Finding hope with Irish peacekeepers

A flak jacket and helmet are not the normal garb for a Presbyterian Moderator but are usual for visitors to the Irish Army in Lebanon. Wearing them makes you realise very quickly that you are at the sharp end of peacekeeping.

In early October I, as Presbyterian Moderator, had a privilege and opportunity afforded to none of my predecessors when I was invited to visit Irish troops serving on the front line. I was delighted to do so.

At the beginning I was a little apprehensive, like anyone going into a new situation and not knowing quite what to expect. But from the start I received much kindness, generosity and understanding.

In South Lebanon there is a tension in the air that keeps everyone alert. The sound of incoming mortars - thankfully in the distance while I was there - reminded me of the danger, as did the need to sweep the roads for mines and bombs before travelling along them.

Yet in the midst of this, any apprehension I might have had was removed by the calm efficiency of professional soldiers doing a difficult task with the enthusiasm that had made them volunteer for this posting in the first place.

That peacemaking is very difficult is stating the obvious to anyone from Ireland. But when you are physically caught between opposing groups who are only too ready to use military force to make a point, peacekeeping involves risking your life for the benefit of others.

Sadly, as the Irish Army has found, it means giving your life too. I laid a wreath at the Army base in Camp Shamrock where a stone memorial pays tribute to the 38 Irishmen who have given their lives in this cause. It was an emotional moment superseded in its poignancy only when I stood at the place where the most recent soldier to die, Private Billy Keadian, was fatally injured.

As I talked to some of his colleagues I was so impressed with their attitude. "It would be all worth it," they said, "if it helps establish peace."

The United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon was established in 1978, following the Israeli invasion of South Lebanon, to supervise the withdrawal of Israeli forces and to restore peace and security to the area.

Ireland was one of the original contributors to this mission and has maintained troops there ever since. Around 600 personnel of all ranks serve there on a normal six-month tour of duty.

Despite the presence of a number of military groups in South Lebanon, there are people who still call this their home. Many have moved away and in most places it is the older generation who remain in the villages and towns which dot the dusty and arid hillsides.

Locals do feel more secure with the presence of the UN but around here safety is a relative term. Nowhere is this clearer than at the small village of Qana. One hundred and six graves bear testimony to the reality that the mortars and bombs I heard in the distance do kill and destroy.

At a time of particular tension in the area around Qana, families had moved inside the UN base close to their homes. But that didn't stop death visiting them in a violent attack. As I walked among the graves and paid my respects, I reflected on how it is usually the innocent who suffer most as governments and their armies argue and fight over territory.

Central to the Christian faith is hope, but even the strongest of faiths can be challenged by circumstances like those at Qana. However, just as the slight concern for my own wellbeing was eased by the Irish soldiers, so too they strengthened my hope for the future when I saw another aspect of their peacekeeping.

Part of the role of peacekeepers is to undertake humanitarian work. This takes on several forms and one I witnessed was the outstanding contribution the Irish troops are making to the life of an orphanage near their base in Tibnin.

Personnel of all ranks spend time at the orphanage helping the staff, supporting the children and being friends to this community.

AND the bright shining smiles on the faces of the children at the orphanage give evidence to the good work that is being done. As I shared some gifts with the boys and girls, I realised that despite all they had come through they could have fun and they could look to the future. We all can be hopeful for the future given the help and encouragement of those we come into contact with.

That was the purpose of my visit. I was there as a pastor ministering to those who live and work in the dangerous circumstances of South Lebanon. There's little obvious thanks for peacekeepers when the shells and bullets come raining in, apart from the professional satisfaction of a job well done, a warm smile from a local or a playful hug from a child.

I was able to give all the men and women serving there a copy of a small book of Bible readings called Daily Strength. Man's inhumanity to man can be difficult to cope with on the front line, but I believe the Word of God ministers to us in the ordinariness of our lives as well as in the situation in Lebanon.

"It wouldn't have done you much good anyway," was the cheery comment as I handed back my flak jacket at the end of a memorable few days. My experience was at an end but my support for the men and women in the front line is only beginning. Time and time again both officers and men said that sometimes they feel forgotten.

"When something bad happens we appreciate the support, but we need it through the ordinariness too." This was a sentiment often expressed to me, as well as the request for prayer.

The Irish Army in Lebanon deserves our support and our prayers. It has mine and I trust yours too.

Dr Lockington was accompanied to Lebanon by the Rev Frank Sellar, minister of Adelaide Road, Donore, Congregation in Dublin