April 16, 2007; Red Hook, New York, U.S. A.

“I’m not going shopping with you today. Is that O.K.?” asked David suddenly, who usually enjoyed going shopping. John Donoghue and his wife Mary always went shopping at a mall in the suburbs with their only son David on Saturday afternoons.

The parents found their son’s request rather odd because they were accustomed to seeing him dash to their car with a list of games and snacks he wanted.

“He probably wants to stay home and play the computer game we bought for him,” they thought, and they decided to go shopping themselves, leaving him at home.

They usually talked with each other each night after David fell asleep, but they were happy to be able to go out, just the two of them, as it had been a long time since they had had such a “date”. They had a lively conversation in the car, talking about their son and their future. While they shopped, they had a good time reminiscing about the good old days when they were courting.

They bought groceries for the week and came back home after about three hours. They slowed the car down and opened the garage door, using the remote control as usual.

They looked satisfied and happy after their rare afternoon alone as a couple. It was David’s birthday today. They were going to make his favorite—seafood pizza—and, of course, cake.

They made a bet whether David would come dashing to the car upon hearing it approach. Both of them bet he would, so it didn’t really turn out to be a bet. However, it turned out that David didn’t come out to meet them.

　”He must be absorbed in playing the game,” said Mary. John nodded, and they took out big packages from the car and began to walk. As they approached the front door of their house, they saw something unbelievable behind the garden plants. The big image of Jesus on the cross that normally stood in the garden had disappeared.

They found David standing with vacant eyes by the pedestal of the cross. An electric saw was thrown carelessly near his foot. There were remains of something burnt on the ground, and smoke was seeping out.

The happy and peaceful feeling they had been wrapped in disappeared in an instant.

They heedlessly dropped their packages and ran to David. Mary held his shoulders and stroked his head. She then checked to see if he was hurt. When she confirmed that he was unhurt, she hugged him so tightly, he almost couldn’t breathe.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I did it,” answered David, and then he wouldn’t say anything further. John and Mary were stunned to see their son’s attitude and what had happened. They were desperate to figure out what had really occurred.

The image of the cross which stood in their garden was a treasure of the Donoghue family, and they were proud of it. John’s father, James Donoghue, had carved it fifty years ago, hoping to hand down his faith and love for Jesus Christ to his descendants. The Donoghues were known as one of the most devoted Christian families in their town. This image of Jesus on the cross was the symbol of all this. The Donoghue family saw it as a source of infinite protection, and they treasured it.

The wood shavings on his arm and clothes, the lighter and the half-burnt newspaper in his hand, the ashes on his fingers, were all telling signs that David himself had cut down the wooden image of Jesus on the cross and burned it and nobody else. John and Mary’s hearts sank in shock and anger to know that their young son David had so wantonly destroyed their family treasure.

“I’ve told you many times how important this cross is. Have you forgotten? This is a symbol of our family; it has protected us all these years. What a terrible thing you have done!”

John was so angry and disappointed, he yelled at his son. David was normally very gentle and rarely made his parents angry or worried them. They could hardly believe that their son had done something so horrible and abnormal. But it was evident that David had done it and that it was a fact they had to face.

“Why did you do such a thing?” John kept asking David the same question over and over again, but David wouldn’t answer. He was silent, his head down.

“Why don’t you say something, David?” asked John impatiently, and he shook his son’s shoulders.

David had never seen his father so angry, and he couldn’t bear it. Finally, he began to talk.

“Jesus is suffering,” he said in a forced whisper, his eyes fixed on the ground. A teardrop rolled down his cheek.

“Jesus is suffering? What does that have to do with sawing and burning the cross? Don’t talk nonsense!”

John was so upset that he could hardly listen to what David was saying. Flustered by her husband’s rage, Mary felt disoriented. She couldn’t accept the reality of what David had done, and her heart was disturbed within her.

“You are already twelve years old and should know the difference between right and wrong,” scolded John. “You should apologize and tell us the truth about why you did it, David.”

John was almost pleading with David now, trying hard to calm his own anger. However, David didn’t apologize or speak a word. He kept his head down.

Mary was now as frightened by her son’s silence as she was by what he had done. She feared he had mentally and emotionally gone somewhere she could not reach.

“Is this the gentle David I know? What on earth has happened?”

Half an hour might have passed. Seeing their son unresponsive and unrepentant, the parents gave up asking.

“Let’s clean up together later. Wait in your room for a while,” John said, and he led David to his room.

Before he entered his room, David said, “It’s not that I don’t love Jesus. I adore him.”

“Then why?” demanded his father.

David lapsed back into his terrible silence.

John and his wife went into the living room and began to discuss what they should do. They felt that David was either possessed or had gone insane. Mary couldn’t stop crying from fear and grief. John was slightly mollified by what his son had said about loving Jesus, but he still did not understand how someone could claim to love someone and then engage in what appeared to be an act of sacrilege.

“I’m afraid we can’t handle this alone,” said John. “Let’s consult Father Medowid.”

Father Medowid was the head priest of the Catholic Church they always went to in their neighborhood, and David had a relationship of trust with him. Feeling helpless, the parents decided to consult the good father about this nightmarish incident.