The Sin of Shooting

I used to be much more judgmental of my fellow humans than I am today.  In particular, the blind, almost OCD-like pious practices of my fellow Catholics would drive me nuts.  I can remember several times, both in college and in high school, that I became vocally angry because a family friend, fellow student, or acquaintance would become impositions to my daily tasks because they just had to observe some Catholic devotion.  Very distinctly, I can remember several instances where I had to stop my own work because I had lost the help that I needed.  “God forbid x misses their Rosary at the same time every day!” pretty much sums up the sentiments I would grumble to myself.  On one hand, there can be some very legitimate criticism for an OCD-like adherence to optional Catholic devotions.  However, I would not realize the immense grace there is to observing a Catholic routine to the day until I joined the Army.  Specifically, the fundamental hubris of my own attitude was manifested to me as I frequented the firing range.

Throughout my military career, I have been on firing ranges frequently.  If I wasn’t qualifying with my own weapon system, I was training or being trained on a different system.  Firing extra rounds, practicing, qualifying, training, cleaning: the Army spends a good deal of time with firearms, as well they should.  And, because they spend so much time on firing ranges, pretty much every Soldier knows that range day is not a spectator event.  

You aren’t just involved when it’s your turn on the firing line.  Many people take turns being a range safety, swapping each other out after hours in the sun.  Even more Soldiers take up a position beside newer or struggling firers, to coach, train, and correct their efficiency.  There are spotters in the tower, scorekeepers, an officer and NCO calling the shots from the tower.  Finally, at the end of the day, there is a giant police call.  All hands gather around to inspect the range, collecting all the spent brass, trash, and anything else that either wasn’t there when we arrived or should not have been there in the first place.  And all this is just day of tasks; the setup to even get approved to go to the range in the first place takes months, and is even more arduous than the day of.  There is literally tons of work involved in executing a range, and it takes the entire team.  Except for one aspect: the qualification.

The entire point of range day is to train and qualify with your assigned weapon.  If there are a large number of failures, the task has failed.  It doesn’t matter if it was a great team effort, if it was bonding, if unit cohesion has improved from the whole exercise.  If the unit fails in maintaining its ability to perform as Soldiers, all the benefits described from the exercise are meaningless.  And, if you were the one who failed, then in one sense you have failed: qualifying with your assigned weapon is a minimum requirement every year.  Weapons qualification is an individual event.  If you cannot fire your weapon efficiently, there is no amount of team work that will get you there.  You have to be the one squeezing the trigger and sending rounds down range accurately.  In short, range day involves the team, but is about the individual.

Everyone has their own trick to prepare themselves, to get into the game-time mindset.  These tricks are different, but everyone has theirs.  Mine is a variation of what Maximus Decimus Meridius, the fictional protagonist in Ridley Scott’s Gladiator does before a fight.  I take a moment, feel the wind on my face, and look at the targets as they pop up.  I reach down into the dirt, and feel the earth in my fingers, reminding myself that whatever else is going on in my head, I am here.  I feel the grip on whatever weapon I am firing that day, and imagine it is an extension of my own hand.  After this little exercise, I am ready.

I’ve never won an award for my shooting skills.  I am definitely not bad, by any stretch of the imagination; in fact, I would venture to say that I am better than many.  This exercise I described helps me to perform well when it is my turn to answer for myself.  Is it necessary in order for me to shoot?  No, of course not.  I have fired many times without preparing like this.  I haven’t failed a qualification yet.  However, this preparation greatly improves my performance.  If I do not take a moment and ground myself, step away from all that happened before this very moment and recenter, reminding myself it is I who must stand behind my score, I don’t shoot nearly as well, and I struggle.  And so, I always make sure I take a moment to prepare, lest I miss my target.

There is a reason that sinning really means missing your target.  It is not like someone had the opportunity to do good but instead chose evil; Aquinas and Augustine assure us that evil does not exist.  They are absences of good.  As such, no one can choose evil.  All they can do is choose some lesser good as if what they were choosing was the highest good.  All humans desire what is good in their own minds.  This is exactly what a sin is: sinning is shooting your shot, aiming at good, but missing your mark.  You aim and hope to hit the highest good; in fact, you ardently desire the highest Good (God), even if you don’t realize it.  When you sin, you still shot, but you missed your mark.  And, just like the firing range, qualifying on the range of life is an individual event.  You have to take the shot, and you are the one who answers for what you hit or missed.  So, we have our moments, tricks, and (in the moral dimension) devotions which help ground us towards what really matters.

Over the years, I have found myself becoming less and less judgmental of my peers and fellow Catholics.  Whereas before, I would decry their lack of social awareness when they would leave me high and dry to pray their Rosary, now I try to value their grounding themselves for the fight to come.  And, I have my own growing list of spiritually grounding devotions.  Most valuable now is asking for Our Lady’s intercession just before bed through one of the ancient Antiphons from the first century, such as the Sub Tuum Presidium.  Are these devotions necessary, strictly speaking?  No, of course not.  It is very telling where I am and how I will perform spiritually, though, if I neglect these devotions.  Without the grace from God given at the request of His (and my) loving mother, I can expect to find myself in the Confession line shortly thereafter.  There, be it severely hung over, remorseful from anger, or any other of the multitudinous but avoidable sins, I am held to account for failing my individual event on the spiritual battlefield.