A decade after the killing of a Chino Hills man and the wounding of five people at a Jewish community center during a San Fernando Valley shooting spree, the convicted gunman has renounced his white-supremacist views while expressing "deep remorse."
"I feel a life based on hate is no life at all," Buford O'Neal Furrow Jr. wrote in a letter from the federal penitentiary in Terre Haute, Ind., where he is serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole. "(Victims) probably will never forgive me, but I am truly sorry and deeply regret the pain I caused."
The concept of forgiveness is a difficult one, especially when contemplating horrid, hate based crimes such as those of Mr. Furrow, Jr. and others who succumbed to a life based on hate and dehumanization.
Professor Morton Winston, Department of Philosophy and Religion, The College of New Jersey, gave an address in 2003 on this topic, and I’m going to draw upon it today. In his talk, Winston recalled a true story related by the famous Nazi-hunter Simon Wiesenthal. Professor Winston re-tells the story in this manner:
Before the war Wiesenthal was an architect in the town of Lemburg in Glacia. He held two engineering degrees. But because he was Jewish he was not allowed to practice his profession and like millions of others was arrested in 1943 and shipped off to the Mathhausen concentration camp. Because he was still young and healthy he was not immediately "liquidated" but instead was assigned to slave labor on the Eastern railway.
One day and he and his fellow slaves were being marched out to work, they passed through the town of Lemburg, where Wiesenthal had taken his architecture degree some years earlier. As he was passing by one of the school building a plump nurse in a white cap came up to him and asked him, "Are you a Jew?" He was surprised by the question, since it must have been obvious to her by his clothes that he was a Jewish slave laborer, but he answered in the affirmative and the nurse motioned to him to follow her. When they entered what had been his former school building, he saw that it had been turned into a military hospital for German soldiers. The nurse led him upstairs and into a room that contained only a white bed a nightstand and a ghostly figure wrapped in white bandages. From the bed he heard a voice saying "Please come nearer, I cannot speak loudly." So Wiesenthal approached the bed.
As he drew near he realized that the figure in the bandages was a severely wounded German soldier. He thought that this soldier would soon die because he could see grayish-yellow stains on the bandages that covered his head. The voice from the bandages said. "I have not much longer to live. I know my end is near." And then he said, "I am only twenty-two years old." With what little strength he had, the dying German soldier grasped Wiesenthal's hand, and drew him closer.
Then he said, "When the sister told me there was a Jewish work detail in town I asked her to fetch me a Jew."
"I must tell you about a horrible deed - I must tell you because you are a Jew."
"I was not born a murderer. My name is Karl and I come from Stuttgart. I joined the SS as a volunteer at age 21.And then I was sent to fight the Russians on the Eastern Front. As our unit advanced, we encountered many dead and dying Russian soldiers. At first I felt bad for them, but one of my comrades spat on a groaning form before he shot him and said 'No pity for Ivan.' So I became harder."
"Then one hot summer day we came to the town of Dnyepropetrovsk. The Russians had retreated in great haste, but there was left a group of people huddled together under guard in the town square. I was told that they were Jews. An order was given and we marched towards this group of 150 or so Jews, many of them were children staring at us with fearful eyes. A truck pulled up and some cans of gasoline were unloaded from it and taken into a house. They we were ordered to drive the Jews into the house. Another truck came up with more Jews, and they too were crammed into the house. "
At this point, Wiesenthal knew what was coming. He had heard about these things before, and did not want to hear about this kind of gruesome business again, and tried to leave. But the dying German SS man gripped his arm and continued.
"Once the doors were barricaded we received the order to remove the safety pins from our hand grenades and to throw them through the windows of the house. When the grenades exploded they began to hear screams, and we saw that flames were eating through the floors of the building. Behind the windows on the second floor I saw a man with a small child in his arms. Behind him was a woman. The man's coat was on fire. He put one hand over the child's eyes and he jumped from the window holding the child. Then the woman jumped. Perhaps they were already dead when they hit the pavement. But we were ordered to shoot them. I can still see the child. He had dark hair and dark eyes. I can never forget this - the image of this family haunts me to this day."
"But later, while fighting in the Crimea I was wounded by an artillery shell, and I was brought here to this place to die. I want to die in peace, and so I need …" And he paused to catch his breath. "I need to be forgiven for this. Lying here in this bed I have longed to tell a Jew about this incident and to beg his forgiveness."
