Radical Hospitality

On March 4th an unprecedented conference was held at Hope College in Holland, Michigan. This conference was titled "Hope for Restoration: Radical Hospitality and Prison Reform." It was unprecedented because it was organized by prisoners who are currently incarcerated. One might think that a conference that was organized by prisoners who couldn't even attend might draw a small crowd, but this conference was "sold out" (it was free, but seats were limited) with over 300 attendees, including at least one Michigan lawmaker. Though I was not one of the organizers, I had the privilege of participating in a video pre-recorded by Calvin Prison Initiative students for the conference, and I helped to produce the program for the conference that explained how restorative justice is a radical expression of hospitality. So, what exactly is "radical hospitality," and what does it have to do with restorative justice? If hospitality is defined as a "generosity of spirit," then radical hospitality is an extreme generosity of spirit that is contrary to social expectations. What is more extreme and unexpected than to take a restorative rather than retributive approach to justice? What is more extreme and unexpected than to focus on healing the harms of crime rather than just punishing the offender? What is more extreme and unexpected than to help those who have harmed others heal those harms and to offer an opportunity for restoration? Crime harms people, but too often the justice system is solely focused on punishing the violation of a state (or federal) law rather than addressing the harms done to the victim, to the community, and (perhaps surprisingly) to the offender. Radical hospitality seeks to heal the real harms caused through crime by restoring victims, as much as possible, to wholeness, by addressing the harms done to communities, and by transforming offenders through accountability and offering opportunities for restoration to their communities. Over the next several posts, I will explain how victims, communities, and offenders can all participate in a radical expression of hospitality through restorative practices. Ultimately, the goal of restorative justice is to encourage peace within communities by healing the wounds of injustice through effective communication and accountability and by offering hope for restoration. As an offender, I want nothing more than to help heal the wounds of injustice that I have caused. This, too, is a deep longing in the hearts of many of the men with whom I am incarcerated. We can't do this alone though. We need the help of free people who have hearts for healing and restoration. Does this describe you? (To read more about the recent restorative justice conference, go to www.SaintBenedictInstitute.org)

A Lesson from Emperor Penguins

Race issues are a constant theme in prison. Prison has a condensed collection of individuals who are intent on erecting walls of separation over trivial things like the color of one's skin. Certainly, cultural differences exist between ethnic groups, but this is not a reason for these unnecessary walls of separation. Yet, it seems that some people are intent on keeping conflict between ethnic groups alive simply because of these differences.
Lest one think I am talking only of privileged white oppression of other ethnic groups, let me make it clear that this racial oppression and hatred exists among all ethnic groups. In fact, Michigan prisons have several "religious" groups that are exclusively non-white, intentionally excluding "Europeans" based on their ethnicity alone. These groups are sometimes responsible for oppressing white prisoners simply because of their minority status in Michigan's prison system.
As on who is sensitive to the struggle of marginalized, underprivileged, and oppressed people, I want to help heal wounds that have often been generational, passed down for sometimes hundreds of years. I also want to help break the cycle of oppression and marginalization. Yet, sometimes I feel like this is an impossible task, especially since I myself am white. This fact alone often seems to exclude me from being given a fair voice in the healing process. Instead, I am too often lumped with "the man" who is guilty of marginalizing and oppressing others. I readily admit my inability to sometimes see the systemic inequalities that exist, yet I want to understand them so that I can at least avoid perpetuating them myself. 
A healthy community, whether in prison or out, requires attention to those on the margins. These marginalized people may be of different ethnic origins, or of different nationalities, gender, religious, economic or age groups. Regardless of the differences, a healthy community must be intentional about drawing these marginalized groups into the collective whole and giving them a place to belong so that they are an essential part of the community.
I am reminded of the Emperor Penguin who lives in some of the inhospitable weather conditions in the world. The male Emperor Penguins remain in Antarctica during the coldest time of the year; they are responsible for caring for the eggs laid by the females while the female penguins head south to feed. To stay warm and keep their eggs warm, the male penguins form large groups that huddle together and share body heat. Isolated individuals cannot survive the extreme colds of Antarctic winters. In these large groups of penguins, those on the margins begin to chill rather quickly, their body temperatures dropping as they face the brunt of the brutally cold weather. To maintain the health of each member of the community, each penguin on the fringes rotates into the center of the group so that it can benefit from the collective heat. Only by intentionally rotating those on the margins into the heat at the center can the entire group benefit and stay warm.
If we are to have healthy communities that provide a place for belonging to each marginalized group and individual, we must be intentional about inclusiveness. We must find ways to bridge the gaps that long histories of oppression and marginalization have caused between ethnic groups. Doing this will not be easy; it will require risk. Those who are marginized must find ways to begin to trust others and contribute their voice towards healing, and those who marginalize must find ways to end systemic inequality and become a voice of healing themselves. Both sides must begin to change the identity and labels they have espoused that continue to contribute to the have problem of division.

