 Almighty God, whose way is in the sea, whose paths are in the great waters, whose command is over all and whose love never felleth. Thank you for these extraordinary men and women who died as a result, the tragedy at the Washington Navy Yard. They died in service to their country. May their spirits return in peace to you, the God who gives everlasting life. In your holy word, you warn us that there would be moments when we would not understand how come good people seem to die before their time. But you promise that when they die, no calamity can hurt them, that they would find peace as they live forever with you. You promise that your love for them and theirs for you and for each of us would never die, and that not even death itself can take from us that which is eternal. Comfort their families as the nation pauses, pauses to under the ones they dearly love, pauses to remember sacred stories of how they cherish life, faith, family, friendship, freedom, and the joy of life. We pause this day to proclaim to the world that though our colleagues may now rest from their labors, their good example and godly deeds will live on through each of us and through all those they were blessed to touch. We join with the bereaved family as they pray for those who are recovering both physically and emotionally. We are forever grateful to all who responded and for the outpouring of love and support. Now Lord God, speak to us, give us hope that is beyond our grief and grant us your grace, strength, and the gift of your peace which surpasses all understanding. In your holy name, I pray, amen. Before I start, on behalf of everyone who works in the Navy Yard, thank you to all in the DC area, especially those first responders for everything you have done for us during this tragedy. It has been an honor for all of us to have served with the 12 great Americans we mourn here today. They love their country. They love their Navy. They love the fleet, the fleet they help build and sustain. Most of them dedicated their entire adult lives to building and sustaining our Navy ships. As I mourned with the Pandit family, I promised them that I would correct the reporting of this tragedy. The report was that no servicemen were killed, just civilians and contractors. And that is flat wrong. These patriots designed and built our ships. They sustained and set the standards for our ships. They connected us to each other and to the fleet. And they protected and sustained our headquarters. These 12 members of our Navy team, our Navy family, were killed in the line of duty. They died in the service to our nation, the service to our Navy. In service they were just as committed to as any of us in uniform. For that service, we honor them. For that service, we will never forget them. I salute these American heroes. Good evening. This Monday's horrific shootings at the Navy Yard were a tragedy for the nation, for the Navy Yard, and most importantly for the loved ones of those lost and for those who suffered injuries. And that also was a tragedy here in the District of Columbia. Most of our city lost friends and neighbors, mothers and fathers, colleagues, and fellow church members. And our brave first responders joined their federal counterparts in doing their duty fearlessly and unselfishly. One of those injured on Monday was one of our own metropolitan police officers. Officer Scott Williams was one of the first to respond and he was shot in both legs. His bravery is symbolic of countless other personnel from our metropolitan police department, our fire and emergency medical services, and our federal and local public safety agencies who answered the call to duty without hesitation. We're reviewing their response to learn as many lessons as we can in this event. But there's one lesson that is already abundantly clear. Our country is drowning in a sea of guns. One of Monday's victims was a district resident whose family already had been tragically touched by gun violence. Arthur Daniels was 51 years old and that day the simple act of going to work, going to work in the morning cost him his life. Sadly it was a price that his family had paid once before. His widow Priscilla told me how their 14-year-old son was murdered just four years ago, shot in the back while running from an assailant. Senseless gun violence like this is an all-to-everyday fact of life here in the district and in our nation's other big cities, but it's a fact of life in which we must stop accepting. The Navy Yard, Sandy Hook, Aurora, Virginia Tech, Columbine, the streets of our cities. Why is it that every time we seem to let ourselves become a newer to the horrific violence that these places represent? Why is it that these tragic consequences and these tragic occurrences never seem to move us any closer to ensuring that guns don't get into the hands of criminals or mentally unstable people? I don't know the answer, but I do know this, that this time it happened within the view of our capital dome, and I for one will not be silent about the fact that the time has come for action. Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, as Admiral Hillard has indicated, our Navy lost 12 teammates during Monday's attack. These were members of our Navy family. These were our shipmates. They are mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, going to work to provide for their families and serve their nation. The nature of our Navy family is that we serve together and we depend on each other in times of need. We celebrate each other's successes in our triumphs and we grieve together in times of sorrow. These shipmates dedicated their careers to building and maintaining the finest Navy in the world. They worked alongside one another for a purpose greater than themselves. Simply put, they are the best naval engineering team in the world. A team that designs, repairs, maintains our ships and submarines. They plan and manage budgets, and they research, design, and build our future. This team is the genesis of United States sea power. It all starts here. But above all else, they are part of the Navy. And Navy strength has been, and will continue to be, the resilience and endurance of our people during times of crisis. Whether an attack on Pearl Harbor or more recently the bombing of the United States ship Cole, our legacy has been that our Navy pulls together with resolve when tragedy strikes. Members of our Navy family demonstrated true courage at the Navy Yard last week. It was apparent in the actions of, for example, a Navy civilian shipmate who happened to be a former hospital corpsman as she carried out one of her fallen corps, excuse me, fallen co-workers and performed CPR in an attempt to save his life. Or the individual who ensured the safe evacuation of a blind co-worker. These are examples of what defines our Navy family. It's shipmates taking care of shipmates. We will remember the fallen in the events of last Monday, and we will grow stronger as an institution, reinforcing our commitment to maintaining the world's finest Navy. To the families here, and to our Navy Yard shipmates, we mourn with you today. We will stand with you going forward in the difficult times ahead. We will remember your loved ones, and we will be with you. God bless you, our Navy, and the United States of America. Thank you. As a military organization, we've experienced all too often the searing pain of combat losses, and honored the many who, in Lincoln's words, have sacrificed their lives on the altar of freedom. Today we honor 12 patriots who have made the same sacrifice in the service of their nation this time here at home. We rightly set aside special days and solemn rituals to recognize, remember, and revere the men and women in uniform who have paid the final price in the defense of our freedoms. These nine men and three women deserve no less. Their work and that of thousands of their civilian colleagues across this city and country is critical to our nation's security. Without the civilians at Naval Sea Systems Command, we literally would not have a fleet to put to sea, and we could not operate ashore without the Navy's facilities engineering command. NAVSEE and NAVFAC are a critical part of the Navy Marine Corps team, of the Navy Marine Corps family, and we are a family. Uniform and civilian, we work together, serve together, overcome together. As a family, we grieve together. We will assure that they, like those who have gone before them, will be remembered and honored as heroes, because that is what they are. Heroes, ordinary people facing extraordinary circumstances. An ordinary Monday became a day of extraordinary horror, but also extraordinary heroism. As law enforcement officers and other first responders ran into danger to aid and protect others as colleagues, friends, and strangers assisted each other away from danger, even at the risk of their own lives. We memorialize as heroes those we lost and honor the heroes we have here today. The courage we witnessed on Monday did not end with the closing on that awful day. On Tuesday, people returned to their work, and by Thursday, when much of the Navy yard reopened, thousands whose lives had been in real peril three days before would not let fear keep them away. Still, we know it will take time for those with wounds physical or invisible to heal. The shock and anger what occurred on Monday will take us time to deal with. This act of evil defies comprehension, defies understanding. Twelve wives, husbands, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, children, workmates, colleagues, taken from us suddenly, violently, cruelly. But what can never be taken is the love and our memories. And we, and as we remember these individuals we cherished, it should not be as victims. Their lives should not be defined by the terrible inexplicable way they were ended, but rather how they lived and the rich legacies each of them left. And these are unique individuals. But as I've spoken to their families and friends and common threads emerge, love of family and country, the value and pride placed on working for America and the values that others placed on their work and on their lives. Today, one by one, we will hear their names and remember them and mourn. Then they join so many other Navy and Marine Corps heroes whose lives and deeds shine forever bright. We remain Semper Fortis, Semper Fidelis, forever courageous, forever faithful. Mr. President, Mrs. Obama, on behalf of the more than three million men and women of the Department of Defense serving across the nation and all over the world, I want to express our deepest sympathy to the families here today. Know that our thoughts and our prayers are with all of you. Today we come together at this historic post to begin a long road of healing and recovery. It is the path we walk together. We walk with the families, all who loved the fallen, to help ease the pain, hoping that grief and sadness will one day end and cherished memories of those we love so much will take their place. We walk with those injured and scarred by this senseless act of violence to help them