This afternoon I accompanied a friend to the three o’clock Good Friday service at her beautiful, old church. I love my modern parish church and its pared-down contemporary sanctuary, but sometimes I need to immerse myself in the “bells and smells” of a traditional setting. Seated in my pew, I looked around with an artist’s appreciation, drinking in the classic architectural features, stained glass windows, and frescoed ceilings.

Whump!

A thumping sound came from directly in front of me. It sounded like somebody was getting punched.

Whump! I heard it again and saw the source. A young man sitting two rows ahead of me had just pounded the back of the older man sitting next to him — pounded it hard.

Whump! Whump! Whump! Now the young man was repeatedly striking the side of his own head. I immediately surmised from his spastic movements and unfocused gaze that he was mentally challenged. The older man sitting close beside him was white-haired and well dressed, certainly old enough to be a parent or guardian.

Throughout the service I watched the young man twitch and punch, unable to control his movements, and unaware, I’m sure, of the force with which he was hitting the older gentleman at his side. I recalled the stories of Christ driving demons out of the afflicted and wished the Great Healer would free this poor soul from the chemical and neurological demons that plagued him.

But them my focus shifted to the man next to him, who, because of his behavior, I will refer to as the young man’s father. As many times as he was forcefully struck, the father did not react with anger or impatience. He simply took his son’s hand and gently redirected it. The blows were painful for me to watch and listen to. I can’t imagine what it would be like to experience them in my body day after day, year after year.

“That man,” I thought, “has the patience of a saint.”

I’m glad I was on my knees at that moment, because I realized then that I was seeing Christ at work. The Great Healer was present and bestowing his grace, not upon the son, but upon the father. This man did not return evil for evil, but responded with love and guidance.

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

What a blessing for me to witness this forgiving love on Good Friday, and what a practical reminder of the meaning of the Great Sacrifice. We all hurt and are hurt by those around us — not out of malice, but the unconscious or misdirected acts of fellow flawed human beings. The only way to respond is as I saw today — the way Christ would want us to respond — by extending a loving hand.

Wishing you a space for grace in your life today,

Kate