Deeper thoughts on sandy hook...

Earlier this week, my daughters posted this picture of themselves on Facebook from back in our Seminary days.  They were young and tender, loving and safe, beautiful and so alive. I LOVE this picture.  I LOVE my girls and would move heaven and earth to keep them safe.  Look at them - so precious and filled with love - so alive and filled with potential. 

I visited with one of my daughters tonight at her farm not far from our home.  I wanted to exchange Christmas gifts before she and her beloved head out to San Francisco for the holidays. It was a short visit because the roads were becoming icy tonight, but I did not want to miss the chance to see her and embrace her before she travels.  She has been sick recently and I felt like I would break if we did not have the chance to connect before her departure. In a week her sister and husband will travel here for Christmas Eve worship - and my heart won't be still until I can hold her, too.

You see, my life has been so full and real because of these girls - now women - and all we have shared.  I helped deliver them both into this world back in our hippie days. We've been through a lot - blessings and curses - and I am grateful that through it all we continue to finds ways of sharing love. They are both involved in public education in Brooklyn and Massachusetts - on behalf of the least of these our sisters and brothers (Matthew 25) - and they serve those in their care with wisdom and grace. They are creative, compassionate and committed young women and I cannot imagine life without their presence.  Perhaps that is why I continue to weep over the shootings in Sandy Hook...

It was impossible not to weep as we gathered with the children of my congregation this morning around the Christmas creche.  Most are too young to know what has happened although they know something is in the air.  Most are as young and innocent as my daughters in this picture.  A few of the older children cried with me as we retold the story of the shepherds' coming from the hills to honor and protect the Christ child. And when we prayed together for the safety of all our children, I could hear their parents - and those in the congregation - letting their own tears flow freely within the safety of our community and God's embrace. 

It was a tough but beautiful morning because it seems that today was a time for grieving. I just watched the President speak in Newtown, CT and he got it right: this moment one for tears and silence, the assurance of God's presence and the solidarity of those who embrace in agony.  But we cannot grieve as those who have no faith nor can we can we grieve only; for on his short watch President Obama has already been called upon to address women, men and children in four different US communities who have been attacked by those with easy access to automatic weapons. How did we come to accept the intolerable? When did insanity become the norm?]

Today's second Biblical reading - the Second Canticle of Isaiah - ripped me up with the clear promise of consolation amidst the suffering:

Seek the Lord while he may be found,
call upon him while he is near;
let the wicked forsake their way,
and the unrighteous their thoughts;
let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them,
and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts. For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
and do not return there until they have watered the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

As I was watching various news broadcasts this weekend I was stunned to hear one analyst suggest that maybe the time has come to start arming our school administrators. As one young father said to me after worship, "I kept watching our children with you today and I wondered how I could protect some of them should a shooter rush in from the street." Lord, have mercy.

It would seem that every generation must wait like Israel in captivity and fear for God's release. This Advent our waiting has become agonizing.  I pray that our tears and fears rise up beyond this moment, however, to become a force for healing a sick and broken land.