An unfortunate side effect of our ever-shortening attention spans is that we don’t take an appropriate amount of time to understand something (or someone) before filing it into what we think is the closest appropriate category—or narrative, if you will—so we can then move on to the next thing, which is similarly treated. Thus, the nuances and complications of any particular thing or circumstance are lost. We oversimplify. Sometimes it’s necessary to do this, for example, when facing an urgent decision that demands an immediate resolution, but it isn’t necessary as often as we tend to think. We really err when we begin doing this to history and historical figures. In fact, there is a YouTube series called “Oversimplified” that takes a snarky look at historical periods and events in a way that seems rather popular. What fun it is to make fun of our benighted forebears, who only wished they knew what’s available to us now if we could only pay attention long enough to learn. This prayer was partly an attempt to add some depth to the understanding of a much-maligned American historical figure, who— though certainly tragic—was nowhere near the Hitleresque figure he’s often portrayed to be. I offered this prayer on the 15th of June, but I missed that date last week yet think this is an important story to tell anyway. I hope you agree.
George Custis, the adopted son of George Washington, built his house on a hill overlooking the Potomac River in Northern Virginia. It could be seen from the new city being built across the river that was to serve as the new nation’s capital. Completed in 1818, the house was built in a Greek Revival style, and Custis lived in it until his death nearly 40 years later. He bequeathed the house and its property to his only surviving child, his daughter Mary.
By the time Mary took possession of the property she was married, so her husband undertook the care and upkeep of the family home. He got to work on his “honey do” list, which included a stipulation in Custis’ will that all the slaves on the estate were to be freed within five years of his death. Mary’s husband saw to it that they were.
But then war broke out, instantly putting the house in territory now at war with the capitol city across the river. So, Mary bid goodbye to her husband, who left to serve in the Army, and she left for safer ground. She settled in a small community northwest of Richmond where she and her daughters remained until the end of the war.
By 1863 the Civil War had claimed so many lives that the National Cemeteries in and around Washington were nearly full. The government charged U.S. Army Quartermaster General Montgomery C. Meigs with finding suitable grounds for a new cemetery. He chose the land surrounding the home of George Washington’s granddaughter, which was—and still is—named Arlington House. On June 15th, 1864, General Meigs authorized the first official burial near the literal doorstep of the man he blamed for the carnage the country was suffering, including the death of his own son, Mary Custis’ husband and the last private owner of Arlington House: Robert E. Lee. It was his home that now serves as Arlington National Cemetery, the final resting place for America’s most honored dead.
LET US PRAY
All-powerful God, we honor today the men and women who have laid down their life for their country, and in particular those who are laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery. Bless them forever in Your everlasting peace, let the sounds of strife, the cries of battle, and the wounds of war be calmed for all eternity in Your loving and endless grace. May the memory of their sacrifice inspire us to do our duty and carry on the traditions of selfless service. Keep our watchstanders keen and alert, and our own warfighters strong and courageous. Keep us and our ship safe at sea, and our loved ones safe at home, for You are the God of strength and power, and You are holy always, now and forever and to the ages of ages.
AMEN
An Orthodox Priest Abroad 