Archbishop Blase Cupich of Chicago, named by Pope Francis to that high-profile post a year ago, has issued a powerful call for tougher gun control laws in a move that may push the volatile issue further up the Catholic hierarchy’s agenda than it has been before.
The original intent of the Constitution’s right to bear arms has been “perverted” by a gun industry that is seeking profits at any cost, Cupich wrote in an op-ed in the Chicago Tribune. The founding fathers could not have anticipated the widespread availability of “military-grade assault weapons that have turned our streets into battlefields.”
“It is no longer enough for those of us involved in civic leadership and pastoral care to comfort the bereaved and bewildered families of victims of gun violence,” he wrote in the column, which was published Oct. 9.
“We must band together to call for gun-control legislation,” he concluded.
The phrase has captivated my imagination for some time now, as I seek joy in the midst of a world crying out in pain. In a nation of mass shootings and executions, in a world devastated by war crimes and the crime of war, where working for peace means learning the depths and pervasiveness of violence, despair threatens to seep in through the air I breathe. Hope often evades my grasp, and fear like a weight drags down my every movement.
But when I find myself in a morass of bitterness, my soul gets a jolt of energy from my laughing toddler, or the accidentally insightful comment from my precocious 6-year-old, or the warm hand of my husband on my shoulder. I savor the comfort of these gestures and let them lift me out of my cynicism. And as the tears clouding my vision disperse, I remind myself that joy, too, permeates the world and can be found by those with eyes to see it.
I never liked “Imagine.” I am not the only Jewish teacher who feels this way.
“Imagine there’s no countries/It isn’t hard to do/Nothing to kill or die for/And no religion too.”
Lennon was saying: Let’s get rid of nations; let’s get rid of religion; let’s get rid of the idea that there is something above me that is worth dying for, and that might even be worth killing for.
Let’s get rid of the passions that help us transcend ourselves. Maybe that’s why the melody of “Imagine” is so subdued — almost like sleepwalking.
“Imagine” is a dream, and not a very good one.
Without question, abuse ministry—including abuse education—has been the most challenging (and the most rewarding) of all the ministries we’ve experienced. Abuse creates soul damage, including high levels of toxic shame. It creates confusion and pain for those who try to help victims, so it is challenging to teach students about abuse, as it can trigger past trauma. Finally, one of the greatest challenges we’ve faced domestically and globally when educating others about abuse is patriarchy. Until one comes to recognize the prevalence and malevolence of patriarchy, it is difficult to understand, let alone deal with, abuse in the church.
The nightmare continues.
After four students at Northern Arizona University were shot early Oct. 9, another school shooting occurred near Texas Southern University in the middle of the day.
There is one reported fatality in each shooting. The shooting near Texas Southern involved a second injury.
The statistics are staggering: One in three women will experience violence in their lifetime. Ending this cycle of abuse can seem impossible. But, as Jesus tells us, “for God all things are possible” (Mark 10:27).
The Scheherazade Initiative is putting this issue center stage at Carnegie Hall on October 19 through a benefit concert for the UN Trust Fund to End Violence against Women, featuring the great Scheherazade-inspired works by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov and Maurice Ravel. As the narrator of One Thousand and One Nights, Sheherazade not only neutralized violence directed against herself but enriched global folklore. She embodies the creative power of women over the centuries and around the world who have worked privately and publicly to stop violence.
In a bid to defuse the wave of Palestinian violence that has struck Israel and the West Bank during the past few weeks, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu on Oct. 8 prohibited all of the country’s parliamentarians from visiting the Temple Mount, a contentious site holy to both Jews and Arabs.
Netanyahu made the controversial decision in order to quell Muslims’ fears that Israel was preparing to assert sovereignty over part or all of the Mount, the site of the Al-Aqsa Mosque and Dome of the Rock, and the long-destroyed Jewish Biblical Temples. Netanyahu has long denied such intentions.
Far-right-wing Jews, including Israeli agricultural minister Uri Ariel, say Jews should have the right to pray at Judaism’s holy site, and some have vowed to build a Third Jewish Temple on the Temple Mount. Arab leaders, including Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas, have said such a move would result in a regional war against Israel.
Two of North America’s most liberal Protestant church groups have teamed up and agreed to recognize each other’s members, ministers, and sacraments.
The United Church of Christ and the United Church of Canada will celebrate their full communion agreement on Oct. 17 at a church in Niagara Falls. Leaders from the two denominations will sign the agreement during the service.
Full communion means the two denominations will recognize each other’s members, ordained ministers, and sacraments.
There is nothing we can do to reduce the growing number of mass shootings in America, except get more people to have guns.
Unbelievably, that’s what conservative spokespersons and Republican presidential candidates are saying after the latest college massacre in Oregon which killed 10 and wounded 7 others.
Unacceptable.
There have been two very different sets of responses to last week’s mass shooting in Roseburg, Ore. The shooter killed nine people before taking his own life during a shootout with police, in what was the 142nd school shooting since Sandy Hook, in December 2012, when six teachers and 20 children were killed.
Gun rights advocates and gun control supporters alike have used the opportunity to politicize the tragedy. That isn’t, in itself, a bad thing. If politics is the business of governing a diverse body of people, and guns are both used and governed, then our response to repeated mass shootings ought to be, at least in part, a political one.
To “politicize” something that is inherently political isn’t a dirty thing. In fact, to keep ignoring mass shootings, to refuse to change gun control policy because of the power of the National Rifle Association lobby, to let 20 children die and take no national action to restrict gun access in this country — indeed, to vote against an assault-weapons ban — that is the dirty thing.