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Friends United Meeting |
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September 2000
The Quality of Mercy in Prison Ministry
By Keith R. Maddock
In a trial the lawyer for the defense asked a judge to show mercy to a man accused of common assault. There were extenuating circumstances to be considered, including the fact that the man recently lost the job he had held for twenty years, and his wife had left him as a result. When the judge decided on a suspended sentence and community service, the attorney was satisfied that both justice and mercy had been served.
Two weeks later, the man was in a different courtroom on a more serious charge, still tearfully pleading for mercy. But this time the judge sentenced him to a year in prison. Two years later, after a series of other minor offenses, the man was killed in a fight with a dangerous person he met while serving his time. So, how was justice served in this case? Was mercy truly shown toward the accused? Like so many other traditional virtues, has mercy lost its power to save people from themselves?
When Jesus said, "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy," he recognized mercy as essentially a reciprocal experience, exacting a price from both the giver and the receiver. Mercy requires a willingness to act out of our own imperfection, while enabling the offender to take responsibility for his actions and bad judgments.
When people learn that I have been visiting men in jail, they often ask how I can relate to someone who is potentially dangerous to life and property. Sometimes I ask myself whether I should be more judgmental. It is easy to be carried away by empathy after listening to the trials and sufferings of another person's life. But how much of any prisoner's expression of remorse can I believe? If I listen and open my heart to him, will it make any difference? Why do I continue to listen to the struggles of people who admit their guilt, and are often hopelessly addicted to drugs? The last question is particularly challenging, and prompts me to reflect on Jesus' response to the Pharisees who accused him of consorting with tax collectors and sinners. His response brought the issue into a radically different perspective. "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick," he said, "Go and learn what this means: I desire mercy, and not sacrifice. For I came to call not the righteous but sinners" (Matthew 9:11-13).
Jesus alludes to the prophet Hosea: "For I desire mercy, and not sacrifice; the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings" (Hosea 6:6). This prophecy was intended as a judgment on the people's lack of understanding of the Law. God's law is not about retribution and plea-bargaining; it is primarily a law by example. As God has shown mercy to the unfaithful, we are expected to do likewise. By not showing mercy to others, we condemn ourselves and create a bad example for our descendants.
In the Jewish oral tradition is a story of Abraham inviting a beggar to dine in his tent. When the patriarch asked the blessing, the beggar suddenly began to curse God, accusing the deity of causing his poverty and unhappiness. Abraham was furious and immediately threw the man out. But when he said his prayers that night, God replied, "That man has cursed me for fifty years and yet I have given him food to eat every day. Couldn't you put up with him for at least one meal?"
Mercy is not an act of generosity or condescension, but an acceptance of others for who they are--imperfect images of the Creator just as we are. Being blessed is not a reward for good works, but a vision of what we could become by letting go of the instinct for revenge and seeking a more redemptive way of being in the world.
As I continue to listen to the revelations of prisoners, to feel compassion for their sufferings and gain their trust, there comes a point when I no longer see them as "offenders," but as "children of God"--like myself. The constant challenge of being a prison visitor is to set aside doubts long enough to be a medium for God's mercy.
Without treating the offender as a child of God, regardless of what he or she may have been done, there can be no mercy--and probably no justice. Neither they, nor the courts, nor we are blessed by expediency or ignorance of our mutual responsibility. Shakespeare wrote, "The quality of mercy is not strained, It falleth as the gentle rain from heaven." Unless we visit prisoners and expose them to a community that cares enough to receive and help them remake their lives as free and responsible citizens, that gentle rain may fall on stony ground.
Keith Maddock, member of Toronto Monthly Meeting (Canadian Yearly Meeting), is a volunteer prison visitor in a Toronto jail. Since attending the Earlham School of Religion on a writing scholarship a few years ago, he has published articles on his experience in prison ministry and spirituality in a number of journals. Most notable is "Beyond the Bars: A Quaker Primer for Prison Visitors," published by Pendle Hill (Pamphlet 342), 1999.
Copyright (c) 2000 Friends United Meeting
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