(Homily for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on January 27, 2019, Third Sunday after Epiphany)
Released
Jason had just moved into a new
home with two new housemates. His
first day there, Tamiko, one of his housemates, invited him to go to the gym
with her.
“I get there and we have to take
our shoes and socks off,” Jason recalls, laughing. “And I’m like, oh no, she got me into yoga. She tricked me.”
Just the day before Jason had
been released from the prison where he had lived for more than decade. It wasn’t just the yoga that took him
aback. It was freedom. It was this normal,
hanging-out-with-roommates kind of life—which had never been normal for him.
Jason and his housemates are part
of a revolutionary nonprofit program called The Homecoming Project, based in
Alameda County, California, which carefully screens prisoners who have been
released after long sentences and pairs suitable candidates with homeowners and
renters who volunteer to participate in the experiment. The Homecoming Project pays the former
convicts’ rent for six months and actively supports their partnership with the
volunteer housemates.
The motivation behind The
Homecoming Project is the fact that many prisoners pay a penalty far beyond
their days behind bars. Leaving
prison doesn’t necessarily mean a release from captivity, as ex-inmates meet
regularly with suspicion and rejection in their search for a job, for a
community of support, for a home.
For many, re-entry is an alienating experience, and it’s not long before
they’ve returned to their old way of life.
Jason acknowledges the ease with
which he would have fallen back into old habits if it hadn’t been for Project
Homecoming—even if he was unconvinced at first. “I was like, man, this feel[s] like adult foster care,” he
shares, “like I’m getting adopted again.
Going into a stranger’s household, getting judged all over again. [But] now I feel kind of weird even
saying we’re in a ‘program’ because it doesn’t feel like that. I think we just have a really strong
friendship.”
The Homecoming Project’s
organizers say that it’s this relationship and this model of life that make
possible the released prisoner’s re-entry. For someone who’s been out of society for over ten years,
and perhaps never knew healthy community in the first place, the experience is
revolutionary. One organizer puts
it this way: “They’re in the community, in someone’s home, able to watch how
they buy groceries, clean their home, live a normal life, get up [and] go to
work and come home and enjoy a TV show.”
For Jason, it’s not just about a
place to live. It’s a home. This past Christmas, he celebrated with
his housemates and their family.
“Honestly,” he says, “if it wasn’t for this situation and the sacrifices
and things that [my housemates] do, I don’t know exactly how far along I would
be. I’m only able to start work
and do all this stuff because of that assistance that they gave me immediately
when I got out.”[1]
Captivity
The first thing Jesus does when
he begins his ministry, according to Luke, is to proclaim good news. And good news, for Jesus, means release
from captivity. He addresses his
good news to the poor, the blind, and the oppressed, because they all know what
it means to be captive. For
captivity means more than a pair of chains around your wrist.
The church has traditionally done
an excellent job of interpreting Jesus’ proclamation in an inward, spiritual
way. In other words, it points out
to us that captivity doesn’t just mean the people living behind bars. It can also refer to us, to our
spiritual condition. And so, not
surprisingly, we have made ourselves
the recipients of Jesus’ good news.
And I wouldn’t want to take anything away from that, because our
captivity is probably truer than we would like to think—we who can purchase
items with the click of a button, move money with a swipe of our finger, and
watch television in the palm of our hands; we whose lives are characterized by
the word “unlimited,” from “unlimited” minutes and data, to unlimited salad and
fries. We would do well to
remember that in our growing material freedom, we are in many ways becoming spiritually
enslaved, whether to money, technology, or simply our growing sense of pride
and privilege.
If all that we hear in today’s
gospel reading is Jesus proclaiming release to us, calling us away from the
things that control our lives, then that would be plenty enough to chew
on. But I wonder if there’s not
even more for us here. Because as
believers, we are not simply the audience who hears his good news. We are followers. Jesus calls us to follow him, to proclaim the good news—which, in a
nutshell, is “to proclaim release [for] the captives.”
And as Jason knows all too well,
“release [for] the captives” means a whole lot more than leaving your jail
cell. Because a lot more holds a
prisoner captive than a set of bars and a link of chains. For Jason, captivity also means the
misperceptions, fear, and shame that continue to confine many ex-convicts upon
release. Captivity means being
turned down, job after job.
