StormDancer
07-28-2008, 07:04 PM
We hear so many horrifying stories that we rarely feel much when we listen to the news these days. It is only when there is something to link us personally to the tragedy that we find ourselves crying and mourning the way we need to. We need to mourn in order to heal from loss and trauma, our own and that of those around us.
This morning I heard about yet another church shooting. Some screwed up guy walked into a church sanctuary in Tennessee yesterday where children were just starting a performance of “Annie.” He opened a guitar case, pulled out a semi-automatic 12 gauge shotgun and started shooting people. There are still 5 people in the hospital. Two are dead. Not much if you consider what goes on almost daily in the Middle East but I rarely cry about them. I cried for the aftermath of Katrina but that was more in anger over the botched rescue efforts. I didn’t cry at all for Myanmar or the earthquake victims in China or the latest victims of gang violence.
I can tell you how the Tennessee church got to me. It was a UU church, my denomination, people who believe in the same things I do. Their congregation also feeds the homeless, supports women’s issues and gay rights. It could have been my congregation. It could have happened here, in Santa Rosa. I imagined it happening here and the sobs bubbled up unbidden. Is that what it takes? Do I only have compassion for the starving, dispossessed and tortured of the world when they are people who look and act like me? So it appears.
In that church yesterday, most people ducked under pews and ran for shelter. Fortunately enough people tackled the gunman while he tried to reload and held him down until the police arrived. He had plenty of extra ammunition and was prepared to keep on shooting until the police arrived and killed him. I wonder if I would have hid under the pew or been one of those who stopped him. It takes courage.
It takes courage to stand up for what we believe regardless of who or where we are. My initial thoughts when I heard this tale was to think of the churches that were bombed in Alabama back in the sixties. Would I have been willing to walk into an integrated church knowing that many people supported those bombings? That I was setting myself up to be a victim. Hate is a powerful force, so is fear. It crossed my mind that attending a church that openly opposes sexual discrimination is just as dangerous now as attending one that stood up for civil rights in the sixties. If those who struggled for racial equality had not continued to do what they believed to be right, those who died would have died in vain. There is a cost for standing up for what I believe in.
We cannot look upon suffering and harden our hearts or allow our desire for safety to stop us from doing what we know is right. The Tennessee gunman taught me that I need to be willing to face my fears in order to honor those who have paid the cost with their lives. I need to mourn all victims of violence and abuse, not just those who look and act like me. I need maintain a habit of doing what is right, regardless of how scary it gets and yes, I am going to church next Sunday.
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<o:p>Sincerely, AnnaLisa</o:p>
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P. S. I just recieved notice that Tuesday evening the Glaser Center sanctuary at 547 Mendocino, "will be open from 7 till 9 p.m. for anyone who feels moved to gather with others to grieve, light candles, read, speak, or simply sit in silent solidarity with our brethren from Tennessee, and, indeed, with the billions of decent, loving people from all over the planet who share the universal passion for brother- and sisterhood that our denomination so eloquently stands for."
<o:p></o:p>
This morning I heard about yet another church shooting. Some screwed up guy walked into a church sanctuary in Tennessee yesterday where children were just starting a performance of “Annie.” He opened a guitar case, pulled out a semi-automatic 12 gauge shotgun and started shooting people. There are still 5 people in the hospital. Two are dead. Not much if you consider what goes on almost daily in the Middle East but I rarely cry about them. I cried for the aftermath of Katrina but that was more in anger over the botched rescue efforts. I didn’t cry at all for Myanmar or the earthquake victims in China or the latest victims of gang violence.
I can tell you how the Tennessee church got to me. It was a UU church, my denomination, people who believe in the same things I do. Their congregation also feeds the homeless, supports women’s issues and gay rights. It could have been my congregation. It could have happened here, in Santa Rosa. I imagined it happening here and the sobs bubbled up unbidden. Is that what it takes? Do I only have compassion for the starving, dispossessed and tortured of the world when they are people who look and act like me? So it appears.
In that church yesterday, most people ducked under pews and ran for shelter. Fortunately enough people tackled the gunman while he tried to reload and held him down until the police arrived. He had plenty of extra ammunition and was prepared to keep on shooting until the police arrived and killed him. I wonder if I would have hid under the pew or been one of those who stopped him. It takes courage.
It takes courage to stand up for what we believe regardless of who or where we are. My initial thoughts when I heard this tale was to think of the churches that were bombed in Alabama back in the sixties. Would I have been willing to walk into an integrated church knowing that many people supported those bombings? That I was setting myself up to be a victim. Hate is a powerful force, so is fear. It crossed my mind that attending a church that openly opposes sexual discrimination is just as dangerous now as attending one that stood up for civil rights in the sixties. If those who struggled for racial equality had not continued to do what they believed to be right, those who died would have died in vain. There is a cost for standing up for what I believe in.
We cannot look upon suffering and harden our hearts or allow our desire for safety to stop us from doing what we know is right. The Tennessee gunman taught me that I need to be willing to face my fears in order to honor those who have paid the cost with their lives. I need to mourn all victims of violence and abuse, not just those who look and act like me. I need maintain a habit of doing what is right, regardless of how scary it gets and yes, I am going to church next Sunday.
<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>
<o:p>Sincerely, AnnaLisa</o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
P. S. I just recieved notice that Tuesday evening the Glaser Center sanctuary at 547 Mendocino, "will be open from 7 till 9 p.m. for anyone who feels moved to gather with others to grieve, light candles, read, speak, or simply sit in silent solidarity with our brethren from Tennessee, and, indeed, with the billions of decent, loving people from all over the planet who share the universal passion for brother- and sisterhood that our denomination so eloquently stands for."
<o:p></o:p>