Beloved in Christ, 

This is a moment of unspeakable sorrow and sacred reckoning. 

Today, we mourn the deaths of Minnesota Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, taken from this world by targeted violence in their home. We hold vigil for Minnesota Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, who remain in critical condition, wounded in the same cruel pattern. 

We cry out with the prophets, with the psalmists, with all who have ever stood at the edge of injustice and asked: "How long, O Lord?" 

This was political violence. This was an assassination. This was terror clothed in false authority. This was evil that struck at the heart of public service and family love. 

And we do not look away. 

We lament:

We lament not as those who are powerless, but as those who know the power of naming what is broken.
We lament the loss of two lives created in the image of God.
We lament for children who will wake to absence. 
We lament the slow erosion of public trust, where leaders now lead at the risk of their lives. 

And we confess: 

We confess the ways we have grown accustomed to violence.
We confess the silence we’ve kept when political rhetoric turned to poison. 
We confess the times we have chosen safety over solidarity, and comfort over courage. 

We confess that, even in the Church, we have sometimes spoken more about loyalty to social and political ideologies than the life, teaching, and witness of Jesus, our Christ. We've leaned into worldly powers and authorities that distort Jesus, who alone is King of kings and Lord of lords. 

There is fear among us—real and reasonable fear. Fear for those who lead and serve in public life. Fear for clergy, laity, and community leaders who stand visibly and speak up for justice. 

As your Bishop, I do not deny this fear. I feel it with you. And I also know this: fear, while human, must not have the final word, because even in the ache and the fear, we remember who we are: We are people of the gospel. We are people who still choose love. We are people who still proclaim truth. We are people who follow the One who says to every storm: “Peace be still.” 

We are people who live into what Jesus has taught us: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself.” To love God is to resist every force that tells us to hate our neighbor. To love God is to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.

To follow Jesus is to stand, even now, in the valley of death and say: This is not the way God intends it to be.

So, I call on every United Methodist congregation, every clergy leader, every follower of Christ in this episcopal area:

Mourn what has been lost—honestly and fully. 

Name what is broken—clearly and bravely. 

And live what we profess—boldly and tenderly. 

Let your pulpits and ministries speak of sorrow and of truth. Let your prayers rise from a place deeper than despair. Let your witness be a living sermon of peace, justice, and unrelenting grace. 

This moment aches with grief and fear; but, it is not beyond redemption. For even now, the tomb is empty. Even now, love is stronger than hate. Even now, the Spirit is moving—through tears, through courage, through the gospel that still calls us to love God, and love our neighbor, with everything we are.

With you in the ache. 

With you in the gospel. 

In Christ’s unshakable love, 

Bishop Lanette Plambeck
Resident Bishop
Dakotas-Minnesota Episcopal Area
The United Methodist Churc