Restorative Justice
Eric Anderson • January 9, 2023
Originally published in Kewanee Horizons, Volume 19
Greetings to all of my fellow incarcerated community members and also to anyone reading this from the other side of the fences. Though you may not be aware of it, you are also part of our community. Incarcerated people affect and are affected by almost every segment of U.S. society and culture. From the people who are directly locked up, their immediate and extended families and friends, to the people who have been directly harmed by those who are incarcerated, and their immediate and extended families and friends (two groups that overlap more often than you might think). If we only included those two groups, what do think the number would be? On any given day in the U.S., there are over 2 million people incarcerated; if each of those incarcerated persons has 10 people that love them, that is 22 million people directly affected. What about those who were harmed? If each of those persons has 10 people who love them, that’s probably at least another 22 million people directly affected.... How many police officers are there in the U.S.? Correctional officers? Their family members would bring the total to what number of people directly affected by the incarcerated community? Lawyers, judges, and their family members.... The numbers get large, quickly.... My point is just that our society, our American Culture, is deeply intertwined with the lives of the incarcerated community.
We as the incarcerated tend to view ourselves as separate and distinctly isolated from the non-incarcerated. This is a valid way to view ourselves—on its face, the point of incarceration is to keep us isolated and segregated from society in almost every way. We are all well aware of the downsides of the system of incarceration as it exists in our lives; the detrimental impacts incarceration has on us, as well as on our loved ones; the negative views of who we are, as well as the negative views of those who love us. I submit that those negative outcomes and views reach further into American Culture than people realize. In many ways, incarceration is the antithesis of Restorative Justice. Those issues are not the focus of this writing. The focus of this writing is how we can come to understand and internalize the ideals and principles of Restorative Justice and Restorative Practices. In no way am I trying to assert that I am an authority or that I have all the answers when it comes to Restorative Justice. I feel my experiences have given me some insights, and my mission is to engage in Restorative Justice Practices in ways that I feel can impact the lives of my immediate community and my more extended community. I owe.
It is as simple as that for me: I owe. The list of people I am indebted to in my life is extensive and grows longer every day. I am a former Juvenile Lifer, meaning I was sentenced as an adult to Life Without Parole for a crime I committed when I was 15 years old. My debt begins and ends with the lives of the two people I took from their families. I can never pay down that debt.
I know that. The only thing left for me with that understanding is to do everything I can, at every opportunity, to ensure that what I did never happens to another family. That is an insurmountable task, it is commensurate with my debt. I can never reach that goal. What I can do is use my experience to improve outcomes for others’ experiences—I can use what I have done, the life I have lived, the things that have happened to me, to say that I have an idea for how we can do better. I can get my message out there. My message is that we can do better.
We can do better for ourselves as an incarcerated population, we can do better as a community, we can do better than the bare minimum of isolation, degradation, punishment, and the perpetuation of the cycles of violence that tear down our lives on such a daily basis. We can heal.
Healing ourselves is the single most fundamental effective tool we have in the quest to stop the cancer that is violence. Just as it is true that “hurt people hurt people”, it is also true that “healed people heal people”, and that is hopeful.
I am a stakeholder. I am a person who has caused harm as well as a person who has been harmed—both of these things are true at the same time. Contrary to the traditional narrative of the criminal legal system, these two true things about me do not cancel each other out; they are mutually exclusive facts about me, both equally true, and both equally valid. This is also a truth of every person I have ever met and interacted with in any kind of meaningful way in the Illinois prison system. I have never interacted with anyone (that I know of) who is incarcerated and who is not also a survivor of violence. 27 years of incarceration has given me the confidence to say that I feel I have a pretty good insight as to who is incarcerated. I have spent the vast majority of my incarceration in maximum security settings, so almost everyone I have spent serious amounts of time with are incarcerated for violent acts—they are all also survivors of violent acts.
Maybe there is an unmet population of incarcerated peoples who have not had experiences with personal violence,. If there is, I haven’t heard about it.
