Have mercy. Have mercy on the children, God.

Ordinary American school kids. Good kids. Kids who were at a church worship service in Minnesota when a gunman broke in. Kids hit the floor as soon as the gunman started shooting through the windows.

It happened during Mass. Of all times, God. Amidst lit candles and liturgy. Amidst statuary and pews and hanging portraits of Jesus. It happened in plain view of the Crucifix. Before the sacramental bread and wine. Your children were killed, God.

They were babies. Ages 8 and 10. Their lives were ended during prayer.

Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.

Have mercy on the 14 other children who were caught in the violence, as gunfire ripped through the chapel. On little Sophia, the schoolgirl who is in critical condition as I write this. And all her classmates, whose names I don’t know yet.

Have mercy on the three victims, who I am told are in their 80s, also shot, as they scrambled on hands and knees to protect themselves and the children caught in the crossfire.

Have mercy on the school employees, the church staff, the entire preschool in the church’s basement area.

Have mercy on the celebrant who was presiding over mass when gunfire began. Have mercy on everyone at Annunciation Church.

Have mercy on the teachers who instinctively threw their own bodies atop the children, as blasts from a shotgun erupted, and a gunman sought to end their lives.

Have mercy on those nearby, who had no idea what was going on, and were too paralyzed to move.

Have mercy on all humans whose primitive instinct is to blame themselves, for whatever reason, even though none of this could possibly be their fault.

Have mercy on the lone police officer who charged into the sanctuary to rescue children. An officer who had no idea what he or she might find inside. Who may have believed that this moment could be his or her last moment on earth.

Have mercy on all officers, God. And on the emergency dispatch operators, first responders, and ambulance drivers. And the EMTs who had no idea that their uniforms would be stained with the blood of children by the day’s end.

Have mercy on the politicians who fulminate, pontificate, and gesticulate. They use the same words, the same clichés, and they get all worked up for the cameras. They don’t know what else to do, God, but stand before a crowd and wave their hands around. And who can blame them, Lord? What else is there to do?

Have mercy on the parents. Have so much mercy, God.

Have mercy on Minneapolis. On Minnesota. On our country. Have mercy on those of us who are angry, God. Mercy on those of us who weep. Mercy on those who mourn.

Mercy on those of us who feel so helpless, so foolish, and useless even. People who can do nothing but sit behind a keyboard and beg for your mercy. People like me, God.

Lord, have mercy. Christ have mercy. Amen.