The Islamic Center of San Diego attack on May 18, 2026: A Statement & Reflection

There is something especially heartbreaking about violence in a house of worship. A sanctuary is meant to be one of the few places where human beings can lay down fear. Whether it is a church, synagogue, mosque, temple, or meetinghouse, sacred space exists because people long for refuge. 

A place is needed where grief can be spoken aloud, where hope can be rekindled, where children can learn peace, and where the soul can breathe in the presence of God.

That is why the attack on the Islamic Center of San Diego feels like more than another tragic headline. It feels like a wound to something shared and holy.

A statement from Mariann Edgar Budde and Susan Shankman (follow the link) refuses to let this violence remain isolated within one faith community. They insist on a deeper truth: when hatred enters any sanctuary, it diminishes us all. The bullets fired into one community’s sacred space echo through every community that gathers in prayer.

Their words also remind us how frighteningly familiar these stories have become. A Catholic church. A Latter-day Saint meetinghouse. A Jewish temple. Now a mosque. Different traditions, different liturgies, different names for God, and yet the same grief, the same shattered silence, the same candles lit afterward in mourning.

What makes the statement so powerful is that it does not stop at sorrow. It calls for presence.

“To show up at one another’s houses of worship.” That may sound simple, but it is profound in an age where suspicion and tribalism are easier than relationships. Fear thrives where people remain strangers. Hatred grows in distance. Friendship and a genuine relationship become a kind of resistance against violence.

There is sacred power in simply being present for one another. Sitting in the back row of a mosque open house. Attending a synagogue’s remembrance service. Standing beside grieving Christians after a church shooting. Listening instead of debating. Learning instead of caricaturing. Such acts may seem small against the scale of violence, yet they quietly undermine the logic of hatred itself.

The statement also carries a difficult moral challenge: to speak publicly whenever any community is targeted, “without waiting to see whether the attacker’s identity makes the cause convenient.” That line exposes how easily compassion can become conditional. We often mourn selectively, defending only those communities that fit our politics and our level of comfort. But moral integrity demands consistency. If every person bears the image of God, then every attack on human dignity deserves our grief and our outrage.

Perhaps most convicting is the call to examine language itself. Violence rarely begins with weapons. It begins with words that dehumanize, mock, scapegoat, or paint neighbors as threats. The seeds of hatred are often planted long before blood is spilled. Every sermon, every social media post, every casual joke about “those people” either contributes to peace or prepares the ground for cruelty.

And yet, this statement ends not in despair but in resolve.

“We keep writing this statement… knowing that each time we do, we are also building the relationships that will outlast the violence.”

That may be the deepest act of faith of all: believing that compassion can outlive hatred. Believing that friendship between religions is not naïve but necessary. Believing that even after sanctuaries are violated, human beings can still choose to protect one another rather than fear one another.

In many religious traditions, hospitality is sacred. To welcome the stranger is to welcome God. Perhaps in this moment, the holiest response is not merely to defend our own sanctuaries, but to become guardians of one another’s. What can we do?

Let us all seek peace in the presence of the divine.

 

March 20, 2019 - Lent 2 Wednesday Worship - Prayer Vigil for Christchurch - Māori - Kia kaha (be strong) Christchurch

Today is the second Wednesday in Lent. It is the first day of spring and what looked like a super worm moon shone bright and low in the sky this evening. Creator held a prayer vigil tonight for the Christchurch Muslim victims. It was not a crescent moon but this moon made me think of Muslim brothers and sisters around the world since the moon plays a significant role in Islam to determine the date of Ramadan and as a prayer calendar tool.

A little over a year ago, starting on Ash Wednesday; with the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School shooting in Parkland, Florida; I reflected on prayer's purpose and power in life. Tonight, with last Friday's attack in Christchurch, New Zealand, which happened during Jumu'ah prayers at their masjid, I returned to these same reflections.

There are different expressions of mourning and tribute that bring up different reactions to this attack. Not surprisingly the ones uppermost in our minds tonight are from New Zealand and some from the Muslim traditions of honoring the dead. There are students in New Zealand performing a Māori haka war dance (follow the link), a celebration of strength and community in tribute to their classmates. The Māori - Kia kaha (be strong) support is clear.

