Breaking the chains
“They arrested the apostles and had
them put in the public gaol. But at night the angel of the Lord opened the
prison gates and said as he led them out, 'Go and take up position in the
Temple, and tell the people all about this
new Life.'” (Ac 5:18-20).
Freeing prisoners is probably one of
the most difficult works of mercy to understand. Many replace the verb ‘to free’
with the verb ‘to visit’. By doing so, they tone down the sharpness of the work,
which brings it to the level of visiting the sick. The Bible says: “I was in
prison and you came to see me” (Mt 25:36). I prefer the time-honoured verb ‘to
free’ because there is nothing greater to wish another person: his freedom.
Freeing someone of that which restrains him in a negative way, of that which
curbs and suppresses him is a great work of mercy.
It was an angel of the Lord who
freed the apostles from the town prison. That same angel will also free Peter
from his chains: “On the night before Herod was to try him, Peter was sleeping
between two soldiers, fastened with two chains, while guards kept watch at the
main entrance to the prison. Then suddenly an angel of the Lord stood there, and
the cell was filled with light. He tapped Peter on the side and woke him. 'Get
up!' he said, 'Hurry!' -- and the chains fell from his hands” (Ac 12:6-7).
Freeing people is the work of angels, the work of the messengers of the Gospel,
of the liberating message.
We are like angels when we set out
with drug-dependent persons and patiently help build their new way of life. Last
year, I visited ‘La Foresta’ in Italy, where Saint Francis phrased his
love for the creation. We were shown round by a young man who told us that the
sanctuary is now home to a therapeutic community. The gardens looked amazing,
worthy of the Franciscan care for the creation. I saw that the man had tattoos
on his hands, which is almost typical for drug-dependent persons. Indeed, the
man was a former addict who still lived in this therapeutic community. “I feel
resurrected, liberated after years of drug abuse”, he said. We wished him and
his fellow residents much courage and perseverance to continue down the road to
liberation. My travelling companions were impressed by this nice young man who
fluently spoke English and French, who had a history of drug abuse and wanted to
openly talk about it. It was the topic of the evening when we recapped our day:
La Foresta had brought us something special.
At our home for people struggling
with existential issues, we have taken in a few young people who will be
transferred to a youth centre. They were ordered by the juvenile court to come
here and were all involved in drug abuse and petty crime. They sit at our table,
along with the brothers and the other guests, and of course they felt a bit ill
at ease, as did we. One of them really stood out with his wild hair, his nose
ring and earring, and his defiant behaviour. He clearly indicated that he did
not like the company and he provoked negative remarks so that he could react to
them in an aggressive way. However, no remarks were made, and I resolved to have
special concern for our wild-haired friend. I showed an interest in him, without
forcing myself on him, and two days later I noticed that he had saved a seat for
me at the table, right next to him. The next day, his rings were gone, and then,
to everyone’s surprise, he asked for money to get a haircut. By the end of that
week, there was an entirely different boy sitting beside me at the table. His
story told me that he hadn’t had any encouragement at home and for that reason
he started manifesting extravagant behaviour, using drugs and running amok in
school. He was a hurt boy who was trapped in antisocial behaviour but after
barely one week the miracle of liberation had already left its positive marks.
No, there are no hopeless cases. There often are those who are difficult, who
are deeply hurt and have wounds that heal very slowly. For our friend, the
healing process was started, and a few months later he wrote me a note from the
youth centre saying that he was doing well.
During a retreat for our young
brothers in Moerzeke, I was called to come to the door in the middle of the
evening activity. There was a young man, crying. He claimed that he had been on
the road for three days and could not find a place to spend the night. His
girlfriend had thrown him out of the house. The nearby abbey had sent him to us.
All of the rooms were occupied by our retreatants, and I had every reason to
come up
with
an excuse and send this man back onto the streets. I did not know who this man
was, I knew nothing of his background, I might be taking a risk. There was one
bed available in the technical class. It was where we put the dummy for the
nursing classes. I told a few young brothers to make the room ready and to bring
our unexpected guest some food and drink, and I hoped that, in the morning, he
would not be gone with our things. He wasn’t. I woke him up and insisted that he
would take a shower. Meanwhile, I had contacted our homeless shelter so that he
could go there. Months later, I got a note from prison. It turned out to be this
man. He had been convicted of murder, had been committed, and now he was looking
to get treatment in a psychiatric facility. It was one of the many letters that
I received from people who have been committed. I replied and said that I would
pass on his request, which I always do. One sentence struck me particularly:
“Brother, I have no one, help me.” And he had remembered my name, even though I
had not given it. Apparently, he had put his trust in me. It took some effort
and pressing of the matter but eventually he was admitted to one of our
psychiatric facilities, where he will receive that which he is entitled to:
psychiatric treatment, and, hopefully, a ticket to start a new life in
society.
