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From the torture chamber where He was
mercilessly flogged; to the streets of Jerusalem where an angry crowd
mocked and spat at him; to the mountain called Golgotha where he was
stripped of his clothes and dignity and crucified on the cross; to
the tomb where he was laid still embraced by the darkness of death;
Jesus waited in patience and hope for the early rays of dawn. And as
surely as the sunrise on that glorious dawn, he opened his eyes to
welcome the light that first shone within and now gloriously shone
outside the tomb. It was still dark in the tomb but not for long.
Light which was the fire that shatters darkness was also the energy
that pushed open the stone door of the tomb.
There were those who nurtured hope in him. They too waited and they were there, Mary Magdalene, Peter and John. They believed in Him and their faith made them walk in hope towards the tomb. They reached the tomb only to find the stone blocking the tomb moved away. They entered, saw and believed.
Jesus, as Scripture prophesized would suffered, died and rise from the dead. He like all human beings experienced and shared our mortality. His mortality was not an ordinary experience. He suffered and suffered profoundly. He experienced both a physical and spiritual thirst. He felt the depths of loneliness that made him cry out, "My God, My God why have you forsaken me?" His generous life, overflowing with kindness and love finally reached up and surrendered to His Father, "Into your hands I commend my spirit." He hurriedly gasped as his breath quickly slipped and grew fainter, and released his last prayer, "It is finished." With this he let go of a short but profoundly transforming life whose message in both word and deed would now spread through the power of his mysterious absence. His body was washed, then wrapped in white linen cloth. Finally He was laid on a hard and cold stone slab. A huge stone was be rolled across to seal the entrance. There in deathly silence and stillness he laid and waited.
Last Good Friday, I spent time listening to the reflections of seven soldiers who have been waiting and hoping behind bars. At the Crame Custodial Unit, the meaning of the Paschal mystery, of Jesus life, suffering, death and resurrection has taken a different color and meaning. Jesus stayed three days in the tomb. The tomb seemed like a prison which prevented those within to see what is beyond or outside. Likewise, those outside were blocked, prevented from seeing what is inside.
The long and interminable waiting behind bars seems like a protracted Good Friday, silent, sad, confused, frightened, exhausted and dark. I listened to seven soldiers who reflected on Jesus' seven last words and related these to their lives behind bars. There is no pretence to hide the pain and suffering of prolonged detention, six years for most of them. There is though a real, prayerful and honest effort to face the realities of detention to discover the hope hidden in the many obvious and subtle gaps.
Rabindranath Tagore in his book, "The Religion of Man" talks about "the bird" in Sanskrit language, as " ‘twice born', once in its limited shell and then finally in the freedom of the unbounded sky." (cf. Rabindranath Tagorem "The Religion of Man," Unwin Hyman Limited, 1988, p. 127)
The first birth takes awhile. Jesus public life took more than thirty years. The last three days of his life were fast, events happening in quick succession. In prison, time seems to stop. The temptation is to allow everything else to stop, including life itself. For many prisoners, this happens quickly. Time stops, hope dies. From the time of arrest and detention, time seems to freeze. There is no tomorrow nor today. There is only the sad memory of yesterday.
Prison seems to imprison everything. It imprisons time. It imprisons imagination, creativity, expansive thinking and deep feelings. Prison seems to brutalize and kill the human spirit reducing it to an animal who learns to survive from day to day, moment to moment.
Prison excludes and isolates its wards. The isolation breaks the basic communion with family, friends, colleagues and the rest of one's people and the rest of the world.
Prison takes away the livelihood from oneself and one's family. How many families would have fallen into poverty and even destitution, if not for wives or husbands, grandparents who found a way and a place in their hearts to take in the newly orphaned.
Prison invites frustration and worst, despair. Each day that passes without hope of an end to one's waiting, a resolution to one's case, frustration and despair begin to race each other.
Prison can finally end one's dreams and plans for oneself and especially others. For what can one do in prison? What is one allowed to do in prison? One was allowed to run as senator and won but he still has to see the day when he will be allowed to see and work in his office.
Yet mysteriously, while prison could do all these, it only does if the prisoner gives up and gives in to despair. Something happens when a prisoner begins to utter, "It is hopeless...I am hopeless...There is nothing more than this, nothing more beyond this...This is all there is. This is where I am and will be today, tomorrow and the coming days...I have nothing more to expect, nothing more to hope for. It is useless...it is easier, much easier not to hope and wait for something better."
