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Hospitality to the Imprisoned ˜ 183
Jay Frazier remembers painfully the 1975 murder of his brother Lenny. He
continues to grieve as well for his cousin Ron, who spent seven years on death
row and who now serves a life sentence for the murder. “It was a bad thing,” says
Jay. “But killing Ron—or even hating him—wouldn’t bring my brother back.”
Al Smith, a member of our family for two years, was murdered at Samaritan
House downtown. Jesse Goodwin (“Goatman”), who ate breakfast with us
nearly every morning, was beaten to death in a used-car lot on Edgewood Avenue.
Our friend Greg Jordan was doused with gasoline and burned to death
behind a labor pool on Ponce de Leon. Ed corresponds regularly with Greg’s
murderer. A dear friend and soup-kitchen volunteer struggles daily with the horrible
memory of her daughter’s brutal murder in Florida. And just this month,
Mary Frances, a regular in our soup kitchen, was murdered in an alleyway, her
body mutilated. Often we are sad witnesses to the aftermath of assaults, beatings,
rape, and robbery on the streets. Our homeless friends—women and men,
young and old—are very vulnerable and often victimized. Surely we are capable
of building a society that is not so violent—one that does not create so many
victims. Yes, we ask, what about the victims
But when caring for the victims makes us bitter, hard, and filled with revenge,
something is wrong. We need to learn to distinguish between a normal
emotional response to being a victim and the posture that we take as a body
politic. Anyone who has been victimized or who has spent time talking with victims
of violent crime knows that revenge is a very natural response in the grief
process: “Oh, what I would do if I could get my hands on him/her!” On the
other hand, any pastor, counselor, or psychologist knows that the victim, to find
healing and become a survivor, needs to step beyond a fixation on revenge. In
one way or another, each person must make peace with what has happened, pick
up the pieces of life, and go on. No one can dictate for another person how or
when this happens—it sometimes takes a very long time. But experience confirms
the biblical understanding of a connection between forgiveness and health.
Revenge eventually devours us, destroys relationships, and turns our hearts to
stone.
I have, on occasion, heard prosecutors say to juries, “If you care at all about
the family and friends of this murder victim, you will send the murderer straight
to the electric chair.” Cruelty is the only word to describe it. It is not only cruel
to the one accused of murder. But if there is anything a crime victim does not
need, it is someone encouraging them to make their vengeful feelings a virtue
for public display or a weapon to destroy someone else.
When John Eldon Smith was executed in 1983, the Aikens family—brothers
of the murder victim—was constantly dragged into the public eye. Their hatred
for Smith and their desire for his death seemed to make the TV cameras
whir. On the morning of the execution, the media set up in the living room of
the home of one brother. Every move and sound was recorded as the family