The Warrior’s Return: From the Temple of Mars to the Cathedral

“God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another… I have a mission.” - Cardinal John Henry Newman

Milan Cathedral, public domain courtesy of Wix

This is part III of a three-part series, The Warrior's Return. If you missed Part I or Part II, you can read them here: Leaving the Temple of Mars and From Warrior to Witness.

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Being a Veteran means carrying on a legacy of discipline, sacrifice and courage. Last week, we looked at three soldier-saints, who used their scars (those seen and unseen) as gifts. We examined how it was their very desires for honor, glory and loyalty, coupled with their very real suffering, that when united to Christ became their new mission.

They found their “coming home” not in running from the past but surrendering to it in the service of something greater. In the process, they did not lose their identity. They did not return to who they were before - as we so often hope. Their desires, goals, and mistakes were not erased. Instead, they were expanded, elevated and transformed.

This week, we are going to look at what all of that means for us today.  We’ll look at some modern examples of warriors who, after spending their own time walking the ruins of the Temple of Mars, transformed their experiences into service. And built something incredible out of the rubble. We’ll also look at practical applications - steps modern warriors can take to find a way out of the Temple of Mars and into the next mission.  

Actors in the Great Drama

So where do we begin? First, we need to understand that each one of us has a role to play, a mission to take part in. This is not exclusively a Christian concept, though it does reach its apotheosis, its fullest expression in the Christian life.

The Stoic Epictetus wrote in the Discourses “Remember that you are an actor in a play, the character of which is determined by the playwright. If he wishes it to be short, it is short; if long, it is long. If he wishes you to play a beggar, play even that role well; likewise, a cripple, a ruler, or a private citizen. For – this is your business – to play admirably the role assigned to you. But to choose it belongs to another.” (Book 1, Ch. 29).

Viktor Frankl, centuries later echoed that same truth from inside the living hell of a concentration camp – life continuously asks questions of us, and our dignity is found in how we answer. That it is less about what happens to us, and more about how we respond to life. In that, we find the fullest expression of meaning. Even in the midst of the play we are cast in is one of terrible hardship.

Ultimately, this concept is at the heart of the Christian faith. The play is not meaningless. Nor is it a cosmic accident. It is written - and being written every moment - by the Divine Author. As the Psalmist says, “In your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet was none.”  (Psalm 139:16). Each moment, we can choose to participate in the great drama, as the soldier-saints we looked at last week did. Or not.

All of us are the actors on the stage. We cannot rewrite our past. Even those of us who would rather choose to sit back stage and wait for the show to end. That is not an option. While we cannot choose the role we are given, we can play it to the best of our abilities.

And in that, there is a freedom, as Frankl would attest to. In that there is also potentiality for something new. Epictetus himself was not born a philosopher. He was actually born a slave. And not just a slave, but a slave’s whose master tortured him so mercilessly he walked with a limp. But he excelled at playing his “role.” So much so, that others could not help but recognize his ingenuity, wisdom and talents – which ultimately earned his freedom.

Every moment therefore, we are able to play our current role well – with love, with conviction and with courage. As, Venerable Fulton Sheen writes in The Cries of Jesus from the Cross: “So when God pulls down the curtain on the drama of the world’s redemption, He will not ask what part we played, but only how well we played the role assigned to us.”  Like the saints before us, we are called to let even our scars become instruments of service.

This then is the invitation: not to cling to our past role, as much as we miss or fear it, but to step forward in faith into the next role God assigns – parent, servant, mentor, witness.   To rediscover a "band of brothers" and a mission right now, in the very messiness of our lives today.

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Consecrating the Temple

St. Peter's Basilica, public domain courtesey of Wix

The saints we discussed emphasize this transformation. Men whose experiences of war left them forever changed. The mirrors with which they saw themselves– noble knight, glory-seeker, and soldier of the emperor – were shattered.

But rather than cling to the broken shards of the past and forever walk as shades in the Temple of Mars, they found the way out into the sunlight. And that way out? To consecrate Mars’ Temple itself – in all its horror, shame and dread – into a monument. And more than a monument, to turn it, stone by stone, into a Cathedral.

Because, with Christ as the cornerstone (Matt 21:42) we can allow the totality of our Service - both our strengths and weaknesses, our sorrows and our joys, our glories and our failures – to be built into something for the Kingdom. After all, “like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood” (1 Peter 2:4-5).

Cathedrals were built slowly, often across centuries. St. Peter was not crucified where the Basilica that bears his namesake in Rome now stands, but in Nero’s Circus just beside it. After his death, the early Christians buried him nearby on Vatican Hill. And over the centuries, that humble grave became the foundation of the Church’s greatest basilica – its high altar over the bones of a humble fisherman from Galilee who became the Rock of the Church.

So too for us. Our Lord invites each of us to add our own stones: each wound, each scar, and each dark night of doubt. Because what seemed like rubble can become the foundation. What felt like rejection can become the very stone that holds the arch way together.

If the one who could make the greatest good (our Salvation) come out of the greatest tragedy (our murder of God), He can do so with our broken lives and shattered dreams. After all, it is written, “Behold, I make all things new” (Revelation 21:5). Yes, even old warriors searching for a new mission.

As Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic, soldier and Roman emperor writes, “the impediment to action advances action. That which stands in the way becomes the way.” (Meditations). That very thing we are struggling with? That doubt, loneliness, guilt, fear, or purposelessness may in fact be the very cross we are being asked to carry forward into the next fight.

And as Viktor Frankl reminds us, we are not responsible for our circumstances. But we are responsible for our response to them. That meaning itself is found not in some far-off place, when we have it all together, but in the response to our daily circumstances and burdens.

Therein lies a paradox. Meaning is only found in something that is meaningful. And, as painful and hard as it is, that meaning may be found in embracing the very wounds we carry.

Stone by Stone

We only need to look around at the state of our world to know that action is needed. When my patients say the “world is a messed-up place” (they tend to use more “colorful” language) I don’t deny it.

But who better to rebuild our fragmented communities, repair our wounded families, and heal our neighbors’ broken hearts than those who have walked into the Temple of Mars and, by God’s Grace, came out on the other side? And we don’t have to look only to the saints of old to see what transformation looks like. Today many Veterans are finding ways to turn their scars into service. 

One modern example is Team Rubicon was founded by Marine veterans Jake Wood and William McNulty in the wake of the 2010 Haiti earthquake. Since then, they have mobilized thousands of volunteers and deployed them across the globe to disaster zones. Their mission harnesses veterans’ skills in logistics, leadership, and crisis response while restoring what many miss most after leaving. How many people have breathed easier and found hope in hardship, because two veterans answered a call to something greater?

While groups like Team Rubicon respond globally, other veterans respond to cries for help closer home, right in their communities. Veterans like Ben Owen and his nonprofit, We Fight Monsters. After battling his own struggles, Owen founded a grassroots effort in Memphis that converts “dope houses” into “hope houses.” He and his team rescue trafficking victims, and build communities of recovery and belonging. They bring the light of hope into the darkest of places.

Now, I’ve never met Jake, William or Ben. But I have the pleasure of knowing two warriors, who after their time in Service ended choose to answer the call to help others rebuild their broken lives. Two men who, in their own unique ways, walk side by side with others.

First, my friend Elder Natareno, who served as an infantryman with 1^st Battalion, 4^th Marines and 3^rd Battalion 7^th Marines where he completed three deployments to Iraq between 2001-2004, including the initial invasion of Iraq. After his time in the Corps ended, he went on to become a licensed marriage and family therapist, working with veterans. Helping them find their way home while giving them the tools to turn their lives from the Temple of Mars into a Cathedral. And ultimately, walking with them as they do it - stone by stone.

After three combat tours, he’s seen his share of darkness. And since then, has helped so many warriors find their way into the light. Living up to the Marine Corps motto, “Always Faithful” – to the mission and to fellow warriors - he’s now pursuing a doctorate in clinical psychology to continue his mission.

Second, is my buddy Steve Walker whose story testifies to the fact that not every warrior’s path takes them into combat. But that every warrior faces the challenge, and responsibility, to find a new mission when the uniform comes off. Steve joined the Marines and began experiencing vision difficulties in boot camp. Tough as he is, he completed it, as well as his follow-on training, but his vision continued to worsen. Ultimately, after a year, his vision deteriorated to the point where he could no longer see at night. He was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa, a condition which progressively leads to blindness.

Discharged from the Marines he was a warrior in want of a mission. For many the shock of losing one’s sight is enough to send them into a spiral. But Steve chose instead to seek a new mission, ultimately becoming a therapist and even competing in triathlons despite his condition. He lost his sight but not his vision to serve.

All of these warriors remind us that while the uniform eventually gets put away, the mission does not end. They embody what it means to turn wounds into witness. Each, in his own way, helping to build Cathedrals.

Whether we find our calling in serving across the globe or right in our own backyards, the mission doesn’t end when we get out. Our time in the Service was only the beginning. We who were spared have the sacred duty to spare others.  So, the question then is - when Our Commanding Officer says to take up our Cross daily (Luke 9:23) and follow Him into the next campaign, do we pick up our ruck and march on?

Practical Applications

None of this is easy. It requires a profound amount of courage. But like all the warriors above, we can take practical steps to move forward. Here are some ideas:

1. Reconnect to the original mission: Ask yourself, what drew you into the military in the first place? What were the values that you admired and wanted to uphold? The research shows having a purpose is so critical to healing. While we may get side tracked, asking the question can help us find the path again.

   
   

2. Find a band of brothers: For most people, the bonds forged in the Service, and combat especially, are truly powerful. Finding a new tribe in civilian life is just as important. This may be faith groups, men’s and women’s groups, veteran’s ministries, volunteer groups or service organizations. Brainstorm and start a list. Then take action – make calls, go to meetings and make the effort.

   
   

3. Seek guidance and counsel: No one goes through combat alone. We fight as units. Finding the next mission is no different. Seeking out trusted others, battle buddies to grapple with ideas, and hold us accountable, is critical. This can be done through fellow warriors – mentors and peers – as well as friends and family. Oftentimes, counselors, therapists and spiritual directors can be incredibly helpful as well.

