Scripture Reflection on the Death Penalty | Fr. Mark Famuliner

This reflection was part of Catholic Mobilizing Network’s monthly prayer vigil to lament upcoming executions and bear witness to the inviolable dignity of all human life.

Drawing on Matthew 20:29–34, Fr. Famuliner reflects on the reaction of the crowd, which attempts to silence the blind men who cry out for Jesus’ mercy. He invites us to consider how we are called to cry out for Jesus’ mercy for those on death row, and where we face rejection in our own ways among those who mirror the crowd today. Additionally, he shares his own personal experiences visiting men on death row in Mobile County, Alabama — emphasizing that nothing can take away their dignity, despite what they have done or have been accused of.

To listen along, skip to minute 9:17.

Reading: Matthew 20:29–34 (Jesus heals the two blind men)

Reflection:

Well, as I begin this reflection, I just want to share my absolute honor and admiration for everyone here today — for us to be gathered together as a family of faith to speak on behalf of the men and women incarcerated behind bars, either for what they’ve done or were accused of doing, and to uphold their life and dignity. It takes strong-hearted people to do this, to advocate for our brothers and sisters who are sitting there on death row, but knowing that often those who are sitting on death row are actually close to the Lord of Life. As I want to speak briefly today about my own experience and how the Lord has touched me working with primarily men, who have found themselves on death row and in other correctional institutions, and the call all of us have advocating on their behalf and as a country — that we may see life even in those who sometimes have taken it or lost their own dignity. 

And I thought about that because I thought about this great phrase: “Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Right? The words of our Lord. Who is the one person in the scriptures that Jesus personally promised would be in heaven? Who is the one person that our Lord, the Lord of Life, who was also executed by the state of his day, promised “you’d be with me in paradise”? Wasn’t Peter. It wasn’t Paul. Wasn’t even John the Beloved. Wasn’t blessed Joseph, who’s the patron of a happy death. And it wasn’t our mother Mary. But of course, we know they’re there. Mary won’t be offended with me by saying that. It was Dismas, the good thief, a man being executed by the state of his time. And when I think of that, I thought, “you know what?” When I was working at home in prison visiting the men on death row, I realized: could they be Dismas? Could these men be actually welcomed into paradise? And how did I feel about that? 

You see, my view on this issue actually went a complete 180 degrees; and the difference was they became human beings to me, made in the image and likeness of God. That is what we advocate for as a country today is that nobody loses their humanity regardless of what they’ve done or what they were accused to have done. And not all the men that I worked with were saints in the moment. Not all the men that I met were necessarily the nicest of people, but you know what? I never felt unsafe. So many times I was able to preach or sing or weep or cry or laugh with these men. And all they wanted to know was that someone saw them — that they were a human being again; that though they were on death row, life was going to win. They gave me more than anything I could give to them because they gave me the truth that you might be locked behind bars the rest of your life, but you’re never locked out of the kingdom of God. And that it’s up to us — often, here in the free world — to advocate for them that they still are made in the image and likeness of God and that can never be wiped away.

***

And I think this is sometimes one of the hardest life issues, even in the Catholic Christian world to advocate for because we all think about the dehumanization of life issues, right? We think of the unborn. We think of children, and we think of our own — maybe — children. We think of babies, we think of moms; we say, “I want to stand up for them.” Perhaps we think about end of life pro-life issues like medically assisted suicide and euthanasia; and we bring to mind our own loved ones, maybe our parents, our grandparents, our spouses, our friends, and we say, “No, I want to stand up for those people that I know them. They’re human beings.” But when it comes to capital punishment, for so many even supposedly professing Catholics, this is their one exception to the rule. It is because that dehumanizing effect comes into place and they walk around blind. Because unlike the unborn or unlike the aged, they claim that this population, well, “they’ve dehumanized themselves”. This population has thrown away their dignity. That’s why they’re there. That’s why it takes you and I who have met these men and women to say “no, they’ve not lost their humanity,” that “we are better than the worst things we have ever done.” 

It was the men I worked with, too, in my time there who were even executed that showed me that we are always at the hands of a Merciful Father, that we can always be restored, redeemed, and renewed even if we never walk out free. And that the Lord of Life wants to kick down the gates of hell, that often is the state executing its own. And I once told of someone who was arguing with me, you could say, on this issue, and I said, “You know the real difference between you and I” — because he and I, he was also a clergyman, I’ll say. And he and I were having a discussion on this issue. And we went through the philosophical, the biblical, and the moral routes. And finally, I just looked at him and said, “The difference between us is for you, the men and women on death row are a statistic. While, for me, I’ve shaken their hands.” I’ve seen them weep. I’ve heard their repentance. I’ve heard their remorse. I’ve heard them ask me, “How can God’s kids kill God’s kids?” And in a stunned silence, I wept.

