How could Jesus assume that all those who heard him preach would never treat their children in such a way?
Life in America has been changed by gun culture.
Toxic theology in the wake of mass violence
RAWtools began with a blacksmith and a friend’s donated AK-47.
"It's a sin problem," goes the slogan, "not a gun problem." Whatever definition of sin is operative here, it isn't Paul's.
What do our baptismal vows have to do with safety?
Instead of being an excuse for inaction, thoughts and prayers can turn us toward acts of love.
What if we did the work of God in the world?
I was skeptical. Then I heard a poet read one of his poems.
In ministry here in Harrisburg, in the past five years our congregation has lost eight sons—all murdered in cold blood. Gun violence is a national nightmare, experienced locally and felt personally by so many of us. It should be a Civil Rights issue of our day.
Concealed weapons don't make us safer; communities do.
As our country asks how to protect itself from the terror of more mass shootings, elected leaders who call themselves Christian might look to the LGBTQ community for inspiration. Queer people have a weapon in our arsenal that no gun will ever defeat.
Here in Connecticut, we have learned about remembering those who have lost their lives because of senseless gun violence. An image, a phrase, a chance meeting, or a date on the calendar so easily brings back the profound tragedy of December 14, 2012, when Adam Lanza shot and killed first his mother, and then 20 school children, six adults, and finally himself at Sandy Hook Elementary School.
On the radio last week, I heard a police officer being interviewed about the shootings in his town of Roseberg, Oregon. He said something like, “We’re just in shock. Things like this always happen somewhere else, not in a town like ours.” I was surprised to hear this. I take it for granted that, someday, a public shooting is going to happen in a town, school, or church near me, maybe at a time when I happen to be there.