A point I would emphasize is: Just because these facts are mutually exclusive and do not cancel each other out does not mean that there is not a direct relationship between these facts. More educated people than myself have conducted study after study that show unequivocally that there is a direct causal relationship
between being a person who is a survivor of violence and a person who has committed violence. Hurting someone does not undermine the fact that you have been hurt. It also needs to be stated bluntly that being hurt does not ever excuse hurting someone. Both of those things are wrong, humans do not deserve to be hurt, there is no excuse for inflicting unnecessary pain on someone. It is equally true that it is never okay for someone to inflict pain
on you.
My experience tells me that the people who make up my community have an imperative need to come to terms with this truth: It is never okay for someone to hurt you. Period.
People have a need to justify the things that happen in their lives, good and bad, positive and negative, healthy and unhealthy. It is a characteristic we share as humans. We like to make statements like “she earned it,” or “he deserves that.” Sometimes that is true—she did earn it, when it comes to things like paychecks or certificates or college degrees. One thing she never earned: being punched. Sometimes he does deserve it: a hug, a promotion at work, or an A in class. Something he never deserved: getting stabbed. Saying things to justify physically inflicting pain on another person is implying that it is okay to do harm to others. It is not. The justification of violence is an especially potent problem for two reasons: 1) it excuses the harm;
and 2) it normalizes violence
which helps to perpetuate the cycle. The thinking goes, “If I normalize the violence and harms I have experienced in my life, I am more likely to pay that violence and harm forward because I view it as no big deal and okay.”
Recognition of this immediate and underlying truth is the first step in Restorative Justice. I’d like to make a short analogy
to further illustrate my point about who deserves or has earned what. Imagine you come home from work, walk into your house, are greeted happily and excitedly by your dog, walk into the kitchen and find a pile of dog sh*t on the floor. In my mind you would obviously be upset. You look at your beautiful friend, wind up and punch him in the ribs! He yelps and scurries away. Did he deserve that? Did he earn it? No, he didn’t and [he says] you are an asshole for reacting like that. Did he learn his lesson? Probably not. Can you tell yourself a story to justify your actions? Sure, but that doesn’t make it right on any level.
Now the trick, did you deserve to be called an asshole there? No, you didn’t. Why not? For the same reason your dog didn’t deserve to get kicked: because it doesn’t serve any purpose except an immediate, unsatisfactory expulsion of anger. Now you have to deal with guilt and all other kinds of complex emotions. And honestly, that is just a dog. I love dogs, they are awesome. They are not humans. Humans deserve to be treated with more dignity and more regard than animals (don’t hurt animals either, by the way).
The point is that the infliction of pain (or punishment, to use the more popular terminology) does not evoke or invoke “personal accountability”, which is the stock and trade of Restorative Justice and Restorative Practices. The reason that personal accountability is so important in this process is that only through personal internalized self-accountability can we, as people who have caused harm, start to do the work toward restoration, our part of the work at least. Only through owning what we have done
can we begin to work through the emotions of what we have done, of what has happened and how it has affected another person. A person who did not deserve whatever act was perpetrated on them. It also has to be acknowledged that doing harm to another also does harm to ourselves.
There is hope though, even though we can never undo the harm we have caused, Restorative Justice is not about undoing something, it is about doing something.
It is about doing something positive, healthy, and healing.
This is the crux of Restorative Justice, this is what makes it so tough to partake in, the fact that it does not allow us to take a victim stance and excuse our actions by making statements about what happened to us or what is happening to us. We resolve to examine our actions based not on the motivations that may have driven us, but based on how they have affected someone else. We won’t dismiss the things that have happened to us,
we have to deal with those things also. We won’t be able to fully heal if we don’t come to terms with the total, cumulative effects of the things that happened in our lives, both to us and by us. We have to deal with all the different facets of our shared histories.
