Lewiston, Maine.

I had never heard of Lewiston until last Wednesday night. Most of our country probably had never heard of Uvalde until that Tuesday in May last year. Lewiston now joins Uvalde, San Ysidro, El Paso, Killeen, Sutherland Springs, Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech, the Pulse Nightclub, and Las Vegas as one of the top ten deadliest modern mass shootings.

We’ve had more mass shootings in 2023 than we’ve had days. So far this year we’ve averaged nearly two shootings per day in which four or more people were killed or injured. In 301 days we’ve had 572 mass shootings. We Americans really are exceptional when it comes to gun violence. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if some of you have already tuned out and others are about to. You don’t want to hear it. You’ve already made up your mind, or it’s just too difficult and heartbreaking to hear, or you feel exhausted, overwhelmed, and powerless by the ongoing violence. 

I understand. I feel those things too and I really don’t want to preach this sermon. It’s not what I was planning to preach last Wednesday morning. But I don’t know how I can stand here as your priest and as a human being and not say something. To not preach about what has happened again, this time in Lewiston, would be a betrayal of you, myself, and God. 

But here’s the problem. I’m just not sure what to say. You know the usual responses as well as I do: thoughts, prayers, and condolences; more mental health care; common sense gun legislation; more security; good guys with guns. We’ve heard it all before, at least nine times before last Wednesday, but I’m just not sure a tenth time will make a difference. Are you?

I have no words, but Jesus does.

“‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”

Matthew 22:34-46

I used to hear those words as encouragement, a way forward, hope for our future. Today I hear them as an indictment. Maybe love is the real issue behind Lewiston and gun violence in America. 

If we truly loved God and our neighbor wouldn’t we be doing something to make a difference and bring about change? When I say “we” I don’t just mean America, our leaders, and our politicians. I also mean you and me.

The love Jesus speaks of is not about our feelings or affection for God and our neighbor. Love is our commitment to the life and well-being of the other. It’s a choice we make every day – to love or not to love. It’s all or nothing. It’s everyone or it’s no one. We either love or we don’t.

Why does love have such a hard time in our world today? I’m not asking you to answer that question. I am asking you and myself to let that question be an invitation to self-reflection.

What do you want after Lewiston? After Uvalde? What kind of world do you want to live in? What kind of world do you want to give your children, grandchildren, and those yet to be born? And what are you doing to bring that into existence? 

It’s not enough to only want, wish, or pray for that world. Yes, prayer matters and makes a difference. Keep praying but give your prayer hands and feet. Love is a verb, an action. Prayer is love in potential. Love is prayer actualized. 

I’m not suggesting you and I can do everything but we can do something. No one of us has the solution but we all have a part in the solution. What’s your part today? How will you love?

How will you love? That’s the question behind what Jesus says in today’s gospel. And it’s not a question about only Lewiston or gun violence. It’s also a question about Israel and Hamas, Russia and Ukraine, the hurricane in Acapulco, and your own families and friendships. It is the question. How will you and I love today? 

Every Tuesday and Thursday we have morning chapel for the students at our parish school. Before we begin a teacher and I gather with the two student acolytes for a prayer offered by one of the students. This past Thursday the student whose turn it was to pray said, “I pray for all the children in the world.” I smiled and my heart fluttered. 

“And,” he continued, “I pray that Israel wins the war.” I cringed and my heart broke. And that wasn’t about Israel or my support for Israel. It was about love, God, and people. I thought to myself, And who will lose? 

Even if Israel wins the war – in whatever ways we might define or understand that – I’m not so sure Hamas will lose. I’m not so sure the violence will end and justice will prevail. I am, however, sure that moms and dads will lose sons and daughters, children will lose their parents, siblings will lose each other, wives will lose their husbands and husbands their wives. Families will lose homes, hopes, and dreams. That’s already happening for both Israelis and Palestinians. Both are losing.

Ultimately, the loser will be love. It lost in Lewiston and it’s losing in Israel and Gaza. That’s what violence does. Whether it’s the violence of words spoken to another, the violence of bullets fired in a bowling alley, or the violence of bombs dropped on a battlefield, love, God, and people, you and me included, lose. 

Why does love have such a hard time in our world today? I don’t want us to answer that question. I want you and I to make it just a little bit easier for love in our world today. 

How does love want to enter the world through your life today? Pray and then do something. 

Become more nonviolent toward yourself and others. Support reasonable gun legislation. Promote mental health care. Donate to humanitarian aid organizations. Encourage our president and senators to work for a cease fire between Israel and Hamas. Hold up a sign saying, “Enough.”

For the love God and your neighbor, do something.

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Image Credit: Photo by Humphrey Muleba on Unsplash.