At intermission, Parker left the theater and went next door for some drinks. To this day we don’t know if he returned to the gallery for the second half of the show or if he stayed in the saloon. All we know for sure is that when John Wilkes Booth showed up around 10 p.m., Parker’s chair was empty.
After the assassination Parker was charged with failing to protect the president, but the complaint was dismissed a month later. Incredibly, he was kept on the White House security detail. One of the staff later shared an exchange between Mrs. Lincoln and Parker when he showed up for work; “So you are on guard tonight,” Mrs. Lincoln yelled, “on guard in the White House after helping to murder the President.”
“I could never stoop to murder,” Parker replied, “much less to the murder of so good and great a man as the President. I did wrong, I admit, and have bitterly repented. I did not believe any one would try to kill so good a man in such a public place, and the belief made me careless.” Mrs. Lincoln said she would always consider him guilty and ordered him from the room. It took three more years before John Frederick Parker was finally fired. He was caught sleeping on duty yet again.
But here’s the thing: we can forgive but still hold someone accountable. Given his numerous offenses, Parker never should have been kept on the police force. He certainly shouldn’t have been assigned the Presidential detail. And after the President was assassinated, it is simply inconceivable that he was still allowed to enter the White House let alone remain a guard. That’s not forgiveness. That’s folly.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean pretending the offense never happened. What it does mean is seeking that which is loving and best. If Parker had been held accountable early on, it might have spared the President’s life. It certainly would have spared Parker the horror of having failed an extraordinary President and a wonderful human being.
We can all understand Mrs. Lincoln’s reaction in her encounter with Parker. But we can also see, from this safe distance, how carrying that kind of anger would hurt her in the long run. How could she forgive someone who had wrought such devastation? That’s the issue. It is exactly how we feel sometimes. And it is precisely then that we cry out to God to do in us what is so clearly beyond our capacity to do for ourselves.
“Then Peter went up to him and said, 'Lord, how often must I forgive my brother if he wrongs me? As often as seven times?' Jesus answered, 'Not seven, I tell you, but seventy-seven times.’” (Matthew 18:21-22, NJB)
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