The narrative we have been sold consists of a group of ideas presented as facts, even though they are fundamentally wrong. The main ideas that drive this false narrative
are that inflicting pain on another person will somehow lessen our own pain— it doesn’t; that incarceration as an answer to violent crime is effective—it isn’t; that our American ideal of prison as a deterrent has ever actually worked—it hasn’t. Period. Those are just the facts; there is no argument against these facts. The closest anyone ever comes to justifying prison goes something like, “Whatta ya gonna do? Let everybody outta da joints tomorrow?!” That is not an argument for prisons, at least not a cogent one. Prison is not an effective tool for dealing with crime. If it were even half as effective as it is purported to be, the United States of America would be, by far, the safest developed country in the entire world
to live in. There are many paths to follow away from the purpose of this writing at this point; I am not interested in making those points, yet. The thing I’d like to focus on is: If prison isn’t the answer as a response to crime, especially violent crimes involving personal harm, what is a valid, purposeful response? One answer is Restorative Justice Practices. I will leave alone the facts here that surround the issues that are systemic in our culture and are leading causes and effects of violence, because I’d like to stay focused on what actions we can engage in that are forms of Restorative Practices and are healing in nature so that we can move forward in our lives to live with real purpose and intention. I will touch on those systemic issues briefly here and there because, as stated above, nothing in our society exists in isolation, everything and everyone is connected, often more closely than we might initially imagine. The main aspect I would like to keep in the forefront here is the concept of personal accountability.
Personal accountability, as I have come to understand it, in- volves 5 key components:
1) Acknowledging our responsibility for our actions;
2) Acknowledging our actions’ impacts on another or others;
3) Understanding that impact and expressing genuine remorse for those actions;
4) Taking restorative actions or making reparations to the degree possible; and
5) Making sure that we live a life that ensures that we never repeat those actions or actions similar to those that will cause harm.
Another way to talk about personal accountability is to say “taking responsibility.” I have heard this phrase misused as often as any other in my life as a prisoner. This misuse has to be attributed to the deep cultural acceptance of the misconception that uses punishment and accountability as interchangeable terms.
I have had many conversations with my peers about the nature of taking responsibility. I maintain that taking responsibility involves much more than admitting guilt. Admitting guilt
can be thought of as taking responsibility because it is a fundamental aspect of that process, but that is truly only the beginning.
Add to that the nature of criminal court proceedings that are interested in “holding people accountable” for their actions in ways that are simplistic and superficial at best, especially pertinent here is the nature of a sentencing proceeding after guilt has been assigned. When a sentencing judge asks the convicted criminal if they have anything to say before a sentence issued that is known as an allocution. Allocutions are ostensibly utilized to give us an opportunity to “take responsibility” for our actions, that is often the way allocutions are referred to and talked about. Our lawyers, the prosecutors, the judge, even our family and friends tell us that this is our opportunity to engage in this part of the criminal process directly and “be accountable” or “take responsibility,” but it doesn’t equate to actually being accountable or taking responsibility. The work comes into play when we talk about the next steps; i.e., if I have taken a step down the road of responsibility by admitting my guilt, what does that admission now require of me? How do I continue down that road to healing and reconciliation?
The next step in the process involves recognizing the harms that we have caused to another human being. As I stated above, there is no justifying hurting another person. Once we internalize that understanding we can begin the process of working through a true recognition of how we have hurt someone and the effect that has had and continues to have on those persons. In an ideal situation this reckoning would take place with the participation of the people who have been harmed.
We are not in an ideal situation. The IDOC and the State of Illinois do not recognize the promise of Restorative Justice Practices as evidenced by the fact that they have no mechanism in place for people to engage in reconciliation and recognition of harms caused. Every Restorative Justice program I have ever heard of is instigated and run by private groups. That is the situation as it exists for us. That increases the degree of difficulty when it comes to assessing and recognizing the true effects of the harms we have inflicted upon others, but it does not make it impossible or any less important to honestly engage in this step. It is imperative that we recognize what we have done—without that recognition there can be no chance of true accountability and any kind of restoration put forth is rendered hollow by its lack of veracity.
