Yesterday in Minnesota, a horrific act of violence shattered a community—ending lives, shattering hearts, and disorienting us all.
The shooter’s message was filled with anti-Semitism, calls for assassination, and violent irony.
Social media lit up instantly with solutions and outcries: mass gun control, increased school security, mental health initiatives. When the shooter’s gender identity was highlighted, the online conversation splintered further and political parties and people quickly got to work spreading lies and spinning the story. Examples are as follows:
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There were also reactions I saw from more politically bent people online such as:
“Another school shooting. Get your thoughts and prayers going, Republicans—maybe this time it will work.”
“A transgender maniac shoots up a Catholic school.”
In all of this rage, what was missing was sorrow. Grief. The kind of soul-level mourning that should be the first human instinct when tragedy strikes.
A Time for Everything
Scripture reminds us in Ecclesiastes 3:1–8:
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven… a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…”
This is not only beautiful poetry, it is a theological imperative. As a society, we rush to debate fixes but rarely linger over grief.
Biblical Models of Mourning
Joseph mourned Jacob for seven days (Genesis 50:10)
Jewish custom developed Shiva—a formal, week-long mourning period where family remains at home, visitors come to comfort, and normal daily rhythms pause.
The Israelites mourned Moses for thirty days (Deuteronomy 34:8)
A Gentile woman captured in war observed thirty days of mourning for her parents (Deuteronomy 21:13)
Egyptian mourning for Jacob lasted seventy days, including forty days of embalming (Genesis 50:3)
On these days, deep grief is honored, and life is intentionally set aside.
Mourning Matters
We live in an era of quick takes and overnight outrage—driven by algorithms that reward frequency over depth. Post after post poisons our feeds with rage bait and “gotcha” rhetoric. As soon as any information comes out, it does not matter if the information is true or false, it is quickly spun into a discorse of “Here’s why I’m right and everyone who disagrees is stupid”.
When tragedy strikes, we’re not called to rush to solutions—we’re called to mourn with those who mourn (Romans 12:15).
Scripture doesn’t restrict our grief: it encourages it. Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:35), even knowing what was to come. Matthew 5:4 promises, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
When we skip the mourning, we skip acknowledging the sacred image in each human life—the Imago Dei—and in doing so, we deny our shared humanity.
What Would It Look Like to Mourn?
Pause your scrolling. Don’t post. Sit quietly, breathe, and let memory and sorrow speak.
Embrace silence. In Jewish tradition, silence and lamentation sit hand in hand with mourning. Let your soul cry.
Pray—not for instant solutions, but for healing, comfort, and peace.
This is not to say that we should not be angry at injustice.
Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us that there is:
“A time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.”
There will be a time for solutions—for policies and debates about gun violence, mental health, and school safety. But right now is not that time.
Right now is the time to be sad, to mourn, and to grieve what we have lost.