Colombine High School
ENDING THE VIOLENCE BEGINS WITH OUR OWN CONVERSION
BY MOST REVEREND CHARLES J. CHAPUT, OFMCap
Archbishop of Denver
{This article will appear in the April 28 edition of the Denver Catholic
Register. Through the courtesy of Archbishop Chaput, permission to
reproduce
this article has been granted to CWN and to all other interested parties.}
He descended into hell.
Over a lifetime of faith, each of us, as believers, recites those words
from
the Creed thousands of times. We may not understand them, but they're
familiar. They're routine. And then something happens to show us what
they
really mean.
Watching a disaster unfold for your community in the glare of the
international mass media is terrible and unreal at the same time. Terrible
in its bloody cost; unreal in its brutal disconnection from daily life.
The
impact of what happened this past week in Littleton, however, didn't fully
strike home in my heart until the morning after the murders, when I visited
a large prayer gathering of students from Columbine High School, and spent
time with the families of two of the students who died.
They taught me something.
The students who gathered to pray and comfort each other showed me again
the
importance of sharing not just our sorrow, but our hope. God created us to
witness His love to each other, and we draw our life from the friendship,
the mercy and the kindness we offer to others in pain. The young Columbine
students I listened to, spoke individually-one by one-of the need to be
strong, to keep alive hope in the future, and to turn away from violence.
Despite all their confusion and all their hurt, they would not despair. I
think I understand why. We're creatures of life. This is the way God made
us: to assert life in the face of death.
Even more moving was my time with the families of two students who had been
murdered. In the midst of their great suffering - a loss I can't imagine -
the parents radiated a dignity which I will always remember, and a
confidence that God would somehow care for them and the children they had
lost, no matter how fierce their pain. This is where words break down.
This is where you see, up close, that faith - real, living faith-is rooted
finally not in how smart, or affluent, or successful, or sensitive persons
are, but in how well they love. Scripture says that "love is as strong as
death." I know it is stronger. I saw it.
As time passes, we need to make sense of the Columbine killings. The media
are already filled with "sound bites" of shock and disbelief;
psychologists,
sociologists, grief counselors and law enforcement officers-all with their
theories and plans. God bless them for it. We certainly need help.
>Violence is now pervasive in American society - in our homes, our schools,
>on our streets, in our cars as we drive home from work, in the news media,
>in the rhythms and lyrics of our music, in our novels, films and video
>games. It is so prevalent that we have become largely unconscious of it.
>But, as we discover in places like the hallways of Columbine High, it is
>bitterly, urgently real.
>The causes of this violence are many and complicated: racism, fear,
>selfishness. But in another, deeper sense, the cause is very simple: We're
>losing God, and in losing Him, we're losing ourselves. The complete
>contempt for human life shown by the young killers at Columbine is not an
>accident, or an anomaly, or a freak flaw in our social fabric. It's what
we
>create when we live a contradiction. We can't systematically kill the
>unborn, the infirm and the condemned prisoners among us; we can't glorify
>brutality in our entertainment; we can't market avarice and greed . . . and
>then hope that somehow our children will help build a culture of life.
>We need to change. But societies only change when families change, and
>families only change when individuals change. Without a conversion to
>humility, non-violence and selflessness in our own hearts, all our talk
>about "ending the violence" may end as pious generalities. It is not
enough
>to speak about reforming our society and community. We need to reform
>ourselves.
>Two questions linger in the aftermath of the Littleton tragedy. How could
a
>good God allow such savagery? And why did this happen to us?
>In regard to the first: God gave us the gift of freedom, and if we are
free,
>we are free to do terrible, as well as marvelous, things . . . And we must
>also live with the results of others' freedom. But God does not abandon us
>in our freedom, or in our suffering. This is the meaning of the cross, the
>meaning of Jesus' life and death, the meaning of He descended into hell.
>God spared His only Son no suffering and no sorrow-so that He would know
and
>understand and share everything about the human heart. This is how
fiercely
>He loves us.
>In regard to the second: Why not us? Why should evil be at home in faraway
>places like Kosovo and Sudan, and not find its way to Colorado? The human
>heart is the same everywhere - and so is the One for whom we yearn.
>He descended into hell. The Son of God descended into hell . . . and so
>have we all, over the past few days. But that isn't the end of the story.
>On the third day, He rose again from the dead. Jesus Christ is Lord, "the
>resurrection and the life," and we - His brothers and sisters - are
children
>of life. When we claim that inheritance, seed it in our hearts, and
conform
>our lives to it, then and only then will the violence in our culture begin
>to be healed.
>In this Easter season and throughout the coming months, I ask you to join
me
>in praying in a special way for the families who have been affected by the
>Columbine tragedy. But I also ask you to pray that each of us - including
>myself - will experience a deep conversion of heart toward love and
>non-violence in all our relationships with others.