In 1989, the people of New Zealand came together to create what is called the New Zealand Prayer Book. Creator occasionally recites the Lord's Prayer from this He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa which addresses not only a world that is full of wonder and joy, but also is full of sorrow and pain.

There is another prayer from the New Zealand Prayer Book that has illuminated a path for me during these last few days:

God of hope, we come to you in shock and grief and confusion of heart. Help us to find peace in the knowledge of your loving mercy to all your children and give us light to guide us out of our darkness into the assurance of your love. Amen.

While that prayer was written in New Zealand 30 years ago, the shock and grief and confusion of heart describes the horrific terrorist attack in New Zealand last Friday.

God gives us the innate psychological need to mourn tragedies and this probably played a part in how odd I felt at worship three days ago. There was simply not enough time to grasp the tragedy in the time it took to speak the words of the prayer. The magnitude of 50 people killed in worship felt diminished by so few words.

Prime Minister Ardern

The New Zealand prayer above, for example, addresses the future.  A prayer asking for God to give us a light to guide us out of darkness helps. There is not only the tragedy of the deaths and injuries but, when the survivors now worship, they may have good reason to vigilantly look over their shoulders for fear of new violence from Christians.

Yes, let's acknowledge the tribalism of certain Christians and Muslims both. Muslims are the subjects of massive generalizations among a few Americans I know. These generalizations appear to come out of fear and a lack of understanding.

Acts of violence committed by Muslims are easily attributed to Islam as a religion, while acts of violence committed by Christian perpetrators are just as easily attributed only to a few individuals who are mentally unbalanced. It is hard for us to acknowledge that some people believe in a radical, white nationalist, ideology that they deem to be Christian.

Our gathering prayed to be guided away from those generalizations tonight.

There is also a devolving national dialog around “thoughts and prayers” after so many mass shootings. Being in our “thoughts and prayers” has moved from having a mixed reputation to a decidedly negative one in public discourse. The phrase has come to symbolize inaction, passivity, and callousness, Sunday's disconnection between my heart and the congregational prayer could not be ignored and played into that discourse. This is also the second Lent where a tragedy has happened and the public prayer I was engaged in did not seem to be a prayer appropriate for the occasion

There is obviously both a personal / public component to this. If others didn't feel a lack in Sunday's Prayers of the People or do not need that particular time to be eliciting a deep connection in worship, then my complaint is personal and likely needs a personal resolution.

Last year I composed and sang a variant of a Sacred Harp hymn called Columbus about a man's unique spiritual journey towards his true faith. I am still on the journey that prompted me to write it.

Columbus 2017  Tune: Columbia

Oh once I knew a glorious view
Of my redeeming Lord
Who said "I'll be a God to you"
And I believed those words.
But now this child, a prodigal
Forsaken and forlorn
A pilgrim lost in foreign lands
Must look for my prodigal Lord.

Bedazzled only to close my eyes
Why should I keep looking away?
From that burning bush which is never consumed
Why no hunger to notice or stay?
Then famines come deep from within
Yes, you give us both food and the pangs.
What have I done, what will I do
To find my Lord near me again?

My brother follows in duty's way
I don't see our father there.
When backward on the road I stray
My father's not found anywhere.
While yearnings from abandoned love
Still linger in this soul.
In God's silence I learn to live
Past orders or worldly control.

So am I alone or in company
Of good people lost in prayer?
Perhaps our wandering, extravagant God
Gives out glorious visions to share
Where each of us helps rhapsodize
On some wider, more meaningful view
As deep desires, God, and God's grace
May always build, bind, and renew.

Last year Creator held a Service of Prayer and Lament in Times of Violence in support of the Parkland victims and survivors where this song was played. Memories of that service were embedded for me in this prayer vigil and, this time, the words of Psalm 40 came to me "I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure." I wondered how long we will sing this song.

A couple of days ago the ELCA's own Bishop Eaton co-authored an article with a number of faith leaders, 'They are us': How people of faith are responding to New Zealand massacre. I quote:

As the Martin Luther King Jr. said, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” Our Christian, Jewish and Muslim traditions call each of us to strive for a greater understanding, relationship and cooperation that will lead to justice, peace and life abundant, which God intends for us all.

Too often we have been sickened that sacred places of worship have become sites of mass violence. This tragedy occurred on Friday afternoon when the mosque was filled for Friday prayers, just as the Pittsburgh killer attacked Jews at their synagogue, the Oak Creek killer targeted a Sikh Gurdwara, and the Charleston killer attacked a historic black church.

None of us can truly worship God freely until we all can worship God freely.

Creator's Contemplative Worship and Christchurch Prayer Vigil gave those gathered time and prayer that was different from Sunday's worship. Before our Prayer Around the Cross Pastor Ray delivered a litany where, after each petition, a Māori call and an English response was used - E to Ariki, kia aroha mai (Lord have Mercy) E te Karaiti, kia aroha mai (Christ have mercy). A prayer bowl was then rung 50 times, once for each victim who died. After that we lit our candles where we had gathered. This all was what I yearned for - to publicly share and carry our hearts as a first step to that 'worshiping God freely' we long to reach.

The first funerals of the victims from Friday's shooting, Khaled and Hamza Mustafa, a Syrian father and his 15-year-old son, happened today. Zaed Mustafa, 13, the brother of Hamza and son of Khaled, was also wounded in the shooting and attended the funeral in a wheelchair.

Today was also the day that the Māori (the first New Zealanders) and some of the most recent New Zealanders walked back, for the first time since last Friday, to the Dean Ave Mosque where 43 people were killed. Participants reported the gathering was beautiful. Albeit out of a tragic, very sad event but it had the opposite effect of what the shooter intended. Everywhere expressions of love were on display, hundreds gathering to pay their respects at the Linwood Mosque.

Father El-Baramoussy from the Coptic Church met with Imam Ibrahim Abdul Halim, the two faiths coming together as one.

"We need continuously, to live and love," Father El-Baramoussy said.

Amen.

June 4, 2017 - Pentecost - A Listening Heart

 "...and he said, 'yeah, you guys are really good at welcoming the stranger when the stranger is a young, transgender kid. But sometimes the stranger looks like your mom and dad..."

(Nadia Bolz-Weber - talking to Krista Tippett, On Being)

These words came to me during Creator's Pentecost worship last Sunday. Worship is uncomfortable at times. That discomfort can translate, particularly for those holding an opinion that is not broadly shared, to feeling unwelcome.   

Pastor Michelle's sermon was about how we, at Creator, should be and are celebrating Pentecost as the church's birthday.

The Pentecost story tends to emphasize speaking in tongues, a speaking miracle where an international crowd of many understood what disciples were saying, each in their native languages.

This year I was provided with a different context to view Pentecost when Pastor Michelle opened a meeting that contained the following 1 Kings 3: 9 verse:

So give your servant a listening heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong. For who is able to govern this great people of yours?”

The listening heart was what Solomon asked for as God's gift. This year I considered Pentecost as a hearing miracle rather than a speaking miracle. Can we listen to someone speak in another tongue and hear it as our own?

For worship last Sunday our Glocal young adults and youth led the service. They sang Reamo Leboga, Njalo (Always), Gado de wan bun Gado, Dios es Nuestra Paz, and Yarabba Ssalami to open the service. Ryan was Assisting Minister and the Youth and Young Adults volunteered to for the Acolyte, Reader, Usher and Greeter positions and for vacuuming.

During the last part of the sermone they also witnessed to the activities they had been involved in for the past few months. Pastor Michelle introduced their stories in this second part as evidence of the birth of a new church, more fiery, courageous, and active, with a stronger resemblance to the first church.

