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Every Saint Has a Past, Every Sinner Has a Future
By Rev. Bernard “Skip” Keels, M. Div. Mother's Day - May 13, 2001
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.
-- 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 baseball in my hands is worth about $6. A tennis racket is useless in my hands. A rod in my hands will keep away a wild animal. Two fish and five loaves of bread in my hands is a couple
of fish sandwiches. Nails in my hands are just a bad wound. As you see now it depends whose hands it’s in. Blessed Mother’s Day.
Rev. Keels is a member of the steering committee for the
Coalition for Jubilee Clemency,
which works to encourage executive clemency for nonviolent,
low-level drug offenders.
‘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.
A basketball in Michael Jordan’s hand is worth about $33
million.
It depends whose hands it’s in.
A baseball in Mark McGuire’s hands is worth $19 million.
It depends whose hands it’s in.
A tennis racket in Pete Sampras’ hands is a Wimbledon Championship.
It depends whose hands it’s in.
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 God’s hands will feed
thousands.
It depends whose hands it’s in.
Nails in Jesus Christ’s hands will produce salvation for
the entire world.
It depends on 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.