Just over an hour ago, Redeemer’s communications director and I walked from our offices up to the church building. While I grabbed a Book of Common Prayer from the sacristy, he went into what we call the “altar guild lady room” and opened the mechanism that controls the bells in the tower. We stood quietly until 2:30, when I offered a prayer “For the Human Family” and he tolled a bell 17 times, once for every victim of yesterday’s shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Florida. When the final bell finished resonating, he closed the door on the device, I replaced the prayer book, and we walked back to our offices.
I hate that I have a “mass shooting routine.” I hate that these events have become so commonplace that I know exactly how I’m going to respond. There was a time when we would reel after events like this: people would hear the news and have no idea what to do. Now, there is a grim and predictable routine: shock, sadness, outrage, blame, and apathy, all within the span of a few days, or even a few hours. After a gunman murdered 49 people at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando a year and a half ago, one Florida lawmaker referred to the tragedy as if it were inevitable, saying “this could have happened anywhere in the world; unfortunately, today was Orlando’s turn.” One could certainly argue with his contention that an event like this could have happened “anywhere in the world,” but, in a perverse way, his second point was exactly right. Mass shootings have become so common that the only thing we feel like we can do is wait for the next one to occur.
One of the most resonant images from yesterday’s events was a photograph of a grieving woman with ashes on her forehead. After observing Ash Wednesday, the day in the Church year when we are reminded that we are all going to die, she was once again confronted with the specter of mortality in the most horrific way imaginable. In a way, Ash Wednesday is a day that is well-suited to our conversation about gun violence. Just as we accept the inevitability of the devastation wrought by people wielding AR-15s, Ash Wednesday seems to call us to accept our mortality with stoic patience.
This, however, misses the point of the Ash Wednesday service. While Ash Wednesday begins with a grim reminder of our mortality, it ends with a soaring affirmation of God’s deathless love. At its heart, the Ash Wednesday service is about repentance, which is not just about being sorry for the times we have done wrong and promising never to do it again. Repentance is about acknowledging the possibility of transformation. It is about refusing to make peace with violence. It is about trusting that ultimately, nothing is inevitable. Lent is a time when we recommit to allowing our lives to be shaped by the possibility of transformation and God’s promise of redemption.
This is a time for this kind of repentance. It is a time for us to reexamine the assumptions and principles we hold most dear and ask ourselves if it is truly worth holding onto them. It is a time to see beyond the routine we have established and adopt a new perspective on the world. It is a time when resist the urge to be conformed to the apathy of the world and ask the God who raised Jesus from the dead to transform our hearts. Above all, it is a time to grieve, remember, and act in ways that proclaim gospel of peace.
Restore us, good Lord, and let your anger depart from us;
Favorably hear us, for your mercy is great.
Accomplish in us the work of your salvation,
That we may show forth your glory in the world.
By the cross and passion of your Son our Lord,
Bring us with all your saints to the joy of his resurrection.