-Sociologist Donald Kraybill

Words alone cannot express a family's sorrow over the loss of a child through the hands of a cold-blooded murderer. This despicable act cries out for justice.

How does one receive justice when the perpetrator removes that option by committing suicide? How does one avenge the deaths of the innocent when there is no alternative solution?

Family life continues, minus five precious souls. Though powerless to change their circumstances, they must keep going, for time does not stand still. The pain, the sorrow, the remembrance of that special person weighs heavy on their hearts.

In my world in a rural farming community, such a world exists primarily in the video screen on the nightly news.

My only connection to the scenario played on the screen, however, is my role as a father. When confronted with the "in your face" news of yet another round of killings at another school, I am angered by this senseless slaughter. I empathize with the fathers of the dead and wounded children.

The idyllic photos of the little schoolhouse in a pastoral setting is not easily forgotten. The peaceful image is marred by the blood-spattered walls and bodies contained within those walls.

My thoughts turn to the emergency and law enforcement personnel. I cannot imagine the sense of hopelessness, shock and anger they might have felt as the tragedy came to a bloody end.

Though they may seem "battle hardened" from years of experience, I wonder about the long-term effects on their own lives. They, too, deserve our support and outpouring of compassion.

Amid the carnage and the ghastly silence that followed, the Amish community moved quietly from their homes and surrounded the victims' families and the family of the shooter. They held each other in their arms and began the process of healing and reconciliation.

The Oct. 16 edition of People Magazine quoted a long-time neighbor as saying, "They have already forgiven the shooter."

Why did the Amish rush so quickly to forgive? In an interview published in the Oct. 8 issue of the Philadelphia Inquirer sociologist Donald Kraybill said, "a frequent phrase in Amish life is 'forgive and forget.' Forgiveness is woven into the fabric of Amish faith. And that is why words of forgiveness were sent to the killer's family even before the blood had dried on the schoolhouse floor."

To forgive is difficult enough. To forgive and forget is next to impossible. The rush toward reconciliation and forgiveness is difficult to understand, much less endorse from any secular perspective. This runs contrary to our natural inclination to act on the rage and anger arising from this event.

As I went about my usual activities during the days following this horrific event, I could only make sense of the tragedy and the Amish response to forgive and forget in the same way I have had to deal with any other painful experience. I cannot change what happened. I have no control over the harmful actions of others. However, I have the power to choose how I will live my life from this day forward. I can live in the past, angered and embittered, or I can choose to let it pass and move on.

The aftermath of tragedy is not the time to decide whether to forgive or not. As Kraybill suggested, it is woven into the fabric of one's faith. It is a deliberate choice one makes before we are faced with the unthinkable.