Sunday, May 20, 2007

Sermon: "No Exception to the Rules"

Scripture: Acts 16: 16-34

Reverend Larry Gerber

 

Paul and Silas temporarily closed down a prison in Philippi. What would it take to close all prisons forever?

In January of 2001, Lorton Correctional Facility in Washington, D.C., closed its doors for the last time, empty of prisoners and putting the final lockdown on a 90-year history of housing some of society's most notorious criminals. The cell blocks are empty, the graffiti-scribbled walls and cold metal bars stand as a legacy of violence and despair.

But if you go there today you may see that even a former prison can experience a renaissance. Plans are under way to turn a section of the prison into a community arts center. Cells that once contained only darkness will become studios splattered with brightly colored paint, music will replace the loud voices of cursing and anguish, and the vulgar graffiti will be covered with signs of creative life.

We'd love to think that Lorton closed down because there weren't enough inmates for it to accommodate, but that would be wishful thinking. The sad reality is that prisons like Lorton close down because they are tired from age and abuse, giving way to larger and more modern facilities built to house an ever-increasing prison population. Still, it's nice to dream.

And no doubt that's what many prisoners do: dream ? about breaking out of prison. Fox network has a hit show, Prison Break, about a man who thinks his brother was wrongly convicted of the sensational murder of the vice president's brother. So he gets himself incarcerated in the Fox River State Penitentiary with his brother, where the two of them plan the ultimate prison break.

But what if we could dream about breaking prisons instead of prison breaks? When good citizens think about prisons they don't often do so in a cells-to-studios kind of dream. Thoughts of prison are usually confined to a kind of morbid curiosity about what goes on behind those fences and razor wire they see in passing as they motor down the interstate or walk past the county jail in town.

Chuck Colson, the former Nixon aide who went to prison during the Watergate scandal, became a Christian while incarcerated and later began a ministry called Prison Fellowship in an effort to get more Christians interested in ministering to those behind bars. While Prison Fellowship has made strides in its 35-year history, the reality is that many Christians, just like people in the general public, seem to believe that prisoners are simply getting what they deserve and the more they suffer for their crimes, well, so much the better.

The specter of serving time in prison is seen by most of society as the best deterrent to crime. Legislation that promotes "three strikes and you're out" and "get tough on crime" policies is usually popular at election time. Problem is, however, that building more prisons hasn't been working. Some 2.2 million people are incarcerated in the United States today ? more than any nation at any time in the history of the world. In the 1990s, prison cells were the fastest growing sector of the housing market. Many of these prisoners are mentally ill, have suffered unimaginable abuse from others and/or are victims of crushing poverty. Many suffer from addictions and have never been taught how to cope with life.

Jens Soering, who is a Christian convict serving time in a Virginia prison, identifies the problem: "Prison does not deter crime because criminals are too crazy, too drunk, too high, too uneducated, too unintelligent, and too young to fully comprehend what they were doing at the time they broke the law."

If prison is a failure as a deterrent, the criminal justice system itself is also failing at trying to "rehabilitate" prisoners for reintegration into society. Some 600,000 prisoners are released every year, but two-thirds of them will return to prison in three years or less. The criminal justice system is based on the model of punishment, retribution and isolation and any efforts by corrections officers to evoke real and lasting change are often pushed aside by other priorities like simple order and discipline within the prison. A prisoner released into a world without support systems, mentoring and the ongoing care that is essential for real transformation and change is a natural candidate for a return to prison life.

For Christians, these statistics and attitudes should raise alarms. Church growth experts are always telling us to engage emerging trends and minister to niche populations. Well, if the fastest growing population in our country lives behind prison walls it follows that the church should be there, too.

The Emmaus Community (a nation wide organization within the United Methodist Church) offers Prison Ministry to men and women and boys and girls: a team is formed just as in the regular Walk to Emmaus weekends and the team goes behind the locked bars to minister to those incarcerated.  A few years ago I had the opportunity to spend a weekend working with some girls (age 13 - 21) through the Emmaus Prison Ministry at Black Canyon, just down the road from here on I-17.

My experience and some observations: I was excited about the possibility of bringing some wayward teenagers to Christ and help them to prepare for a new life once they were released from their jail time.

It was quite an experience. We were checked and fingerprinted at the gate, escorted into the jail, doors locking behind us, wayward girls looking at us, some wondering what these strangers were up to, some eager to hear why we were there.

We had group meetings and one on one talks and prayers. I remember talking to one 14 year old. She said she was in prison for killing someone. I asked her why she did it. She said that her  mother had killed someone and was in prison for life, and she was just like her mother. She felt that she was a victim of circum stances: like mother like daughter. She asked for forgiveness and salvation. She accepted Christ into her life. Well, I was not allowed any follow up with this girl, but knew that God had sent me to offer her reconciliation and love that only Christ could bring. I had the opportunity to listen to many young girls that weekend. So many horror stories and so many that wanted to turn their life around. The problem, we only had one weekend to reach them. I was, and am, convinced that if we were given more time to work within incarcerated individuals their lives could be changed and many of them would not be second and third time offenders.

