Bob Sold Out, Martin and Moses Didn't

I read an article this week about Bob Dylan taking his tour on the road all the way to China. In order for Dylan to perform there he had to agree to strict government censorship of his songs. He agreed to abstain from performing “Blowin’ in the Wind”, “The Times They Are A Changing”, “Chimes of Freedom”, “Desolation Row”, and “Hard Rains Gonna Fall”. For the opportunity to finally perform in the world’s most populated country, Bob sold out.



What’s left to believe in now that Bob gave up his message for a show? Like the little boy who ran into “Shoeless Joe” Jackson on the street shortly after his lifetime ban from baseball was announced by Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis, I want to run up to Bob and cry out “say it ain’t so Bob; say it ain’t so”.


Selling out is a funny human trait. We abhor it, yet we tolerate it, we expect it and worst of all, we do it. In here, selling out comes in a couple of different forms: being a snitch is one noticeable one. Buddying up to the officers, ratting out a fellow inmate to make your life easier is wrong. The job of the prison staff is to maintain order and discipline. The job of the inmate is to do their sentence. It is not the inmate’s job to police the compound.


Another sell out is the way guys react to this environment. You should never get comfortable in here. Too many men in her consider this place home. This is not home. This is a government imposed penalty; a court sanctioned “time out” in effect. Everything an inmate is given was fought for and eventually conceded to as a means of maintaining security, discipline and control.


Prisons are in place to house inmates. They aren’t places for treatment or rehabilitation, at least not as they are currently structured. It is the responsibility of the incarcerated to do their sentence and to challenge the status quo, the “that’s just the way things are done” attitude that permeates DOC when “the way things are done” is unjust.


This past week the English students were assigned Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s, “Letter from the Birmingham Jail”. Forty students; twenty-two African American, eighteen white and not one of them had ever been exposed to the letter before this week. As I’ve written before in this blog, there is perhaps no other single piece of writing by any American clergyman that as profoundly and persuasively spells out the moral obligation of Christians to challenge injustice.


To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas: “An unjust law is a human law that is not rated in eternal law and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust.”


I broke the law. The Commonwealth of Virginia has the absolute right to set a just punishment for my law breaking. The Commonwealth doe not; however, have the right to operate an unjust sentencing apparatus and prison system. And, there can be no mistaking this simple fact: Virginia’s prison system degrades the men and women it holds. The system is unjust.


“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”


What does Dr. King mean by that? He means that everyone, especially people of faith, should care how a state punishes those who break the law. It is the moral responsibility of every person of faith to ensure that justice is done – even to those who break the law.


As I said earlier, guys in here sell out regularly. They feel hopeless. They see a system that not only has deprived them of their basic freedom, but then continues to break them down. They believe the system is rigged, that the poor, the uneducated, the nonwhite, receive harsher more frequent sentences.


And they see me and they are amazed of the harsh, unjust sentence I received and they wonder “what did you do to deserve being treated like us?” And they ask “how can you still have hope?” Simple, I tell them. Because in a dark, lonely cell God saved my life and told me He loved me. And my God is a God of justice and He is stronger than any prison, any prejudice, any predicament.


The Apostle Paul commanded believers to:


“Remember the prisoners, as though in prison with them, and those who are ill-treated, since you yourselves are also in the body.”


Remember the prisoners –


If the Commonwealth takes your freedom then they must provide an adequate, nutritious diet;


The Commonwealth must provide adequate, competent medical care for inmates;


The Commonwealth must provide adequate personal mental health, drug and alcohol treatment programs for those in prison;


The Commonwealth must provide meaningful access to rehabilitative programs and give inmates a just opportunity for early release and restoration of their rights as citizens.


Disparity in sentencing must be eliminated.


This past week my Old Testament lessons were from the Exodus. As I sat here each morning I pondered the story. We all know the ending, but the story itself, how Moses – a murderer – went to the leader of a powerful nation and delivered a simple message, “God says let my people go”. The Egyptians, under their “rule of law” had every right to hold the Israelites. They scoffed at Moses. The Bible even goes so far as to say “Pharaoh’s heart harden”. Over and over, God sent signs. Over and over, Moses repeated “let my people go”.


This coming week, the Jewish inmates here will celebrate the Passover as a reminder that God is a God of justice. He demands the same from us.


Bob sold out. Martin and Moses didn’t and there are 40,000 incarcerated people in Virginia that can rest assured that justice will be done.


Remember the prisoners. Remember the Exodus. Remember justice.