There is not one man or woman behind bars today on death row that someone at one point did not call their dad or their mom or someone once said “that’s my son” or “that’s my daughter.” It is up to us to realize that this is not a statistic. These are not mere numbers. They are souls. They are saints in process and they need us to speak on their behalf. Can we have the eyes to see what we’re often too blind to see?

***

So with that context, I want to read from the Gospel according to St. Matthew 20:29–34. 

And as they went out of Jericho, a great crowd followed him. And behold, two blind men sitting by the roadside. When they heard that Jesus was passing by, they cried out, “Have mercy on us, son of David.” The crowd rebuked them, telling them to be silent. But they cried out all the more, “Lord, have mercy on us, son of David.” 

And Jesus stopped and called them, saying, “What do you want me to do for you? They said to him, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.” And Jesus, in pity, touched their eyes. And immediately they received their sight and followed him.

Note, it says, “Behold, two blind men were sitting by the roadside.” It made me think of two different populations. The first is the fact that we don’t get their names. We only get their infirmity. We don’t know these two men’s names! All we know is what was supposedly wrong with them. Isn’t that how we often as a country treat the men and women on death row? Isn’t that how we often treat a population that we dehumanize? They lose their name, and we treat them only by their infirmity. They lose their name and all we think is what they’ve done or have been accused of doing. The other population is ourselves, often blind, right? That a society is blind whenever it thinks that to take life can bring true restoration and healing — that to take life can satisfy God’s mercy. Often people say, “Well, an eye for an eye.” And as you all know — has once been famously said — if we actually as a society lived by that, we would all be blind. An eye for an eye leads to a blind population. While we’re actually told by the carpenter from Nazareth: “Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.”

So we pray for all those who have lost their sight on this issue — for those who refuse to see those who have committed crimes, or accused of committed crimes, as still holding that great image and likeness of God.

*** 

Can we cry out as those two men did? “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on us.” Can we have that honesty, that authenticity? So many of the men I ministered to were real. They knew what they had done. They owned it and they could be restored and redeemed in the blood of Jesus Christ. Can we as a society do the same? Can we admit if we are crying out to God, that implies we’re not God? Only God has the power to take life. So can we say, “Jesus, have mercy on us”? Can we call for mercy from God rather than appointing ourselves as God and bringing wrath, retaliation, revenge, and execution? Can we as a culture say, “Have mercy on us, son of David”? 

And then the crowd rebuked them, telling them to be silent, so does the crowd in our world. Right? Oftentimes, that crowd might even be close to home. That crowd might be across the kitchen table. That crowd might be our family members who don’t understand on this issue. The crowd might even be those who know someone who is a victim but think if we create more healing is going to happen, which is a lie. Who is the crowd in your life? Who is the crowd that, when we speak on the dignity of the men and women behind bars, tell us to be silent? Who is the crowd that says, “you can’t rehabilitate certain people”? Who is the crowd that says, “an eye for an eye”? Who is a crowd that makes exceptions for this population? And can we say all the more, “Jesus, Lord, have mercy on us, son of David.” Can we continue to advocate for mercy? That mercy wins — that mercy redeems and can pray from the cross, “Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.” 

We’re told to be silent. We’re told to give deference to the emperor or the state of our time. But can we, like those blind men, call out all the more for his mercy? And then Jesus asks those two blind men. He asks you and me this simple question: what do you want me to do for you? That seems as we know on face value to be kind of obvious. Lord, they’re blind. They want to see. But do we? Do we really want to see? Could we really handle what we would see if we said, “Lord, remove our blindness on this issue.” 

But can we advocate? Lord, help us see. Help us see as a nation. Help us see as a country. We help us see as a church, as a family of faith, that each and every human being — no matter what they’ve done or have failed to do — can be a saint, can be redeemed, and can be healed. Jesus knows our answer, but he wants to hear it from us. We gather today not because Jesus needs to be informed, but because we do by his hands. He wants to hear our voice. And those men and women behind bars need a voice when they’ve often had theirs taken away. May we as a country say, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.” And when we receive our sight, follow him. 

So Lord, we pray today that our eyes can be open to the dignity of each and every human life, especially those in our family who are currently sitting behind bars. Help all of us know that we are better than the worst things we have ever done, or we have ever been accused of doing. Lord, let our eyes be opened as a nation to the gift of every human life from conception to natural death because of those that our country is often cast aside and left to a sentence of death. Lord, we pray that we would recognize their dignity, their beauty, and that they could be the first to hear from the Crucified and Risen Christ: “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” Amen.