Now and again, I encounter a story that really resonates with me. Not because I have had a similar experience, no. It's just the drama and human element that reels me in and urges me to find out more.

More than a year ago, I was adjusting to life in the barrio and was literally shut off from the outside world. Cellphone signal was difficult, we did not have radio or television, and I seldom went to the city to go online. Thus, news of the Virginia Tech massacre completely escaped my knowledge. I don't know if you remember details about it but Wikipedia is always reliable about those kinds of things so I was able to find out a lot about it.

What struck me the most about the incident was not the shooter himself – a mentally disturbed young man – but one of his victims, a 77-year old professor who held the door of his classroom shut so that his students could escape through the window. The shooter fired repeatedly at the door and Liviu Librescu perished and became one of the 30-plus victims of the tragedy.

The man, a brilliant teacher by all accounts, survived the Holocaust for crying out loud! And he was killed in a tragic and senseless manner. I don't know if the authorities determined whether Cho, the shooter, had a motive in going to that particular classroom building and "repeating Columbine" or not. But the senselessness of it all really just bugs me.

Another thing about Librescu himself: I cannot get over the man's heroism. Here you are, 77 years old, and lecturing your class on a day you thought would be like any other. Suddenly, this crazed gunman comes and turns your life into a horror movie. What does he do? He calmly tells his class to escape through the window and acts as a human barricade while they do so. He gave his life so that others may live. I cannot help but admire the man.

As I read through the short Wikipedia entry about him, I wonder what was going on in his mind while he was holding the door, being perforated by hollow-point bullets, and seeing his young students save themselves. But mostly, I wonder what I, if I were in his shoes, would have done? Or if I were in one of those students shoes, would I have disobeyed him and helped him barricade the door and gave my life away in the process? Would I have had the courage to give up my life for others?

In college, we were taught to be men and women for others. St. Ignatius was a big believer in that. Our four semesters of Philosophy and years of Theology repeatedly encouraged us to be persons for others. (There was that story of the Italian priest who shielded his parishioners from the blast of a grenade by lying down on it.)

But when push comes to shove, when it IS a matter of life and death, would I have gone to that extreme? Would I have had the strength to sacrifice my very existence for people I barely know?

Maybe if I had been asked that question in college, I would have considered it and said, sure. Before I had a family, I used to think that God could take me any moment and I'd be totally okay with it. But having a husband, and a child (or two) to take care of, changes things. I don't want to die. Not yet. I want to see my children grow up to become God-fearing individuals who are generous of themselves and who contribute a lot to the community.

Does that make me any less of a Christian? Does that make me a selfish person? I hope I am never placed in a situation where I have to choose. It's not that I care much about my own life, no. I do not want to die because my dying would deprive my two children of a mother and my husband of a wife. Both of these roles are important to me. I consider them my life's work, or if you will, my very small contribution to humanity. Does that make me any less selfish?