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 An arrest made May 16 in Winnipeg may begin the process of bringing closure to the parents of 1984 murder victim Candace Derksen. Mark Edward Grant has been charged with first-degree murder. The 13-year-old girl's mother, Wilma Derksen, has spoken and written on the subject of forgiveness. Following is an article she wrote late last year.
"WE WILL forgive you" was the first response of the Amish in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania after a gunman killed five of their children and injured five others before taking his life October 2, 2006. The act of killing five innocent children is unbelievable, but apparently so is the response of the Amish. To forgive so quickly after the violent act seems so flippant, almost like paying lip service to something impossible.
And yet, 22 years ago, that's exactly what my husband Cliff and I did. Two days after we discovered our daughter had been murdered, in answer to a reporter who asked "what about the offender?" Cliff and I answered, "We will forgive." And I believe we chose those words with complete sincerity.
I've been asked many times since why we did that. The question, as I understand it, isn't about the merit of forgiveness-a universally accepted concept of "letting go of bitterness and resentment" that is widely understood and included in most world religions. The question is why was our response as Mennonites so instinctive, almost a knee jerk reaction to murder?
I can't speak for the Amish and I certainly can't speak for the more diverse, and acculturated Mennonites. But I can try to answer the question for myself, as a first generation Canadian of a Mennonite family who 22 years ago, still so young and still deeply entrenched in the Mennonite traditional, thought that the first response to murder should be to forgive.
At the time I probably would have answered that it was because forgiveness is taught in the Bible.
But in hindsight, I know it's more than that. There are many sincere, Bible-believing Christians who would not choose forgiveness as an immediate response, but rather as a conclusion to a long process of healing. I believe that the answer to the question, lies in our history, our story of origin.
Mennonites were a people born in a violent time. As nonconformists in the 16th Century, our founding fathers chose to defy the powerful Catholic church and subsequently 800 of a fairly small group of people were martyred, or in today's terms, murdered for their faith. For various reasons, this violence continued to target Mennonites over the next four centuries as they developed into a distinctive people hood moving from one country to another. These stories of violence are not that far removed. I remember my own grandmother crying for her sister who was murdered in the Russian revolution.
As a people they must have learned very early that murder, like an earthquake, has an aftershock that can be as catastrophic in nature as the first act of violence. These days we would recognize that aftershock as a kind of post crime syndrome or the better known, post traumatic stress disorder, an insidious emotional condition that has the ability to rob people of their souls and turn them into the living dead.
I think the Mennonites encountered this aftershock back in the 1600s and simply adapted to their environment. Being a very small group of people, underdogs really, they were forced to flee, escape, and let go. Since they didn't have the capacity to fight back or the resources to build a fortress, I think that those who survived learned that "letting go" was a good counter-intuitive, coping skill and that not fighting back somehow allowed them to survive in a very hostile environment and get on with life, even flourish.
This experience would have underlined their understanding of the Bible that whether one is taking a stand or sacrificing one's rights, the attitude of letting go of malice is the first step in resolving conflict and finding peace. Whether the Mennonites have achieved this all the time is another interesting part of our history.
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They also must have learned that it needed to be done quickly. When the aftershock of an earthquake develops into a tsunami there isn't much time to deliberate so they developed an emergency response, a reflex action to violence.
This response eventually became a teaching passed down through the generations, which would explain why both my husband and I were innately familiar with the aftershock when our daughter was murdered, anticipated it, and instinctively felt the need to climb onto higher ground to prepare for it. But even as we chose forgiveness we were under no illusions that journey was over.
For the Mennonites, forgiveness is a powerful concept not to be handled lightly. Constantly under attack, they developed a strong sense of communal living with church at the very center. In this context they worked out a theology and practice around forgiveness that was exercised not only in violent crimes but in the day to day administration of justice in their communities.
This was accompanied by a highly disciplined life style based on a philosophy of hard work, simple living, honesty and humility. The Mennonite reflex to forgive needs to be understood in this context, that it is not a stand alone, one time act, but a state of being, an attitude of patience, generosity and love needed to continue to work out justice. Most important was to continue to live without succumbing to bitterness and hatred.
Our statement of forgiveness served almost as a mission statement throughout the grieving process.
For Cliff and I there were some very real disadvantages in coming out with a statement about wanting to forgive so early in our grief, mainly the misunderstandings around our stance. Some folks feared that we were forgiving too early and that we might stifle the natural process of grief.
Others thought that we were making a judgment on anyone who expressed anger or that we were being dismissive of any justice-making processes. Still others assumed that our response was made out of weakness, that it was less than sincere, that we were definitely in denial. Some even accused us of not loving our daughter enough to demand justice.
But there were also many advantages. Our statement of forgiveness served almost as a mission statement throughout the grieving process. It gave us a destination. It informed those who wanted to support us of where we intended to go and became a rallying point for those who were struggling with the same issues. It helped us to re-engage in life quickly at a time when we didn't have much time to lose.
We had two other small children who needed our attention and love; we didn't have time or energy for hate. It also allowed us to move the aftershock of violence from the woundedness of our hearts to the saner and safer places in our mind, which are more capable of understanding the complexities of the issues.
But, even as I write this, I know that after 22 years into the journey, it still isn't over. So for us, as a family, we will continue to resonate with the Amish statement, "we will forgive you."
Wilma L. Derksen is director of Victims' Voice, a program of Mennonite Central Committee Canada, and author of Have You Seen Candace? and Confronting the Horror-the Aftermath of Violence. She and her husband Cliff attend The Meeting Place, Winnipeg. Originally published on the website of the Mennonite Central Committee, October 20, 2006.
May 24/2007
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