Amish gift to us: power of forgiveness

When Charles Roberts, an angry and deeply disturbed man, invaded the one-room schoolhouse at Nickel Mines and shot 10 young girls there, killing five, his depraved act might have become just one more senseless slaughter on the American landscape.

But what unfolded afterward, even as the shooting was taking place, transformed what he had done.

There were acts of bravery and self-sacrifice. The older girls asked Roberts to shoot them first.

There were acts of immediate caring and compassion. State troopers and medics fought valiantly to save each life, and they did save five. Fire company volunteers, doctors and counselors worked in widely differing ways to protect and comfort the stricken families, building friendships that remain to this day.

There were countless acts of generosity from people across this county, the nation and the world. Thousands upon thousands of individuals wrote notes of condolence and sent contributions, now above $4 million, to assist in the medical care of the injured.

And, of course, there were those amazing acts of Christian compassion, when the grief-stricken Amish parents and families forgave the man who had shot their daughters and then repeatedly visited with and supported his family.

From the moment the first Amish family walked up to the Robertses' house door, it became apparent that Lancaster County and the world were witnessing an extraordinary example of human compassion, one that should not be allowed to fade with yesterday's headlines.

Today we begin a three-part series that seeks to chronicle and explain what happened at Nickel Mines.

In reporting these stories, we received cooperation from many individuals in the Amish community, in law enforcement and in the Nickel Mines community in developing a large body of new information. The Amish men and women who spoke with us asked that we not publish their names. We have respected that request, and we thank them for their trust.

Our purpose in this series is in part historical. Until now, the story was told in bits and pieces. We wanted to set down in one place at one time a straightforward account of what occurred. We wanted to present portraits of each of the 10 girls, going beyond a mere list of names to distinguish them as individuals with traits special to their families and friends. At the same time, we wanted to more fully examine the character of their attacker.

Our purpose was also that of recognizing the extraordinary work that emergency personnel — police, medics and many others — performed. While news accounts at the time provided glimpses of that work, we sought to show the full scope of what took place in public and behind the scenes.

But most of all, our purpose was to record for history a full accounting and explanation of the Amish response of forgiveness and reconciliation. In its actions, we believe, the Amish community has provided an invaluable lesson in how good can triumph over evil, how compassion can triumph over violence.

Other parents who have lost children suffer as deeply as the Amish parents here suffer. Other police officers, firefighters, medics and doctors work as hard and as conscientiously as those here have done. Other communities provide support as strongly as ours has done.

But the example of forgiveness provided by the Amish has shown a way to cope with, perhaps to accept, grievous loss -in their case, the loss of five young angels from their lives.