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Chapters Three, Four: Shared humanity

“I generally favor the death penalty because mad dogs ought to die.” Civil Lawyer as quoted in Just Mercy, p. 69

This is an excerpt from a public letter written by a ‘respected civil lawyer’ who became disillusioned after working on a death penalty case. What a harsh sentiment, lumping all death row prisoners together as so many ‘mad dogs.’ Though, as I thought about it, there is a logic to it. If a mad dog has attacked and/or killed, it has to be put down before it does again. And some condemned people have done such terrible, inhuman things that they must be prevented absolutely from doing more. So, while I may not like the forceful manner in which this judgment is presented, there is some logic to the position.

But by the end of this chapter I am reminded that the problem with this statement is that it wants to compare any human being to an animal in an absolute way – as if there is no fundamental difference between the two. Or maybe the better way to approach it is to say, “as a human being, I can treat an animal in one way and another human being in a very different way.” The death penalty is not then so much about what is ‘just,’ given the kind of offense committed, but rather about what we will allow ourselves to do as humans to another human when we (the State) are called upon to act to preserve order in Society. If we see the human characteristics of the condemned, we act differently than if we only see the crime.

And then I remembered. Quite a few years ago now I regularly went into the jails in Cleveland to pray with inmates, on Saturday evenings for the women and Sunday mornings for the men. One of the men was a regular whom I got to know a bit, though never what he had done to get him in jail. When he was tried and found guilty and sent away to prison, he wrote back to us. In one of his letters he said the thing he missed most about his life in a prison was that he had no opportunity to sing, as he had in jail with our religious services. It’s a small thing, of course but to me it got to his humanity, deep under whatever he had done.

Fr. Dennis Dillon, SJ serves as a Pastoral Associate at St. Mary’s.

Chapter Two: Drum for justice

“When I thought about what I would have done when I was sixteen years old or nineteen or even twenty-four, I was scared to realize that I might have run. The more I thought about it, the more concerned I became about all the young black boys and men in that neighborhood. Did they know not to run? Did they know to stay calm and say, ‘It’s okay’?” Bryan Stevenson, Just Mercy, p.43

In chapter two, the author of the book has an experience that surprises and angers him: police officers hold him at gunpoint and illegally search his car for no reason. Except that he is a black man in a neighborhood where a black man sitting in a car for 15-minutes at night leads to suspicion and a call to the police. When confronted with the police, Bryan has an impulse to run. His age and experience override that impulse, but when the encounter is finished, he reflects on how such an event might play out for other black men and boys in his neighborhood.

Fight or flight. This basic human instinct has helped us survive for thousands of years. But this instinct in modern life can lead to death, not survival, for many of our youth. Instead of a wild animal or a true enemy, the fear that leads to this instinct is stimulated by those who are supposed to be our protectors. Protectors who make an automatic presumption that a black child is doing something wrong by being present in a particular place at a particular time. Protectors who make an interpretation that a black man looks menacing or dangerous or suspicious. Protectors who are blinded by the racist structure of our world and do not protect all of God’s children. I wanted to write “do not protect all of God’s children anymore” but in reading this book, I realized more definitively that we have never protected all of our black and brown and native brothers and sisters. The ways in which we have stimulated the fight or flight instinct for these children of God have changed over time – slavery, post-Reconstruction terrorism, Jim Crow, and mass incarceration. We have never really protected these marginalized children.

At the end of this chapter, an elderly man who has scars from standing up for voting, civil and children’s rights, tells Bryan that he is “beating the drum for justice!” Many of us are part of the dominant white culture that has caused fear and great harm to our black brothers and sisters over the course of our country’s history. How might we join Bryan to “beat a drum for justice”?

Lisa Hirsch is a member of the Social Justice Ministry leadership team. She and her husband, Tom McDonough, have 3 children and are long time resident parishioners of St. Mary.

Chapter One: All Children of God

“But there was no evidence against [Walter] McMillan—no evidence except that he was an African-American man involved in an adulterous interracial affair, which meant he was reckless and possibly dangerous, even if he had no prior criminal history and a good reputation. Maybe that was evidence enough.” Bryan Stevenson, Just Mercy

Just last week, a series of racist flyers were posted around campus—one of which was entitled “Why White Women Shouldn’t Date Black Men”. It listed several “reasons”, such as that black men are abusive, will give you STDs, and other incredibly hateful things. Worse yet, these fliers were posted for all to see in academic buildings where students walk by each and every day Needless to say, this flyer and the other flyers caused a great deal of hurt to the campus community.

Not long before that, racist messages were spray painted on the wall of an academic building at Eastern Michigan University, just a short drive away. It didn’t help that this was happening around the same time headlines were made that more unarmed black men became victims of police brutality such as Terence Crutcher and Keith Lamont Scott. What’s more, there was a protest on campus of a debate led by a student organization regarding the effectiveness of the Black Lives Matter movement.