regain their strength, hoping the horrors of last Monday will soon recede. And together we will recover. We will remember the first responders. We will remember all the first responders who ran toward the sounds of gunfire, including officers Scott Williams, injured in the line of duty. We will remember the valor of the Navy Yard personnel, all the people in the building 197. And we will remember that in the face of tragedy, the United States Navy is once again responding with resolve. As we remember the fallen, we also note the timeliness, resilience of the institution that the victims were part of, that they so proudly supported, and the nation they so humbly served. God bless the families and the friends of those we remember who we remember today. And God bless our country. Secretary Hagel, Secretary Mabus, Admiral's Greenert and Lardes, Mayor Gray, leaders from across this city, and armed forces to all the outstanding first responders, most of all the families whose hearts have been broken. We cannot begin to comprehend your loss. We know that no words we offer today are equal to the magnitude, to the depths of that loss. But we come together as a grateful nation to honor your loved ones, to grieve with you, and to offer, as best we can, some solace and some comfort. On the night that we lost Martin Luther King, Jr. to a gunman's bullet, Robert Kennedy stood before a stunned and angry crowd in Indianapolis, and he broke the terrible news. And in the anguish of that moment, he turned to the words of an ancient Greek poet, Escalus, even in our sleep, pain which we cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will comes wisdom through the awful grace of God. Pain which cannot forget drop by drop upon the heart. The tragedy and the pain that brings us here today is extraordinary. It is unique. The lives that were taken from us were unique. The memories their loved ones carry are unique, and they will carry them and endure long after the news cameras are gone. But part of what wears on as well is the sense that this has happened before. Part of what wears on us, what troubles us so deeply as we gather here today is how this senseless violence that took place in the Navy Yard echoes other recent tragedies. As President, I have now grieved with five American communities ripped apart by mass violence. Fort Hood, Tucson, Aurora, Sandy Hook, and now the Washington Navy Yard. And these mass shootings occur against a backdrop of daily tragedies as an epidemic of gun violence tears apart communities across America, from the streets of Chicago to neighborhoods not far from here. And so once again, we remember our fellow Americans who were just going about their day, doing their jobs, doing what they loved. In this case, the unheralded work that keeps our country strong and our Navy the finest fleet in the world, these patriots doing their work that they were so proud of and have now been taken away from us by unspeakable violence. Once more, we come together to mourn the lives of beauty and to comfort the wonderful families who cherish them. Once more, we pay tribute to all who rush towards the danger, who risk their lives so others might live and who are in our prayers today, including Officer Scott Williams. Once more, our hearts are broken. Once more, we ask why. Once more, we seek strength and wisdom through God's grace. You and your families, this Navy family, are still in the early hour of your grief. And I'm here today to say that there is nothing routine about this tragedy. There's nothing routine about your loss. Your loved ones will not be forgotten. They will endure in the hearts of the American people, in the hearts of the Navy, that they help to keep strong, in the hearts of their coworkers and their friends and their neighbors. I want them to know how she lived, Jessica Gardie said of her mother, Cappy. She is not a number or some statistic. None of these 12 fellow Americans are statistics. Today, I want every American to see how these men and women lived. You may have never met them, but you know them. They're your neighbors, like Arthur Daniels, out there on the weekend polishing his white-crowned Victoria. And Kenneth Proctor, with his beloved yellow Mustang, who, if you asked, would fix your car, too. She was the friendly face at the store. Sylvia Frazier with her unforgettable gold hair, who took a second job at Walmart because she said she just loved working with people. She was the die-hard fan you sat next to at the game. Kathy Gardie loved her hockey and her caps. Season ticket holder for 25 years. They were the volunteers who made your community better. Frank Kohler giving dictionaries to every third grader in his county. Marty Boudreau leading the Children's Bible Study at Church. They lived the American dream, like Kesa and Pendant, who left everything he knew in India for this land of opportunity and raised a wonderful family, and dedicated himself to the United States Navy. They were proud veterans, like Gerald Reed, who wore the Army uniform for more than 25 years. And Michael Arnold, who became one of the Navy's leading architects, of whom a colleague said nobody knew those ships like him. They were dedicated fathers, like Mike Rigel, coaching his daughter's softball teams, joining Facebook just to keep up with his girls, one of whom said he was always the cool dad. They were loving mothers, like Mary Frances Knight, devoted to her daughters, and who had just recently watched what Joyce, her older daughter, got married. They were doting grandparents, like