Is Prison a Cemetery or a Monastery?

Since coming to prison eight years ago, nearly all of my former friends and even some of my family have disappeared from my life. While I'd like to tell you that this is an exceptional case, the fact is that most prisoners who serve more than a couple of years experience this mass-exodus. At times it can feel like I've been buried and forgotten.
But prison doesn't have to be a cemetery. I have formed some surprising friendships, both of prisoners and complete strangers. My best friend Tom is another prisoner, who (sadly) is housed in another prison. I have also met mothers and family members of other prisoners through my blog, and I've met large-hearted, caring people through prison ministries and organizations. I even write a few complete strangers who have become friends through correspondence.
No, prison doesn't have to be a cemetery. It is often very isolating and lonely, but with the right perspective, prison can by a monastery. Separated from the daily hubub of America's frenetically paced lifestyle, prison affords the structure and time to build lasting and beneficial spiritual disciplines in one's life. In the late 1700's prisons were called penitentiaries because offenders were given a Bible and put in solitude to contemplate and repent from their wrongs.
Now people in the free world might envision prison as a giant babysitting machine with prisoners spending their time working out, playing cards and chess, and watching far too much TV. This picture is not far from the truth. But just like those in the free-world, prisoners too have choices on how they spend some of their time. Those who are committed to reforming their thinking and behavior start by treating prison like a monastery and intentionally building disciplines into their lives. These disciplines might include: reading transformational books and spiritual books, daily prayers and devotionals, fasting, meditation and contemplation, giving, study groups, exercise regiments, and many others.
Whether prison is one's cemetery or one's monastery depends on what one makes it. I might be forgotten by many people, but I'm not dead yet. I'm just sequestered for now.

How to Collect Moments of Happiness

I recently read an article for a school assignment that struck me with a point that is highly relevant to prison. This article by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (yeah, try to pronounce that name!) talked about "escalation of expectations." The author uses this concept to explain that material wealth rarely leads people to greater happiness. He claims that when one's energy is devoted to material things, as each material goal is met one's sensitivity to other rewards begins to atrophy. In other words, when someone is singularly devoted to material wealth, nothing else gives them happiness. The irony is that material wealth rarely gives people the greatest happiness either.
In prison it is very easy to become singularly focused on one source of happiness. It may be legal action in the courts to reduce or overturn a sentence, a relationship one holds onto with desperation, or even simply getting a piece of mail. The problem with this singular focus is that one fails to find happiness in other things that are present in one's life. Sometimes these things are simple and easy to miss--like a beautiful sunrise or sunset, a kind compliment someone gives, or even a particularly delicious piece of cake in the chow hall. I find that the more commonly these simple things occur the less likely we are to notice and appreciate them. In other words, we have an escalation of expectation.
It might be an oversimplification to say that we need to get back to the simple joys of life, but as many happiness researchers will tell us, contentment is a significant key to happiness. So maybe a little awareness couldn't hurt. In fact, it might just lead to more moments of happiness and a greater satisfaction with one's life, no matter what the circumstances.
Sure, it's easy to find plenty to be unhappy about in prison. I don't know a single prisoner (or guard for that matter!) who is happy to be here. But even in the midst of adverse circumstances, moments of happiness can be found. When the sum of these small moments are collected, if one is looking for them, it will inevitably lead to a general sense of happiness--even in prison.