A pastoral note...

A pastoral note...

On Wednesday, February 11th, our lead minister, the Rev. Matthew Emery, sent this message to the congregation:

Dear beloveds,

 

By now, I imagine that all of you have heard the news of the tragedy that unfolded yesterday afternoon in Tumbler Ridge, British Columbia, where in a mass shooting event across two locations 9 individuals, including the shooter, lost their lives. (According to recent CBC news reports, RCMP have revised the initially-reported victim count downward by one this morning; a female victim with significant injuries was believed to have died yesterday, but later was confirmed to still be alive, in hospital in serious condition.)

 

And so, all of us walk the earth this day with heavy hearts, and disquieted minds, and mournful spirits. 

 

This kind of tragedy defies all explanation. For all people, it raises questions about members of our fellow humankind—how one such member could, in fact, carry out an act so inhumane, and how one such member could have to face the sort of anguish and mental strife that could lead them to do so. 

 

For us who speak from the place of faith, it also raises questions about divine providence—where were you, God?—even while our cries of anguish call out for divine comfort—where are you, God?

 

You know as well as I do that today is not the first time our world, or even Canada, has seen this kind of tragedy. And the nagging fear that it will not be the last always lingers, even if such incidents are blessedly few and far between here in this country.

 

This week here at the church, we are making preparations for the upcoming season of Lent and its opening observance, Ash Wednesday. I am reminded today of a few words from the introduction I have used at the opening of such services for many years now, words I believe were originally penned by one of my United Church of Christ colleagues, the Rev. Mary Luti: “…none of us comes to the end of our lives without having contributed something regrettable—of our own making—to the great abyss of suffering; and that no one comes to the end of life without having been wounded by the sin of another.” 

 

As the news of these last 24 hours continues to sit with me, my heart feels heavy from all those who have been wounded by the sin of another. Especially, of course, I think of the fatal wounds that were inflicted in Tumbler Ridge, and also the wounds of sorrow and mourning ripped open wide among those who have lost a family member or neighbour. I feel a heaviness for all of us at a greater distance for whom this tragedy is welling up fear, anxiety, or sorrow. And, admittedly, I also find myself wondering about the wounds inflicted by societal judgment, or inadequate mental health support, or too-easy-of-access to firearms, or any of the other factors that could have played their parts in the path to the shooter’s actions yesterday—wounds that implicate even broader circles, perhaps even encompassing all of us in a way.

 

Those big questions about where God was and is, they are probably questions we shall never know the answers to, at least not complete ones. Nevertheless, we also know that we will, in fact, make it through. We will stand alongside one another in our questions and in our grief. The lives lost will never be replaced, and yet life itself will carry on toward a new tomorrow.

 

We rest our trust and our faith in the reality that God walks the road of pain and sorrow with us. “Yea, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me,” we are famously reminded by the Psalmist. The upcoming season of Lent reminds us that the story of the babe in the manger we welcomed at Christmas leads nowhere else but to his sharing with us in the pain of our death.

 

Trusting in the comfort of the One who walks beside us, and holding fast to our hope in the One who is stronger than our grief, we live on, even in the midst of the shadows of this day. “The light shines in the darkness,” the evangelist reminds us, “and the darkness did not overcome it.” 

 

Clinging to that light, will you join your hearts with mine in prayer…?

 

Holy One,        

               Spirit of Life,

                               Gracious God,

There are no words. 

There is nothing that we can say

but instead we cry out. 

 

We cry out in shared grief and pain

for the loss of so many youth. 

 

We do not understand, and we cannot imagine.

We cannot comprehend.

 

We come to You in prayer, but our prayer is jumbled.

We pray for the families who are grieving. 

We pray for those who are wounded and recovering. 

We pray for those adults who put themselves

in harm’s way to protect others. 

We pray for those youth and other bystanders that have witnessed

this horrific tragedy

and will live with this for the rest of their lives.

 

Our grief is raw.

The wound gapes open

and we do not know how to stop it. 

 

But we call upon You, O God,

to comfort those who mourn,

to bind-up the brokenhearted.

 

God, we surround them with our prayers,

for we know not what else we can do. 

We surround them with our love,

knowing that You are with them,

that You hold them close.

 

In this time, help us to come together,

for we are stronger together than we are alone,

and we know Your comfort and love is shared

when we are together.

 

Keep us close, O God.

Help us to turn to each other,

to seek the help we need,

to build up instead of tearing down. 

 

Loving God, help us to know You are always with us,

and even that You yourself, O God, are grieving with us now.

 

In the name of that which is Holy, we pray. 

Amen.

 

 

Yours in the journey,

--Rev. Matt

 

 

(Prayer excerpted and adapted by Rev. Matthew Emery from a prayer originally written by the Rev. Mindi Welton-Mitchell in the wake of the December 2012 mass shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School, in Newtown, Connecticut.)