John Johnson, always smiling, giving bear hugs to his 10 grandchildren, and who would have welcomed his 11th grandchild this fall. These are not statistics. They are the lives that have been taken from us. This is how far a single act of violence can ripple. A husband has lost his wife. Wives have lost their husbands. Sons and daughters have lost their moms and their dads. Little children have lost their grandparents. Hundreds in our communities have lost a neighbor. And thousands here have lost a friend. As has been mentioned for one family, the Daniels family, old wounds are ripped open again. Priscilla has lost Arthur, her husband of 30 years, only a few years ago, as Mayor Gray indicated, another shooting took the life of their son just 14 years old. I can't believe this is happening again, Priscilla says. These families have endured a shattering tragedy. It ought to be a shock to all of us as a nation and as a people. It ought to obsess us. It ought to lead to some sort of transformation. That's what happened in other countries when they experienced similar tragedies in the United Kingdom, in Australia. When just a single mass shooting occurred in those countries, they understood that there was nothing ordinary about this kind of carnage. They endured great heartbreak, but they also mobilized and they changed. And mass shootings became a great rarity. And yet here in the United States, after the round-of-clock coverage on cable news, after the heartbreaking interviews with families, after all the speeches and all the punditry and all the commentary, nothing happens. Alongside the anguish of these American families, alongside the accumulated outrage so many of us feel, sometimes I fear there's a creeping resignation, that these tragedies are just somehow the way it is, that this is somehow the new normal. We can't accept this. As Americans bound in grief and love, we must insist here today there is nothing normal about innocent men and women being gunned down where they work. There's nothing normal about our children being gunned down in their classrooms. There's nothing normal about children dying in our streets from stray bullets. No other advanced nation endures this kind of violence. None. Here in America, the murder rate is three times what it is in other developed nations. The murder rate with guns is 10 times what it is in other developed nations. And there's nothing inevitable about it. It comes about because of decisions we make or fail to make. And it falls upon us to make it different. Sometimes it takes an unexpected voice to break through, to help remind us what we know to be true. And we heard one of those voices last week. Dr. Janice Orlowski's team at MedStar Washington Hospital Center treated the wounded. And in the midst of one of her briefings, she spoke with heartbreaking honesty as somebody who sees daily and nightly the awful carnage of so much violence. We are a great country, she said, but there's something wrong. All these shootings, all these victims, she said, this is not America. It is a challenge to all of us, she said. And we have to work together to get rid of this. And that's the wisdom we should be taking away from this tragedy, and so many others, not accepting these shootings as inevitable, but asking what can we do to prevent them from happening again and again and again. I've said before, we cannot stop every act of senseless violence. We cannot know every evil that lurks in troubled minds. But if we can prevent even one tragedy like this, save even one life, spare other families what these families are going through, surely we've got an obligation to try. It's true that each of the tragedies I've mentioned is different, and in this case it's clear we need to do a better job of securing our military facilities, deciding who gets access to them. And as Commander-in-Chief, I've ordered a review of procedures up and down the chain, and I know that Secretary Hagel is moving aggressively on that. As a society, it's clear we've got to do a better job of ensuring that those who need mental health care actually get it, and that in those efforts we don't stigmatize those who need help. Those things are clear, and we've got to move to address them. But we Americans are not uninherently more violent people than folks in other countries. We're not inherently more prone to mental health problems. The main difference that sets our nation apart, what makes us so susceptible to so many mass shootings, is that we don't do enough, we don't take the basic common-sense actions to keep guns out of the hands of criminals and dangerous people. What's different in America is it's easy to get your hands on a gun, and a lot of us know this. But the politics are difficult, as we saw again this spring. And that's sometimes where the resignation comes from, the sense that our politics are frozen and that nothing will change. I cannot accept that. I do not accept that we cannot find a common-sense way to preserve our traditions, including our basic Second Amendment freedoms and the rights of law-abiding gun owners, while at the same time reducing the gun violence that unleashes so much mayhem on a regular basis. And it may not happen tomorrow, and it may not happen next week, it may not happen next month. But it will happen because it's the change that we need, and it's a change overwhelmingly supported by the majority of Americans. By now, though, it should be clear that the change we need will not come from Washington, even when tragedy strikes Washington. Change will come