Those qualities are natural to youth, those who long for change and want their Christian beliefs to guide their actions and lives. It appeared other places this week as well. Consider Pastor Michelle's reflections on the funeral she attended on Monday: 

I just attended the funeral mass for Ricky John Best, one of the heroes who was killed while trying to protect two young Muslim girls on the train on May 26. (Ricky's wife, Myhanh, did math tutoring at Creator Lutheran Church, where I serve, and sometimes Ricky and some of their kids would drop by, too. Such a gentle, faith-filled family!...)

The whole mass was a beautiful and fitting tribute, but the part that moved me most was the brief address by Harris Zafar from Portland's Rizwan Mosque, who led an adult forum on Islam at Creator last fall. Harris quoted the passage from the Qu'ran that states whoever kills another person, it's as if he had killed all of humanity, and if a person saves another person's life, it's as if he had saved all of humanity.

Then, as he choked back tears, Harris said, "Now I will go home to my children and tell them that I was wrong: Superheroes DO exist...." (Thank you, Harris!)

Jesus said, "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends." (John 15:13)

Part of me swells with emotion and is inspired as I read these words. Another part of me aches to learn how to bring about a different outcome. A film, The Americanization of Emily, encapsulates and addresses this underlying concern throughout the picture, particularly when the main character observes our best inclinations to honor those sacrificed through violence. He addresses this under the broader issue of war:

We shall never end wars by blaming it on the ministers and generals, or warmongering imperialists, or all the other banal bogeys. It's the rest of us who build statues to those generals and name boulevards after those ministers. The rest of us who make heroes of our dead and shrines of our battlefields. We wear our widow's weeds like nuns and perpetuate war by exalting its sacrifices.

Pastor Michelle preached today against those who feel Christianity must be more violent, particularly against Islam. I equally worry that the nobility inspired John 15:13 may lead to future violence. Here, as far as the facts that I have seen, the lives of the two girls were no longer in the balance. What does laying down one's life for one's friends mean in this situation?

I do not necessarily disagree with the sentiment expressed at the funeral mass but are there other, better, ways to protect the vulnerable?

Perhaps we can journey to an answer through the gift of a listening heart.   

August 14, 2016 - Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost - Division Is Not Comforting

Today's Gospel s not meant to comfort. Luke records Jesus' words:

"Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law."

Earlier today I felt nostalgic for how worship used to make me feel when I was young.  At that time I held no doubt, had no questions.  No one asked me "Do you really believe this or that?"  My strongest memories formed around the illustrations in my Sunday School class and the words animated them.  What was conjured up in my head felt very real.  In worship I would hear the same stories and parables and they evoked something I aspired to and felt it was just out of my reach.

This Gospel snapped me out of that luxurious nostalgia.  A follower of Jesus is called to something beyond what we learn to be our duty in life.  This makes me think of my father and mother and their faith.  My dad died before I started regularly attending church again.  I wonder what he would of thought of my devotion.

Jesus does divide us because what Christianity inspires us to be is different.  My father's formative years as a young adult was a Navy man helping fight World War II in the Pacific.  I only learned towards the end of his life about some of the horrific incident he had witnessed. When he came back to civilian life he needed church life to confirm the order and stability he had fought for and he had seen people die to preserve.

I think he would try to understand what is compelling about worship to me and what is important about my faith.  He would like my continuing to be a part of a Lutheran tradition.  I don't think he would see what is essential to me as being very useful.  I don't know if that means we would be against each other but I could see at times he might fight to preserve something I would try to tear down and vice versa.

As I think about this passage I am struck by the fact that those who are against one another in the pairs are of the same gender - father against son and daughter against mother, not son against mother for example.

Today I thought about worship as habit and ritual rather than a series of acts from week to week.  We are what we do repeatedly.

After worship Creator invited Imam Muhammad A. Naijieb and Nadira Najied to be speakers for Creator's My Neighbor is Muslim series.  They had spoken at Central Lutheran who have been following the same series.

I was very impressed with both.  I have studied and watched documentaries on Islam but when he talked about his Hajj experience I felt the fire and passion of his faith.  He told his story that on the long flight home there were many meals that were offered him over the course of the flight but he refused.  "I did not feel like eating because I felt full", he said.

I've known that feeling too.