School children have been massacred. Again. What are we called to do in response to the Texas shooting?
I want to name, first, my own rage and frustration because I believe they are shared by many in our community. We seem willing to accept the regular and predictable massacre of innocent school children and grocery shoppers and movie goers and worship attenders.
We now accept such massacres as normal in this “City on the Hill.”
The pronouns are important here. I trust that “we,” those reading this message, are not willing to accept that death as unavoidable. But “we,” the larger we of this culture, have demonstrated again and again the ability to accept carnage as a consequence of our system.
I also want to name the sense of powerlessness to prevent such violence. The disempowering of people of good will and loving hearts is a tragedy in and of itself. And the failure to act not only compounds the trauma of the victim families, but compromises the hope that change is possible.
That failure also calls into question the virtue and the value of our political system.
We do offer our thoughts and prayers and hold the victims and their families and that Texas community in our hearts. But we also recognize that prayer has not moved our elected leaders to make even token change.
There will be marches and vigils as there should be. There will be marches and vigils when the Supreme Court hands down the decision to overturn Roe v Wade. There will be marches and vigils when the next police murder of a Black or Brown body breaks into the news.
Marches and vigils call for change. They name the truth that our larger community does not want to live like this.
I have spent most of my life trying to use our system to serve human thriving, not cut that thriving off. Most of you have as well.
But today I believe it is our system that needs changing. Our political system. Our political system consistently enforces decisions that violate the expressed wishes of large majorities of our people. Our system has failed us.
And that conclusion poses a real problem for progressive religious communities. Because we have lived by the separation of church and state for so long. Held that as such a value.
I do not have a solution to that dilemma. But I cannot deny what my most authentic response is to this tragedy and to the direction of our nation that it reveals.
And I need to name another real fear that is with me this morning. We may have allowed these flaws in our system to go on too long. There may be too many assault rifles now in legal circulation for us to pull back. We may have allowed the racism with which we live and the economic inequality to deepen too far. We may have despoiled this planet beyond repair.
I fear that this vaunted experiment in democracy, which never approached real democracy, may be beyond redemption.
I am not yet ready to accept that as an inevitable conclusion. But I need to name my fear.
We are living with the results of a system designed from the beginning, by the “Founding Fathers,” to protect privilege and minority rule.
I believe we need to give real democracy a chance.
You know that I am a love preacher. You’ve heard me often preach about how hard it is to maintain faith that love just might be stronger than hate and fear, if we make it so.
What are we called to do as religious people?
Offer our thoughts and prayers? Yes, we will do that. Again.
Work to model how we want to live in this congregation and in our lives? Yes, we will do that. Again and always.
Show up for the marches and the vigils. Yes, we will do that. Again.
But our politics need to change. Our politics are working against love. Our politics are the biggest obstacle to human thriving. That means, for people committed to the power of love, that we need to find ways to change our politics while we still have the chance.
Bill