This Week from Mitch
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,
At the beginning of a funeral, a funeral pall is placed over the casket. The priest then says prayers for receiving the body into the church. The color of the funeral pall is the same white of the towels that we use to dry a person's head after baptism. The pall reminds us that there is a connection between birth and death – that the two garments are linked, and that we are marked as Christ's own forever. The draping of the pall is quite often an unseen part of the ritual of burial, but from the moment the pall is placed, for those who are present, the "rite" or ritual of burial has begun. It is not removed until we proclaim, “Alleluia! Christ is risen,” and we carry the casket out of the church.
In Judeo Christian theology to pray over something and then do nothing, or to pray over something and stop the ritual is considered an act of sin. My heart is heavy because I feel like we are currently living under the "funeral pall" of gun violence. We are living under the pall of supermarket shootings, church shootings, and school shootings. We are living under each pall placed over the tiny children of Uvalde and their teachers who were trapped in a room and gunned down. Our nation is living under the pall of gun violence, a pall that is seemingly weighed down by the sin of countless "thoughts and prayers" and lack of action.
As a priest, I have preached, prayed, and written these E-Messenger letters after mass shootings so many times that I can predict the days ahead. The notes of support, the notes of anger, the tears cried. I will gather with other clergy and write letters; I will march; I will vote and I will pray, just as I have every other time, and, yet, because of inaction, the funeral pall will remain. Sadly, I do not believe our politicians hear us or care. There are currently bills that have been sitting on the House floor for years that have never been debated. Bills like HR-8 that strengthens background check requirements, and HR-1446 that lengthens the amount of time a seller would have to wait for background check results in order to complete a gun purchase.
Still yet, common-sense laws like a federal ban on domestic abusers being able to purchase firearms cannot pass in today's climate. When in place, these simple laws have proven to save lives. A simple "cooling-off period" and a comprehensive, multiple-day background check would have prevented a child from picking up two semi-automatic rifles and nearly 400 rounds of ammunition legally, in just one shopping trip, days after his 18th birthday, and mere days before he committed this crime.
These are not radical laws. They are supported by the majority of police chiefs in America, and by nearly 90% of Americans, and yet they are not universally in place. As long as the gun lobby voice is louder than the people's, the funeral pall will remain.
We also need to have larger more nuanced conversations. We need to talk about our gun culture. We need to talk about what happens when “outrage culture” collides with “cancel culture” and the fragility of the white male ego, but to get to those conversations, we must commit to a real and genuine holy listening. Listening without screaming at each other or holding onto talking points. Listening without mocking and belittling those who feel differently than you. I believe that until these conversations can take place, the funeral pal will remain.
In 2017, I preached after Las Vegas; in 2018, after Parkland, and in 2019, after a shooting in a Walmart, and those were just in the sermons preached from the St. Martin's pulpit. In my last sermon after a shooting, I drew from the day's readings the words "vanities of vanities" and I said, "I have played my vain part. I feel like the problem hasn't changed." The funeral pall remains and I find myself playing the role again. I pray my words are not in vain. Like all of you, I grieve. I grieve with parents, with educators, with police officers, and with those whose lives have been irreparably harmed by gun violence.
I pledge to try to be a part of a solution that saves lives, but like many of you, I feel helpless. I pledge to try to move from beneath the pall. I lament my anguish to God because I am angry. I pray that this time the voices of the victims will be heard, for it is only in that hearing that the stain of the sin of inaction can be washed away by the waters of our baptisms. Perhaps then the pall can be lifted and the vanity will be gone.
In Christ,
Mitch+
