Like many people here in Tucson and indeed, around the globe--I have spent a fair amount of time in the last several days thinking about, hearing about and reading about what happened here last weekend. I do not know if it is a direct result of all of this, but this story, which I first read about some time ago, just kept coming back to my mind over and over again. It is a true story. It is a story that has been included, over the years, in a number of books, ministerial sermons and various other treatments and anecdotes. Perhaps you have heard the story before. I re-read it many times a year.
After the abolition of apartheid in South Africa, a commission was established to bring the violence of apartheid to light and to give both victims and perpetrators a chance to be heard.
The Commission brought an elderly black woman face to face with the man, a Mr. Van de Broek, who had confessed to the murders of both her only son and her husband.
The elderly black woman stood in an emotionally charged courtroom, listening to white police officers acknowledge the atrocities they had perpetrated in the name of apartheid.
Officer Van de Broek acknowledged his responsibility in the death of her son. Along with others, he had shot her 18-year-old son at point-blank range. He and the others partied while they burned his body, turning it over and over on the fire until it was reduced to ashes.
Eight years later, Van de Broek and others arrived to seize her husband. A few hours later, shortly after midnight, Van de Broek came to fetch the woman. He took her to a woodpile where her husband lay bound. She was forced to watch as they poured gasoline over his body and ignited the flames that consumed his body. The last words she heard her husband say were "Forgive them."
Now, Van de Broek stood before her awaiting judgment. South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission asked her what she wanted.
The old woman replied:
"I want three things," she said calmly. "I want Mr. Van de Broek to take me to the place where they burned my husband's body. I would like to gather up the dust and give him a decent burial."
"Second, Mr. van de Broek took all my family away from me, and I still have a lot of love to give. I want, secondly, therefore, for Mr. Van de Broek to become my son. Twice a month, I would like for him to come to the ghetto and spend a day with me so I can be a mother to him."
"Third, I would like Mr. Van de Broek to know that he is forgiven by God, and that I forgive him, too. I would kindly ask someone to lead me to where he is seated, so I can take Mr. Van de Broek in my arms, embrace him and let him know that he is truly forgiven."
The assistants came to help the old black woman across the courtroom. Mr. Van de Broek, overwhelmed by what he had just heard, fainted. And as he did, those in the courtroom---friends, family, neighbors, all victims of decades of oppression and injustice---began to sing "Amazing Grace." Gradually everyone joined in.
Harvey, A. (2009) The Hope: A Guide to Sacred Activism, New York: Hay House, Inc.
Prevallet, E. (2005) Toward a Spirituality for Global Justice: A Call to Kinship. Sowers Books and Videos.
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