Such A Waste

Palm Sunday can be a bit of a challenge for preachers.  Do you focus on the “passion” stories of Jesus as a lead-up to Easter, recounting his anger over the ways and challenges of the religious authorities and his responses to them?  Do you mention the confusion and betrayal of Jesus’ closest followers?  Do you take the approach of describing in some detail his agony as his prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane and the drama of his arrest? Do you go over his interactions with Pilate?  Do you speak of his humiliation and suffering at the hands the Romans?  OR, do you take the easy way out and regale the congregation with tales of his “triumphant entry into Jerusalem,” with people waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna!” as Jesus rides a donkey, conveniently skimming over the imagery and significance of what happened that day? 

True, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday provide opportunities to dwell on some of the darker aspects of the story, but then, many church folks don’t attend services on those days.  There are, of course, some people who only put in an appearance in the sanctuary on Christmas Eve and Easter, and MAYBE Palm Sunday. 

The Palm Sunday sermon I heard this year began with a very somber description of how the preacher picked up her teen-aged daughter from school the day of the Nashville mass school shooting so she could tell her daughter what happened.  She didn’t want her daughter to hear it from someone else and wanted to know her feelings about what happened. 

Then she spoke of how mass shootings in the nation already just about outnumber the days of the year so far.  “We have gotten used to mass shootings happening so regularly.  It has become almost a normality for us, and after an initial reaction of outrage or anger or fear, we move on with our lives.” 

True enough, but I found the rest of the sermon and worship service that day to be offensive. 

After putting everyone on edge, causing strong emotions, the preacher then awkwardly made the point that really, in the end, somehow, everything would be alright.  Tell that to the family members of the children and others torn apart by rapid-fire blasts from assault rifles.  Tell that to the teachers and school administrators who have to contend with the aftermath of attacks in their buildings.  Tell that to police officers and other emergency personnel who get the frantic calls to which they must respond, or to the doctors, nurses and other hospital staff who deal with the physical results, and to counselors who must contend with the mental health implications of the carnage.  “God loves you” or “God will make things right in the end” are not sufficient responses to any of this. 

I waited in vain during that worship service for word on how the community of faith, followers of Jesus, can, might, should respond to gun violence.  After the “sermon,” the service proceeded as normal, with singing, pre-printed prayers (none of which referred to gun violence or its growing numbers of victims), communion, the “passing of the peace,” and the rest of the tired rituals.  

How about mentioning ways to get involved in the issue that is literally breaking up families, fomenting fear, and increasing the negativity that closes in on us from so many directions? 

Do people of faith have a response to gun violence?  Or do we just go to church, follow well-worn patterns of words and gestures, get our pat on the head assuring us we’re “going to heaven,” then leave and go about our daily lives as if nothing has changed in us or in the world? 

Personally, I believe the preacher was afraid of offending any of the privileged people that make up a huge proportion of the congregation.  My guess is that many of the attenders affiliate with the political party most closely aligned with guns and the “protection” of “gun rights.” 

She could have said to contact our legislators and let them know that we abhor the continuing violence and easy (and increasingly easier) access to assault weapons.  There was no need to harp on the fact that Republicans are blocking any possibility of gun reform in Congress, or that our particular Senators and Congressman belong to the gun party.  She could just have said, “Let them know how you feel,” or she could have called for the congregation to organize a letter-writing campaign to keep up the pressure on those who are trading the lives of our children for campaign contributions from the NRA. 

She could have said, “Let’s work with other congregations in our city to raise the issue of gun violence by holding a seminar or forum to discuss the issue, bringing in police, school officials and others who have a stake in the health and safety of our young people.” 

She could have said, “Let’s hold a rally downtown and invite the local media to help us get out the word that the faith community has had enough of gun violence.” 

She could have said, “Let’s work with the police and city officials to pass a local ordinance to make it more difficult to purchase guns, or to increase penalties for those who commit gun violence.” 

She could have said, “Remember the pain and suffering caused by gun violence when you vote.” 

She could have said SOMETHING that would nudge or even inspire the people in the pews to get involved in the issue and move beyond feeling sad for a while. 

But that never happened. 

We just continued in the worship service as if nothing were different from the prior Sunday.  We went through our familiar, comfortable motions, then left and went out to eat, or went home and turned on the game. 

Now, we’re thinking ahead to maybe gathering with some family members and going to church for the big Easter celebration, including the Easter Egg Hunt, perhaps giving our kids gifts “from” the Easter Bunny, their having been photographed with him/her at the mall. 

Then, we’ll move on to other things. 

Maybe after the next school shooting we’ll think to send our thoughts and prayers.