‘A future filled with hope’: Minneapolis community unites to process the tragedy

A mourner visits a makeshift memorial for the victims of the Covenant School shooting at the entrance to Covenant Presbyterian Church in Nashville, Tenn. on Wednesday, March 29, 2023. (Desiree Ríos/The New York Times)

By JEFF ERNST and SOUMYA KARLAMANGLA

Messages of support and unity covered the grounds of Annunciation Catholic Church in south Minneapolis as dozens of people filed into a nearby school auditorium for Saturday Mass. There were bouquets, teddy bears and shared embraces. A memorial filled with candles, handwritten messages and drawings. A statue of the Virgin Mary, Joseph and Jesus that was punctured by bullet holes, but also adorned with flowers.

It was the church’s first Mass since an assailant gunned down worshippers during a back-to-school service Wednesday, killing two children and injuring 18 others. When the attacker opened fire, schoolchildren inside ducked for safety between the wooden pews and tried to get as low to the ground as possible.

Three days later, it is difficult for members of this tight-knit community to feel like they have emerged at all from that lowest place, said the Rev. Dennis Zehren, the pastor at Annunciation, recalling the sound of gunfire raining down on the church Wednesday morning.

“That first bullet came through the window and the voices cried out, ‘Down. Down. Get low. Stay down. Stay down. Don’t get up,’” Zehren said at the Saturday evening Mass, his voice breaking. “My good people of Annunciation, my good people of Minneapolis and beyond, we are in a very low place. We are in a lower place than we could have ever imagined.”

In remarks to reporters before the Mass, Zehren and Archbishop Bernard Hebda acknowledged that some may have been surprised to see they were holding a Mass so soon after the tragedy. But both stressed the importance of providing a space where the community could grieve and heal together.

“I was speaking to one school family, and they said, ‘People here are just eerily restless to come together again,’” Zehren said. “They just want to be together. They want to pray.”

Hebda said he had visited Hennepin County Medical Center, where many injured children were being treated, and medical workers stopped him to ask if the congregation could pray for them. He recalled one young girl he met at the hospital, who is expected to be released soon, telling him that on the day of the shooting, she held the hand of another student in an ambulance and the two prayed together.

“It’s that return to those things that are so familiar to us that I think is important,” Hebda said. “We’re hoping that in this familiar context, that it might be a source of healing.”

The attack has shaken the urban parish, which has been a neighborhood anchor for more than a century, with its bells part of the daily soundtrack of south Minneapolis. Students and families were still reeling from the tragedy and trying to process the loss of the two students who were killed, 8-year-old Fletcher Merkel and 10-year-old Harper Moyski.

Vincent Francoual’s 11-year-old daughter, Chloe, was among the students inside the chapel when gunshots erupted amid prayers. She and a group of students and teachers escaped to a basement while the shooter sprayed the pews with bullets, Francoual said. The shooter died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

“She thought she was going to die,” Francoual said, referring to Chloe. He returned to the church the day after the shooting with Chloe so she could show her parents what happened and process some of her grief.

Francoual, who is French, said he had considered leaving the United States given what happened Wednesday. But he said he wanted to stay to heal with others who had been affected by the shooting. “It’s kind of our tribe,” he said.

Chris and Nikki Cron shared the sentiment and came to the Mass on Saturday looking for fellowship. The couple have deep ties with the church, where they got married and where they have been attending for about 25 years.

“It’s just a great community,” Chris Cron said, adding, “The parish, the school. It’s tight-knit. Everybody helps each other out.”

Their eighth grade son, Charlie, was at the Mass on Wednesday and witnessed people in front and behind him get shot, though he was spared from any gunshots. “It’s so awful that this happened,” Cron said.

Signs of healing were apparent outside the church Saturday. A sidewalk was lined with buckets filled with sunflowers and lilies. Five therapy golden retrievers were providing comfort to parishioners. Messages were scrawled in chalk: “The kids were literally praying” and “I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you.”

Among the notes left at the memorial was one written in pink marker and addressed to Harper: “I will never forget you.”

Marek Weber, 18, drove from his college in North Dakota on Saturday to pay his respects to the victims. Weber, a former student at Annunciation who also had worked for its after-school program, knew both children who died, as well as several of those who were injured.

“I just wanted to drive down and show my support and just be with those grieving, and those who need someone,” Weber said before heading into the Saturday Mass.

During his sermon Saturday, Zehren said that he had been overwhelmed by the warmth from people around the world, describing it as a light that had begun to break through the darkness of the past few days. He said that he felt the stirrings of hope.

“It will not be the same,” he told his congregants. “It will not be easy. It will never be the same, but it’s a beginning.”