It was a day for sorrow, shame and reflection:
sorrow that we have lost so many young, bright souls who had barely embarked on their journey through life;
shame that we - as a society, a culture, a nation, a world - have driven one of our own to madness and despair of this horrific magnitude;
and reflection upon the state of our society, our homes, our minds, our hearts.

33 lives were lost at Virginia Tech, but how many more have been affected? How many have changed? How many should change?

At first glance it appears that 33 individuals were killed and that that's where it stops. But the truth of the matter is that the lives of everyone at VT, of all the family and friends of the victims, and of Americans everywhere have changed irreparably. We have all become victims of a terrible calamity, a horrendous disaster.

In light of that fact, I ask you this. Do you not consider Cho Seung-Hui a victim? Is it right for us now that the incident has occurred, to dehumanize Cho in our minds, referring to him only as the "shooter" or the "gunman"? The loved ones of those who lost their lives on Monday might take objection. But I submit to you that this young man was also a victim. He was a victim of society. What about our society and our culture engenders such deep sorrow, alienation, resentment and hatred that an educated young man at a university of over 26,000 students - which is no dearth of company - chooses not only to take his own life but to take over 30 others with him?

It is no secret that life in the United States, or anywhere for that matter, can make anyone feel rejected, hurt, and alone; some would call it isolation. Growing up, an incredible number of young Americans are friendless, enduring countless years of name-calling, rock-throwing and utter exclusion by their peers. The children foisting these seemingly innocuous crimes on their sometimes baffled classmates do not get any kinder. To escape the humiliation and hurt, some victims follow the submissively wise adage, "If you can't beat them, join them" and so give up their "unacceptable" identities and join the dominant group. Others join fellow outcastes and form their own groups. But there are always a few who remain completely and totally isolated from everyone around them, cutting themselves off from their families, feeling hopelessly desolate and abandoned. And one in a million of those abandoned young people, perhaps someone who is already troubled, will experience just enough alienation to tip him over the edge, resulting in a tragedy of horrific proportions.

It is evident that in incidences like this one, there is a blatant disregard for and lack of belief in the sanctity of human life. And this unfortunate young man not only did not believe in the sanctity of the lives around him, but even in his own. We should ask, how can we expect someone to extend kindness, respect, regard and love to those around him if he cannot even love himself? And to arrive at the heart of the issue, how can such a person love himself if he does not feel loved or valued by anyone around him?

What does this have to do with each of us, you might ask, and the answer is quite simple. It is a matter of internalizing those qualities that we wish to see in those around us. It is a matter of learning to love, to be kind, to extend courtesy and respect to everyone around us. Very few of the people that we encounter every day are people that we know well or even know at all. We do not know their histories, their backgrounds, the joys and sorrows of their lives. Anyone that we come across in the course of the day could be another Cho, and we are not always given clues. Our first instinct is to shut them out, to turn away, and to avoid them. But is this right?; Is it right for us to dehumanize people that we feel have dehumanized themselves already? I submit to you that it is not. If we as a society do not learn to turn away but to extend ourselves to those who are troubled, these incidents will continue to occur, and they will only increase in magnitude and barbarity.

What can we do to change this? It is not a matter of gun control or metal detectors or better security; it is a matter of learning to be human, of living by a creed of humanity. We must learn to make the changes in our own homes, in our own hearts.

Even in hearing about this tragedy, we have heard a story of hope and courage in the recounting of Professor Liviu Librescu's heroic act which cost him his own life but allowed his students to escape. So let us learn from his example, and let his courage and kindness live on in our hearts.

Let us not allow those 33 lives to have gone in vain; let us listen to the voices of the dead. Let us not allow Cho's death to be in vain. Let us not create more minds this troubled. Let us make a pledge to ourselves; to our children, and to everyone who sets foot on this earth after us; let us make a pledge in the memory of everyone who has ever lost a loved one to violence. Let us treat everyone in our lives with kindness, respect, tolerance, and regard. Let us acknowledge that every person in our lives has his own sorrow, her own difficulties, and let us ease the burdens of others, if only by a tiny amount. Let us learn to extend at least a smile to those around us. And most importantly, let us teach our children to do the same. Together, if we work to change ourselves, if we dedicate ourselves to making each and every moment of our lives a moment of reflection and compassion; perhaps we can avert another tragedy, perhaps we can change our course to one that is not headed for annihilation.

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