"Why is it that it takes such a tragedy to find unity on this campus?" That's what passed through my mind as I sat in a dimmed Kay on Monday night, filled with empathy, warmed by being shoulder to shoulder with my peers.
What started out as just an amendment to the AU Catholics' Evening Prayer became something uniquely interfaith. People showed up with solidarity, no doubt feeling that what had unfolded at Virginia Tech hit just a little too close to home.
The service began with "Holy Darkness" playing from a laptop as the congregation bridged the traditional religious divides on campus by singing the chorus, the vigor of the singing building following each consecutive verse. This mirrored the strength that we fostered, for ourselves and for our friends at Virginia Tech.
Then came a moment of silence, at least of outward silence, but it was obvious that every individual harbored a screaming plea to bring comfort and love to those who needed it the most. As the two sides read psalms back and forth, people leaned on their friends and held hands.
The "Office of the Dead," as the specific Evening Prayer was called, was punctuated by Psalm 23, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death/ I will fear no evil/for you are with me;" and the "Mi Shebeirach" the Jewish prayer for mourning. A Methodist read from 1 Corinthians, "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?"
At this point, I remembered my afternoon spent listening to news reports as the death toll rose. I could hear the fearful voices of the students at Virginia Tech who had called National Public Radio from their dorm rooms.
I could recall the picture on The Washington Post Web site, of an injured girl being cradled by police officers out of a grey stone building as they rushed her to medical attention.
I could only imagine the agony of those suffering from gun shot wounds, having escaped the finality of death but enduring the excruciating pain of living. And I could hear my mom's voice asking me, "Are you OK?"
Of course I am OK. I am breathing, thinking and prepared to attend my next class, but the Hokies aren't OK - those people who died, their families and friends - they are not OK.
At the height of desperation we joined hands and said the "Our Father" prayer, able to draw on the support of those around us. Then eerily and unexplainably, I felt at peace. The official service concluded, but people stuck around.
A few went to the Thomas More Chapel to recite a rosary, some sat in the darkness in meditation and prayer, and others sang "Amazing Grace" in the entrance to Kay. This went on until about 12:30 am, when people finally returned to their dorms, apartments and houses.
What became so real about the night, the extension of the day was that campus is our home, filled with the people that we love.
That idea of camaraderie seems to be what was violated by this massacre.
