At our recent meeting of our bi-monthly Restorative Justice Club, our members broke into groups of three for our small group exercise. Each member of our group selected a full-sized picture of a person or couple from the table in the front of the room. On the back of each page was the story of that person's (or couple's) experience with the criminal justice system. The featured people were victims or family members of victims of crime. Each participant silently read the story of the person/couple they chose and then as small groups we discussed what we learned. We focused on what justice meant to each victim and whether we agreed or disagreed with the victim's description of justice and why.
After our small group times, we each went around the room and very briefly summarized for the whole group the story of the person/couple we had chosen. We also noted the most surprising part of their stories. It was this large group sharing that had the greatest impact on me. As each person's story was shared, the participants held up the picture for everyone to see. The mood in the room was rather somber as we entered into the story of each person, even from afar.
The story of every person, whether victim, offender, or a third-party who is also affected by crime, is unique. Each story has surprising features and also elements that we can identify with. But unless crime affects us directly, and even sometimes when it does, we often fail to enter into the stories of others. Instead, we are quick to write off offenders as unredeemable, and worse yet, we uncomfortably avoid the pain of victims.
Entering the stories of others helps us to appreciate the circumstances and struggles of their lives. It builds empathy and compassion as we seek to understand the social influences that led offenders to commit crimes. It also builds empathy and compassion as we grieve with victims or family members and struggle to help them heal from their trauma. Sometimes entering the stories of others is risky. It might mean getting our hands dirty, risking our reputations, exposing ourselves to pain, and opening our eyes to systemic problems that lead to crime and prevent healing. Sometimes, it means becoming a part of the solution--and that can cost us time and money (or more!). It's so much easier to stay on the peripheries, to observe from afar, to be aware without getting too close to people affected by crime.
The story of the couple I chose was tragic. Their son was murdered by his brother-in-law. They struggled with hatred and unforgiveness, and their tragedy almost cost them their marriage. Despite the pain they live with every day from the tragic murder of their son, they found healing in entering into the stories of other offenders. Those stories have given them compassion and helped to heal their hurt, but their own story has also softened the hearts of hardened offenders and led some to grieve their crimes and seek healing too. Entering the stories of others has tremendous power for mutual healing and building connections--but we have to get close to truly enter those stories. As author Brene Brown says, "People are hard to hate up close. Move in."
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