Reunited in Freedom
David Kelly • October 10, 2022
"Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete?"
Recently, a group of the PBMR staff and partners attended a conference in Washington DC. This gathering marked the ten-year anniversary of the 2012 Miller vs Alabama case, which overturned mandatory life sentences for juveniles.
Since hard-on-crime legislation, over 2,500 kids in our country received automatic sentences to die in prison—mandatory life without the possibility of parole. But after years without hope, the tides began to turn. In 2012 the US Supreme Court decision in Miller vs. Alabama deemed this type of sentence unconstitutional, and gave these now adults the hope of a resentencing. Since that decision, 950 men and women out of the 2500 have come home—a number of PBMR staff and community members being among them.
The gathering was sponsored by the Incarcerated Children Advocacy Network (ICAN), as a way to gather and celebrate the resilience and contribution that this community of formerly incarcerated men and women are making in the world today. PBMR’s Fred Weatherspoon and Harold "Mac" Hagerman were among those who traveled to Washington for this celebration. When asked about the experience, Fred shared, “I was choosing to take part due to my sentence of natural life that I received at the age of seventeen, as well as my work at PBMR as program manager for youth-based programs.” According to Fred, this was the first time an event such as this has happened in the US. Fred was struck by how life-giving and moving it was to be in the company of so many who had similar sentences as he did. Everyone understood each other.
“Being with community” he said, “with so many that have shared your journey, will be forever planted in my soul.”
It’s because of people like Fred, Mac, and countless others, that PBMR has become a gathering place – a safe place - for men and women who are returning home after spending time in prison. After spending decades in prison, it's amazing to see so many men and women come home, create a support system for one another, and carry such vigor to give of themselves
to their communities and to today’s youth. We are beyond blessed to have so many as a part of our PBMR family, and see how they make a difference in the lives of today’s youth and advocate for systems change.
These healers are all around us. This month, PBMR held its first healing circle for formerly incarcerated women—many having been inside for decades. Pamela, our restorative justice advocate and trainer, and Teresa Davenport, our Family Forward Housing Coordinator, helped create an incredibly welcoming and healing space for these women. Many not having seen each other since their days in prison, one could hear both laughter and tears as they shared their stories with one another.
Our spirituality calls us to remain hopeful in the midst of struggle and trauma. It is not the “Polyanna” type of hope – meant to sooth and gloss over – but the hope that slowly emerges deep within the stories of pain and trauma. The hope that resides even in the face of death, and allows us to move through our sorrow, with the promise that this is not the end, and we are not alone.
Thomas Merton maintains that conflict will always be a part of this human experience, but that beyond that suffering lives hope in the promise of transformation and healing. He remarks that we can allow God’s grace to seep into the crevices of our lives and make us into a new creation.
Let me close with, perhaps, an unlikely author - Tupac (Shakur):
Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature’s law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny is seems, but by keeping its dreams,
It learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
At the end of the day, as I reflect on the many difficult stories and realities, I am strengthened knowing that there are those who, in the midst of their own stories of pain, offer themselves to the world, and in allowing abundant grace to seep into their cracks, bring so much light and goodness
into the world.
“When we are willing to step outside our comfortable circles, we discover that God has been waiting for us there all along.”
“ It is difficult to hate someone whose story you know. ”
In an age marked by polarization, suspicion, and division, the greatest need in our world is not simply better arguments but deeper relationships.
“ A nation becomes stronger, not weaker, when it is willing to examine itself honestly. ”
“The first message of Jesus is that of compassion. Mission will follow.”
“We’re all doing the same work. We all have the same issues, but we all have our own approaches to the work, right? But turns out, it's one fight. This is one united front.”
“If we truly want safer communities and a more just society, then we must be willing to imagine and invest in a better way for everyone.”
“We learn from those who continue to love, even when they have been betrayed.”
"We all know love when we see it. All the rest are labels."
Advent always begins in darkness. It tells the truth about the world as it is— a world where violence wounds lives and communities, where incarceration separates families, and where fear too often speaks louder than hope. And yet, Advent also insists that the story does not end in darkness. For those who live under the weight of isolation— for survivors of violence, for their families, for communities whose resources are stretched thin— the promise of Advent is not a naïve denial of pain. It is a quiet, steady flame that refuses to go out. This season reminds us that God does not wait for the world to be tidy or whole before drawing near. God comes into the places where the night is longest— into prison cells and courtrooms, into hospital waiting rooms, into homes where grief has taken up residence— and whispers, “I am here.” Advent hope is not passive. It is the hope that allows us to take the next step, to believe that healing is possible, to accompany one another with tenderness and courage. It is the hope that teaches us to look for light before we can see it fully. As we move through this season, may we honor the truth of the darkness without being claimed by it. May we carry hope not as a fragile wish, but as a reason to continue— a reason to keep showing up, to keep loving, to keep believing that God’s dawn is already on its way. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. Amen.
