Мать жертвы убийцы приняла убийцу в семью после его обращения к вере

I interviewed a particular prisoner on multiple occasions: Ron Flowers, a convicted murderer from Houston. Flowers had become a Christian while in prison, but nonetheless maintained his innocence in the case — Flowers had been convicted of shooting and killing a teenage girl. The victim, Dee Dee Washington, had been in the car of another person who, unbeknownst to her, was attempting to purchase drugs. In police parlance, she was an innocent bystander — collateral damage. Flowers participated in the InnerChange Freedom Initiative (IFI), a faith-based prison program operated by Prison Fellowship. As part of the program, Flowers met weekly with a pastor from a church in Houston who did volunteer work at the prison (Carol Vance Unit). This pastor mentioned in a Sunday morning sermon that he worked with prisoners at Carol Vance Unit. Intrigued, one of the church members, Arna Washington, asked the pastor if he had met or heard of Ron Flowers. “That’s the name of the man who killed my daughter fourteen years ago,” she stated. The pastor replied, “He’s in my group — would you like to meet him?” I doubt either the pastor or Washington realized the mathematical long shot of Flowers being in this small faith-based prison group. After all, Texas is home to almost 150,000 inmates in more than 100 prisons. Washington did in fact want to meet Flowers, the person she had come to hate for devastating her family. (Not long after her daughter’s murder, Washington’s husband and son had also died.) Though a devout Christian, Washington was clearly bitter and had written letters to the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles to ensure Flowers would stay in prison as long as possible. Now, she actually had the opportunity to meet him and ask the question she had been struggling with for 14 years. When the meeting took place, several unexpected things happened. The second they met face to face, Flowers confessed to the murder for the first time. Washington then asked the question she had been waiting years to ask: Why did you shoot and kill my daughter? Flowers explained he had been a crazed young teenager strung out on drugs and had just started shooting when Dee Dee happened to be hit. He went on to say, “I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I’m sorry for what I have done.” To Washington’s surprise, she heard herself replying, “I forgive you.” Reflecting on that day, Washington told me in one of our interviews: “That was the moment I got my life back. A huge load was lifted the instant I forgave him.” The story does not end there. Washington would go on to develop a strong and lasting relationship with Flowers. In her own words, she would adopt him as her son. Flowers was released from prison in 1999 and began visiting Washington weekly. He sat with her in church on Sundays, and she played a crucial role in his successful transition back to society. Washington died in 2008. Criminologists suggest religion can be viewed not only as a source of external control over an individual’s conduct but also as a catalyst for new definitions and a cognitive blueprint for how to proceed as a changed individual. This process of change is often facilitated by a spiritual or faith factor, whether through an affiliation with a religious congregation, personal spiritual experiences or both. This process develops a new identity (a new heart, in Christian parlance) to replace the old one associated with failure, violence, abuse, addiction, heartbreak and/or guilt. This is why religious experiences can be important turning points in the lives of prisoners; they allow offenders to start their lives over. The chance to rewrite one’s own narrative can be a powerful and redemptive thing. It gives ex-prisoners the hope and purpose they need to start a new, prosocial life, while at the same time contending with the antisocial behavior they have left behind. Flowers’ story is just a microcosm of a much larger matrix of concerns related to the health of civil society and religion’s role in it. To understand the connection, think about what would happen if a substantial majority of convicted felons in America went through a life transformation like Flowers’. Not only would they stop creating anguish for themselves and others, but in economic terms, they would go from burdening the system to contributing to the health of families, churches and society. That kind of change gets the attention of even secular politicians and bureaucrats. (EDITOR’S NOTE — This article is a lightly edited excerpt from “The Death of Religion?: Nones, Others, and the Flourishing of Faith” by Thomas S. Kidd and Byron R. Johnson.)