Restorative Justice | Culture | fredericknewspost.com
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Another giant of faith died recently at the age of 99. Desmond Tutu was a hero of mine and millions around the globe — a diminutive man physically but larger than life spiritually.
In the late 1990s, I stood next to the stage where he was speaking, almost close enough to touch him, experiencing the joy and compelling eloquence of the man as he recounted the end of apartheid in South Africa and the work of The Truth and Reconciliation Commission to which he had been appointed by Nelson Mandela. This was not an academic speech but a proclamation that exposed the ebullient faith and humanitarianism of one who felt from the very ground of his being the grand possibilities of the human race for goodness and reconciliation. It was visceral.
Tutu was a Christ figure of the 20th and 21st centuries. And being such, he was not confined to the narrow dogmas of any one religion, even his own Christianity, but considered himself, like all others, without exception, a sacred member of all creation.
This is what might be called Holy Inclusiveness. In a world that has elevated divisive rage to a commercial art form, where the tentacles of hate and revenge are hammered out constantly on the anvil of death in order to make a profit, it is balm for the soul to experience a faith that seeks to make the world whole. Tutu knew that much of the religious enterprise is deeply complicit in evil, not only in South Africa but around the globe. And not just in the past but in the present. And not just over there but right here.
Tutu, expected more of the religious community, not less. He invited us to look through that lens of truth that not only calls for accountability but seeks to heal and restore brokenness. He invited us to seek not revenge and retribution but forgiveness. His invitation was not that of a “radical moderate” but of one who lived outside of our nonsensical categories and our narrow parameters of justice. Religion needs to do more than be nice or engage in works of charity or put on a nice banquet. It needs to also do the really hard work of restorative justice.
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission, if not the model for much of the so-called developed world, at least contains the elements that should be the driving forces in our own work in the United States for justice: with our Native American community, with our Black community, with all other minorities and with those in our fragile white community who feel oppressed.
The Commission listened. It listened hard. It listened to perpetrators, who, like the Prodigal Son, had come to their senses and wanted to talk and be heard. They told of their monstrous and atrocious deeds. Now hear what Tutu had to say about the scene: “But we are reminded that God’s love is not cut off from anyone. However diabolical the act, it does not turn the perpetrator into a demon. When we proclaim that someone is subhuman, we not only remove from them the possibility of change and repentance, we also remove from them moral responsibility.”
At the heart of restorative justice is the firm conviction that no one is beyond redemption. Tutu recalled the scene of Jesus being crucified between two thieves. When one repents, Jesus promises that he will join him in paradise. Whether one wants to believe that literally, it is nonetheless a strong metaphor encapsulating the power of forgiveness and grace. Whether we are good or bad, we are products of creation and therefore sacred.
Yes, we live in a society where there is the rule of law. Our systems under law demand certain punishments when laws are broken. We believe it is important for people to be held accountable for their actions. But Tutu proclaims that there is more to justice than that. There is always the quest for fundamental fairness and equity that is foundational to creation. The ultimate goal, Tutu said, “is the healing of breaches, the redressing of imbalances, the restoration of broken relationships.” Restorative justice is all about the pain of the victim and the brokenness of the perpetrator. It is all about mending the fabric of the community that has been injured by an offense.
There is enough punishment to go around, always. We’re good at that. But the mending and the healing are in short supply.
In the end, Tutu’s faith in forgiveness as the heart of restorative justice invites us to vanquish the demons of hate, anger and revenge. Only then can we be lifted high by grand social visions of hope and reconciliation.
The Rev. M. Michael Morse is a retired ordained minister of The United Church of Christ with masters of divinity degrees from Oberlin and Vanderbilt. He has served pastorates in Ohio; New Jersey; Washington, D.C.; and Virginia. He lives with his partner, both of whom are advocates of social justice causes, in Frederick.
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