I have just read the book "Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption", by Byran Stevenson, and I recommend it.
Remember those who are in prison, as
though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in
the body. Hebrews 13:3
For I was hungry and you gave me food, I
was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was
naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and
you came to me. Mathew 25: 35-37
In these words
of Jesus written in the gospel of Mathew the message is pretty clear. Attending to the hungry, thirsty, the
stranger, the naked, the sick and the prisoner, whom Jesus referred to as the
least of these, is like doing it for and to Jesus. We are taught to serve the "least of
these" and in every church and community where we have lived and participated, there have always been
ample opportunity for service to the needy.
In my life's work I have done at least a bit of the first six
on this list, but practically nothing of the last - visiting the prisoner.
Only a few times,
once each in Ecuador, El Salvador, and Minnesota, did I visit and try to
advocate for prisoners - cases of people incarcerated unjustly. But overall, visiting and giving comfort to
prisoners is, sadly, a big void in my practice as a follower of Christ.
Why is
that? Am I fearful and judgmental, or is
it that the prisoners are so completely out of sight that I avoid them and hope
I don't have to deal with them.
One who has
thrown himself into a life of working to help the incarcerated is Bryon Stevenson,
the author of, "Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption." It is a gripping memoir that personalized the
struggle against injustice, racism, and mistreatment of prisoners. He has brought comfort and
release of the prisoners in numerous cases - while exposing the unfairness of the criminal
justice system in this country, especially as applied to children, the poor and the
black population.
Stevenson, who is black, grew up in poverty. His great-great grand parents had been slaves in Virginia. His grandfather was murdered in a Philadelphia housing project when Stevenson was a teenager. After college he went to Harvard Law School and developed a passion for working with prisoners on death row. He eventually moved to Montgomery Alabama and co-founded a non-profit called the Equal Justice Initiative. (EJI)
The book tells
the stories of some of his clients.
There are many stories in this book, but the core narrative is the story
of Walter McMillan who was innocent of a murder for which he was convicted and
sent to death row. McMillan lived in
Monroeville, Alabama the home of Harper Lee who wrote the book “To Kill A
Mockingbird.” Stevenson also tells about
several cases of children as young as age 14 who got life sentences without the
possibility of parole - essentially condemned to death in prison. Stevenson took one of these cases all the way to
the United States Supreme Court in 2012. The Court held that mandatory life
sentences without parole for children violated the eighth amendment.
The book tells horrific stories of injustice and suffering, but one comes to the end of most of the chapters feeling that the title gets it right… these are also stories of redemption, that brought tears to my eyes. It is, in the end, a book of hope. Stevenson does not write directly about his faith, but he doesn't have to… his life is a living example of the power of redemption and of accompanying the "least of those" of whom Jesus referred.
The book tells horrific stories of injustice and suffering, but one comes to the end of most of the chapters feeling that the title gets it right… these are also stories of redemption, that brought tears to my eyes. It is, in the end, a book of hope. Stevenson does not write directly about his faith, but he doesn't have to… his life is a living example of the power of redemption and of accompanying the "least of those" of whom Jesus referred.
I am sorry to
say I had never heard of the EJI or Bryan Stevenson, but in reading this book,
he had an impact on me. I came away
with the feeling that I should do something… and now I ponder what that might
be. Hopefully a life-time of apathy
toward the prisoner can be jarred out of me, at least a little bit.
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