‘True faith’: Mass writer Fran Kranz on forgiveness after unspeakable violence | Theater

There is a documentary that I encourage everyone to watch called A Long Night Journey into Daylight. I first saw it as a student more than 20 years ago. The vocal play on Eugene O’Neill’s famous theme was enough to arouse my highest interest when it first started. What happened over the next 90 minutes, however, never left me.

This follows four cases of amnesty from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa after apartheid. You watch the relatives of their loved ones who were killed come face to face with the perpetrators of violence. The purpose of these meetings was to see if the families would forgive them. The importance of the meetings, which were sometimes seen as a ritual given by the catharsis that took place, was based on the belief that the country could heal only through forgiveness.

I picked up this movie. I believe I saw the inevitable in it – meaning that, one day, to some extent, this tradition will be there for me. I wouldn’t have to lose my loved one to violence to face the negative thoughts of forgiving someone who wronged me. Similarly, I had asked for forgiveness enough times to know that I would do it again.

My daughter was born in 2016. It didn’t take long for me to worry about the world she would grow up in. Although the country seems strange, the political divide caused by the violence that was once caused by guns began to diminish. This came to a head on 14 February 2018, shooting day at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. The parents’ pain was getting closer now.

I tried to cover up the search. I thought that maybe there could be peace in understanding the violence instead of being afraid of it. There was no artistic goal at that time. I was just so worried.

In my research, I discovered something surprising but familiar. In private, after the shooting, the parents who lost their child met with the parents of the shooter. Now that I was a father, I couldn’t help but put myself in their situation. I was equally affected on both sides. There was something humble and human about what he expected – a way forward. I recognized the core principles of restorative justice right away. Again, I was faced with the meaning of forgiveness, and the secret thought that the writings were intended to save me now manifested itself in a kind of calling.

This was the beginning, or rather, the synthesis that inspired me to write the Mass. Before this there were no scriptures, but even after that, the scriptures were often more like an in-depth exploration of my own forgiveness than a formal story. I knew I wanted these characters to get somewhere but I didn’t know how or if they could do it.

Forgiveness is a rare commodity. Its value is unpredictable, especially if it is sincere. I have come to believe that doing this is true faith. A brave thought that can be put before punishment, anger or lasting anger makes it a wonderful sacrifice. It is a trade in primal satisfaction for the hope of something better in return. That’s what makes it so difficult. It can’t just be given in language. It should be, in the words of Franciscan friar Richard Rohr, pain that is changed and not transmitted.

Perhaps the biggest problem, and the one I see we are facing today, comes when the offender is the worst. Maybe it’s not here anymore. It may be a whole people or a political party. When creating the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Desmond Tutu said: “Where there is no chance for restorative justice there can be restorative justice.” He declared this to be a great principle because he understood this great truth; Sometimes we have to ask ourselves, what does justice look like? What can be put before anger and resentment when punishment alone cannot restore a broken life or a divided people?

It has been 7 years since I finished writing the Mass. A woman in the theater said: “Nothing has changed.” I feel much better now than when I was writing. The UK did the right thing on gun control after Dunblane. It is sad as an American to see how the reasons have become here. This does not mean that the Mass will be less in the UK than in the US. I didn’t write Mass because of gun violence. I wrote because of his persistence. I think there is a difference. Part of our inaction is a great failure of compassion. It is no longer growing fast enough in our complex society. The tearing of his cloth may be less due to angry words than to any other glance. Then the fabric wears naturally, like clothes we no longer care about.

So I tried to make a way to help us to empathize with others. I tried to put us all in a room; being, in real time, and listening. Watching four people, in great pain, use all the respect they have to understand each other better in order to heal. At one point I doubted that this ritual had a purpose for me. Having a great opportunity to see the Mass coming to people like movie and now as a performer, I can confirm that this event has a purpose for all of us.