One year ago, on March 24, Mitchell Wright was plunged into anger and despair. On that day, two boys, Mitchell Johnson, 13, and Andrew Golden, 11, played sniper on their middle school campus in Jonesboro, Ark. They murdered four of their schoolmates with 22 shots. They also killed a teacher, Shannon Wright, 32, Mitchell Wright's wife. Says he: "The ballistics report shows the Johnson boy fired five shots and had five direct hits. He hit one person in the head, he hit my wife in the chest and the knee and two girls in the knee area." The shooter, Wright recalls, stood up in court and said that he was sorry, that he was not trying to kill anyone, that he and his friend were shooting over the heads of the teachers and students they had tricked into assembling outside, that it was all just to scare them. The anger rises in Wright's voice. "I don't buy that."
But buy it or not, Wright knew that he must fight against being consumed by rage. He began on the very Sunday after the horror, asking his fellow congregants in church for support. The stakes, he realized, were high. First, there was his three-year-old son Zane. "When my wife was dying, she said, 'I love you, and take care of Zane.' Well, if I lose it, then I can't take care of him." And then there was the matter of his immortal soul. "If you let the hate and anger build in you, that's a very strong sin," he says softly. "I need to be able to totally forgive." And what does that entail? "To me, forgiveness would be if when these boys get out, I can see them on the street or in a Wal-Mart and not want to..." His voice trails off. He concedes, "I am not at that point yet."
America can be a very unforgiving place. It is not that we aren't taught to forgive. This Sunday, on Easter, millions of Christians will celebrate the embodiment of divine forgiveness, the risen Lord. The parable of the pardoning of the prodigal son is recapitulated as often on daytime soaps as in Sunday sermons. No, the problem with forgiveness has been that of all acknowledged good acts, it is the one we are most suspicious of. "To err is human, to forgive, supine," punned S.J. Perelman. In a country where the death penalty has been a proven vote getter in recent years, forgiveness is often seen as effete and irresponsible. Sometimes it even seems to condone the offense, as noted centuries ago by Jewish sages who declared, "He that is merciful to the cruel will eventually be cruel to the innocent." Nothing lately has shown the cheap side of forgiveness like Bill Clinton's calculated plays for public pardon, culminating in a dizzying switcheroo after the Senate impeachment vote. Asked by Sam Donaldson if he could "forgive and forget," Clinton answered earnestly, "I believe any person who asks for forgiveness has to be prepared to give it," a response that seemed almost as disingenuous as it was perfectly crafted. Of what value a forgiveness that is so easily manipulated for political gain?