   
   

   And is shame stopping you from doing so? Marcus Aurelius, a soldier himself who spent decades fighting Germanic tribes writes in the Meditations “Do not be ashamed of needing help. You have a duty to fulfill just like a soldier in the assault on a wall. So what if you are not up to the task on your own? If a comrade gives you a hand, it is not disgraceful to be helped – it is disgraceful to fail.” The next mission is too important for you to sit it out.

   
   

4. Identify the obstacles that are keeping you stuck: Do you notice those thoughts about the past creeping in? Or as you look at the list of ideas does your mind tell you something like, “yeah but they can’t possibly be the same as my time in the Service” or “nothing can replace what I had.”  Or “what’s the point?” or “it won’t help.” (sound familiar?) Remember, you don’t have to believe everything you think. Having doubts is normal (welcome to being human). But letting doubts side track you from what matters is optional. So ask yourself, “does this thought lead me to forward or not? “And if not, if it holds you back, can you hold that thought in one hand and reach out with the other? 

   
   

5. Prayer and action: Pray and ask Our Lord, “what mission are you calling me to now?” Reflect on the lives of the Saints. Then, pursue experiences that come to mind relentlessly. Attend meetings and organization events. Embrace the awkwardness of “being the new guy.” In ACT we talk about willingness being willing to tolerate discomfort in the service of a worthy value. Instead of running from the discomfort can you say, “I’m willing to tolerate this because my mission is too important.”

   
   

6. Accept the transformation: Like the Saints, can you let go of clinging to that past self? Can you allow God to use you, scars and all, as He sees fit? For many of us, this is the hardest part. Our ego wants to cling to comfort. Even if that comfort is our pain. But, as Pope Benedict XVI so often said, "the world offers you comfort. But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness."

Perhaps you know someone struggling. A part of your mission may be to help lead them out of the Temple of Mars. Who better to do it than you?  When better to start then right now?

Keep Fighting the Good Fight

Those who have walked in the Temple of Mars are forever changed. And there is no magic pill that can remove that mark.

We are often left wondering why such tragedies occur. But as St. Augustine writes, “He can bring forth good even out of evil. And therefore...he judged it better to bring good out of evil than not to permit any evil to exist.” (Enchiridion)

Augustine reminds us that God can make tragedy into triumph. And St. Paul shows us how: when our wounds are united in Christ’s, they become life for others. He writes, “Always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies” (2 Cor 4:10-11). We can make the Temple of Mars itself into a Cathedral – not through the denial of our wounds but by offering them up.

Perhaps the way out and the way home is one in the same; and it is not an escape but a consecration. Whereby, every tear shed in grief, every wound borne courageously, and every act done out of love, can be offered to the sacred structure we are co-building with the Creator of the Universe.

The Cathedral is not built all at once. It rises, one stone at a time, as we consecrate even the rubble of our lives to God. Each wound can become a sacred stone. Each act of love can become a window through which the light of Grace shines. And one day, as Revelation promises: “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes...behold I make all things new” (Rev 21: 4-5).

The Temple of Mars need not remain a place of blood and shame. By Grace, it can become a Cathedral – the very place where our suffering, united to the Cross, becomes the source of healing for the world. It is a profound paradox.

Peter Kreeft reminds us that Christianity is the religion of paradox. In his insightful work on suffering, Kreeft writes “the cross is the place where opposites meet: life and death, sin and forgiveness, suffering and joy, God and man. It is the key to understanding the whole of reality” (Making Sense Out of Suffering). In that way, the very sufferings veterans carry – the wounds of war, the weight of guilt, the sadness of loss and the loneliness of reintegration – may become a source of healing for others. Just as Our Lord’s Cross healed us, so too can ours, if we take it up and give it to Him.

Make no mistake, the pains of war are real. The anguish and suffering are valid. As real and valid as Christ’s words on the cross, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). But that is not the end of the story but the beginning.

Because, it is at the Cross where death becomes life, defeat becomes victory, and wounds themselves become healing. The burden you thought would break you may in fact be the Cross that makes you whole. And the very suffering you carry may become the place of healing - for you and for others.

Because the great drama of life, the great battle of Salvation still continues.  C.S. Lewis, himself a witness to the horrors of the trenches of World War I, writes, “Enemy-occupied territory – that is what this world is. Christianity is the story of how the rightful king has landed, you might say landed in disguise, and is calling us all to take part in a great campaign of sabotage.” (Mere Christianity).

The uniform may be collecting mothballs. Time, in its unceasing flow has moved on.

But the mission is not over. The struggle rages all around us.

And the King still calls us to his standard – the question is: will we answer? 

Disclaimer

This post is for informational and inspirational purposes only and does not constitute medical or psychological advice. The content provided here is not a substitute for professional care, diagnosis or treatment. Reading this blog, subscribing to updates or engaging with its content does not establish a therapist-client relationship. Please consult a licensed healthcare professional for personal support. Portions of this blog may be generated or refined with the assistance of AI tools. All material has been shaped, edited, and finalized by the author to ensure fidelity to Catholic teaching, sound psychological practice, and lived human experience.