photos by Mike Sands Members of the CWRU community join hands and form a circle around the Heart of Campus during a memorial service commemorating the victims and heroes of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. President Edward M. Hundert addressed the crowd with the words President Abraham Lincoln used to dedicate the cemetery at Gettysburg. "An assassin, a terrorist, would later cause Lincoln to join the 600,000 of his countryman killed in that war," Hundert said, " so that he became part of what Lincoln himself called 'the cherished memory of the loved and the lost.' Let us pause now together to reflect upon the cherished memory of the loved and the lost."

Remarks at Remembrance of September 11

Edward M. Hundert, President

Case Western Reserve University

Given at a Gathering of Faculty, Staff, Students and Friends

September 11, 2002

Heart of the Campus

Welcome, and thank you for sharing this time to help us remember the events of one year ago and the thousands—in fact millions—of people whose lives were affected by the tragic violence of that day.

We have just heard a broadcast of a performance of Mozart's Requiem by the local group Apollo's Fire, part of an international commemoration called the "Rolling Requiem." This effort involves performances and broadcasts of Mozart's composition throughout the world, beginning at the International Dateline in New Zealand and the Philippines, and continuing west through Japan, Siberia, and China, across Africa and Europe, across the Atlantic ocean to North and South America, and eventually westward to the Pacific islands. Events were scheduled in 20 different time zones, covering all the parts of the world from which our students, faculty, and staff hail, sweeping us along, both with the power of the music and with the power of a shared experience.

The shared experience of one year ago illustrated the strength and resilience of the members of this University community. I was not at Case Western Reserve last year—I personally experienced 9/11 as part of another university community. But as I have come to know this wonderful place and its remarkable people, I have heard on many occasions references to the mood here in the days and weeks following 9/11, a sense that people of every religious background and every nationality reached out to comfort others, helping all to appreciate what we share, even if we could not then appreciate what had motivated the violence.

It was a particularly difficult time for our international students, some of whom found it necessary to return home for a period before resuming their studies here. I hope that they understand today that they are an important and integral part of our campus community, and that we value their presence here.

Over the past week or so, and sure to continue a bit longer, we have been literally inundated with replays of the planes hitting the World Trade Center, of the photographs of the resulting damage there and at the Pentagon, and audio reruns of the conversations on the plane that went down in Pennsylvania. At the same time we hear our national leaders discussing—without agreement—the merits of a pre-emptive military strike intended somehow to redress the injuries of a year ago or perhaps prevent further attacks on this and other countries.

What I wish for this country—and for the world—is fewer commemorative frenzies in the media, and more of the kind of understanding and appreciation of human differences that characterized this campus in the period following 9/11. For us at this University, I wish that the spirit of that time can continue without need for any further tragic events to motivate it.

So I thank each of you for joining us this morning. I thank the faculty who gave students the freedom to be away from class, and the supervisors who allowed staff members to take time off from work, so they could attend.

You have all seen the panels that have been placed at the base of the light poles here in the Heart of the Campus over the past two weeks. Members of the campus community are encouraged to inscribe your thoughts on the panels, and we will store them and display them in appropriate locations on campus in the future. I was struck by one comment inscribed on the panel over closest to Euclid Avenue. The comment is unattributed, but it reflects my own thoughts. It says:

"All I ask is that we act beyond reaction, that we think beyond the present, that we remember beyond yesterday, and that we proceed with honesty, caution, and an urge for peace."

I would like to close by asking for a few moments of silent prayer during which we might remember the heroic rescue workers, the many survivors of the attacks, all the family members reliving their grief today, and especially the victims of the terrorist attacks of one year ago. I don't believe that any words can memorialize further the people who died that day. I think only of that line in Abraham Lincoln's address as he dedicated the cemetery at Gettysburg, when, after saying that "It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this," he said: "But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract."

An assassin, a terrorist, would later cause Lincoln to join the 600,000 of his countryman killed in that war, so that he became part of what Lincoln himself called "the cherished memory of the loved and the lost." Let us pause now together to reflect upon the cherished memory of the loved and the lost.