Today, a great many things are being
said about abuse scandals in the Church. People are highly indignant and they
justly condemn the fact that the suffering of the victims was not taken
seriously enough and that the fate of the offenders was the priority. They
demand that offenders are severely dealt with and that justice is served. No one
can be against that, and both within the Church and within society appropriate
measures are being taken. However, in the storm of reactions there seems to be
no room for forgiveness. Offenders and even alleged offenders immediately have
to deal with the heavy stigma of being labelled a paedophile, and they see all
other perspectives in their life collapse. If we dare say the word ‘forgiveness’
nowadays, and place it next to the just conviction and punishment, we are looked
at askance, as though we would want to gloss over the abuse. Still, forgiveness
is one the cornerstones of every form of cohabitation and of society as a whole,
and does in no way compete with the judgement or condemnation of an act. A
situation in which forgiveness is absent or can no longer be uttered, ends with
weapons and people being slaughtered. To forgive, not pinning people down to
their actions, but truly offering them new opportunities, is a profound
Christian attitude by which we follow in the footsteps of God, who expresses his
unconditional love for man exactly in his unlimited forgiving nature. God abhors
sin but continues to love man, and he expresses his love in forgiveness. This
essential distinction proves difficult for us human beings. The person is so
easily identified with the act, and an act, even if the punishment for it is
already determined and the word of forgiveness spoken, continues to stick to the
person and will haunt him for the rest of his life, and even after that. “Once a
thief, always a thief”, the saying goes. Barely a few weeks after the Dutroux
case had broken out in Belgium, Jean Vanier was asked if he could
still love a man like Dutroux, who had raped, abused and killed young girls. The
room went as quiet as a mouse. Vanier thought for a moment, and then he
said: “Yes, we should love Dutroux even more than anyone else because he is a
person who never felt true love. Otherwise he would have never done such
terrible things. This is about the commandment of love of neighbour, which is
different from emotionally loving or not loving someone.” Not pinning people
down to their actions and their past can also be considered as freeing
prisoners.
When I was staying in
Rwanda in 1979, I went with the brothers,
who were working in our Caraes psychiatric centre in Ndera, to the
Kigali prison every week. About 100
mentally ill persons are locked up there. The living conditions were miserable
and degrading. Men and women were together, the men were abusing the women so
that it was necessary to hand out contraceptives. We had moral issues and we
talked about it but as long as this promiscuous situation was not fundamentally
changed, this was the only thing that we could do. We tried to transfer a few
sick people to hospital every week; this was true work of liberation. But the
following week we found out that their place was taken by others. We launched a
full-scale campaign called “Free the mentally ill” in which we tried to find
means to build a new ward for the mentally ill women of the prison in Ndera. A
few years later, this project was finally realised, and we were very excited
when we were able to transfer the entire group of women. These women were
severely mentally disturbed and had a history of crime; they were ill, therefore
they were not or merely partially responsible for the things they had done.
Several of them had murdered their child or poisoned their husband in a fit of
madness. They were now being treated like actual patients in a nice ward, and
their human dignity, which had been badly affected because of their illness and
reduced to zero in prison, was now gradually being
recovered.
Organisations like Amnesty
International condemn unjust imprisonment, the disrespect for the human rights
of political prisoners, the continued existence of the death penalty in several
countries, torture, which is still practiced in certain prisons and camps, and
people who just disappear. Their work is important and with it, they follow in
the footsteps of orders like the Mercedarians, founded by Raymond of Penyafort
in 13th-century Spain with the purpose of freeing slaves
and buying the freedom of galley prisoners. The fight against traffic in women,
child prostitution, and sex tourism are current tasks that must continue to
receive the attention of church organisations, as well. The work of Sr. Jeanne
Devos in India for the rights of domestic workers
certainly is work of liberation and intends to restore the human dignity of
these girls. “And the chains fell from his hands” (Ac
12:7).
Freeing prisoners also means looking
them up, visiting them, and showing them that they have not been written off.
Soon after his papal election Pope John XXIII visited a prison in
Rome. It was not customary for the Pope
to leave the Vatican like that, let alone go to a
prison. His simple and sincere way of speaking to the prisoners was really
moving. To many of them, his words were liberating. “I was in prison and you
came to see me” (Mt 25:36). Is this task not easily pushed aside as there are
always more important things to do? Writing to a person in prison, sending him
or her a book or a small birthday present; these are not great efforts, it is
concern, refined attention as a sign of profound solidarity that goes right
across the dividing prison walls.
0 comments:
Post a Comment