I have to be honest and admit that the reality of this senseless tragedy has not really sunk in. Our friends were not shot by someone they knew. It was a random and very senseless act of violence, the kind of which is all too prevalent in our society.
I suppose those who are interested can find news reports coming out of Twin Falls, Idaho (see here). They had merely stopped to recharge their electric vehicle when their assailant shot them. After his shooting spree, the man responsible for it killed himself.
In the face of something like this, there are no satisfactory explanations, no good answers. There is only shock, grief, and, certainly, anger. Instead, such horrific events prompt many, many questions.
First and foremost, the question "Why?" For those of us who believe not just in God, but in an all-loving, all-caring, benevolent God, a God who is also omnipotent, "Why does God allow these things to happen?" All I can say is, I don't know. It makes no sense to me.
To attempt to answer these questions in any satisfactory way is to dismiss the pain and anguish that prompts them. During his visit to Spain, Pope Leo warned against the danger of well-meaning efforts to “spiritualize pain, superficially attributing it to 'God's will' or to some mysterious plan of his.” To do this, he noted, runs the risk of minimizing or silencing suffering, thus hurting people. God neither wants nor wills human suffering (see here).
Yet, suffering happens. But Christ, Pope Leo insisted, “carries [suffering] with us and invites us to trust in him with perseverance,” hopefully noting that “with God, life is always reborn." At least this is our hope.
Our Gospel today offers some insight (see Matthew 14:13-21). On learning of the Baptist's death, Jesus headed to a deserted place. It appears he does so to mourn and grieve John's death.
But word apparently got out that he was coming. As he stepped onto the shore, a "vast crowd" awaited him. Far from being self-pitying and reproachful, the Lord was "moved with pity for them." And so, he healed those who were sick. Beyond that, enlisting the reluctant help of his closest followers, he miraculously fed them all.
This is Jesus Christ. Meek, gentle, merciful, and caring. Rather than be a heavenly puppet-master, he became one of us, entered fully into our human condition, thus humbly subjecting himself to all that is human, including the grief of death. We see this, too, in John's Gospel, when he weeps at the death of his friend Lazarus (see John 11:1-44).
Anguish, disttress, the sword, even death cannot separate us from the love of God given us in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. But sometimes in the face of reality, God, who is love, seems notably absent. But he's not.
God suffers with us and, in Christ, suffers for us. By his wounds, we are healed. Healing is often a long, slow process. Of course, we look forward to that ultimate healing. As I wrote this, the Holy Spirit brought to my mind this beautiful song written and sung years ago by Wayne Watson: "Home Free."
There are times when the walk through valley of the shadow of death is a very long and dark one. But Christ is with you every step of the way. Like the discouraged disciples Jesus accompanied as they made their way back home to Emmaus, it is often the case that we recognize him only when we look back.
When dealing with grave tragedies with which life is at times sadly fraught, God's love is scandalous in a different way, meaning he can seem absent or even non-existent. Cling to hope. Cling to Christ.
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