Expressing remorse is another part of the process that has to be acted upon in an unconventional way. Without the ability to directly apologize to the survivors of our actions, we must put some thought into what we can do to express our remorse. There is an important point to highlight here—the fact is that expressing remorse for actions
we know were unacceptable is an important step to forgiving ourselves for what we have done to ourselves. Please remember that doing violence to another is also doing violence to the self. This is critical. I am aware that this statement can come across as minimizing the harm done to others, but this is untrue; it is another aspect that the myth of prison’s effectiveness causes to become accepted, that there is no room for a comparison of harms experienced by one person or another. Every person’s experience is just as true, valid, and important as every other person’s.
Going down the rabbit hole of whose experience is more important implies a zero sum scenario for pain and hurt; the human capacity for suffering is almost infinite, and causing pain to another can never relieve the pain you feel. In fact, all it does is perpetuate and increase the suffering and cycle of violence. “Hurt people hurt people is both inherently true and the most concise definition of why we have to learn to forgive each other and ourselves for our past harms. Without engaging in healing practices for our self-inflicted hurts we will never be able to dent the progression of the violence cycle.
No single step in the process of personal accountability is any more important than any other, however, step 4, taking restorative actions or making reparations,
can offer one a feeling of truly engaging in the process in a tangible way. It can involve some of the most important fore-thought in that it requires us to look into the avenues available to us as incarcerated people to try to find the ones that allow us to most effectively invest ourselves toward making reparations. I have found that many times, men I have known have had to literally invent new ways to work toward paying down the debts we have incurred by our past actions. I have also encountered many men who have started down this path without even realizing what they were doing or why— they just felt compelled to do something positive in their lives.
I was such a person. I began doing what I thought of as “good things” just because, not for a specific cause or thought, literally just because. In my mind this is illustrative of the simple and obvious truth that we are all more than just our worst decision or act. We are human;
we are all capable of astounding amounts of love and kindness in ways that are not recognized by the court system, the IDOC, prosecutors, the news, or the traditional American Culture narrative that has brought us to this point in our individual lives. For many people I have known, this is where the rubber truly meets the road because it can have tangible measurable results. This is unlike step 3, expressing remorse—because no one can know how another person truly feels. On the inside, people sometimes struggle even with their internal dialogue as to whether the remorse they are expressing is heartfelt or just mouthed words to effectuate a lessening of guilty feelings. Plus, if you are engaging in positive actions, with positive intentions you will often see positive results. This is what living with a true sense of purpose and intention feels like.
Finally, step 5: making sure that we live a life resolved to never repeat actions that result in the harms
being committed again. This is the culmination of the process of personal accountability, not because it forces us to endure over and over the traumas that perpetuate the cycle of violence, but because this is the opportunity that frees us from that terrible existence. Living with intention is what allows us to be healed and to extend that healing to others, first to those we love and then outward to the other people we come into contact with in our lives and finally to the rest of the members of our communities and society as a whole.
I call out to all of you, let’s be better.
Let’s be better than the worst we can do to each other, let’s be better than doing the bare minimum to survive as a culture. Better yet, let’s do our best—we can do more every day, we can extend the hand of care and friendship, and most importantly, we can extend the recognition of value and humanity that every person is entitled to under the banner of basic human dignity. This is the underlying tenet that has been missing in our lives as prisoners: basic human dignity. We can’t wait for someone to hand it to us because we are already entitled to it. It just has not been recognized. Instead, we need to choose to embrace every day
with intention and positivity while also embracing our shared humanity and inherent dignity.
I am not saying that if you embrace these steps there will be an instantaneous change in the ways that we are treated and treat each other. We are trying to overcome centuries of a story being told to us, a story that violence is an acceptable answer, that prison works as a deterrent, or that our hurts don’t matter because we should be tougher than that. I am saying that acting on these principles is a dignified way to live. That doesn’t imply an easy way to live. I would never presume to say that your life will be easy, I only say that
you, as a human, are entitled to dignity and safety, and that embracing Restorative Justice Practices is a way to live that.