And all of this happened within the span of two weeks…barely.

Bottom line, many people do not feel safe on their own campus—a place for scholarship and growth and a place where they should be able to be themselves and reach their potential. However, many have felt as though their hurt, pain, and struggle are not validated.

Walter McMillan didn’t feel safe in his own environment, either. In fact, he was sentenced to death row for a murder he didn’t commit. An otherwise decent person, the evidence that he was “bad news” was the fact that he was romantically involved with a white woman. Walter McMillan wasn’t given a voice in this ordeal and was unable to have anyone advocate for him.

While we as a nation have come a long way, it is far too clear that tensions are unfortunately strained. Divisions seem starker than ever. There is a long road ahead towards the improvement of race relations as well as our greater sense of justice and unity in this world. In the Year of Mercy, may we stand in solidarity with those who are suffering in any way, and be truly compassionate. May we all be one in Him, acknowledging that our differences are beautiful and that we are all children of God.

Jenny Ozor is a senior and is on the intern cohort for 2016-17 as the Social Justice intern. She enjoys blogging, volunteering, and puns!

Introduction: You are more

“Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.” Bryan Stevenson, Just Mercy, p. 17

This summer, I had the immense pleasure of interning for a federal judge. A large part of my internship was to observe anything that took place in the courtroom. This included criminal sentencing. This was the part of the job I was least looking forward to. As an aspiring public defender and current criminal justice reform advocate, the idea of watching people being sentenced to prison had always left a bad taste in my mouth. However, I will never forget the time that, during one sentencing, the judge quoted Bryan Stevenson, saying, “Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.” This line stuck with me the first time I read it, but it will never mean the same after hearing a judge say it to a convicted criminal, encouraging him to not let his conviction define the rest of his life. If this is not the exact definition of just mercy, I am not sure what is.

Think for a minute about who Jesus surrounded himself with. We hear in the Gospels about how Jesus would preach to the tax collectors and sinners, but do we really think about that? When we do process that Jesus went out to the margins, do we feel called to follow the example? How many people do we look at as Jesus did and remember that they are more than the worst thing they have ever done? Who do we refuse to see as more than the sum of their actions? Who do we hold grudges against?

When we mess up, how long do we let our mistakes ruminate in our minds before we are willing to forgive ourselves? How many times do we drive ourselves crazy with regrets and pain? Say it aloud. I am more than the worst thing I have ever done.

Being merciful does not mean pretending that nothing happened. It does not mean that we have to let people walk all over us. But just mercy—the type of mercy we see from Jesus, the mercy that we should strive for during the Jubilee Year of Mercy, and the mercy that is the center of this book—is based on this central, very significant sentence. Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.

Maggie Larin

Maggie is a Junior at the University of Michigan studying Sociology with a focus in Law, Justice, and Social Change. She hopes to one day become a criminal defense attorney, defending those without representation and, if the need continues, those on death row.

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Just Mercy Reflection Series

“Jesus’s concern for the care of the hungry, the thirsty, the homeless, and prisoners sought to express the core of the Father’s mercy. This becomes a moral imperative for the whole of society that wishes to maintain the necessary conditions for a better common life. It is within a society’s capacity to include the poor, the infirm and the imprisoned, that we see its ability to heal their wounds and make them builders of a peaceful coexistence.” – Pope Francis to prisoners at Centro de Readaptación in Juarex, Mexico

Welcome to St. Mary’s reflection series on Bryan Stevenson’s book Just Mercy. Whether you’re just beginning Just Mercy, finished it six months ago, or have it on your to-read list for winter break, it is our hope that this series of reflections is relevant and meaningful to you, and moves you to think about mercy, compassion, and our justice system in new ways; we want this space to be the starting point of a parish-wide conversation about the collective responsibility we have to create a more merciful and just world.

Pope Francis consistently calls each one of us to stand in solidarity with the incarcerated people of our world. He celebrated his first Holy Thursday as Pope at a juvenile detention center in Rome, and in 2015, celebrated Holy Thursday mass at the Rebibbia Prison in Rome. During his visit to the United States, Pope Francis spent time visiting and praying with prisoners at the Curran-Cromhold Correctional Facility in Philadelphia, telling them “I am here as a pastor, but above all as a brother, to share your situation and to make it my own.” What a beautiful invitation to each of us to stand as brothers and sisters with the imprisoned.

On behalf of the Social Justice Ministry at St. Mary’s, thank you for reading, and we look forward to the start of a transformative dialogue!

If you are interested in gaining some background before reading the series, we encourage you to watch this moving 20 minute TED Talk by the author of Just Mercy, Bryan Stevenson: