My first year as executive director I had the sad task of writing a college president to express official CHS condolences for shootings on his Virginia campus.

Now the unthinkable has struck closer to home. Not only were innocent people murdered, but they lost their lives inside their own faith sanctuary. Most bitter of all, the killings were driven by racial hatred.


Grief here in South Carolina has been deeper than we could have imagined three weeks ago. Only hours before I write this, the last victim was laid to rest in a Columbia military cemetery (Fort Jackson). Red Cross is winding down its quiet two-week support of events. Leevy's Funeral Home is no doubt sitting down for a well-deserved rest from handling surely the most daunting task faced in recent memory (many of the deceased were honored at multiple wakes, memorials and funeral services in multiple cities).


A summer storm held off until the burial was finished today. Now the soothing sound of distant thunder and much-needed rain are a kind reminder that life will go on, the crops will grow, and children will laugh and play.

But we are forever changed, and that is a good thing.  The Confederate battle flag is almost sure to be removed from the State House grounds by the end of next week, and numerous national retail outlets have already pulled their flag-imprinted merchandise.  Many of us hope that other hateful icons such as the statue of Ben Tillman will follow.


But the most important result of the trauma has been the new openings for real conversations about race and community. South Carolinians are very proud that tragedy drove us into each other's arms rather than away, that even when Black Panthers and Westboro Baptist Church came to town, marched and called for violence, there were no riots, no acts of vandalism.

As seminarians, we are trained to hold compassion in our hearts as we offer ourselves in service to others. That service often takes the form of marches and protests. Those will continue here in South Carolina for as long as there are specific objectives for which we can march, such as flag removal.


But the more subtle, more challenging work is the other skill we attempt to teach, that of deep listening. One of the most powerful healing tools is that of storytelling.  For the first time in a while, the door of listening opportunities has widened.  We in South Carolina appreciate your prayers for Brigit's balm as we begin anew to tell our stories to each other.