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In 1936, Myra Brooks Welch penned a poem that speaks to how we make our lives count for something. Often we discard the battered and bruised objects in our lives. Yet there is always the possibility that change is coming.

‘Twas battered and scarred and the auctioneer scarcely thought it worth his while.
To waste much time on the old violin, but he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried. “Who will start the bidding for me?
A dollar, then two, who will make it three?
Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three.”
But “No,” from the room, far back, a gray haired man came forward and picked up the bow.
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin, and tightening the loose strings, he played a melody pure and sweet as caroling angels sing.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer, with a voice that was quiet and low,
said, “What am I bid for this old violin?” And he held it up with the bow,
“A thousand dollars? Who will make it two? Two thousand! Who will make it three?
Three thousand, once. Three thousand twice, and going, and gone,” said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried, “We don't quite understand
what changed its worth.” Swift came the reply, “The touch of the master’s hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune, and battered and scarred with sin,
is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd, much like the old violin.
“A mess of pottage,” a glass of wine, a game and he travels on.
He is going once, going twice, and he is going and almost gone.
But the master comes and the foolish crowd can never understand
the worth of a soul and the change that wrought by the touch of the master’s hand.

-- Myra Brooks Welch, 1936

On this celebration of Mother’s Day, throughout our “compassionate” democracy, many women, much like that old violin, have been auctioned cheap and sentenced behind bars by that thoughtless crowd. These women, battered, alone, and bruised, are scarred with sin and brokenness and discarded from the very nation that celebrates their motherhood.

Our sisters who have been cast off into the abyss have become another entry in the line of our administration of justice. They’re doing hard time in the midst of even harder time for their children and families. Socially ostracized, alienated by society, they have become the leper-moms of the new society. We all recall the story of the leper as recorded in the Gospel of Mark: A leper came to Jesus, begging to him, and kneeling the leper said, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!” Immediately the leprosy left him and he was made clean. (Mark 1:40-42)

The Biblical record tells of an intimate encounter of a man desperately in need of a friend. It’s message is simple. We must show compassion and care to those forced to live outside the margins of comfort and acceptability.

As we approach the first Mother’s Day of the new millennium, perhaps President George W. Bush, the author of compassionate conservatism, can become the standard bearer for our mothers marked with the leprosy of incarceration. Along with the leper in Mark’s account, the leper-moms suffer identical maladies. Both have been diseased by their station and status as untouchables, afflicted with the fastest growing disease in America, loneliness and alienation.

Leper-moms serve disproportionate sentences for what for many of them are: nonviolent criminals (often the result of mandatory minimum sentences imposed for drug offenses). It saddens me to know that America’s leper-moms won’t receive anything - not a dozen red roses, not dinner by their children, or a quiet or special weekend with their loved ones. My beloved brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ, let us ourselves ask the question so popularized in our Christian culture today: WWJD? What Would Jesus Do?

When we wait on the Lord, the message is sound and clear. These United States, in which we revere “Motherhood and Apple Pie” as touchstones of our society, we must go back to the familiar waters of our faith. Where once motherhood was protected by the Church, now we find some in the Church washing their hands of responsibility for nurturing these women back into wholeness. Jesus was painfully aware of what it was like to be alone and isolated. When the leper cried out to him, he took the time to stop, look, listen, and respond. If we choose to follow the example of Christ, we can become a nation marching to Zion, with our President and his executive clemency powers playing the role of the drum major of justice. Thus, we can raise up a new nation under God, where everybody is God’s somebody and no leper-mom need be left crying muted tears to a thoughtless crowd.

"Where to begin?" you ask. How do we teach our children their incarcerated mothers are valued and loved by God? The first step is following the instruction of the Rabbi from Nazareth. Jesus saw the good seed firmly visible in the face of one, who through no fault of his own, had been condemned by society as untouchable. Secondly, he stopped and heard and saw that face in the crowd and tied himself into the pain and suffering of the leper. Our leper-moms have a story to tell - individual cries of awakening of those women who have met the God of the second chance.

Denese Calixte was born in Haiti and never attended school. She supported herself as a fruit picker in Florida for most of her life, barely enough to support her seven children. In 1994, she was injured falling from a ladder and could no longer work. A man in her neighborhood offered her $200 to keep a retail supply of crack cocaine in a little bottle in her house. Her home was raided and she was convicted of possession with intent to deliver cocaine. She was sentenced to 10 years in 1996 for 69 grams of crack cocaine. When arrested, her youngest children were 8, 10, and 12.

Following the example of Jesus, we can look with new eyes upon the story of Denese. A leper-mom in our midst who can be cleansed and made whole. Jesus focused upon the God-given value in each person as the first step in their rehabilitation. Coupled with his compassion and credibility, the leper was compelled to know he had encountered the real Messiah. No longer ravaged by alienation and loneliness, his body and his future were at once transformed to live out his life’s work.

What this teaches us is simply that every saint has a past and every sinner has a future. A popular gospel songwriter puts it this way, “We fall down but we get up. His mercy helps us to get up.”

My prayer on this Mother’s Day is that we honor every mother’s journey and the purpose in our hearts to live out Christ’s instructions and example in the lesson of the healing of the leper. To accomplish this, we must cultivate our ministries to become transparent servants, leading and ministering to people at the point of their need. The Good Book tells us that when Jesus saw the pain that alienation and loneliness brought upon the leper, he was moved with pity and compassion. I can imagine the crowd of onlookers who routinely dismissed this leper man who were shocked at the response from Jesus. The faces in the crowd could actually see Jesus’ facial expression and his body language. They knew He was the "real deal.” He simply cared about the plight of another of God’s creatures. We must simply care about the continuing tragedy played out in many of our correctional facilities where leper-moms will imagine red roses and silk sheets this mother’s day.

I urge you, in the name of Jesus who was a friend to the friendless, that we claim our heritage as advocates on behalf of the last, the lost, and the least. When we become transparent, those in crisis will know we are authentic in our desire to help them on a road back to wholeness.

One final point worth noting. Jesus physically touched this man with leprosy. Although he had the power to heal him from a far distance, he knew that this man had not experienced human touch since it was first learned that he was a leper. If you desire to work on behalf of the leper-moms, reach out and touch them. Demonstrate your affection, show them your concern, live out your faith.

Jesus touching the leper speaks volumes to how rehabilitation of our leper-moms takes on a hands-on approach. I began this message with a poem from the 1930s, a period in which America had emerged out of a great economic, personal, and societal depression. Let me end it with an interesting thought I found in the world of cyberspace on the Internet:

A basketball in my hands is worth about $19.
A basketball in Michael Jordan’s hand is worth about $33 million.
It depends whose hands it’s in.

A baseball in my hands is worth about $6.
A baseball in Mark McGuire’s hands is worth $19 million.
It depends whose hands it’s in.

A tennis racket is useless in my hands.
A tennis racket in Pete Sampras’ hands is a Wimbledon Championship.
It depends whose hands it’s in.

A rod in my hands will keep away a wild animal.
A rod in Moses’ hands will part the mighty sea.
It depends whose hands it’s in.

Two fish and five loaves of bread in my hands is a couple of fish sandwiches.
Two fish and five loaves of bread in God’s hands will feed thousands.
It depends whose hands it’s in.

Nails in my hands are just a bad wound.
Nails in Jesus Christ’s hands will produce salvation for the entire world.
It depends on whose hands it’s in.

As you see now it depends whose hands it’s in.
So put your concerns, your worries, your fears, your hopes, your dreams, your families and your relationships in God’s hands because -
It depends whose hands it’s in.

Blessed Mother’s Day.