Next year marks the 50th anniversary of that bombing, which came just weeks after Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech on the Washington Mall. It was one of the most horrific tragedies of the era.

Carolyn, her family and friends were devoted members of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. The pastor's sermon that morning was called "A Love that Forgives," and was to be based on Luke 23:34 — "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." They were all looking forward to it.

Fifteen-year-old Carolyn was just a few feet away when the Klan bomb exploded, killing her best friends: Denise McNair, Carole Robertson, Addie Mae Collins and Cynthia Wesley. They were in the bathroom preparing for the church service, which was to feature them. She had spoken to them only seconds before. The bomb killed them instantly. One side of the church was badly damaged. The beautiful, large stained glass window of Jesus was untouched, except that debris blew a hole right through Jesus' face.

Earlier that year, Carolyn had skipped school to march with Dr. King and hundreds of other young people in the massive spring protest against segregation. Like every other African-American in Birmingham, she had experienced and witnessed firsthand the white racism, the evil system of segregation, the ongoing bombings and the inhumane injustices. But that day, she herself faced down Bull Connor's vicious German shepherds and white police officers, then received the full force of the water hoses, which tore off a large patch of her hair. Read more

Sources

• John Dear SJ in National Catholic Reporter
• Image: The Louisiana Justice Institute

Listening to a programme on the radio about restorative justice a few years ago, I was reduced to sudden and copious tears by an exchange between a grieving mother and her daughter's imprisoned killer. The mother, though well aware she would never get over the loss of her child, was prepared, after long and painful self-examination, to offer the killer her forgiveness.

He, though well aware that he could not undo what he had done, felt he had been given, through the forgiveness of the person to whom he had caused the most appalling suffering, a chance for redemption.

His contrition and recognition of the hurt he had inflicted, a demonstration of the compassion so lacking in the commission of the crime, was an essential part of what had made the mother able to forgive.

The granting of forgiveness, especially in circumstances like this, is such a powerful and moving thing - such an essentially human thing - it's small wonder that virtually all religions have annexed it, as they have love, spirituality and the notion of truth itself, as a way to bind human beings to themselves.

Some have made redemption, the seeking of or granting of forgiveness, the very core of their belief and practice.

It should hardly need saying, but then again perhaps it does, that forgiveness and redemption are no more the creations or possessions of any religion than soul music is an invention of Adele.

True, religious traditions have produced some of the most beautiful meditations on forgiveness, and served as a way of reminding societies of its importance, but it does not belong to them.

Continue reading "To forgive isn't divine, it's deeply human."

Source:

• Image: Ozyism