I called upon the Lord in my distress and cried out to my God for help.

He heard my voice from his heavenly dwelling; my cry of anguish came to his ears.

The earth reeled and rocked; the roots of the mountains shook; they reeled because of his anger …

He parted the heavens and came down with a storm cloud under his feet. (Psalm 18:6-8,9; BCP)

What do we do when it feels as though the very ground beneath our feet is shifting in unpredictable and dangerous ways?

This summer has been one in which we have found ourselves negotiating old terrors in new expressions: war and its atrocities; gun violence, which has erupted again and again around the country, most recently among our most vulnerable, the children of Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis; the tearing of the fabric of community through anti-immigration actions, the criminalization of homelessness, and the pervasive effects of racism in our midst; challenges to equality of marriage protections; and more.

Later in September, I’m attending a conference hosted by the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship on Congregational Courage, taking aim at gun violence. In particular, a colleague and I will be mentoring workshops that allow for the complications of our common life to surface: how does gun violence affect our communities disparately, while always with devastating effect? What does it mean to advocate for nonviolence in vulnerable contexts, and how does that make us (and our neighbors) safer? Who counts in our society as a victim of gun violence, and who a survivor?

It is sobering to conclude, time and again, that we stand still at the foot of the Cross, seeing the suffering of the Son of Man and helpless to stop it, even (if we dare admit it) too often complicit in it. Yet this is our scaffold.

The earthquake that erupted as the Passion of God unfolded among us let loose life that all had thought was lost (Matthew 27:50-54). It was a foreshadowing of the shaking open of the three-days-later tomb (Matthew 28:1-4). If it feels to us like unsafe ground, that is because we are only mortal, and it is a sign of the in-breaking of God’s love for all who suffer, for all who are targeted, for all who bear witness and weep.

So rather than flee in fear, or succumb to the temptation to try to prevent violence with threats of further violence, let us stand at the foot of the Cross, our scaffold and our stay, bearing witness, knowing that God’s love is at work beneath our feet, and that love, only love, will bring us to solid ground.

Some resources for talking about gun violence, church, and community include:

A monthly Zoom meeting of Diocese of Ohio members committed to gun violence prevention, every first Wednesday of the month at 5:30 p.m.;

A monthly meeting of the Episcopal Peace Fellowship dedicated to learning, encouraging, and sharing resources and encouragement to end violence, every third Thursday of the month at 3:00 p.m. Email rhughes@dohio.org for the Zoom link;

A library of resources is available at the Episcopal Peace Fellowship website;

A book study: Whom Shall I Fear? Urgent Questions for Christians in an Age of Violence, by Rosalind C Hughes, is a resource for congregations wishing to explore their response to violence, especially gun violence.

Recognizing the intersection of violence with other sins, you are invited to register for Every One Beloved, our anti-racism workshop, on September 20 in Akron.

You may also be interested in a September 2 webinar with Presiding Bishop Sean Rowe to help mark the start of the next year of Sacred Ground, a film- and readings-based dialogue series on race that is grounded in faith.

The Sacred Ground series has been part of The Episcopal Church’s work on racial reconciliation since it began in 2019.

According to the Episcopal News Service, "During the 90-minute webinar, Rowe will explore the spiritual dimensions of Sacred Ground and why it continues to challenge people to work for racial healing, reconciliation and justice." Registration for the webinar, which will begin at 1:00 p.m. EST on Zoom, is available here.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be moved, and though the mountains be toppled into the depths of the sea;

Though its waters rage and foam, and and though the mountains tremble at its tumult.

The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our stronghold. (Psalm 46:1-4; BCP)

Rosalind +