Worshipers in San Bernardino pray, grieve and try to make sense of the shooting
Deacon F. Michael Jelley ditched his sermon at the last minute.
Earlier last week, he’d planned to preach a message at San Bernardino’s Our Lady of the Rosary Cathedral about preparing the way for the Lord during this, the Advent season — a time of joy and expectation.
But then 14 people were shot to death Wednesday at a holiday potluck at the Inland Regional Center a few miles from the church, and everything changed. Jelley just wanted his congregants to know it was OK to be angry, to be afraid, to be confused. He, for one, still is.
“You need to validate people’s feelings,” Jelley said. “It’s all very difficult to comprehend. A lot of people want an explanation, and I don’t think there’s a lot of wisdom you can share.”
On Sunday, the faithful gathered at houses of worship across San Bernardino County to pray, to grieve and to try to make some sense of the tragedy, when Syed Rizwan Farook, 28, and his wife, Tashfeen Malik, 29, opened fire on his co-workers in an attack the FBI is investigating as having been inspired by the Islamic State.
At St. Catherine of Siena Church in Rialto, there was a face missing from the pews — 27-year-old Yvette Velasco of Fontana had been a regular worshiper who attended the church with her family. She was killed in the attack.
The Rev. Rogelio Gonzalez said he spoke recently with Velasco’s parents to offer spiritual support. But, he said, “sometimes you have to understand that there is nothing you can do” but be there with them.
In a disconcerting coincidence, staff members working in the church kitchen recognized the health inspector’s name signed on the certificate from the San Bernardino County Public Health Department: Syed Farook.
The church took down the certificate and told the county it refused to display it, said the Rev. Stephen Porter. It was just too much.
For the faithful, it has been difficult to comprehend that the attack could have been carried out as an act of religious extremism.
“I wish we were here for a happier occasion, but unfortunately we’re here to ask for God’s mercy and grace in this tragic time,” Masood Kahn, a member of the Islamic Center of Inland Empire, said during an interfaith event at the Rancho Cucamonga center Saturday night. “For all of our faith traditions, building bridges of peace is the highest calling.”
On Sunday morning, Dawn Cummins, 67, stood at a table outside Calvary Chapel in San Bernardino, selling Christmas ornaments to raise money for a women’s ministry and waving at the arriving parishioners.
“Coming to church is like an encouragement, because even if you don’t know what’s happening around you, you can still have that peace inside,” she said.
In the sanctuary, the names of the dead were displayed on a screen during a moment of silence. Pastor Lee Coe, speaking to dozens of people seated in wooden pews with blue upholstery, acknowledged the pain.
“This morning, our hearts are heavy for all that our city has endured,” he said. “A terror has come to San Bernardino.”
Children’s pastor John Deming asked the fourth- through sixth-graders in Sunday school whether they felt afraid. He said he “made sure they knew how absolutely loved they are [and] made sure they knew they didn’t have to be afraid.”
At Our Lady of the Rosary Cathedral, parishioners Dick Johnson, 71, and his wife, Sharon, 70, said the attacks had strengthened their faith. They’re confident, he said, that “God can take any tragedy and turn it into good.”
“I think so often we take life for granted, and I hope that in the healing process people are drawn together,” he said. “There’s no guarantee we’ll come home in the evening.”
The Johnsons said one of their daughters is employed by the San Bernardino Police Department and that she worked the crime scene at the Inland Regional Center. She broke down when she realized that one of the dead, 45-year-old Shannon Johnson of Los Angeles, had the same name as her sister.
In the sanctuary, the wooden pews were full. Albert Jimenez, 78, who has attended services every Sunday for years, said there were many more people than he had seen in a long time. They just needed some hope, he said.
As the names of the dead were read from the pulpit, some wept. One man nodded gently with each name, and a woman holding a young girl pulled her in closer, hugging her and looking down.
The deacon told the crowd that he was trying to find meaning in how two people could feel such hatred that they would kill. Jelley admitted that he was saddened and prayed that God would help people to love one another and confront their own fears and suspicions of people who look different, who believe differently.
The congregation sang, “The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy.”
But their faces were full of sorrow.
Twitter: @haileybranson
Twitter: @sonali_kohli
Times staff writer Ruben Vives contributed to this report.
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