Prison obviously offers captivity and slavery. But, it has and continues to offer freedom to some who have learned to find the grace kept hidden behind bars. Physical freedom is preceded by the fundamental freedom of the spirit or spiritual freedom. One is free when one's spirit wherever she or he is can soar to the sky and come back at will. No one and nothing can imprison the spirit. Jesus was arrested, imprisoned, tortured and executed on the cross. While all these took place, Jesus remained free. He was silent before Pilate who questioned him. He was silent before the jeering crowds. He was silent as he carried the cross to Calvary. He was silent most of the time as he hung dying from the cross. He spoke a few words but they were not words of a spirit crushed and imprisoned. They were words of a man who has gone beyond the prison of self and freely walked towards the infinite sky and seas of compassion and love.
I have listened to the reflections of seven prisoners whose words and lives are overflowing with communion, generosity, sacrifice, vision; creativity, and solidarity. These men have chosen to hope instead of despair; believe instead of surrender to darkness. Mysteriously, detention has made them more keenly aware of who they are and why they are in prison. Nelson Mandela once said,
"I was made, by the law, a criminal, not because of what I have done, but because of what I stood for, because of what I thought, because of my conscience. Can it be any wonder to anybody that such conditions make a man an outlaw of society?" (cf. Nelson Mandela, An Illustrated Autobiography, p. 106)
Jesus after his arrest seemed to have grown more and more silent. After my arrest and during my imprisonment with the soldiers of the Crame Custodial Unit, I with them learned to withdraw into the redemptive silence of prayer and reflection. Mandela's twenty seven years in prison made him see what he could not have seen outside. He saw his government trying to destroy him. He also saw his spirit, his mind, heart and conscience and realized who he was and what he was called to do.
Jesus was innocent of the charges brought against him. He was unjustly condemned and put to death. The state in collusion with the church committed a grave crime against an innocent man. How many innocents are charged, condemned, imprisoned and even put to death by the State with institutions in silent collusion and collaboration?
Jesus drew strength from his constant connection with the Father. He prayed constantly and taught that my Father and I are one. He knew his Father's will and fulfilled it. Jesus life stayed on course. His faith in the Father was the source of his hope. In a way he did not need hope because he was in constant communion with the Father. What he hoped for was already realized in the depths of his soul. Jesus' solid faith, the constant presence of the Father in his life, was his foundation.
Behind bars, prisoners who believe are able to see beyond. Jesus always saw more than others around him. Is prison then the end, the utmost limits of our being and becoming? The answer is clear in the mystery of the Resurrection. The answer is clear in the mystery of the lives of those who find something more, something bigger than their tiny prison cells. Jesus' Resurrection makes us see through and beyond our mortality and weakness. Jesus' last words before he died and more, his Resurrection give us the grace, the capacity to see and hope beyond bars.
Photo "Behind Bars " by Rakesh Ashok_free on flickr; licensed under Creative Commons License BY-ND-2.0.
There were those who nurtured hope in him. They too waited and they were there, Mary Magdalene, Peter and John. They believed in Him and their faith made them walk in hope towards the tomb. They reached the tomb only to find the stone blocking the tomb moved away. They entered, saw and believed.
Jesus, as Scripture prophesized would suffered, died and rise from the dead. He like all human beings experienced and shared our mortality. His mortality was not an ordinary experience. He suffered and suffered profoundly. He experienced both a physical and spiritual thirst. He felt the depths of loneliness that made him cry out, "My God, My God why have you forsaken me?" His generous life, overflowing with kindness and love finally reached up and surrendered to His Father, "Into your hands I commend my spirit." He hurriedly gasped as his breath quickly slipped and grew fainter, and released his last prayer, "It is finished." With this he let go of a short but profoundly transforming life whose message in both word and deed would now spread through the power of his mysterious absence. His body was washed, then wrapped in white linen cloth. Finally He was laid on a hard and cold stone slab. A huge stone was be rolled across to seal the entrance. There in deathly silence and stillness he laid and waited.
Last Good Friday, I spent time listening to the reflections of seven soldiers who have been waiting and hoping behind bars. At the Crame Custodial Unit, the meaning of the Paschal mystery, of Jesus life, suffering, death and resurrection has taken a different color and meaning. Jesus stayed three days in the tomb. The tomb seemed like a prison which prevented those within to see what is beyond or outside. Likewise, those outside were blocked, prevented from seeing what is inside.
The long and interminable waiting behind bars seems like a protracted Good Friday, silent, sad, confused, frightened, exhausted and dark. I listened to seven soldiers who reflected on Jesus' seven last words and related these to their lives behind bars. There is no pretence to hide the pain and suffering of prolonged detention, six years for most of them. There is though a real, prayerful and honest effort to face the realities of detention to discover the hope hidden in the many obvious and subtle gaps.