After hearing this Wiesenthal was silent. The room was silent. After a few moments, Wiesenthal pulled him arm away and left the room without saying a word. He rejoined his work detail and later was marched back to their camp, past the German military cemetery on the outskirts of town in which each soldier's grave had a sunflower planted upon it, and thought to himself that the German soldier will be lucky because when he dies will have a sunflower planted over his grave, while Simon's own dead body will be dumped into a mass grave or to fed to the flames of the crematoria.
That evening in the camp, Wiesenthal recounted this strange incident to his comrades. One of them said merely. "It is good that he will die. One less Nazi." But another, his friend Josek, said that he had done the right thing in not forgiving the dying SS soldier because he had no right to do so. "What people have done to you yourself, you can, if you like, forgive and forget. But it would have been a terrible sin to forgive this man for causing the suffering of others. You are in no position to forgive him"
But Wiesenthal replied: "Perhaps you are right. But this fellow showed deep and genuine remorse and repentance, he did not try to excuse himself for what he had done. And he realized that he had no more time to repent and make amends for his crimes. He was raised as a Christian. He was not raised to be a murderer. The Nazi's made him into one."
The next day when Wiesenthal was sent out to work again the same nurse came to him and asked that he follow her. He was dreading another visit to the dying SS soldier’s room, but instead she took him to another room, opened a closet and gave him a package. She said "The soldier you spoke with yesterday died last night. Before he died he told me to give you this package containing his possessions." Wiesenthal refused to take it. He told the nurse to send it all to the soldier's mother, whose address was on the package.
Wiesenthal survived. His camp was liberated by American troops in May of 1945. After the war, he went to visit the mother of the dying SS soldier that had offered him his confession. He saw the package that he had refused to take. But he did not tell the woman what her dying son had told him about what he had done to the Jews of the village of Dnyepropetrosk. He again remained silent.
At the end of this story Wiesenthal asks us to consider his moral dilemma. Was it wrong for him to remain silent and refuse to ease the last moments of a repentant Nazi? What about the silence of the Germans and Poles who said nothing as they watched their Jewish neighbors being led away to be slaughtered? The crux of the matter, he says, is the question of forgiveness. He asks that you who have now heard this story place yourself mentally in his situation and ask yourself, "What would I have done?"
Winston provided no “correct answer,” and neither did Wiesenthal. Winston ended his presentation by mentioning one of the most famous psychology experiments of all time. They even made a TV movie out of this.
Stanley Milgram attempted to see how likely it was that people could be induced to obey authority in defiance of their own consciences. His subjects were American college students. The subjects were told that they were taking part in a study of learning. One student posed as the learner (but was really an actor working for Milgram), while the real student subject was given a button to push and was told that he was to push it whenever the "learner" made a mistake. The subject was told that by pushing the button he would give the learner an electric shock. Participants were led to believe that the experimenter, by moving different switches could increase the level of the electric shock that would be deliver to the "learner" when the subject pressed the button. The learner was strapped to a chair in the next room and acted as if he was being shocked when the subject pressed the button. There were 30 switches ranging from 15 to 450 volts. At 75 volts the learner grunted' at 120 he began to protest, and 150 he demanded to be released from the experiment,. At 285 volts the learner began to scream and shriek. And this screaming and shrieking continued up the to maximum level of 450 volts with the switch that was marked Danger - Severe shock 450 volts.
Milgram found that of his 40 subjects, 26 continued all the way up to the last shock level on the generator. Sometimes they hesitated, but the experimenter just firmly told them to continue, and most of them did, even though the "learner" was screaming in agony. This was at Yale. Not believing the results of Milgram's study, another psychology professor, David Rosenhan repeated the experiment at Princeton. 80% of his subjects were fully obedient. There was, however, one student in Rosenhan's study who refused to give even the first shock. His name was Ronald Ridenhour. A few years later, when Ridenhour was in Vietnam, he was the one who blew the whistle on the American soldiers who murdered innocent civilians in the village of My Lai.
“Ridenhour proved that it is possible,” said Professor Winston, “to build up and strengthen our moral defenses and to guard ourselves against the tendencies that lead us to dehumanize others, to obey authorities that give illegal orders, and to stop up our ears to screams, and harden our hearts to the suffering of others. Humans do not have to be cruel to one another. We can and do learn to love one another.”
And yes, forgive.



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