I want to give acknowledgement and thanks to authors Victoria Law (Prison By Any Other Name, Prisons Keep Us Safe and 20 Other Myths of Mass Incarceration), Danielle Sered (Until We Reckon). Their books on U.S. incarceration and its historical genesis, its current state, and new ways of looking at violence in our communities has served as inspirational and clarifying for my own positions on our community.
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Eric grew up on the Southwest Side of Chicago, in 1995 at the age of 15 he was convicted of a double homicide and sentenced to Life Without the Possibility of Parole. In 2017 because of a US Supreme Court Decision (Miller v Alabama) Eric was sentenced to 60 years, with good time the sentence would be 30 years. Eric is a self taught artist who has donated many paintings to various non profits in an effort to give back in the only way he could. Since being resentenced Eric was able to be transferred to Kewanee Life Skills Reentry Center in April of 2021. He has dedicated himself to be as active as possible while at Kewanee. Eric writes and edits the Kewanee Horizon, a weekly newsletter dedicated to restorative justice and bringing positive news to those inside. The Illinois Department of Corrections, publishes the KH on their website as well as distributing the newsletter to all 28,000 incarcerated people in Illinois Prisons, through their tablets and kiosks. Currently Eric is working on a new program CMM - Credible Messengers Mentorship Program, in collaboration with Illinois Department ofJuvenile Justice (IDJJ) The program will focus on direct and engagement with those incarcerated in Kewanee and young people in the IDJJ. The goal is to use their life experience in a way that can provide insight and inspiration to the young people in IDJJ. Eric has participate in the creation organization and implementation of the program as well as being a peer mentor. Eric hopes upon his release in May of 2023 he will be able to continue the program from the outside.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Contact: Davon Clark, Communications Manager Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation dclark@pbmr.org At Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation (PBMR), we are rooted in the belief that every person is created in the image of God and deserving of dignity, safety, and belonging . In this moment of heightened fear and uncertainty following the deployment of federal agents and National Guard troops in our city, we reaffirm our steadfast commitment toward those values. Our dignity and sense of safety should never be determined by our legal status . We know from experience that true safety does not come from the sword, but from the relationship we forge with one another. Our communities long for peace, but a peace that is built through trust, opportunity, and a sense of belonging . The increased militarization in our neighborhoods risks deepening fear and trauma among families already struggling to heal from generations of violence, poverty, and marginalization. PBMR stands in solidarity with all who seek justice and peace through nonviolence, dialogue, and accompaniment . We will continue to open our doors to those in need and walk alongside our neighbors, especially those most marginalized. We call upon all leaders to remember the sacred dignity of every person, to act with compassion and restraint, and to prioritize approaches that restore rather than divide. Together, we can choose a path rooted not in fear, but in unity and the wellbeing of every person . ##
I used to joke that when Sr. Donna retired, she’d have one final Mother’s Circle, in which she'd move from mother to mother, laying hands and pronouncing, “healed.” And it would be so. My time as a Precious Blood Volunteer at PBMR had ended before that bittersweet day came, so I guess I can only presume that that’s not what happened at that last gathering. But one of the things that PBMR taught me was that this vision of a quick fix does a disservice to the beauty and profundity of the healing journey. A conversation with Catherine, a mother in PBMR’s Family Forward program, played a key role in shaping that understanding. I interviewed Catherine as a part of producing the first season of PBMR’s podcast, Together We Heal , which gave me the opportunity to interview multiple mothers involved in Family Forward. We'd originally met at PBMR’s Spare Some Love Bowl-a-Thon. We were on the same team, but amid the strobe lights and ultraviolet glow of the alley, the conversation and clamor of the surrounding lanes, and the constant rotation of turns as we played, we hadn’t talked much. We met to record in PBMR’s music studio: a cozy space with blankets on the ceiling that help prevent echoes. I had DIY-ed a podcast set-up, placing two microphones on the small circular table that was in the room and placing foam panels between them for sound quality (and, if I’m being honest, aesthetics). When we sat down, I started recording, welcomed Catherine to the show, and asked how she became involved with Family Forward. This introductory question, meant to ease us into the conversation, plunged us into heavier topics when Catherine responded by explaining that her son had been shot (thankfully, he survived). That story, though, was paired with a recounting of the accompaniment she received from PBMR, and the themes of love and community continued throughout the interview. You can listen to our conversation here .
