c. 2000 Religion News Service

(Samuel K. Atchison is an ordained minister and has worked as a policy analyst and social worker to the homeless. He currently is a prison chaplain in Trenton, N.J., and a fellow of the George H. Gallup International Institute in Princeton, N.J.)

(UNDATED) I recently had the privilege of speaking at a church in an upscale suburb. The theme on which I was asked to speak, “Social Justice and Prison Ministry,” seemed oddly out of place given the genteel elegance of my audience.

Here, after all, was the cream of suburban gentry. I had no doubt that I was speaking to people whose influence exceeded my imagination. Yet, at the same time, I suspected that behind at least some of those serene expressions were minds that were troubled by problems that would shock some of their peers.

Will I be able to get through to them, I wondered.

Thus, in my presentation I took an approach which, while clearly a rough draft, underscored what I believe to be a fundamental truth: There is no justice without morality.

After reading from Proverbs 1:10-19, I noted the author was speaking as Every Dad to Every Son. In so doing he warns the son of the dangers of hanging around with the wrong crowd. I argued that the author was concerned about these untoward influences at a time when, according to the Bible, the Israelite nation was enjoying economic prosperity and peace within as well as beyond its borders.

What this suggests, I proposed, was that “boys will be boys” and thus prone to trouble and in need of direction regardless of race, culture, class or era. If this is true, then it has implications for our ability as a society to effect true justice for it reflects how we understand the concepts of human nature and redemption. Are they transcendent, as the Bible suggests, or are they functions of demographic factors such as race and class?

At its root this is a moral question because our moral sense determines, among other things, how we see ourselves in relation to others. If, for example, suburbanites such as those gathered see crime and its related issues purely as functions of the inner city and its inhabitants, then social justice issues affecting the ‘hood such as racial profiling, inadequate legal counsel and prison after-care will find no resonance in the ‘burbs.

But if the most heinous transgressions can be committed even by suburbanites such as those committed by white teen-agers in West Paducah, Ky., Jonesboro, Ark., Springfield, Ore., and Littleton, Colo., then issues like crime, punishment and rehabilitation will be examined more closely and exhaustively.

Why? Because a greater number of those involved in the discussion are likely to see themselves as having a stake in the outcome.

To paraphrase theologian James Cone, people become involved in justice-related issues at the point where they are personally affected by the problems.

At the conclusion of my talk, which included a brief question and answer period, I was approached by several persons who shared their impressions of the message and its implications.

One person in particular spoke for an extended period, sharing with me and a fellow member personal experiences she was sure would never be understood by most of the others.

On one level I was gratified. My message had made sense. I had gotten through.

On another level, however, I was concerned. Why did my new friend feel isolated? Why did her conversation with a total stranger _ me _ which lasted longer than my actual speech, provide the only means of catharsis available to this woman?

If, as she said, crime and delinquency, particularly among young people, were growing problems in the communities adjacent to the church, why the conspiracy of silence?

And if the church isn’t addressing it, what does that portend for the community-at-large?

DEA END ATCHISON