Sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter May 14, 2023

Acts 17:22-31+Psalm 66:7-18+1 Peter 3:13-22+John 14:15-21

In 2019, there was an Oscar-nominated short-subject documentary from Sweden called Life Overtakes Me.[1] It looked at how refugee children in Sweden, uncertain about their future, their safety, and their refugee status would simply shut down, going into an almost coma-like state. It’s an illness called resignation syndrome.

According to research, it has affected refugee children in Sweden who fled violence in places like Kosovo and Ukraine. Most had borne huge responsibilities in their families, like acting as interpreters, and the symptoms began to appear when deportation orders were imminent.

The shut-down did not happen all at once. The Swedish term for them is apathetic children. They lose interest in things they once enjoyed, stop going to school, lose their appetites. At some point they slip into a catatonic state, often followed by a coma that can last week or months or years.

While the specific subjects of the film have come under scrutiny (parents trying to influence refugee status outcomes), the syndrome itself is well-documented. I only know the little bit I’ve read, but it is clear that trauma and lack of control over one’s fate play significant roles in it.[2]

It seems to me that we, as a country, are approaching something like resignation syndrome when it comes to gun violence. The sheer numbers of mass shootings are so overwhelming, the volume of firearms in private ownership is so astronomical, that we are traumatized, feel helpless to do anything about it, and we are paralyzed into doing nothing. Thoughts, prayers, social media outrage. Rinse, wash, repeat.

We have witnessed 200 mass shootings this year (it may have changed since I wrote this). We are on pace to break last year’s record, not a benchmark to be proud of. There are more firearms in this country than there are people. Over the past couple of weeks, I have seen more and more people that I know who live overseas who are choosing to forego travels here.

We are paralyzed in this dystopian landscape where, rather than enacting laws, we teach our kids to hide, to cover injured classmates, to tie tourniquets. Folks are so quick to jump on the long-term effect of the COVID shutdown on our kids. I may not be a child expert, but I am pretty sure that the climate of fear over random and massive gun violence is the greater of the threats to the well-being of our children as they grow into adulthood.

After the resurrection sightings of Jesus, the disciples were also paralyzed. What did it mean that he had appeared to a few of them? What they had witnessed on that awful Good Friday was still a very fresh memory. Rome did not mess around when it came to punishing would be usurper-kings. If these followers of the crucified Jesus were found, would they be next? Who could possibly stand up to Roman might?

Once again this morning, we are back in the Farewell Discourse in John, Jesus’s final address to the disciples after the foot-washing and before his arrest, and he’s telling them to take heart. Given that John portrays Jesus as assured and in control of his purpose and destiny, it is easy to imagine that he knows how they are going to feel, how traumatized they will be, and how paralyzed with fear. And so he says to them, “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live” (14:18-19)

They couldn’t see it at the time, they could not possibly have known, that the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, would give them power from on high beyond their imagining. In a few short years, the Apostle Paul would stand in Athens proclaiming Christ and him crucified to the Greeks gentiles who had untold numbers of gods at their disposal. Paul had a direct experience of the risen Christ on the road to Damascus, and no amount of hostility or indifference would keep him silent. He knew he had an Advocate with God. He knew that the power behind him was infinitely greater than the power in front of him.

He could say to the unbelievers with assurance:

While God has overlooked the times of human ignorance, now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed, and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead. (Acts 17:30-31)

This is a call to repentance and a call to action. Turn away from your false idols. A god of stone will not save you. In our day, a god of carbon steel will not save us. That god, the one that goes by names like AR-15 and AK-47, will consume us like Moloch, the ancient and insatiable demander of human sacrifice. Turn away. Repent. Repent our sins of apathy, of indifference, of helplessness, of not trusting the might of God, and then, then pursue that righteousness of God, not just for ourselves but for all God’s people.

This week, the Christian author Diana Butler Bass shared what she called “A prayer after another mass shooting.” She wrote

God of Plowshares: 

We confess our need to face the misery, brutality, and evil of gun violence in the United States of America. Family, friends, and neighbors — children and adults — are being slaughtered by those with powerful weapons and powerful interests to ignore the suffering. We have failed you. We have failed them. Have mercy on us. 

We grieve with the scores of thousands whose loved ones have been murdered in mass shootings, and in too many other shootings across this nation. We ask you to heal the injured, those whose bodies will be wounded forever, and those whose hearts are broken. We pray for all those living with the shock, trauma, and fear of these horrors. 

Deliver this nation from anxiety and anger. Strengthen the resolve of voters, activists, policy makers, judges, and political leaders. Fill us with courage to change the laws that govern our communities so we may dwell in safety. Free us all from the idolatry of guns. May we lay down every weapon and wield only compassion and love. 

Send your Spirit of concord among us. May we stand as peacemakers in this time of anguish and sorrow.[3]

Friends, we simply cannot continue in this helpless, hopeless, horrifying state. No resignation syndrome for us. We are people of hope. Jesus Christ has not left us orphaned to fend for ourselves. It was heartening to see so many march yesterday right here in Hoboken, including some All Saints folks, to demand an assault weapons ban. All these moms want for Mother’s Day is for their children to survive.

It's going to take all of us, but as the Apostle Paul writes elsewhere, “{We} can do all things through Christ who strengthens {us}” (Philippians 4:13). We can, y’all. So, let’s get busy, then. Amen.

[1] https://www.netflix.com/title/81034980

[2] https://exploringyourmind.com/resignation-syndrome-in-children/

[3] https://dianabutlerbass.substack.com/p/sunday-musings-d55?r=45vbf&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web