the only way it ever has to come, and that's from the American people. So the question now is not whether, as Americans, we care in moments of tragedy. Clearly, we care. Our hearts are broken again, and we care so deeply about these families. But the question is, do we care enough? Do we care enough to keep standing up for the country that we know is possible, even if it's hard, and even if it's politically uncomfortable? Do we care enough to sustain the passion and the pressure to make our communities safer and our country safer? Do we care enough to do everything we can to spare other families the pain that is felt here today? Our tears are not enough. Our words and our prayers are not enough. If we really want to honor these 12 men and women, if we really want to be a country where we can go to work and go to school and walk our streets free from senseless violence, without so many lives being stolen by a bullet from a gun, then we're going to have to change. We're going to have to change. On Monday morning, these 12 men and women woke up like they did every day. They left home, and they headed off to work. And Gerald Reed's wife, Kathy, said, see you tonight for dinner. And John Johnson looked at his wife, Judy, said what he always said whenever they parted, goodbye, beautiful. I love you so much. Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God. What Robert Kennedy understood, what Dr. King understood, what all our great leaders have always understood is that wisdom does not come from tragedy alone, or from some sense of resignation in the fallibility of man. Wisdom comes through the recognition that tragedies such as this are not inevitable, and that we possess the ability to act and to change and to spare others the pain that drops upon our hearts. So in our grief, let us seek that grace, let us find that wisdom, and in doing so, let us truly honor these 12 American patriots. May God hold close the souls taken from us and grant them eternal peace. May he comfort and watch over these families. And may God grant us the strength and wisdom to keep safe our United States of America. In the translation it says, from Bhagavad Gita, Hindu holy scripture, that weapons cannot cut it, nor can fire burn it. Water cannot wet it, nor can wind dry it. The second stanza from Bhagavad Gita. Vasam si jirnaani yatha vihaya. Navani grunati naroparani. Tatha sharirani vihaya jirna. Nya nya sriyani samyati navani dehi. It translates into, as a man sheds his worn out clothes, takes other new ones. Likewise, the embodied soul casting off worn out bodies enters into other new bodies. A small prayer from Hindu scripture. Asutoma sadgamaya, tamasoma jyotirgamaya, mityurma amritamgamaya, om shanti shanti shanti. And this translates into saying, from untruth lead us to the truth, from darkness lead us to the light, from death lead us to immortality. Om, peace, peace, and peace. May the treasured souls of our 12 dear friends rest in peace. A reading from the letter to the Romans. It is God who acquits us, who will condemn. It is Christ Jesus who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? No. In all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through Him who has loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord, the word of the Lord. Would all of you join with me in praying and reading together from the ancient prayer book we know as the Psalms? This reading is from the 23rd Psalm. Will you read together with me? The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Let us pray, almighty and eternal God, we have gathered today to honor our fallen colleagues who died while serving their nation. These whom we regard as civilian sailors, as shipmates, were beloved fathers and mothers, grandfathers and grandmothers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, and they were our colleagues, our neighbors, our friends. As we remember them this day, we give thanks for what they have meant to us, for their love, for their courage, for their dedication to service, to our Navy, to our nation. We mourn their deaths and we grieve and we miss them terribly. And even as we grieve, we are also thankful for those who responded in the face of terrifying violence, for those who strove to end it, for those who gave medical assistance, for those who lent a helping hand or put an arm around the shoulder, we give thanks. Gracious Lord, you heal the brokenhearted, you bind up their wounds. We commend to your care the families and the friends of those whom we have lost. The psalmist reminds us that we are not alone. Whether we ascend to the heights or descend to the depths or take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there, your hand shall lead us. If we walk through the valley of the shadow of death itself, your right hand shall hold us. So we ask you, hold us now. Comfort each one of us with the great power of your love. And in our grief and our confusion, give us light to guide us into the assurance of your love. We pray this in your holy name. Amen. Would you please rise as we recall the names of those whom we have lost, and please remain standing for the Navy Hymn and for TAPS. Following TAPS, please remain in place for the departure of President and Mrs. Obama and the families. These are our fallen colleagues, Michael Wells Arnold, Martin John Badrog, Arthur Lee Daniels, Sylvia Renee Frazier, Kathleen Narc Garde, John Roger Johnson, Mary Frances Knight, Frank Edwin Kohler, Vishnu Kisan Pandit, Kenneth Bernard Proctor, Gerald Eugene Reed, and Richard Michael Rigel.