SOCIAL HOLINESS, SPIRITUALITY, AND SHOOTINGS

In the midst of the noise of our day, listening is a deeply spiritual practice. Listening to another person is a spiritual act. Listening to sighs too deep for words is a spiritual act. Listening to the wind blow through the trees is a spiritual act. All this is to assist us as we listen with open hearts for the voice of God.

Saturdays are a day of spiritual listening for me. After reading scripture in the morning, I strain the ears of my heart to hear God’s whisper. Today, I heard bird calls, a child laugh, waves lapping the shore. But where was God’s voice?

This evening, as I looked at my phone to catch up on the day’s news, I heard it: God was weeping. El Paso became the latest community to experience a mass shooting, with 20 shot dead in a Walmart, many buying school supplies. As of today, there have been 248 mass shootings in the United States in 2019. 246 people have been killed, 979 wounded, thousands have experienced trauma.

Tonight, I hear God weeping.

“Thoughts and prayers” ring hollow in the face of these numbers and mock the fact that the life to which Jesus calls us is one of engaged faith. The apostle Paul said, “Faith without works is dead.” John Wesley said, “The gospel of Christ knows of no religion, but social; no holiness but social holiness. Faith working by love, is the length and breath and depth and height of Christian perfection.”

When we bow our heads and pray for those whose lives have been irrevocably impacted by the El Paso shooting, what will we do when we rise from our pews? How will the holy practice we engaged in during worship be embodied social holiness in our daily living?

God weeps tonight. What will you do tomorrow, so that your “faith is working by love”?

We can stop the killings. We can ease the deep pain of those who weep. We can create beloved communities that draw the outcast in. We can work for better mental health access in our communities. We can let our elected officials know that it is past time that this nation passed sensible gun control laws.

We can do all this through Christ, who expects nothing less of us.

The Spiritual and the Political: A Reflection on the Colorado Springs Vigil

After Friday’s horrible shooting in the vicinity of a Planned Parenthood Clinic in Colorado Springs, a vigil was held at the All Souls Unitarian Universalist Church to remember the victims and to stand in solidarity with Planned Parenthood.  The senior pastor of the church, Rev. Nori Rost opened the vigil with these words: "We're here to honor the lives of those who were killed yesterday in domestic terrorism. We're here to honor thework of Planned Parenthood and stand with them in solidarity. We're here tohonor the amazing response of the Colorado Springs police and other responders.But we're mainly here to find comfort in each other's company. Together, we canchange the world."

Other speakers shared in their remarks about the need for stricter gun control laws and to protect the reproductive rights of women. One person in attendance got up from her pew and said to those in the church, “I thought we were here to grieve and mourn and not makepolitical statements." With that, she walked out of the church.

As a pastor, I have been thinking of the woman’s statement: was it appropriate to look to solutions in the midst of grief? Was the vigil the right time and place to talk about gun control and women’s reproductive rights?

When a loved one has died due to illness, accident, or old age, it seldom requires political and/or moral reflection—part of the cycle of life is birth and death. It is expected that we will eventually lose those we love—even our own life—through the passage of time. However, a death caused by willful intent is another story. Domestic violence—where one is no longer safe in the sanctuary of one’s home—or domestic terrorism—where someone seeks to inflict the most amount of harm to the greatest number of people, whether they are attending a church or seeking a medical procedure that is protected by law—has political and moral implications.

It is natural, even necessary, at times like these to seek, in the midst of our communal grief, communal answers to preventing future acts of violence. These moments, when we feel deeply the loss and see clearly that such loss could have been prevented, place us on  the sacred ground upon which our commitment to heal the brokenness within our community rests. It is imperative that as we grieve we find ways to move through it in ways that empower us. We need not be held hostage to evil that seeks to harm but instead we can live into our own power to join with others and find pathways to further peace, wholeness, and right relationships.

Make no mistake—all this has political ramifications. And perhaps it can be the most constructive thing we can do with our grief and the most loving act we can do to honor the legacy of those whose lives have been cut short to violence, especially at a vigil.

Liturgy, the ritual of worship, has as its origin:

Origin

From Latin liturgia, from Ancient Greek λειτουργία (leitourgia), from λειτ- (leit-), from λαός (laos, “people") + -ουργός (-ourgos), from ἔργον (ergon, “work") (the public work of the people done on behalf of the people).

"The Public work of the people done on behalf of the people." If our vigils are to have any true honoring of those who were massacred, it is that we join in the work that makes for peace in our communities so no other city will have to come together to mourn the loss of  so many. Let us end the unholy litany that continues to grow:

 

Newtown, CT

Santa Monica, CA

Washington, DC

Killeen, TX

Isla Vista, CA

Marysville, WA

Charleston, SC

Chattanooga, TN

Roseburg, OR

Aurora, CO

Colorado Springs, CO

 

(a partial list of the 1000+ mass shootings since Newtown)

 

May our vigils inspire us to honor the dead by seeking safe communities for the living.