But, our judicial system does not allow time for education and spiritual outreach for long periods of time. Thus, one serves time in a cold isolated jail cell with other criminals of lesser and higher crimes. They learn from each other, are released and too many times do it all over again.

In Matthew 25:45, Jesus makes it clear that the eternal future of those who claim his name is directly tied to visiting "him" in prison. Jesus identified himself with the least, the last, the lost. Jesus himself would be processed into the Roman criminal justice system for crimes against the state.

Jesus' disciples would become familiar with prisons, too. Much of the book of Acts takes place with the followers of Jesus on their way into or out of jail as a result of their mission. Arrests, questioning, trials, punishment, even execution were simply part of an apostle's lot. But rather than wallow in the injustice of their incarceration, the apostles often saw their imprisonment as an opportunity to offer God's justice and peace to everyone ? even others on the inside.

In Acts 16, Paul and Silas find themselves chained fast in the dungeon of a Philippian prison after exorcising a demon from a slave girl who'd made a lot of money for her masters by fortune-telling. Tossed into a cold, dark cell with others who were likely real criminals with serious rap sheets, these two Christ-followers put aside their fear and begin to pray and sing hymns, seeing midnight in a dungeon as being the perfect time and place for worship. But note the next line in Acts 16:25 ? "the prisoners were listening to them." We don't know for sure what the other prisoners thought of these two, but certainly their interest was piqued. In a real sense, Paul and Silas were bringing the light of Christ into a very dark place by ministering among fellow prisoners.

When the earthquake broke open the prison doors, offering a divinely planned jail break, Paul and Silas did not bolt for the hills in their prison jumpsuits. Other "apostles" had been sprung from the slammer in a similar fashion by angels in Acts 5:17-26, and Peter himself escaped from Herod's jail with the help of an angel in Acts 12:6-19. Paul and Silas, however, stayed put when given the chance to leave. There were some legal reasons for this, like their insistence on the rights of Roman citizenship (Acts 16:35-40), but their choice to stay in custody seemed to have a more personal touch. Not only did these two apostles see their mission in that Philippian prison as a means of bringing hope to prisoners, they also sought to bring hope and spiritual freedom to the jailer himself. Seeing that the jailer would commit suicide if they escaped, Paul and Silas chose his life and salvation over their own liberation (Acts 16:25-34).

The boldness and attitude of Paul and Silas should speak to us. They did not shrink in fear from the challenge of being inside prison walls, whether as inmates or missionaries. Paul would even see his frequent incarcerations as evidence of his qualification as an apostle (2 Corinthians 11:23). Being in prison was a way of identifying with Jesus. Other Christians throughout history have taken a similar attitude ? people like John and Charles Wesley, whose first missionary forays as students at Oxford in the 18th century were visits to prisoners in the Castle Gaol, where the members of the Wesleys' "Holy Club" brought money they collected to help debtors win their freedom and began teaching the inmates to read.

If we insist on preaching grace, then ministry in prisons is the greatest test of whether we actually believe in the power of that grace. As followers of Christ and disciples in the mold of Paul and Silas, we must be willing to overcome our fear of broken people and offer forgiveness, compassion, redemption and reconciliation to people who experience only punishment and isolation day after day. In the same way, we need to be mindful of the needs of guards and administrators who spend their days under constant threat of violence and whose own lives can be broken by the constant rhythm of prison life. If Paul and Silas saw a small prison in a Roman province as a mission field, we should be seeing the prisons of our own country as an exponentially larger opportunity for ministry.  

Think on that vision ? prisons having to close because there aren't enough inmates. That's kingdom talk!

A closing thought: this scripture lesson made me think of nursing homes. I think nursing home patients feel trapped and in prison, as well, with little hope of a real future. I don't mean to take away from the importance of prison ministry, but there is often little hope of transformation and no hope of a meaningful future in a nursing home.

How many of us have taken time to visit those in nursing homes, other as a family member or friend. These people are imprisoned in a different way than those behind iron bars, but they are imprisoned and need someone to reach out and touch them as well. This is "prison ministry" if you will, and less threatening than going behind locked doors.

 Someone once said that prisons are not limited to bricks and mortar. "People are also imprisoned by circumstances: poverty, abusive marriages, demeaning jobs." We're called, he adds, to "tear down such prison walls."

As we approach Pentecost Sunday we are reminded of the disciples and others since then who have broken down the prison walls as well as walls of mistrust and abuse. They have opened many doors to freedom in Jesus Christ.

Will you take that step to free someone from a life in prison? Do you know of someone in prison, in poverty, in an abusive marriage, in a demeaning relationship? Will you help to tear down prison walls instead of building new ones.

As Christians we are called to "offer a cup of cold water", "clothe the naked" . Jesus said: "If you claim my name, visit me while in prison". Let us pray...

Sources:

Byassee, Jason, "I was in prison?: The church behind bars." The Christian Century, October 3, 2006, 20-24.  

Earley, Mark, "Putting prisons out of business ? the art of discipleship." The Catholic Exchange Web Site. November 7, 2006. http://es.catholicexchange.com/vm/index.asp?vm_id=96&art_id=34681. Retrieved January 4, 2007.