berthings (apparently that’s the ship-appropriate word for room-where-people-sleep), or at least in Yoni’s, there were 4 beds – 2 sets of bunk beds. It was a small room, and that seemed crowded.

At least until I saw the Enlisted berthings. Their beds are – no joke – 4 high. And these are not rooms with high ceilings. And each set of beds is pushed right up against a second set of beds lengthwise, which I’m sure makes for some awkward accidental middle of the night cuddling.

Oh, and the stairs might as well be ladders. I thought about wearing a skirt the day we visited; let’s just say it’s a good thing I didn’t. It must be an excellent workout, though, just moving around the ship all day.

Even based on the 45 minutes I spent on board, it’s hard to imagine being able to live on a ship like that for two months or more. It certainly gives me new respect for people who elect to do so. I’m curious to see how it plays out for Yoni. I’m sure he’ll make the best of it, however the actual experience is, but here’s hoping he learns how not to bump his head everywhere he goes! It’s the little things. 

the weddiversary

This weekend, Yoni and I attended a “Weddiversary.” To make a long story short, a couple in the Jewish community was celebrating their 20^th anniversary and decided, since they had never had any kind of official wedding celebration, to combine an anniversary party with an – admittedly late – wedding ceremony.

Now, this would not necessarily be fodder for the blog, except for the fact that this is a mixed Jewish/Okinawan couple  who is very into the idea of creating their own rituals. As a result the Weddiversary (their term, not mine) was a strange and interesting blending of cultures and traditions.

There was a huppah.

The bride circled the groom seven times.

The ceremony was presided over by the couples’ two teenaged sons (ok, that’s not a tradition that belongs to either culture, but I though it was interesting – and adorable).

There was a sake tasting ceremony called San San Kudo.

Contemporary translations of the Sheva Brachot were recited.

After the glass was broken, there were both traditional Jewish and Okinawan dancing.

(There was even an old lady who did a dance with a sword!)

While the Weddiversary was a slightly strange experience, though, I’m not really writing about it for your collective amusement. Mostly, I respect what our friends tried to do with their ceremony/party (and how that is reflected in their everyday lives); they took elements from each of their cultures and brought them together the best way they know how. I think we all know that the decision to live a blended life is not always a smooth or uncomplicated one, but given that, and given how often I hear about differences tearing people apart, it’s sometimes nice to see an example of a family made stronger by their differences.

Plus – who doesn’t love a party?

Farewell Engineers. Hello MEU!

Seldom does a week go by without somebody asking why there are two Jewish chaplains in Okinawa. 

Sometimes people ask nicely:  “So what will you be doing now that Yonina is out here?”  Depending on my mood, I can answer either “My actual job: battalion chaplain and caring for the Marines”, “Same thing as you: getting a tan and watching the waves”, or some sort of pleasantries that lets on that we actual have different jobs.

                              

Some people ask me with pity: “Are you ok?  Do you have other work?” As if I was demoted because I didn’t do a good job.  I mentally stick my tongue out at those people, and gently remind them that my official title was never rabbi for the Jewish community of Okinawa, that was just something that got thrown at me as a collateral duty as I am also a rabbi.  I prayed for a rabbi to be assigned to base.

I am an operational chaplain (as opposed to the garrison or base chaplain).  While Yonina has a battalion at base, no slight to her - base jobs are sad jobs.  Chaplains want to be out in the field; its what separates us from working in a congregation.  Yonina is doing a good job with that; I'm glad that I don't have to do it anymore.  It's a hard primary job; It's really rough as a side job.  

Until this past week, my primary job was the 9th Engineer Support Battalion.  I had a battalion that maintains an operational tempo – gets out into the weeds, theoretically shoots at things and gets shot at by other things, and performs engineering work.  I like the engineers.

As of this week, that changes.  I will still like the engineers, but I'm moving to a CLB.  The operational tempo speeds up and the deployments begin.

Utilizing the fact that we can keep rabbis in multiple places out here, I will be deploying with the 31st Marine Expeditionary Unit.  Marines are notorious for being expeditionary.  They don’t wait for a fight to break out somewhere in the world before they deploy; instead, they throw a bunch of Marines on ships and send them out to wait for the fight to begin.  Combat Logistics Battalion – 31 deploys twice a year for a few months each time to provide Combat Service Support.  It’s pretty bad-ass.

I’ll get to be on a ship, and hopefully see some of the finest ports in South East Asia.  We’ll do Theater Security/Community Relations Projects in the Philippines, Thailand, Korea and Mainland Japan; we’ll be the first on scene for Humanitarian Assistance, Disaster Relief, Non-Combatant Evacuations, and the like throughout the region.  I’m pretty pumped.

Jewishly: it will be a little lonely, but I already started to find some Jews hidden in the woodwork.  As it goes, these are the true deployed Marines out here and they are never around for the chagim.  I will be sad to be apart from my beautiful loving and always compassionate wife for these days, but I’m glad that I’m going to get to do the rabbi stuff for people who are truly forward deployed – “at the tip of the spear” for the next year.

