“Campus Rampage” shouted the newspaper front page. It is the morning after 32
people were killed by a gunman at Virginia Tech before he killed himself. That makes
33 dead, and others wounded. We should be entering a season of serious prayer. It
definitely is not a time for bumper-sticker theology.

Already the media are in overdrive. No sooner had the evening news ended last night
with the coverage of the tragedy than there was the solemn announcement that there
would be an hour-long special news story. Recriminations, second-guessing, and
blame abound. And don’t forget the “interviews” that are rarely informative, but more
often reveal the uncomfortable superficiality of a news system determined to be there
first with the most. No doubt someone is already working on a film script.

But this is not about the media or news coverage and our “need to know.” It is not
about whether Virginia Tech had adequate security, or if the EMT’s were appropriately
trained, or the easy availability of handguns (or the fact that all the students were not
“packing”) or what happened to counseling services for a seriously troubled young man.
It is not even about our perverse voyeuristic impulses.

When such things happen, I can’t help but remember other tragedies (both small and
great) rooted in human violence that have happened in my lifetime: John F. Kennedy,
Martin Luther King junior, Bobby Kennedy, My Lai massacre, Cambodian killing fields,
Munich Olympics, Anwar Sadat, Pan Am flight 103, Rwanda, Oklahoma City, Bosnia, 9-
11, Darfur …. (this list gets long very quickly).

I am repeatedly troubled by our propensity for and skill at violence. Violence is the most
equal opportunity behavior there is. It crosses ethnic, geographic, racial, cultural,
gender, educational, economic, generational, political, and philosophical lines with an
ease that astounds any thinking person. No one has clean hands.

Please don’t hear just another old poop claiming the “world is going to h*** in a
handbasket.” I am not sure things are worse (even though our weapons technology—
our ability for mass murder—and mass communication may make it seem so). But I do
know things aren’t getting better.

I puzzle about the human condition. I wonder about the personal habits we nurse that
provide secure hiding places for the demon violence. I try to dissect the deep
socialization and enculturation factors that contribute to violence in both individuals and groups. Then I read about the growing body of evidence for the biological (even
genetic) basis for human violence (in some cases) and I know there is no simple
explanation. There is also no simple cure. Something drastic must be done. Yet, it
seems beyond human understanding and ability.

Like ancient Habakkuk in Judah or modern Kirk in “Apocalypse Now” the only response
seems to be “The horror … the horror.”

One of the poignant stories that captured my attention in the midst of this particular
horror was that of Professor Liviu Librescu. He was a 70-year-old teacher of
engineering and math. He had survived the Nazi holocaust and later escaped from
Communist Romania. As the gunman moved down the hallway of the classroom
building at Virginia Tech, Librescu blocked the classroom door with his own body.
Students were able to escape out windows before Librescu’s body fell limp from bullets.

I marvel at the response of an old man who had witnessed horror after horror up close
and personal. Did he do this because he had seen such horror? Did he do this in spite
of his personal experience of horror? Did he do this because there was an inexplicable
urge in him to resist violence and protect others? “Courage” is not an adequate word.

I am aware that the wonderful promise—For the earth will be filled with the knowledge and
glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea—is found in the midst of divine judgement as
Habakkuk complains to God about all the violence he sees around him.(Habakkuk 2:14)
Habakkuk comes to the difficult conclusion (not an explanation for violence):

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my savior.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
God makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
God enables me to go on the heights.

Pray – for those who lost loved ones, including the family of the perpetrator.
Forgive – as we have been forgiven in Jesus Christ.
Repent – for the violence within each of us and the ways we contribute to a world-wide
culture of violence.
Resolve – to resist violence, both within ourselves and our communities.
Teach – the ways of peace.
Pray – that God’s will be done in earth as it is in heaven.

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