Captivity means being turned down for a loan or a mortgage. Captivity means the bad habits that you
fall back into when there’s no one to give you a hand up. Captivity means the addictions and the
negative influences that fill the void when nothing else will. Captivity means anything that stands in
the way of a new life.
For Jason, then, “release [for]
the captives” means not just walking out of prison. It means being given a chance. It means an employer who will give him a chance at a job,
housemates who will give him a chance at a home, friends who will give him a
chance at community and healthy habits.
Giving a Chance, Taking a Chance
I like Jason’s story so much
because it pushes the gospel to the limit. It gives the good news teeth. It shows me what’s really going on in “release [for] the
captives.” What Jesus means is
made real here. “Release [for] the
captives” means giving the poor, the disfavored, the accused, the incarcerated,
the condemned a chance. And not a chance to prove themselves. That’s how the world thinks, and it’s
all too willing to strike someone off the list again, despite the odds being
stacked against them in the first place.
If Jesus’ life is any indication, “release [for] the captives” is not
giving folks a chance to prove themselves, but
a chance to have life. The
world writes people off: the poor are so because they are lazy; the tax
collectors are so because they are greedy; the sinners and prostitutes are so
because they have willfully chosen that lifestyle. But Jesus gives pride of place to the poor, stays in the
homes of tax collectors, eats and drinks with sinners and prostitutes, because
they are all blessed and beloved children of God, whom God wants to have
life.
Make no mistake, giving others a
chance means taking a chance. Love
always entails risk. Risk is the
thorn on the rose. Jason’s story,
an extreme test case, shows us the risk.
I wonder: would I be willing to welcome an ex-convict to live with
me? To share my kitchen? To invite his friends over? And yet with that risk has come
immeasurable life, for Jason and for his housemates. Giving folks a chance for life, giving flesh to God’s
justice in its most incomprehensible shape—mercy—this is what breaks the cycles
of victimhood, retribution, suffering, and this is what gives sight to our
blind eyes, showing us that others are indeed blessed and beloved children of
God too.
The Captives in Our Lives
But Jason’s story is only the
outer limit. The church is right
to spiritualize captivity, for imprisonment goes far beyond prison. There are many stories less extreme
than Jason’s. Our coworker with
the bad attitude. Our friend who
is overly dependent on us, who is always the victim. Our elderly who no longer can care for themselves. The homeless whom we serve alongside
Rhonda and her Blessing Warriors.
They can all be captive—to our quiet judgment and dismissal, which may
invite them deeper into the captivity of hurtful coping habits. Like Jason, they may not wear chains or
live behind bars, but they are still bound by misunderstanding, fear, and
shame, unable to enter into the fuller life of community.
I think especially of the L’Arche
community, which celebrates friendship with persons who have intellectual
disabilities. Many of these
persons with intellectual disabilities know all too well the judgment of the
world on them: that they are incapable, that they are a burden, that they are
an unwelcome disruption. Many of
them retreat from the world, physically and emotionally, captives of the shame
and criticism of others. But in
the L’Arche community, they encounter Christ’s good news of release for the
captives. They receive not
judgment but the embrace and welcome of others. They are not shamed but rather empowered to know themselves
as beloved and blessed children of God.
And over time they blossom in the freedom and begin to share themselves
in the most tender and life-giving ways.
And the good news goes both
ways. Again and again, I have
heard the same story from friends of L’Arche: that when they set their doubt
and hesitation aside and enter into community with persons of intellectual disability,
their eyes are opened. As they
give these folks a chance for life, whether that means just sharing a meal with
them or playing a game with them or going to a dance with them, they also find
a more vibrant life themselves. I
can attest to this. Every week
when I walk with the L’Arche community, I feel a freedom myself: I don’t need
put forward an image, I don’t need to measure up to some expectation. I simply come as I am and receive hugs
and smiles and laughter. They give
me a chance too—not a chance to prove myself, but a chance to have life, and
abundantly.
Prayer
Lord of liberation,
Whose good news goes out
To the disfavored and the accused:
In a world that judges and shames,
Make us ministers of your love
That proclaims release for the captives,
And gives them a chance for life.
In Christ, in whose love we are all
Beloved and blessed children of God.
Amen.
[1] Eric
Westervelt, “From a Cell to a Home: Newly Released Inmates Matched with
Welcoming Hosts,” https://www.npr.org/2019/01/16/684135395/from-a-cell-to-a-home-ex-inmates-find-stability-with-innovative-program,
accessed January 21, 2019.
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