Rev. Moon’s Seven Deaths and Resurrection – The helicopter crash

On July 19th 2008 Rev. Moon, his wife, grandson and 13 other people found themselves in a helicopter crash. While 90% of the helicopter crashes are lethal, they ended up just slightly injured.
This video goes step by step explaining all the miracles that happened to allow them to survive this accident.
This conversation is from Hyung Jin Sean Moon in conversation with his Father Rev. Moon in his book “A baldhead and a strawberry”.
"Abba, when you were in prison, what did you talk to the guards about?"
"What do you mean?"
"When they tortured you, was there anything you said to them?"
"I told them that they needed to know Hananim."
Upon hearing his response, I viscerally saw an image of a man swinging a bloodied baton, as if I was watching a movie. The camera caught this man’s wicked grin, as if the was saying, "Yeah, I want you dead!" I could hardly see his hand as it flashed towards the camera, once, twice, three times.
I closed my eyes.
All I heard was profanities and thuds, like meat being beaten, and flattened. I winced at the imagined pain, and as I opened my eyes, I could even see dark ruddy droplets floating through the air -- they fell with the inevitability of silenced horror, creating splatter art as they dissolved onto the wretched floor.
When I reflect on what Abonim had to endure, I am over whelmed, by the humbling feeling, that any of my difficulties or hindrances are quite paltry, at best.
I do not know how he did it. I cannot fully grasp how he could manifest a "response" of forgiveness and compassion to those who bombarded him with malice, literally beating him to a pulp, tossing him out like discarded leftovers.
It is remarkable what he has in his reservoir of life experience. I do sometimes; get a glimpse of his scarred body when he receives acupressure, or electro-stem.
He does not like to get pity over them you know. The shiny, repaired gashes and cuts glisten under the lights, as he walks from the den to his room. At moments like that, I almost find myself asking, "What histories are behind those scars?"
Each of them have their unique story of horror; each of them, a little novelette of torn flesh, but impenetrable will.
You know, I sometimes find myself saying, "Abba is amazing" When I see those scars, they, in some strange way, remind me of this sentiment. I cannot know what psychological processes Abba experienced. I cannot know the sheer emotion that accompanied each of the torture sessions. I cannot know what Abba was thinking or what words he repeated in his mind, but in some way, I got a clear glimpse into his soul.
I saw his authenticity. I saw his genuine laugh and his baby-like eyes smiling. I saw his tenderness as he held my son in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth. I saw an effulgence of radiance in the way he extended his scarred hand with loving-compassion towards the man who ordered his death, embracing him as a brother.
This is an incredible message of forgiveness and almost literally divine compassion. To forgive and even love the man who wants to murder you is undoubtedly one of the most difficult religious and spiritual developments and growths to actualize.
To ask for no explanation, apology, but to simply and deeply love, was what Abonim practiced.
There is something immensely enriching, when we can realize that even ones own enemy can be forgiven and even, dare I say, loved. There is a freedom in understanding that love is much more potent, powerful, and lasting than hatred and resentment.
It got me asking. "What kind of hate and resentment do I harbor?"