I’m writing this article a few hours after the school shooting at Minneapolis Annunciation Catholic School. I realize by the time this article is read, that incident will be long past and no longer front of mind for many. The purpose of this article isn’t necessarily to reflect on that specific incident, per say, but to reflect on issues surrounding that and events like it that seem now inextricably woven into our culture. Primarily, I wonder, “Why does this keep happening to us?” And, “Can we do anything about it?”
Before 1999, America experienced 7 mass shootings at school locations in its entire history. If you start the “history of America” at its birth year of 1776, that equates to 7 mass school shootings from 1776 to 1999, which gives a shooting-per-year rate of about 0.0314, or 3.14% (about 1 shooting every 31 years). This frequency was so small that modern day precautions such as active shooter drills, or the more robust security precautions American schools practice today were not practiced for the first 200 years of our history. In fact, during this period of America’s history it was possible to go decades, sometimes generations, without hearing of a mass shooting at an American school.
Fast forward to 2025 and all of that has changed. Since 1999, starting with the Columbine High School shooting, America has experienced 14 mass school shootings in that 26-year time period (not to mention a number of other violent incidents at schools that wouldn’t fall under the definition of a “mass school shooting"). That means we are now experiencing mass school shootings at a rate of 0.538, or 53.8%, essentially a shooting every other year. To put things in perspective, that is a 1614% rate increase from the first 223 years of our nation’s history.
Again, I wonder, “Why is this happening to us?”
I am not a trained psychologist or sociologist, and so I will not venture armchair quarterbacked guesses on possible psychological or sociological motives. But I am a trained theologian, and theologians are trained to ask “What stories do we live by?” and “How do our stories shape us?” And so I wonder, around the turn of the century, did our stories change? If so, how did they change? What stories are shaping us now that didn’t shape us before? And especially, when somebody reaches for violence against innocents in a place that’s supposed to be a sanctuary of care and safety, what stories were they telling themselves in that moment? What stories got them to that moment? This sort of violence seems cultural at this point in our history, which means that story is one of the things in the petri dish nurturing its growth. Where have we gone wrong in our stories?
I don’t have an answer to that, but as a pastor I would like to shout from the highest rooftops, “God has a different story!” I hope and pray the families of the victims of the Annunciation School shooting know they and their loved ones are wrapped up in the eternal, life-giving story of God. I hope anybody who might reach for rage or violence as an answer to a hellish story that nurtures hate and anger might be interrupted by an experience with God’s healing story. I hope such an interruption by God’s healing story might turn hearts bent or twisted by violence into hearts that know peace (and over time, hearts that give peace).
Maybe it’s naïve to think our culture’s hellish stories can be combated by God’s healing story, but I don’t think so. I think it’s hopeful. I think it’s salvation. And to the question of “can we do anything about it?” That’s the answer I’ve landed on; it's time to tell different stories. It’s hard to change culture. Fine. I won’t worry about changing culture. What I can do (what we can do) is make sure the people around us are wrapped up in good stories. The story of God’s love for them. The story of our love for them. Maybe good stories can keep hellish stories from gaining purchase?