Reimagining Justice in Illinois: A Restorative Justice Blueprint for Illinois’ Criminal Legal System
The following text is an excerpt from an article of the same title, first published on the RJHubs website by Karlyn Boens. Joe’s story brought these themes to life on a human scale. “I never had a chance to be a kid,” he shared. Growing up in constant survival mode, childhood was something he had to skip to stay alive. At PBMR, he experienced something different: “I could let my hair down. I discovered I was good at talking to people.” What Joe encountered was radical hospitality and accompaniment—restorative practices that rarely appear in legislation or policy yet quietly transform lives every day. Where systems had seen risk, PBMR saw relationship. Where institutions had offered surveillance, PBMR offered presence and belonging. His story illustrated what it looks like when the human rights lens is made concrete: a space where connection, dignity, and possibility are not conditional, but assumed. This conversation captures what restorative justice demands of us in Illinois. It is not about launching more programs or pilots. It is about: A paradigm shift in how we understand safety A culture shift in how institutions wield power A system shift in how decisions are made, data is collected, and accountability is defined Imagine an Illinois where: Human rights guide decision-making Restorative justice is the standard, not the exception Communities lead the healing Data includes lived experience, not just charges and convictions Redemption is not selective Adults are not excluded from restoration And every child has the chance to just be a child This panel did not hand us easy answers. Instead, it offered an invitation—a call to build the ecosystem our communities have been waiting for, one relationship, one policy, one practice at a time.
I remember that as a kid, I struggled with the notion of Original Sin. I am not sure if it was the way it was taught or my simple mind, but I thought it unfair to slap a sin on a newborn child. Today, I understand it not as a personal fault or sin, but that a child is born into a wounded world. How many times have we said that our youth today have a lot more to deal than we did? Our society is wounded; it is ill, and, dare I say, sinful. That is not a Democrat or Republican thing; not right or left’ it is all us contributing to a world in which too many are suffering. The other day, at the Cook County Juvenile Temporary Detention Center, I was talking with a young man of only 15 years old who told me he had been in over 20 different group homes and foster homes. Another young man who comes to the PBMR Center almost daily says he had been in 14 different schools before his high school years. When asked why, he responded that his mother was unable to keep up with all the bills. “We kept being put out with nowhere to go.” So often, the focus is on the individual faults or failings: a mother unable to care properly for her children, single parent families, and so on, but we overlook the societal sins that wreak havoc on families and communities; the fact that so many have so much, and others struggle to make do from day to day. Pope Leo XIV has recently put out an Apostolic Exhortation ─ a Pope’s call to the faithful for virtue ─ entitled Dilexi Te , or “ I have loved you. ” It is a continuation of the Encyclical ─ a stronger call from the Pope to all bishops of the Church ─ that Pope Francis wrote, Dilexit Nos , or “ He loved us. ” In this, Pope Leo’s first exhortation, he states that the “love of the Lord, then, is one with the love of the poor.” Explaining his choice of that name, Pope Francis related how, after his election, a Cardinal friend of his embraced him, kissed him, and told him, “Do not forget the poor.” He obviously took that to heart in choosing the name Francis after St. Francis of Assisi. Our love for one another brings us closer to a God who is love. Pope Leo says, “the poor are not just people to be helped, but the sacramental presence of the Lord.” For my entire priesthood, I have worked on the South Side of Chicago, the jails, the Detention Center, and with those who suffer violence. I can say that of all education, formation and teaching, nothing has brought me closer to the love of God than those who are suffering incarceration and poverty. Today, we hear of the plight of those who have come to this country seeking a better life. We can argue about policy; we can argue about secure borders; but we cannot deny that the gospel and all of scripture compels us to love the stranger among us. The call of the Church has been to accompany the migrant. My own congregation came to the US accompanying the German immigrants who came to this country in search of a better life. Fr. Greg Boyle, Jesuit priest, shares in his book, “ Cherished Belonging, ” that there are two parades the day Jesus enters Jerusalem. There is Pilate and his show of military power and force, heading to Jerusalem from the west. Then, there’s Jesus, on a small donkey humbly entering the city from the east. Jesus’ trek and mission displays a way of life whose hallmarks are inclusion, nonviolence, unconditional loving, kindness, and compassionate acceptance. The parade of warhorses announces the threat of violent force, coercion, and the oppression of the poor. The “triumphant” entrance of Jesus is not an indictment, but an invitation. Village transcending tribe. Jesus doesn’t draw lines, He erases them. (Boyle, p. 87-88) Martin Luther King’s last book was called “ Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos or Community? ” We find our way out of chaos and its dispiriting tribalism by standing against forgetting that we belong to one another. (Boyle, p. 89) There is an Irish saying: “It is in the shelter of each other that people live.” As Christians ─ as believers ─ we are called to be shelter for one another. We are called to believe that no one is born evil; that all are created in the image of the One who is love. Pope Leo is calling us to be mindful of the migrant; to remember our own origin as a church and the gospel mandate to love our sisters and brothers – no exception. In his writing, Pope Leo says very clearly, “The Church has always recognized in migrants a living presence of the Lord who, on the day of judgement, will say to those on his right, ‘I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.’ (Mt 25:35) We should not forget who we are and in whose shelter we live.
