This Sunday morning when many of our churches were gathered in the name of God to worship God, to praise God, to pray to God: the streets of East Baton Rouge, La were filled with cries of “Oh my God.” This was not the OMG that we use in playful texts to our friends, but the cry of horror that has engulfed the nation in shock. Baton Rouge, St. Paul Minnesota, Dallas Texas and now circling back again. The tears of grieving families are not yet dry. The flowers on makeshift memorials and grave sites have barely turned brown. Now again the echo of gunshots is bouncing off of buildings, the smell of gunpowder is in the air, and blood runs in the streets.
The blood is red. How many killed? We do not know and that number might change. How many wounded? We are not sure. How many suspects 3? 4? We are not sure.
Why? We do not know. One thing is certain the blood is red. Not blue, not black, not white. The blood is red. Not a skin color of a derogatory name. Red the color that runs in all of our veins without which we die.
What do we do now?
It is a question and a verb and a statement. It is a statement of our belief. It is a verb because if we have any empathy we have a deep need to do something. It is a question, a haunting question because if we are honest we are not completely sure that it will have any effect because once again; it is Mourning in America.
Is it over yet?
There is too much hate, too many sealed ears, too many blind eyes, too much “straining at gnats and swallowing camels,” too many guns shooting too many bullets too readily available, too much fear, too much hate. There are too many ingredients left on our American table to not cook up another batch of slaughter.
Unless there is enough moral courage not to stir the pot and clear the table.