Fairness

When I was a teenager, a group called the Boomtown Rats sang a song called, "I Don't Like Mondays" about a girl who went on a shooting rampage. When they asked her why she did it, she said, "I don't like Mondays." In the song, the Boomtown Rats sang, "They can see no reasons 'cause there are no reasons." And so it is with another shooting incident on another Monday many years hence.

We can see no reason that a student at Virginia Tech shot dozens of innocent people before turning the gun on himself. I myself had a pleasant day and heard nothing about the tragedy for hours. "It's not fair," my kids say when confronted with something they don't like. They say "it's not fair" when they have to go to bed on time, or when someone is driving recklessly on the highway or for what seems like a million other reasons. They're right. Life isn't fair. Sometimes circumstances drive this fact home with great force.

Because the killings are close to home--not in our backyard, maybe, but in a place like the place where we live. Because the brutality was unexpected--this was a quiet corner of the world.

Because the victims and the perpetrator seemed to have everything to live for--all were in the prime of their lives, and seemed destined for future success.

Because it might have been prevented, if the alarm was sounded earlier, or if previous cries for help by the perpetrator had been heeded.

Life isn't fair. I've presided at the funerals of young people like these young victims, cut down tragically in the prime of their lives. What do you say to their families? There is nothing to say except "I don't know what to say." Some things go beyond words. Sometimes all we can do is be present with those who suffer, and maybe after a while they will see that, in the words of the gospel according to John, "The light still shines into the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."