In the afternoon of August 27th, after a gunman opened fire on students and staff of Annunciation Catholic School, where 2 children were killed and 18 children and 3 adults (in their 80’s) were wounded, the principal of the school took the microphone. You could feel the impact of what had just happened in his words; his voice quivered with deep emotion as he spoke. He quoted an African proverb: “when you pray, move your feet.” I am guessing in his heart were the countless individuals and communities who reached out to express their prayers and thoughts. I am guessing, too, that he chose that quote to express his deep desire that, while prayers and good thoughts are important, action is needed. The gun debate comes up each time there is a tragedy such as the Annunciation school shooting. There are those who want to limit gun purchases with background checks and limiting access to assault weapons and the like. Others don’t feel guns are the issue at all. In fact, there are calls for more guns: arming teachers, armed security guards in schools, etc. And while this debate continues, children ready themselves with shooter drills, and administrators fortify the school. I am sure many parents have hard conversations with their children. Amid it all, little is done. In the time since starting this reflection two more shootings have taken place at schools in Colorado and Utah. There will be another shooting, and the debate will ignite once again. Recently, I attended a trial of two young brothers accused of killing a mother of two small children. The trial lasted four days and the family of the young woman killed heard the detailed description of the killing. The pain of losing their daughter, sister and mother was engraved on their faces. The young men sat quietly as they were portrayed as heartless killers. In his book Cherished Belonging , Fr. Greg Boyle SJ writes, “surely we can hold something as horrible and not make monsters out of anyone.” He goes on to say that we do not make progress when we demonize. As I sat in that courtroom, the pain of what happened filled the room. The tear-soaked faces of both the families were visible. Both families suffered. The devastation was palpable. The young men received their sentences: 34 years for the young brother who was not convicted of the shooting and 60 years for the older brother. The courtroom emptied in silence. Both families left to deal on their own with the devastation of losing their loved ones. Precious Blood spirituality calls us to stand amid such pain, tension and conflict and not give in to hurling stones at one another. The power of the spirituality of the Precious Blood is that we can hold that pain without inflicting more pain. When we are willing to hold the pain or the conflict and treat one another with respect – even while we strongly disagree – there is a possibility of positive action. Answers may not come easily, but a pathway forward becomes more visible. It may take longer than we are comfortable with, but if we tend to the relationships and not just hold on to our side of the issue, ways forward become possible. Nathaniel Samuel reminds us in his book, “When Stories Wound,” that we have always had strong disagreements. There has always been polarization in society, but what has changed is the narratives we create around the ones we disagree with. Today, more than ever it seems, we dehumanize the other side, thus making it easier to do them harm. Stereotypes deny the complex story that each one of us carries. Samuel reminds us that deep narratives make their appeal not just to our minds, but more importantly to our emotions. He says that strong feelings like anger, suspicion, denial and hate emerge. Precious Blood spirituality is a spirituality of interconnectedness. When one suffers, we all suffer. It calls us to seek first understanding and relationship and then, and only then, break open the pathway forward. Fr. David Kelly, C.PP.S. Executive Director, Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation
by Fr. Denny Kinderman, C.PP.S.
by Sr. Donna Liette, C.PP.S.
Along with many others around the world, PBMR is saddened by the death of Pope Francis. His example and unwavering love and support of the poor and marginalized of the world will remain with all of us as an example of faithful living. Especially close to his heart were incarcerated men, women and children. While we will miss his tireless advocacy of the marginalized, his example should be a call to all of us to stand for those who are most vulnerable.
