forgiveness

Yesterday on CNN I watched a flippant female reporter interviewing the grandfather of two of the young shooting victims from that Amish schoolhouse. This gentleman chose to be filmed from the back, so while he spoke we unfortunately could see the reporter's face, stretched as it was into an uncomfortably stiff and sickeningly predatory smile. It seemed she could barely contain her glee at nailing this awesome scoop. And her angle, naturally, was not to inquire as to this man's actual personal experience but rather to exploit his experience to demonstrate her own position. Or maybe that of her producer. Or the one she believed all us viewers must hold. It seems to me that they're rarely really asking.

She started with a reasonable question, what the experience was for him and his family. The man said simply, "Shock." This one word said much more than many words would have, but it was spoken too plainly to meet the reporter's needs. She probed for an emotional vein, asking what kind of girls his granddaughters were. "Sweet," he replied. Again, heartbreaking. But one word answers, though they spoke volumes, only served to unnerve and provoke the shewolf. Frustration flashed across her face. Seeking another channel to the "human" angle, she pointed out that he had not been sleeping, something she apparently knew already. No, he agreed, he didn't sleep last night. She probed, and he recounted the timeline of the night before, which included visiting victims in the hospital and watching first one of his wounded granddaughters and then the other die.

Now the reporter's face lit up, her eyes to my view positively lupine. She'd got it. "And are you angry with the family of the shooter?" Strange wording, I thought, but maybe more sure to get the answer she wanted than asking about his feelings toward the shooter himself. The man began to shake his head before her words were all out: "No... no..." Now we were treated to an expression of disdain, even disgust, disguised as confusion. Her last question sounded rhetorical: "How is that even possible?"

"With the help of God."

A new item was soon added to the ticker at the bottom of the screen, something like, "Family member of Amish victims holds no anger toward shooter." This in itself isn't a bad thing, I think. In fact I wish that sort of family reaction was considered news more often. What bothered me about it was that the reason it was being considered news this time was because it could be discounted as the quaint and outdated view of some backwards religious whack-job who refuses to face the "reality" of his world and his situation. This gentleman's lifestyle choice undercuts our society's ability to see his incredible spiritual strength for what it is.

Of course, the fact that he didn't (and probably couldn't) give in and make what he had to say about his personal strength, or make a show of either his pain or his spirituality, also highlights CNN's bullish indelicacy. If there's no personal ego angle, a story just does not compute. So it has to be chewed up and spat back out in patronizing sound bites, pre-chewed for what are presumed to be infantile viewers.

I read this in an article in the NY Times this morning:

"Rita Rhoads, a midwife who helped in the births of two of the murdered girls, said the father of one told her that God had helped his daughter. 'He said there was a battle between good and evil Monday, and good won,' Ms. Rhoads said. 'He felt that way because the shooter was killed before he was able to carry out all of his plans.'

"Investigators said they believed Mr. Roberts intended to sexually molest the girls but was interrupted by the arrival of the police."

How's that for glass-half-full? I am humbled and deeply grateful for this man's gift of transcendant wisdom this morning, as I safely sit miles away, sipping coffee at my computer.

I was also struck by the fact that the support fund set up by the local community was not only for the families of the victims, but also for the widow and children of the shooter, who are always mentioned by community members as being in their prayers, as well. This is the true generosity of spirit that makes healing after a tragedy like this possible, I think. And it's going on quietly and consistently amid the media's persistent flame-fanning.

"We can not think evil of the gunman," is another quote I heard in that same Isn't that quaint sort of context. That one must be harder. More from the NY Times:

"Lil Nissley, whose daughters had been playmates with one of the victims, said she was at the farm where those fleeing the schoolhouse — the male students and the adult women — had taken refuge. 'Any outsider would have said, what’s wrong with these calm people?' she said. 'I mean, we were crying, we were praying, but we weren’t hysterical.'

"But Ms. Nissley and her husband, David, who are not Amish, said the composure was a matter of culture and training, not suppression. 'Their blood runs red,' Mr. Nissley said."

Culture and training.

The wisdom and real strength that these people are quietly exuding is shining through the murk of our cultural bloodlust and schadenfreude. Their dignity and grace is a bracing call to quiet down; the message their loving actions send brings real hope of healing. This is not about stoicism. If these people are downplaying their emotional experience, it is not to supress or deny their humanness, but to find and to express a deeper truth about what they are--about what we all are. Including all the clueless reporters. And including the guy who snapped and took their babies in a shocking moment of unspeakable pain for all involved.

In the battle between good and evil, good wins. Love abides. My deepest gratitude goes out to the members of that stricken community for helping us all remember that.