I
live in a very small world and yet I encountered five people in the last week
who wanted to know if Rockfish Presbyterian was a safe place to worship. This
concern was generated by the events of the last week. First, a man wielding a
machete entered a house celebrating Hanukah.
Five people were wounded. While many have suggested this to be an
isolated incident initiated by a mentally ill assailant, his actions were
proceeded by tension over zoning laws and accusations against what some have
called a Jewish “voting bloc” in Rockland County, New York.
The
second incident happened outside of Fort Worth. A transient recently given
assistance by the minister of the West Freeway Church of Christ opened fire
with a shotgun as the service began. He was shot and killed by the churches
volunteer security team. Two members of the congregation died. The minister praised the security team giving
them credit for saving the lives of many members of the congregation.
Like
public schools, churches have become targets of human rage. The majority of
these attacks have been burnings or destruction of church property at times
when the buildings were empty. But as this week has exhibited, human lives have
been lost while participating in the sacred act of worship.
Your
session, on more than one occasion, has discussed the safety of worshiping at
Rockfish. We are fortunate to have a number of folk, including Jim Wright,
whose professional lives revolved around working with Federal Agencies that
dealt with such tragedies. Your session has listened carefully to their advice.
More
than one of you has told me you are licensed to carry a firearm and do so on a
regular basis. I have not had the inclination to inquire if that includes times
of worship. I am certain all of you know my views on gun violence and you have
little desire to hear them again.
But
that is not the question I have been asked. Folks want to know if it safe to
worship here. Here are the facts:
- The majority of places of worship attacked have been African-American congregations, Synagogues or Mosques. We are none of the above.
- While most of our request for financial help is transmitted through a phone call, we are engaged in more ministry projects than any other church in Nelson County. People know who we are.
- By declaring ourselves to be “The Light in the Valley”, we have identified ourselves as a congregation which welcomes the LGBTQ community. We celebrate this but not everyone is so enlightened or delighted.
- Our location near Wintergreen insures that we often have visitors who do not live in the area. On many Sundays I do not know everyone worshipping in our congregation. This is where we are dependent on the observant eyes of a selected few.
Keeping all of this in
mind I have concluded since we are not a racial or religious minority our
chance of confronting a violent situation is at best minimal. That does not
mean nothing will ever happen. I am certain neither Emmanuel AME in Charleston
or First Baptist in Sutherland Texas imagined such a tragedy occurring. But
because the possibility of violence exists, do we drastically change who we
are?
This place in which we
worship has been identified with a radical concept, sanctuary. This is a place where
we dare to admit how frail and limited each of us really is. It is a place
where we claim a mystery, a God, as having a fundamental meaning over the way
we approach life. It is a place we can dare to think thoughts that make no
sense on Monday morning. It is a place we welcome the stranger. It is a place
we offer hope to the lost. It is a place we utter “The Lord is my shepherd” as
well as “ I shall not fear” and at least for a brief moment, believe those
words to be true.
If I should walk
toward this pulpit and one of you pat your hip and say, “Don’t worry, I have
got your back”, I would instantly feel in conflict. This is my sanctuary. This
is my holiest of holy places. To carry an instrument of violence within these
sacred walls challenges the very notion of the idea of sanctuary.
One might argue this
space is not exclusively mine, it is ours. Therefore the risk of our sanctuary
being violated is shared. I would counter this logic with an illogical
consideration. The spirit of sanctuary challenges protection from the very
instruments which threaten to disrupt our holy refuge. I refuse to believe the
answer to gun violence is more guns. I choose to trust within this sanctuary we
try to speak and think and act in God’s way, not in the way of a fear-filled
world. Our security comes from embracing something beyond what makes sense to
those outside these walls. The logical mind would suggest I am risking lives by
not arming myself. My illogical response would be, why make the church another
haven for frightened people? God has called us to be an incubator for creative
and courageous thought. This sanctuary is where birth happens. Our discoveries here
give hope to a weary people out there.
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