The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the
attribute of the strong. --Mahatma Gandhi
Black Madonna: A Song of Forgiveness
--by Gayan Macher, syndicated from gayanmusic.com, Mar 26, 2015
"If
you want to see the brave, look to those who can return love for hatred. If you
want to see the heroic, look to those who can forgive." - The Bhagavad
Gita
It
was an amazing act of forgiveness, an expression of human greatness in the realm
of the heart. It occurred in a courtroom in Mobile Alabama. When I read the
story I wept, and set out to write a song from the inspiration I felt. Here is
the story, and a link to the song it
inspired—offered freely as a tribute to this unassuming mother and the beauty of
forgiveness.
When
I read the story I wept. I felt I was in the presence of greatness, a quiet
greatness of the heart. It occurred in 1981 in a courtroom in Mobile Alabama.
Two men were on trail for murder. A few years earlier a teenage boy named
Michael Donald had been walking home from the convenience store when he was
brutally beaten and then lynched. The men on trial were members of the Klu Klux
Klan. Michael Donald was black. In their eyes that was his crime.
Also
in the courtroom that day was Beulah Mae Donald, the boy’s mother.
During
the trial, one of the men, named Tiger Knowles, admitted his guilt. He turned to
Beulah Mae and said he was sorry. There was a moment of stillness. No one knew
what to say or what might come next. It was as if everyone in the room held
their collective breath. Then Beulah Mae looked at him and said softly, “I
forgive you.”
I
have two sons. I have tried to imagine how she must have felt seeing the men who
had murdered her child. What must have been in her heart? Where could such
charity come from insider her?
I
have struggled with my own inability and unwillingness to forgive, and certainly
over matters much less searing than this.
At
the time of first reading about Beulah Mae I was resentful of a friend who I
felt had cheated me out of $160. During those days, my mind was the courtroom,
and I observed the satisfaction I gained building the case against my friend. I
felt the power of my desire for justice. There was no way I would let her get
“off the hook.” I did not seem to know or care about the effect on me of
carrying this grudge. But there was a hidden cost to this litigation taking
place inside me. I’d walk in the sunset, hardly aware of the sights and sounds
around me, lost in thoughts of how I’d been wronged. At times I’d tell myself
that the whole matter had passed, that it was no big deal, while a subterranean
residue of bitterness continued to poison the well of my heart.
How
many other grudges remain alive in me? How long is the docket of cases of having
been wronged in life? What does it do to the quality of life when unresolved
grievances fester inside, whether consciously or not? The impulse for revenge
need not be overtly violent. Gossiping about her to enlist others to think
poorly of her, or withdrawing from her are symptoms of a silent hardening of the
heart, a toxic element active in me. These are ways that I, as the Sufi poet
Rumi says, “spread my bad seed everywhere.”
When
I read about this woman in an Alabama courtroom a shining possibility captured
my heart. I felt my love for my own children, so intense that it’s painful.
Could my heart find what Beulah Mae found in her hers?
Could
I too feel the sheer grief of loss without the reflex to retaliate?
I’m
a singer songwriter. The story of Tiger Knowles’ repentance and Beulah Mae’s
forgiveness inspired a song. It’s called Black Madonna.
With this link you can listen to it and/or download it
The
song is a gift. It is a tribute to this achievement of the human heart.
Winning
an Olympic gold medal, inventing the computer chip, creating the David statue
out of marble. When we think of awesome human achievement what kinds of things
comes to mind? What about the achievement of forgiving, so beautiful, so noble?
Is not the action of Beulah Mae a kind of greatness?
This
article is republished here with permission. The account of this story and the
courtroom scene appears in the memoir, A Lawyer’s Journey, by Morris Dees. Dees
is the founder of the Southern Poverty Law Center. Many of the descriptions and
details in the song are fiction, though the central features are true. Gayan is
a singer, song-writer and long-time teacher of universal Sufism. His songs are
modern-day psalms set to contemporary music. Sample his CD’s at http://www.gayanmusic.com/.
Be The Change: Which grievances can you muster up the courage to forgive today?
