As the World Turns

It was a typical Friday afternoon, and “As the World Turns” was beaming its drama into many homes across the country.  Within minutes of its first commercial, the show was interrupted as these fateful words filled the screen:  “Here is a bulletin from CBS News.”   In the days ahead, we as a nation sat in shock in front of the television, grieving as Walter Cronkite fought back his own tears.  Thus the assassination of President John F. Kennedy became my first memory of a tragedy of this magnitude.

            Since then, the names and places have been many.  Some were specifically targeted, such as MLK Jr. and Kennedy’s brother Robert.  But seemingly random killings have also stained our history deeply.  Columbine.  Virginia Tech.  An Amish school in Pennsylvania.  And now a movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. 

While these public horrors have influenced how we see the world, it is also likely that we’ve each been touched by tragedy closer to home.  For me, it was Debbie, a girl in my fourth grade class, killed in her home along with her siblings by a father who then committed suicide.  For the children of Ashland, it now is the murder of two of our own daughters, Rachel Kiser and Lynn Jackenheimer, both dead in terrible circumstances.    

What do we say?  We grope for words to explain the horror to our children and to each other.  Why does someone do this?  We ask because the question shapes our worldview, and because if we can figure out the why, perhaps we can stop it from happening again.  Those close to the situation can be heard to say: If I’d only known.  If only I’d put two and two together.  Why didn’t I see the clues?

But in the end, after all the questions, after all the hand-wringing, after all the angst, the answer is simple: we don’t know why.  Millions of people have difficulty in their relationships but don’t kill their partner.  Thousands are despondent and entertain suicidal thoughts but don’t kill themselves – or their families.  Many exhibit a strange behavior or two, but they don’t stand up in a crowded theater and begin shooting the patrons.  Why one and not another?  We don’t know the answer to that question. 

We search for answers in the talking head experts of law enforcement and mental health.  They tell us that heredity and environment make a difference, and that brain scans can show areas of concern.  But in the end, we live in a culture that allows for a tremendous amount of personal choice.  We choose to take the stairs or the elevator, to scream or pout, and to love or hate.  Elisabeth Kubler-Ross spoke wisely about choice:  “We need to teach the next generation of children from day one that they are responsible for their lives . . . we can make our choices built from love or from fear.” 

Many years ago, we became very involved with a family in the church who faced serious problems.  Both parents drank heavily and physically abused each other, and the young teen-agers watched helplessly as their family threatened to implode or explode around them.  Statistics told us that at least one of the children would follow in the path of the parents, but what the statistics didn’t say was which one.  We knew that the presence of a caring adult and the support of a community of faith could make a difference.  We knew that alternatives to violence could be taught – but would it be enough?     

The reality was that I couldn’t save those kids.  I couldn’t change their life stories for them – I could only give them tools to use along the path as they chose their own way.   Turning to the wisdom of Narnia once again, “No one is told any story but their own.”

It is the youngest son of that family who sits in prison today.  I grieve over his choices and his actions.  I grieve for those destroyed by his actions.  I grieve with the parents, teachers, pastors and neighbors of those who choose violence against others or themselves.  For what could have been, and for what will never be.