I will definitely miss the engineers, but I’m excited to do the true operational job.  That’s the work I signed up to do.  Now, we’ll just have to see where the wind takes us.

a rant

I rarely use this space to rant, but today it just seems like the right choice.

Last night, Yoni and I attended a ball celebrating the 238^th birthday of the US Navy Chaplain Corps. For the most part, we had a lovely evening.

What was the problem, you ask? Food. Of course.

Yoni and I are well-practiced at fighting food battles here in Okinawa. Most of the time we don’t get worked up about it because we go in expecting problems. But last night we had RSVP’d as vegetarians, and so we weren’t wearing our protective armor.

It was a four-course meal. The first course was a salad next to shrimp. No thank you. The next course was a (delicious looking) pumpkin soup, made with beef broth. Thanks, but no thanks. The (vegetarian) entrée was some weird bastardization of eggplant parmesan. And then there was dessert. We were frustrated but not particularly surprised that there was no vegetarian option for the first two courses. After all – T.I.O. (this is Okinawa). We agreed that, after the ball, we would figure out who to talk to and address the issue appropriately.

But then the manager of the Officer’s Club (where the ball was being held) came by our table to ask if everything was ok. And…I might have gotten into it with her. It went something like this.

Manager: Hope you’re all enjoying your evenings. Is everything alright?

Leora: Actually, I’m pretty disappointed with the vegetarian offerings tonight.

Manager: How do you mean?

Leora: Well, we’re here for a four-course meal, but there was only a vegetarian alternative offered for one course.

Manager: Well, it was a pumpkin soup.

Leora: Yes, with a beef broth. That kind of goes against the meaning of the word vegetarian.

Manager: The truth is, we have too many special requests to be able to honor them.

Leora: Well, by offering a vegetarian option, you are pretending to honor them. It’s very misleading to arrive at a meal you expect to be able to partake in only to find out that you can’t eat most of it.

Manager: We’re just not able to accommodate everyone. Too many people want to be gluten free or whatever. Maybe next time, if you let us know in advance that you’re coming, we can work something out. It’s just that a lot of our flavorings have meat bases; we can’t be expected to serve people food without flavor.

Leora: (!!!) If I let you know in advance you’ll accommodate us?!? I’m pretty sure that, by registering as vegetarians, we did exactly that. That was your advance notice. Why else would we RSVP?

It went on and on. She refused to cede any ground even though she was being RIDICULOUS. Eventually, she offered to partially refund the tickets, but then she walked away and never came back. And even when she offered the refund, she was not apologetic, nor did she admit that what I was saying was valid in any way, shape or form. She was just trying to placate me. I’m pretty sure I was right, though. Grrr.

Ok. Rant over. Shabbat Shalom!

RP2's Last Day in Okinawa

Thanksgiving, Chanukah, Hunger Games coming to Okinawa, Anniversary, and Shabbat all coinciding in the same few days: there are a lot of things that I could write about.  I choose Chanukah – but only in a peripheral way.

I come to celebrate the shamash: the uncelebrated candle that doesn’t count, that stands apart from the other candles.

Fact:  We are not permitted to make use of the light from the chanukiyah, we can only look at them in appreciation of the miracles of Chanukah.  BUT the Shamash can be used to light anything, we can keep warm by its heat, we can use it to heat up leftover Turkey (if its big enough).  Shamash is the term that synagogues in Europe into modernity called the person who kept everything running.  Today, I salute the shamash.

Like the shamash of yore, the job of Religious Program Specialist is not the glamorous job that many think of as a great naval rating.  Some choose it.  Others are chosen by it (and not in the way that many refer to “a calling”, more like a “this is your job, suck it up” kind of thing).  Designed as a track of the Yeoman rating, Religious Program Specialists serve an administrative function.  They ensure that chapels are properly maintained, and they are in charge of making sure the tzedakah box gets put into the right hands.

An RP is a shamash with an M4 and about 200 rounds.  The RP provides physical protection to the chaplain who is not allowed to bear arms.  But more than that: When we went to Afghanistan, RP2 Worth not only protected me but during services ensured the protection of all those who came to pray.

An RP is part of the team.  Not the same job as chaplain, but an imbedded person who Marines and Sailors can vent to and not feel that they are imposing on “the sir”.  A good RP steers people to the chaplain when the time arises.  He’s not a counselor.  But he’s part of the team. 

Today was a little rough for me, because half of my team is leaving the Navy.  I know that John M. Worth is going to succeed in finishing college (because if he doesn’t I will kill him).  I know that he is going to be an amazing aide to his father and mother who certainly miss him.  I know that anybody who commits a crime in Norfolk once he enters the police force there will seriously regret it.  And I know that someday he will be able to answer to his given name and not only “RP”, but for me, he will always be RP.

When things get crazy at the Battalion, I know that we will weather it all together.  When I get the official report of what happened over the weekend, I know that the real and unofficial report will be more awesome when delivered by RP on Monday morning.  When the call came to go to Afghanistan, I never felt a real threat because RP was going to be with me.   He is truly a good soul, and I hope the nice good Christian girls at Chowan read this letter of recommendation from a rabbi and recognize that he’s a good catch.

Good luck, RP.  Both Leora and I will miss you.