I saw a picture yesterday in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch of a man falling from the burning wreckage of the World Trade Center before it collapsed.

The tiny figure against the backdrop of the immense flaming wall was more of an outline. I could see no face. His identity was not known.

The picture made me shiver; it made me cry.

This falling man, certainly dead now, was a human being. He had a family, he had friends, he had dreams, hopes and hurts.

He mattered.

And so I’ve been thinking, as I walk quietly along the sidewalk in the sunshine, deceptively peaceful as chaos rages in the streets of New York and in my heart, that life is valuable.

Each person is valuable, regardless of age, position, actions or beliefs.

That truth is what makes my eyes well with tears each time I watch the replay of those twin towers crashing down.

People were in there. People were scared. People were dying.

The economy will suffer. Americans will feel less secure. New York will spend millions cleaning up the catastrophic mess of debris. Our country will defend its freedom and face adversity with boldness.

All of that is important, but nothing is as important as each individual life that was lost.

I find myself asking, “How could those hijackers bear knowing when they rose that morning they were going to die that day?” and “How could any group be so heartless as to kill hundreds of innocent people?”

The answer I’ve found is this: The hijackers, and everyone else involved in what U.S. President George W. Bush has called “evil acts,” lack the deep conviction that life is valuable.

Life. Is. Valuable.

Perhaps those that orchestrated Tuesday’s horrific tragedy live for the cause. But clearly they had no concern over the lives of the men and women they murdered, or their own lives.

So what does this mean on Eastern’s campus? What does it mean for you and me who knew none of the victims and will probably never meet a terrorist?

I believe there is a danger for all of us in dehumanizing people and forgetting the incomprehensible value of each and every person on this planet.

I do it myself when I’m late for class and I walk through a thick crowd. People become obstacles to get past, like my trek to Coleman is some Mario Brothers video game.

I do it when I’m too worried about how I’m coming across to the person I’m conversing with to look in their eyes and see the loneliness there.

Garth Brooks and Joe Henry wrote a song about Christmas Eve in the trenches during World War II. I’m no fan, but the illustration is fitting here.

Soldiers have to dehumanize the enemy in order to be capable of defending their country. Yet on Christmas Eve, one German soldier refused to shoot. Instead, he began singing the Christmas carol, “Silent Night.”

After a few moments of confusion and perhaps even resistance, several soldiers began to join in the melody.

Before long, men on both sides of the line had ceased fire and were lifting up the chorus together in two languages.

The story may or may not be true. It may seem sentimental. But it communicates a message we could all benefit from hearing one more time: people have value.

The soldiers sang together because they all had hearts, and they all had the capacity to hurt and to love. They chose that night to love.

As the footage of the plane slicing into the World Trade Center flashes before my eyes again, and as I watch names of those who perished scroll across the bottom of my television screen, emotions tumble around in my chest like clothes in a drier.

I’m so angry with the people that killed moms and dads, sons and daughters, brothers, sisters and friends.

But it strikes me, the people that committed such terrible acts–they have value, too. Even if the hijackers didn’t recognize their own value and threw their lives away for an ugly purpose, they had value.

Every life is priceless.

As I was heading to a newsroom to write this, I passed three guys talking in their driveway. They were talking about a girl.

One guy said he had hidden the girl very well from the other two. And one of the other guys responded, “Oh, man, why didn’t I get my paws on her?”

Let’s not dehumanize one another and fall into the same crime that bitter terrorists committed Tuesday.

Let’s honor one another. Let’s look into each other’s eyes. Let’s see the value that every one of us has.