We gather also to drink deeply of the religious streams which have refreshed parched peoples for many generations. We gather together, weeping. Yes, we weep with an agony too deep for words and sighs that are inexpressible. But also we gather affirming the sovereignty of life over death.
At a time such as this, the darkness of evil seems powerful indeed. . . And yet, we come to this place to testify that the light of love cannot be defeated.
Amid all our pain, we confess that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. We cannot do everything, but we can do something. We cannot banish all darkness, but we can by joining together, push it back. We can not undue yesterday’s tragic events, but we can sit in patient silence with those who mourn as they seek for a way forward.
As we share light, one with another, we reclaim our campus, let us deny death’s power to rob us of all that we have loved about Virginia Tech, this our community. Let us cast our lot with hope in defiance of despair. I invite you to observe a moment of silence.
There is nothing of the gospel, nothing of Christ, nothing of sin, and nothing of salvation. In short, there is no hope. The listener is left without God and without hope in this world. There is only one oblique reference to scripture, but it is left unexplained -- who is "the light" that shines in the darkness, and why has the darkness never overcome it? What is "the darkness" anyway? All of this is left unexplained.
Sadly, this is all too often what we hear from the pulpits of our churches; the apostasy is only more easily visible in the ELCA.
How many listeners, I wonder, who believed themselves to be Christian, thought they were hearing a "Christian" message?
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