Thank you, Governor. To all the families, first responders, to the
community of Newtown, clergy, guests, scripture tells us,
“Do not lose
heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, inwardly, we are being
renewed day by day. For light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal
glory that far outweighs them all, so we fix our eyes not on what is
seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what
is unseen is eternal. For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we
have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven not built by human
hands.” II CO 4:16-18
We gather here in memory of 20 beautiful children and six remarkable
adults. They lost their lives in a school that could have been any
school in a quiet town full of good and decent people that could be any
town in America.
Here in Newtown, I come to offer the love and prayers of a nation. I
am very mindful that mere words cannot match the depths of your sorrow,
nor can they heal your wounded hearts.
I can only hope it helps for you to know that you’re not alone in
your grief, that our world, too, has been torn apart, that all across
this land of ours, we have wept with you. We’ve pulled our children
tight.
And you must know that whatever measure of comfort we can provide, we
will provide. Whatever portion of sadness that we can share with you to
ease this heavy load, we will gladly bear it. Newtown, you are not
alone.
As these difficult days have unfolded, you’ve also inspired us with
stories of strength and resolve and sacrifice. We know that when danger
arrived in the halls of Sandy Hook Elementary, the school’s staff did
not flinch. They did not hesitate.
Dawn Hocksprung and Mary Sherlach, Vicki Soto, Lauren Russeau, Rachel
Davino and Anne Marie Murphy, they responded as we all hope we might
respond in such terrifying circumstances, with courage and with love,
giving their lives to protect the children in their care.
We know that there were other teachers who barricaded themselves
inside classrooms and kept steady through it all and reassured their
students by saying, “Wait for the good guys, they are coming. Show me
your smile.”
And we know that good guys came, the first responders who raced to
the scene helping to guide those in harm’s way to safety and comfort
those in need, holding at bay their own shock and their own trauma,
because they had a job to do and others needed them more.
And then there were the scenes of the schoolchildren helping one
another, holding each other, dutifully following instructions in the way
that young children sometimes do, one child even trying to encourage a
grownup by saying, “I know karate, so it’s OK; I’ll lead the way out.”
As a community, you’ve inspired us, Newtown. In the face of
indescribable violence, in the face of unconscionable evil, you’ve
looked out for each other. You’ve cared for one another. And you’ve
loved one another. This is how Newtown will be remembered, and with time
and God’s grace, that love will see you through.
But we as a nation, we are left with some hard questions. You know,
someone once described the joy and anxiety of parenthood as the
equivalent of having your heart outside of your body all the time,
walking around.
With their very first cry, this most precious, vital part of
ourselves, our child, is suddenly exposed to the world, to possible
mishap or malice, and every parent knows there’s nothing we will not do
to shield our children from harm. And yet we also know that with that
child’s very first step and each step after that, they are separating
from us, that we won’t -- that we can’t always be there for them.
They will suffer sickness and setbacks and broken hearts and
disappointments, and we learn that our most important job is to give
them what they need to become self-reliant and capable and resilient,
ready to face the world without fear. And we know we can’t do this by
ourselves.
It comes as a shock at a certain point where you realize no matter
how much you love these kids, you can’t do it by yourself, that this job
of keeping our children safe and teaching them well is something we can
only do together, with the help of friends and neighbors, the help of a
community and the help of a nation.
And in that way we come to realize that we bear responsibility for
every child, because we’re counting on everybody else to help look after
ours, that we’re all parents, that they are all our children.
This is our first task, caring for our children. It’s our first job.
If we don’t get that right, we don’t get anything right. That’s how, as a
society, we will be judged.
And by that measure, can we truly say, as a nation, that we’re meeting our obligations?
Can we honestly say that we’re doing enough to keep our children, all of them, safe from harm?
Can we claim, as a nation, that we’re all together there, letting them know they are loved and teaching them to love in return?
Can we say that we’re truly doing enough to give all the children of
this country the chance they deserve to live out their lives in
happiness and with purpose?
I’ve been reflecting on this the last few days, and if we’re honest
with ourselves, the answer’s no. We’re not doing enough. And we will
have to change. Since I’ve been president, this is the fourth time we
have come together to comfort a grieving community torn apart by mass
shootings, fourth time we’ve hugged survivors, the fourth time we’ve
consoled the families of victims.
And in between, there have been an endless series of deadly shootings
across the country, almost daily reports of victims, many of them
children, in small towns and in big cities all across America, victims
whose -- much of the time their only fault was being at the wrong place
at the wrong time.
We can’t tolerate this anymore. These tragedies must end. And to end them, we must change.
We will be told that the causes of such violence are complex, and
that is true. No single law, no set of laws can eliminate evil from the
world or prevent every senseless act of violence in our society, but
that can’t be an excuse for inaction. Surely we can do better than this.
If there’s even one step we can take to save another child or another
parent or another town from the grief that’s visited Tucson and Aurora
and Oak Creek and Newtown and communities from Columbine to Blacksburg
before that, then surely we have an obligation to try.
In the coming weeks, I’ll use whatever power this office holds to
engage my fellow citizens, from law enforcement, to mental health
professionals, to parents and educators, in an effort aimed at
preventing more tragedies like this, because what choice do we have? We
can’t accept events like this as routine.
Are we really prepared to say that we’re powerless in the face of such carnage, that the politics are too hard?
Are we prepared to say that such violence visited on our children
year after year after year is somehow the price of our freedom?
You know, all the world’s religions, so many of them represented here today, start with a simple question.
Why are we here? What gives our life meaning? What gives our acts purpose?
We know our time on this Earth is fleeting. We know that we will each
have our share of pleasure and pain, that even after we chase after
some earthly goal, whether it’s wealth or power or fame or just simple
comfort, we will, in some fashion, fall short of what we had hoped. We
know that, no matter how good our intentions, we’ll all stumble
sometimes in some way.
We’ll make mistakes, we’ll experience hardships and even when we’re
trying to do the right thing, we know that much of our time will be
spent groping through the darkness, so often unable to discern God’s
heavenly plans.
There’s only one thing we can be sure of, and that is the love that
we have for our children, for our families, for each other. The warmth
of a small child’s embrace, that is true.
The memories we have of them, the joy that they bring, the wonder we
see through their eyes, that fierce and boundless love we feel for them,
a love that takes us out of ourselves and binds us to something larger,
we know that’s what matters.
We know we’re always doing right when we’re taking care of them, when
we’re teaching them well, when we’re showing acts of kindness. We don’t
go wrong when we do that.
That’s what we can be sure of, and that’s what you, the people of
Newtown, have reminded us. That’s how you’ve inspired us. You remind us
what matters. And that’s what should drive us forward in everything we
do for as long as God sees fit to keep us on this Earth.
“
Let the little children come to me,” Jesus said, “and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” MT 19:14
Charlotte, Daniel, Olivia, Josephine, Ana, Dylan, Madeline,
Catherine, Chase, Jesse, James, Grace, Emilie, Jack, Noah, Caroline,
Jessica, Benjamin, Avielle, Allison, God has called them all home.
For those of us who remain, let us find the strength to carry on and
make our country worthy of their memory. May God bless and keep those
we’ve lost in His heavenly place. May He grace those we still have with
His holy comfort, and may He bless and watch over this community and the
United States of America.
President Barack Obama at Newtown, CT
