A Reflection for Criminal Justice Sunday

Annie Rawlings, M.Div.

Interim Associate Executive Presbyter for Social Witness

Presbytery of New York City




Psalm 147:1-11, 20c

1Praise theSoverieign

How good it is to sing praises to our God;

for s/he is gracious, and a song of praise is fitting.

2The Sovereign builds up Jerusalem;

s/he gathers the outcasts of Israel.

3 S/he heals the brokenhearted,

and binds up their wounds.

4S/he determines the number of the stars;

s/he gives to all of them their names.

5Great is our God, and abundant in power;

God’s understanding is beyond measure.

6The Sovereign lifts up the downtrodden;

s/he casts the wicked to the ground.

7Sing to the Sovereign with thanksgiving;

make melody to our God on the lyre.

8S/he covers the heavens with clouds,

prepares rain for the earth,

makes grass grow on the hills.

9S/he gives to the animals their food,

and to the young ravens when they cry.

10 God’s delight is not in the strength of the horse,

nor is God’s pleasure in the speed of a runner;

11but the Sovereign takes pleasure in those who fear God,

in those who hope in God’s steadfast love.

20aPraise the Sovereign!


For many years, the second Sunday in February has been “Criminal Justice Sunday” in the PCUSA – although the designation seems to have disappeared from PCUSA calendars and materials. Some of us concerned with Criminal Justice here in New York City have tried to learn what happened: our best guess is that references to this special Sunday were dropped when the national church decided it would no longer employ staff to work on Criminal Justice. As people of faith we cannot let awareness about Criminal Justice issues, and the great needs for ministry and advocacy, become muted within the church. We are in the midst of a crisis. There is an epidemic of incarceration in the United States where roughly one out of every 100 adults is in prison. This is a greater percentage of population in prison than exists in any other country in the world. Really…more than any other country in the world!


What is the relationship, one might ask, between Criminal Justice Sunday and Presbyterian Welcome? Not, let me be clear, because of anything having to do with “criminality.” Absolutely not. The link lies in the all-too-familiar dynamics of marinalization and exclusion in the United States that continue to challenge our national rhetoric about equality and democracy. Patterns of incarceration reflect historic systems of marginalization in the U.S., chief among them: racism, poorly functioning (and poorly funded) schools, and economic injustice. One example: racism has been dramatically evident in the “war on drugs.” According to the Correctional Association of New York: “Studies have shown that the majority of people who use and sell drugs in New York State and the nation are white. Yet 90% of the people doing time in New York State prisons for a drug offense are African-American or Latino.” The report goes on to say: “The problem – at least partially a function of having the Rockefeller Drug Laws in place – is that law enforcement efforts focus almost entirely on inner city communities of color.” (Say No To 35 Years of Injustice: Policy Paper Urging New York State Leaders to Repeal the Rockefeller Drug Laws, Correctional Association of New York, May 2008, p. 4)


Enacted in 1973, when Nelson Rockefeller was Governor of New York, the Rockefeller Drug Laws require harsh prison terms for the possession or sale of relatively small amounts of drugs. The penalties apply without regard to the circumstances of the offense or the individual's character or background. Whether the person is a first-time or repeat offender, for instance, is irrelevant. It is important to note that changes to the laws passed in December 2004 and August 2005 do not amount to meaningful reform. The most severe aspects of these laws are still on the books. Mandatory sentencing provisions remain intact, meaning that judges still do not have discretion in deciding whether to send someone to prison or to an appropriate alternative-to-incarceration program. Prison terms, though reduced, remain unduly long – for example, under the new system, instead of 15 years to life, the most serious provision of the drug laws carries a determinate (or flat) sentence of between eight and 20 years for first-time, non-violent offenders. (Say No to 35 Years of Injustice, p. 2)


Anyone who has been marginalized by society. Anyone who has been targeted by society. Anyone who is a member of a group upon whose backs people try to lay blame and punishment related to vague notions of social worry can understand what it means to be caught in the sights of a relentless social project that is looking for enemies to capture and punish. In the case of prisons, reform advocates have labeled this project the “Prison Industrial Complex.” I hope that sympathy and empathy will yield solidarity: for action to reform the prison system, to reform sentencing and parole policies, and to address the grevious inequalities that place, in particular, young people of color squarely in the bull’s eye of an escalating national tragedy. (The Presbytery of New York City’s Prison/Reentry Working Group has compiled Take A Next Step – a resource for education, ministry, and advocacy – email me for a copy: socialwitness@presbynyc.org.)


And I hope we can all draw on the best of our theological understanding, and the best strengths gleaned from whatever suffering any of us has endured, to remember that within the human family the question of how we stay family after we have hurt each other is one of the principal challenges of community. There are people in prison who have caused harm – sometimes deadly harm. We have ALL hurt someone. We have hurt each other through exclusion. We have hurt each other through scapegoating. We have hurt each other through a tolerance for poverty around the world and close to home. We have hurt each other through any number of things we have done or not done. The need for confession is upon us ALL. The need for reconciliation is before us ALL. We must not let people in prison become the “demonized other” upon whom we project the shadows of our own impulses towards violence of greater or lesser degree. We instead must connect with the humanity of people in prison, and who have been in prison, from that place in each of us that wants to be part of the whole, that wants to feel worthy, that wants a chance, that longs to experience the dignity associated with being a child of God, and longs to have that dignity affirmed by others.


2The Sovereign builds up Jerusalem;

s/he gathers the outcasts of Israel.

3 S/he heals the brokenhearted,

and binds up their wounds.

4S/he determines the number of the stars;

s/he gives to all of them their names.

5Great is our God, and abundant in power;

God’s understanding is beyond measure.