Not long ago, a man was shot to death late at night on a street not far from my home. It was evidently a random drive-by attack, and the killer did not know his victim (neither did I). It was an outrage and a tragedy, a grim undercurrent to the usual vibrancy and livability of my thriving urban neighborhood.

But a deed came of it which struck me, at least, as of surpassing beauty.

A couple days after this happened, I walked by the crime site. A spontaneous memorial had gone up, flowers from friends of the dead man, or empathic strangers aghast at his horrific fate. That seemed a very decent, proper response to the taking of the life of a relatively young person.

Next to the memorial, the victim’s brother had taped a note on the sidewalk thanking all who left expressions of sympathy, assuring how deeply these were appreciated, and that any flowers would be donated to a local nursing home in the dead man’s memory. It was eloquent in its succinct simplicity.

But to me, that lowly sheet of paper seemed a towering testament to nobility of heart. When first reading it, I could barely believe my eyes, for it amazed me that, in the depths of sorrow that brother was presumably enduring, he thought of decorum and gratitude. Many of us would have been immobilized with rage at such heartbreaking loss, such an unexpected mutilation of our lives. Yet here was this grieving man, acting out worthy attributes, prompted by despicable heartlessness.

‘Astounding grace’ indeed.

His words were moving, in more than one sense, for they can help drive away resignation to the brutality of this world, serving as evidence that ‘Humanity’ is not just a breeding swamp for callous cruelty. It can encompass gestures like that note, affirming we have it in us to be more than biped beasts. Some of us, even in extremity, can summon dignity – grace – as this brother did, when it may seem unimaginable to do so. It may be argued that he validated Humanity as much as the killer profaned it.

Respecting the mourning family’s privacy, I post the accompanying photo (instead of the actual site) of another memorial to victims of U.S. gun violence. There were quite a few online from which to choose, which itself is a depressing commentary on our culture. Many might see that as another reason to yield to cynicism, to protect one’s life from danger. And one’s heart from disappointment.

But I counter that this brother’s exquisite dignity and moderation under potentially engulfing distress are grounds to cling to faith that our better angels, rather than our falling ones, may ultimately prevail. Even if ‘ultimately prevail’ just means realizing that reflexive despair shuts out a force – Hope – that can make life worthwhile and sustainable, as much as breathing does.

Cynicism, presupposing the worst so as to avoid disappointment, is sometimes presented as mature realism. But cynicism is a suit of armor apt to eventually crush the soul of whoever chooses to wear it. Resisting it, and its cousin despair, is – like writing and taping that gentle memorandum onto the very concrete that may have been spattered with his brother’s blood – an act of will; a choice.

I grieve for these strangers, and hope the Police solve this crime, even while heartened it evoked such a stately response. It was a modest deed with vast implications, for if there is condemnation of our species in that killer’s crime, may there not also be affirmation for us in that brother’s decorous words? This dichotomy reflects the scope of the human spirit: within a single Being, we can be selfish, indifferent, profound and soaring. Such is our species; and often, if we look closely, perhaps our selves, also.  

We are at our best when we can, and do, summon whatever resources we may need to rise above our lowest impulses. So I propose there may be ‘hope’ for us all, in that even one of us can respond as this brother did.