Those on the Margins
As the room was being set up for the worship service, I noticed James, though I did not at that point know his name.
That evening the service had been moved from the prison “chapel,” which was just a classroom with white concrete block walls that was used for religious services, into the library. In recent weeks so many men had been coming to the service that a larger space was needed. In the library, tables were pushed to the sides, and folding chairs were set into rows.
I first saw James as the set-up crew was finishing placing the chairs. He was back by the shelves, standing apart from the crowd of blue-uniformed men waiting to take their seats. When the praise team started the introduction to the first song, and the last of the worshippers found their places, James stayed where he was, watching, but not joining the others.
He didn’t move throughout the service. It was almost as though he was fastened to that spot on the floor. He stood, watching, and listening. As soon as the service was over, though, he immediately turned and left the room.
The next week, James was standing in the same place when I arrived. Just before the service began, I walked over and asked him to join us.
“No, thank you,” he said. “I’m fine right here.”
For the next two weeks, we repeated the same interaction. James stood in the back, just on the edge of the worship service. Each week I invited him to join us and every time I did, he politely declined. As soon as the benediction was pronounced at the end of the service, James would immediately leave the room.
Finally, after the fourth time this happened, I went after James as he walked away.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I introduced myself and that’s when I learned that his name was James.
“I am terribly curious about you James. What is your story? Why do want to get close to the worship service, but refuse to join us?”
He looked at me for several seconds and his eyes filled with tears. “I can’t. I can’t come into the service.”
James, it turned out, had been a worship director at a church when he committed his crime.
At his trial, the judge sentenced him to the maximum amount of time permitted by the law and said, “Sir, you are a vile human being and if it were in my power I would see to it that you never draw a free breath of air again in your life. You are not fit to live with good people.”
It had been quite a scandal when he had been arrested. No one from his church had been to see him, no one had communicated with him. He had been isolated and cut off.
James told me that in his mind there was a line on the floor of the library that separated the holy, where the worship was happening, from the profane. He got as close as he could to the holy but would not cross the line. He longed to be with God’s people worshipping God, but he knew that he was not worthy to do so.
And if a man has committed a crime punishable by death and he is put to death, and you hang him on a tree, his body shall not remain all night on the tree, but you shall bury him the same day, for a hanged man is cursed by God. –Deuteronomy 21:22-23
It was a common practice in the ancient world that the body of a person executed for a crime would be put on display before the community. The body might literally be hung from a tree branch. Often it was tied to a wooden post. The reason was to serve as a warning. “The gruesome sight would serve as a warning to the population of the results of breaking those laws that were punishable by death” (P.C. Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, 285). Here, though, a strict restriction was applied to the practice. Whatever time the execution took place and the body put on display it had to be taken down and buried at sunset.
Even the worst criminals, even those executed for their crimes, were image bearers of God and thus objects of his attention and care. There was to be a limit to their humiliation, even after their death. “God would thus preserve the honour of human bodies and tenderness towards the worst criminals” (Matthew Henry, Concise Commentary on the Whole Bible, 192.)
There is a tendency, even among believers, to treat those on the margins of society as “less than,” as having less value than the majority. This is true of the poor and it is certainly true of prisoners. We must remember that image bearers of God, even the poor and prisoners, must be treated with respect and as having value and worth.
It is significant to note the phrase “for a hanged man is cursed by God” in verse 23 because Paul quoted this in Galatians 3:13 about Jesus. The criminal was not cursed because he hung on a tree. He was hung on a tree because he was cursed. He was cursed because he had broken the law of God for which he had been executed. Paul connects this to Jesus showing that Jesus willingly took onto himself the curse of God so that we could be set free from the curse.
We must remember that we, who should be cursed for our sins, can be set free because Jesus was cursed in our place. Seek Jesus and meditate on all that he has done for you. Let that wonderful truth fill your heart and soul and then flow out of you with love, gratitude, and obedience.
And we must remember that even after his death and resurrection Jesus identifies himself with those people on the margins who so many consider as less than unworthy. Whenever we care for and minister to the homeless, the thirsty, the naked, the stranger, the sick, and the prisoner we are, in some way, caring for and ministering to Jesus (Matthew 25:31-40).
Much love, Barry
Deuteronomy: Love and Grace in the Law of God is available on Amazon.