Minnesota faith leaders: Our gun petition is bigger than partisan politics

Opinion editor’s note: Strib Voices publishes a mix of guest commentaries online and in print each day. To contribute, click here.

•••

The following article was signed by several faith leaders in Minnesota. Their names are listed below.

•••

Last Wednesday, 70 of us gathered in person at the State Capitol to deliver a letter that has now been signed by over 950 faith leaders — pastors, deacons, rabbis, imams, chaplains and clergy elders. The letter, addressed to Gov. Tim Walz and members of the Minnesota Legislature, calls for a special legislative session to enact a ban on assault weapons and high-capacity magazines. Written in response to recent school shootings, it asks our elected leaders to act — to turn our collective heartbreak into laws that protect our children and communities and to lead with the courage our public life so desperately needs.

That list of 950 faith leaders continues to grow, and each leader is deeply engaged in communities across 69 counties, ranging from Hermantown to Bemidji to Brainerd to St. Cloud to Avon to Annandale to Afton to Blooming Prairie to Austin to Albert Lea to Blue Earth to Montevideo to Barnesville to Bricelyn to Alexandria. This letter is not signed because of partisan politics or social optics, but out of shared grief and moral urgency. We believe there is a new story unfolding — a prophetic, pastoral witness emerging from our communities. It calls all of us, including those in power, into deeper solidarity with one another and all who suffer.

Over the past seven days, faith leaders, teachers and community members have gathered at the Capitol for prayer and action. We came because elementary students should not have to tend to bullet wounds. Because teenagers should not need to carry first-aid kits in their backpacks. Because teachers should not have to calculate sightlines in their classrooms. Because parents should not have to run barefoot into the street to see if their children are alive. Because doctors should not have to bear witness to the exponential violence assault weapons and high-capacity magazines inflict on little bodies. Because clergy should not have to bury the youngest among us and hold the anguish of those who loved them most.

As we ground this work in Scripture, we are drawn to the story of the persistent widow (Luke 18:1-8). She refuses to be silenced. She insists on being heard. She demands justice — not out of rancor, but out of necessity. That is the posture from which we come. This is not a demand of malice, but an insistence born of conviction, shaped by anguish and sustained by hope. Like her, we keep showing up because lives are at stake. Like her, we do not lose heart.

We have weighed the cost and are willing to risk potential opposition for the sake of the greater good. At the Capitol, we heard clergy speak about the toll this crisis has taken on their own families and congregations — their children navigating lockdown drills, their spouses working in public schools, the funerals they have had to lead for children and adults who died by gun violence. This movement is deeply rooted in relationships and proximity to pain. There is nothing performative about it.

Our vocation as faith leaders is not to center ourselves or preserve comfort; it is to love our neighbors and amplify the voices of those who are suffering. We stand close enough to the pain of the world that we cannot look away. Faith compels us to do more than pray, but act to ensure that those most affected by violence, grief, and injustice are heard, and to insist that our shared life be shaped by courage, compassion and care. We remain steadfast in faith and in hope, believing that another way is not only possible — it is necessary, and the time is now.