‘The prisoners, my brothers’

We had a Christmas treat at the Tower Street Adult Correctional Centre yesterday. A prisoner spoke with me. “You did wrong. You gave in to your instincts. You pulled a gun in your anger; you lost control. You shot and killed your woman. Then, you tried to hide the body, but you got caught. Andrew, why did you do that?” I asked.

“I am a stupid fool, Father. I was jealous. Angela was too friendly with everyone. I told her not to go anywhere. I told her to stay home and mind the pickney them. She tells me that me going out with a woman late at night. Me must stay. I tell her man is different from woman. She tells me nothing go so. War break out. I love her. I love her to death,” he said.

“Now, you have 30 years in prison remaining,” I told him. “Know yourself; don’t give in to feelings.” We spoke about his days as a youth. No parenting from a father, no discipline, no direction in life. No God’s word to teach the commandments and way of life.

We visited a prison, the Kershaw Correctional Institution, in South Carolina two weeks ago. There were 1,600 men incarcerated. They were all young men – Latinos, African Americans, and Caucasians. The stories of their crimes were similar to those of Jamaican prisoners. They were grappling with issues such as lack of parenting, absence of a father figure, schools without discipline, no rules or regulations, and no familiarisation with commandments of God.

LACK OF PARENTING

The end times! The end times! Without family life, without discipline, without God, whose word is absolute, there can’t be wrong or right. Without punishment and reward, there are no ethical borderlines.

One thousand six hundred men in the South Carolina prison told stories of a lack of male parenting and even female parenting. There are more than two million people in prisons in the United States.

In Kingston, after visiting the Tower Street Adult Correctional Centre and Fort Augusta Adult Correctional Centre, and after seeing, treating and praying for 2,000 young Jamaicans, my advent is full of joy. They really are my sisters and brothers – these prisoners, these thieves, these rapists, these violent men and women. There is joy and sadness all at once in my heart. All these sins and offences, all these cruelties, these acts of hatred and carelessness, all these fears, all this sadness – I know and commiserate with every one of them.

On Monday, we will visit the St Catherine Adult Correctional Centre. Another 1,000 souls are there hungering to tell their tales of sin and crime, frustration and violence. The brothers will pray with them, sing with them, fellowship with them. All of them wanting to do good and to make something of life. All wanting to celebrate, most of them are poor and uneducated.

I know they have done wrong, I know I can’t condemn them, but I know God loves these prisoners, and He will welcome them into His kingdom. Just consider the good thief at Calvary. We must go and set the prisoners free. All we have spent is a little time at the prisons – at four prisons – giving our hearts and minds to the sinners, those considered to be the most wicked people in the society. The prisoners are my brothers. Most are like children who never had parents and the love and teaching required to foster their humanity and kindness and goodness, which are nevertheless deep in their hearts.

I am sorry that I cannot spend more time with these prisoners, my brothers and sisters, I told the prisoners. One day, we’ll be together in heaven. On Earth, you prisoners missed out on earthly paradise, but do not miss out on heaven, where there is true justice, mercy and forgiveness from a God whose love is without end. There, we will be together. Will you be comfortable with the prisoners in heaven? Will you be comfortable sitting with the poor at the same banquet?