Rabindranath Tagore in his book, "The Religion of Man" talks about "the bird" in Sanskrit language, as " ‘twice born', once in its limited shell and then finally in the freedom of the unbounded sky." (cf. Rabindranath Tagorem "The Religion of Man," Unwin Hyman Limited, 1988, p. 127)
The first birth takes awhile. Jesus public life took more than thirty years. The last three days of his life were fast, events happening in quick succession. In prison, time seems to stop. The temptation is to allow everything else to stop, including life itself. For many prisoners, this happens quickly. Time stops, hope dies. From the time of arrest and detention, time seems to freeze. There is no tomorrow nor today. There is only the sad memory of yesterday.
Prison seems to imprison everything. It imprisons time. It imprisons imagination, creativity, expansive thinking and deep feelings. Prison seems to brutalize and kill the human spirit reducing it to an animal who learns to survive from day to day, moment to moment.
Prison excludes and isolates its wards. The isolation breaks the basic communion with family, friends, colleagues and the rest of one's people and the rest of the world.
Prison takes away the livelihood from oneself and one's family. How many families would have fallen into poverty and even destitution, if not for wives or husbands, grandparents who found a way and a place in their hearts to take in the newly orphaned.
Prison invites frustration and worst, despair. Each day that passes without hope of an end to one's waiting, a resolution to one's case, frustration and despair begin to race each other.
Prison can finally end one's dreams and plans for oneself and especially others. For what can one do in prison? What is one allowed to do in prison? One was allowed to run as senator and won but he still has to see the day when he will be allowed to see and work in his office.
Yet mysteriously, while prison could do all these, it only does if the prisoner gives up and gives in to despair. Something happens when a prisoner begins to utter, "It is hopeless...I am hopeless...There is nothing more than this, nothing more beyond this...This is all there is. This is where I am and will be today, tomorrow and the coming days...I have nothing more to expect, nothing more to hope for. It is useless...it is easier, much easier not to hope and wait for something better."
Prison obviously offers captivity and slavery. But, it has and continues to offer freedom to some who have learned to find the grace kept hidden behind bars. Physical freedom is preceded by the fundamental freedom of the spirit or spiritual freedom. One is free when one's spirit wherever she or he is can soar to the sky and come back at will. No one and nothing can imprison the spirit. Jesus was arrested, imprisoned, tortured and executed on the cross. While all these took place, Jesus remained free. He was silent before Pilate who questioned him. He was silent before the jeering crowds. He was silent as he carried the cross to Calvary. He was silent most of the time as he hung dying from the cross. He spoke a few words but they were not words of a spirit crushed and imprisoned. They were words of a man who has gone beyond the prison of self and freely walked towards the infinite sky and seas of compassion and love.
I have listened to the reflections of seven prisoners whose words and lives are overflowing with communion, generosity, sacrifice, vision; creativity, and solidarity. These men have chosen to hope instead of despair; believe instead of surrender to darkness. Mysteriously, detention has made them more keenly aware of who they are and why they are in prison. Nelson Mandela once said,
"I was made, by the law, a criminal, not because of what I have done, but because of what I stood for, because of what I thought, because of my conscience. Can it be any wonder to anybody that such conditions make a man an outlaw of society?" (cf. Nelson Mandela, An Illustrated Autobiography, p. 106)
Jesus after his arrest seemed to have grown more and more silent. After my arrest and during my imprisonment with the soldiers of the Crame Custodial Unit, I with them learned to withdraw into the redemptive silence of prayer and reflection. Mandela's twenty seven years in prison made him see what he could not have seen outside. He saw his government trying to destroy him. He also saw his spirit, his mind, heart and conscience and realized who he was and what he was called to do.
Jesus was innocent of the charges brought against him. He was unjustly condemned and put to death. The state in collusion with the church committed a grave crime against an innocent man. How many innocents are charged, condemned, imprisoned and even put to death by the State with institutions in silent collusion and collaboration?
Jesus drew strength from his constant connection with the Father. He prayed constantly and taught that my Father and I are one. He knew his Father's will and fulfilled it. Jesus life stayed on course. His faith in the Father was the source of his hope. In a way he did not need hope because he was in constant communion with the Father. What he hoped for was already realized in the depths of his soul. Jesus' solid faith, the constant presence of the Father in his life, was his foundation.
Behind bars, prisoners who believe are able to see beyond. Jesus always saw more than others around him. Is prison then the end, the utmost limits of our being and becoming? The answer is clear in the mystery of the Resurrection. The answer is clear in the mystery of the lives of those who find something more, something bigger than their tiny prison cells. Jesus' Resurrection makes us see through and beyond our mortality and weakness. Jesus' last words before he died and more, his Resurrection give us the grace, the capacity to see and hope beyond bars.
Photo "Behind Bars " by Rakesh Ashok_free on flickr; licensed under Creative Commons License BY-ND-2.0.
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