FORT SMITH — At 63, Deacon John Burns is preparing for a new career.
As a senior at Northeastern State University in Talequah, Okla., he has begun an internship with Arkansas Department of Community Corrections, Pardon and Parole, counseling and supervising people on probation, parole and in drug court. After he receives his bachelor’s degree in social work in December, he plans to get his master’s degree at the University of Oklahoma, Tulsa, in order to work for the Veterans Health Administration counseling veterans with post-traumatic stress disorder.
Wearing a “Vietnam Veteran” camouflage cap and his trademark broad smile, speaking honestly and openly, he discussed his own experiences with PTSD and the years of suffering it caused him, his family and friends.
“I was in Navy construction, the Seabees, attached to the 3rd Marine division for most of my service,” said the deacon assigned to St. Boniface Church in Fort Smith. “I got into my first fire fight when I was 17½. My two best friends were my three o’clock and my nine o’clock. We looked out for each other over two yearlong tours of duty in Vietnam.”
Burns had a 30-day leave in between the two tours of duty and spent most of his time drinking. He abandoned Catholicism in Vietnam because he didn’t think there could be a God “with all this stuff going on.”
The decade following his discharge in 1973 was passed in a fog of alcoholism and homelessness.
“I was working for the harness horses, the trotters and the pacers (in Kentucky), and I used to sleep in the tack shed on the hay,” he said. “It was like living in the circus, traveling all the time. I rodeoed and I didn’t have any place to live. I couldn’t form relationships to keep me in a place because in my mind when people got close and formed relationships they’d get killed.”
He held 53 jobs in 44 years.
“I’d walk off jobs because they made me mad, and I couldn’t take it anymore,” he confessed.
Although he joined Alcoholics Anonymous in 1972, he didn’t become sober until Dec. 17, 1980. After a brief marriage in 1979, which resulted in the birth of his only son, Michael, he got “sick and tired of being sick and tired.” Within six months of being sober, he surrendered to a power greater than himself, whom he chose to call “God,” but it took him four more years to return to the Catholic Church.
One Sunday morning in 1985 he left an AA meeting and felt a desire to visit St. Boniface Church, and although he had some surprises — flute music and Mass in English with the pastor facing the congregation — he felt he’d come home.
“I sat where I sat in second grade with Sister Agatha (Knittig, OSB),” Burns said. “The smell I remembered was there, and there was a feeling. But what brought me back was the real presence in the Eucharist. When Father Placidus (Eckart, OSB) said, “Through him, and in him, and with him,’ there was electricity going through my body and I knew that this is where I was supposed to be.”
He made an appointment with Father Eckart on Ash Wednesday, went to reconciliation and received Communion that night.
Father Eckart issued a challenge to him: “The Church you knew when you were growing up was a Church of observation. The Church today is one of participation. What do you want to do for Christ?”
“And so I became an usher,” Burns said.
He became friends with his second wife Mary, who had four children, in 1987, and as they became closer, they applied for annulments.
“We decided that we were going to do what the Church required and if God wanted us to get married we would get annulments, and we did,” he said. “I married up.”
He felt called to be a deacon three times before getting up the courage to apply.
“I thought I wasn’t worthy, not smart enough, too bad a sinner, but being a deacon is not about education. It’s a desire to be a servant. ‘Diacona’ is ‘servant’ in Greek. We are servants as Christ is a servant.”
He was ordained on Pentecost 1998.
In addition to his ministry at St. Boniface, Burns ministers to alcoholics and prisoners. He took Alcoholics Anonymous to Ouachita, Cummins and Tucker units and as far as prisons in Texas and Ohio. He began giving Summer Serenity Retreats at Subiaco Abbey and continued to attend his Wednesday Rock Bottom AA meeting where he and his sponsor became sober.
But although he had many years of sobriety and ministry to his credit, he continued to struggle emotionally because he had never addressed the root cause of his alcoholism — PTSD.
“I’d wake up at 2 a.m. every morning and take the pistol out and walk the perimeter of my house until 2008. I thought everyone did this to see his family was safe,” he said.
In 2007, God reached out to Burns through a Navy buddy, Jerry, his “nine o’clock.” “Here’s the way God works,” he said. “I’m sitting at my desk and I have a pistol in my mouth and think, ‘Might as well,’ and I get a text from Jerry. It’s 2 a.m. and he said, ‘Thinking of you and hoping you’re well.’”
He said 2 a.m. was the most dangerous time of day in Vietnam, the time when the troops were most likely to come under attack.
Shortly afterward, Burns visited the Veterans Health Administration Hospital in Fayetteville for diabetes-related tests and reacted inappropriately to some of the procedures. He was immediately tested and given a diagnosis of “delayed post-traumatic stress disorder.”
During regular sessions with his counselor, he realized that his hyper-vigilance, difficulty forming relationships and 2 a.m. insomnia weren’t normal. The counselor told him he would be eligible for rehabilitation, and Burns said, “It’s not about making moccasins or belts, is it?”
When told it was about changing his career, he immediately decided to get his master’s degree in social work and counsel veterans with PTSD like himself.
He has become the chaplain for Marine Corps B12. Although the unit has been decommissioned, its members meet for reunions. He continues to stay in contact with “his three o’clock,” Lenny, who lives in California; and Jerry, “his nine o’clock,” who lives in Oklahoma. The trio, who all suffer from PTSD, recently got together in Fort Smith for the first time since they were in Vietnam.
Burns recognizes there is value in being a wounded healer, the servant God has called him to be.
“There’s a lot of word of mouth,” he said. “People tell veterans to ‘talk to Old Burns. He’s been there.’”
Through both his ministry and his newfound career, he’s ready to lead them toward healing.