Recognizing the inherent dignity of each person, The Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation (PBMR) stands with all people advocating for the rights of immigrants and asylum seekers. We believe in the humanity and goodness of all people and continue to work to build a greater understanding and stronger relationships between people and the community. I recall the words of Cardinal Blasé Cupich who reminds us that many of, if not most of, the residents of Chicago were once immigrants. He writes, “We are proud of our legacy of immigration that continues in our day to renew the city we love. This is a moment to be honest about who we are. There is not a person in Chicago, save the Indigenous people, who has not benefited from this legacy.” We call on all those in positions of power and all of us to act with compassion and recognize humanity in each other. We ask policy makers and government officials to remember their call to protect the most vulnerable in our community including immigrants and their families. We pray for all those who are scared, lonely, and afraid that they find comfort and hope. Together let us work toward a more beloved community. Together let us take a step closer to the Kingdom of God, where all are welcome. Fr. David Kelly, C.PP.S. Executive Director Further Reading: Resources for Migrant Families in Chicago Statements from Cardinal Blasé Cupich, Archdiocese of Chicago Statement of Solidarity from United States Conference of Catholic Bishops
Surely, we can all agree that we live in a divided nation and, unfortunately, an often times divided Church. No matter what side of the fence you are on, you can feel the stress and strain of a world at odds – divided. Truthfully, I have stopped watching much national news because there seems to be a market for bickering and name calling. We have always had diƯering opinions and beliefs, but it seems the language, which so often leads to action, has become more violent. I write these words on the day in which we celebrate the legacy and teachings of Martin Luther King Jr. King didn’t just teach a strategy of peacemaking and nonviolence, his life demonstrated the power of, and a commitment to, the principle of nonviolence – a spirituality of peacemaking . His life reflected the African principle of “ubuntu” – I am what I am because of who we all are.” I am reading Fr. Greg Boyle’s new book, Cherished Belonging, the Healing Power of Love in Divided Times. In it he says that there are two principles that undergird his work: 1) Everybody is unshakably good (no exceptions) and 2) We belong to each other (no exceptions.) He says that these two principles help us to roll up our sleeves and get things done. I have had the privilege of working in both the Cook County Juvenile Detention Center and jail here in Chicago for well over 40 years. In that time, I have sat with many individuals who have committed horrible acts of violence. I have also regularly sat with families and persons who have experienced great harm, horrible acts of violence against them. Many never recover from the trauma. When I go to court, I have a front row seat of a system that embraces an adversarial stance and sees the world as black and white: good - bad, right - wrong, winner - looser. And when all is said and done and the courts have had their say, those impacted are left find their own way through the pain and trauma . You can see it as they leave the courtroom. I have also had the privilege of being in spaces where those harmed sit with those who did the harm – from simple property cases to homicide. I have seen what can happen when there is an emphasis on relationship and wholeness verses punishment and isolation. When we see one another as God sees us – son/daughter, sister/brother, we begin to make our way toward healing and understanding. Fr. Greg Boyle says, “Surely we can’t we hold something as horrible and still not make monsters out of anyone.” “Demonizing”, he says, “keeps us from solutions”.iii It seems that during these times, both in our nation and in our world, we need to reflect upon the notion that we belong to one another. That a harm to one is a harm to all of us. We need to stop demonizing one another and come up with solutions. Last night I was in the Juvenile Detention Center and, as I often do, asked a young man what community he came from? He hesitated, so I asked again thinking he didn’t hear me. Again, he hesitated and then shared with me that he was homeless and so bounced from one place to another, house to house whoever would allow him to sleep on a couch or on the floor – until, of course, they grew tired of him. The answer to my question was that he came from no community. This is what happens when we are so busy placing blame and demonizing one another. This can only happen when fail to each person as unshakably good; it can only happen when we fail to believe that we belong to one another. We enter the Jubilee Year of “Pilgrims of Hope”. As a people, as community, as a congregation, let it be more than a slogan. Let it be our commitment. No exceptions.
New Beginnings: Eric's Story
"Our Precious Blood spirituality call and challenges us to be instruments of healing in our fractured world."
