Bishops’ Statement on Death Penalty Debate in Virginia

To build a culture of life we must respect the sanctity of even "unlovable" lives

Bishop Francis X. DiLorenzo and Bishop Paul S. Loverde issued the following statement:

This year, through the advocacy of the Virginia Catholic Conference, our Church spent considerable time opposing legislation related to the death penalty. The proposed measure would have permitted the Commonwealth to arrange with compounding pharmacies to mix drugs for use in executions, hiding from the public the identities of the pharmacies and materials used. Thankfully, this bill was defeated.  So, too, was a measure the Virginia General Assembly considered last year - also opposed by the Conference - that would have forced death row inmates to be electrocuted if lethal injection drugs are not available.

Meanwhile, Pope Francis delivered a message which sharply contrasted these disturbing debates. "There is discussion in some quarters about the method of killing, as if it were possible to find ways of 'getting it right' ….," the Pope wrote in a recent letter about the death penalty. "But there is no humane way of killing another person."

Pope Francis' keen observation adds an exclamation point to the rejection of these "method of execution" bills. In Virginia, we are indeed having the wrong debate - a reality clearly visible in light of all we celebrate during this Easter season.   

In these final joyful weeks of Easter, the Church continues to celebrate the gift of eternal life offered through the Resurrection. In our pilgrimage to that life, we follow Jesus, who loved and forgave us from the Cross, by living out the teaching of our faith that all human life is sacred, from the moment of conception until natural death.

This conviction is reflected in our understanding that the poor and vulnerable have the first claim on our consciences, in our opposition to abortion and euthanasia, and in our responsibility to welcome immigrants and refugees. But our faith also challenges us to declare sacred even the least lovable among us, those convicted of committing brutal crimes which have brought them the ultimate penalty, the penalty of death.

The Church's teaching on the death penalty is succinctly stated in a 2005 U.S. Bishops' statement, "A Culture of Life and the Penalty of Death": "No matter how heinous the crime, if society can protect itself without ending a human life, it should do so." This statement is the teaching of the Catechism, and for decades Popes John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Francis consistently have urged us to embrace it.

To be sure, this teaching challenges many people, including ourselves when we reflect on violent crimes and lives lost in senseless and unimaginable ways. The deep pain, grief, and suffering of those who have lost loved ones to violence cry out for our care and attention. More killing, though, is not the answer: The death penalty does not provide true healing for those who mourn, nor does it embody the Gospel of Life, which each of us is called to affirm even in the most difficult circumstances.

It is also important to note that people have been executed despite serious doubts about their guilt, and inmates who languished on death row for decades have been freed after their innocence was proven. Since 1973, some 152 death row inmates nationwide - including one in Virginia - have been exonerated. We must also be aware of the racial inequity inherent in the system, and that the death penalty has been administered to individuals with severe intellectual disabilities.

These circumstances further illustrate that, in Virginia and elsewhere, we are having the wrong debate. We should no longer debate which inmates we execute or how we execute them. Instead, we should debate this: If all human lives are sacred and if a civilized society such as ours can seek redress and protect itself by means other than taking a human life, why are we continuing to execute people?

By ending the use of the death penalty we would take one important step - among significant others we must take - to abandon the culture of death and embrace the culture of life.

As Pope Francis reminds us, there is no humane way of taking a life. Let us not choose whether to use lethal drugs, electric chairs, gas chambers, or firing squads. Let us take the more courageous step and choose life instead, even when it seems "unlovable."

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Fourth Sunday of Easter B

April 26, 2015

Click here for scripture readings

Jesus talks about sheep and shepherds in the Gospel.

What are some facts about these woolly creatures we call sheep?

Start with a comparison.

Maybe you and I remember our childhood when we turned various insects on their backs.

Childishly, we watched them struggle and never achieve their proper leg-side down position unless we had mercy on them.

An unshorn sheep is the same way, shepherds tell us: completely stranded if it gets turned on its back.

In order to turn it right-side up when it needs it, the shepherd carries a crook.

He hooks the sheep and turns it right.

He is kind and careful with his flock.

That is why they follow him.

History tells us that the many shepherds all brought their small herds down to Jerusalem, and that these various flocks were kept together in one big sheepfold.

There were no brands, no markings of any kind, just a fuzzy mob.

How, you might ask, does each shepherd retrieve the sheep that belong to him (or to his boss)?

The first way is by calling each of his sheep by name.

He has been with them on the hillsides to the point that they are no longer strangers to him.

The one with the nick in its ear, the one with the pretty face, the one that limps.

He has a name for each because they each have a personality that is special, just like we do.

When they hear their names they come and follow.

Second, the sheep recognizes not only its name but the actual voice of the shepherd.

This is a much loved sound to it.

It belongs to the one who flipped them back on their feet, the one who shielded them from wolves, the one who led them to fresh pastures instead of ones they had eaten down to nubs.

A stranger's voice could not have the gentle consonance of their master and friend. His sheep flocked to him.

Why does Jesus use such imagery on the Fourth Sunday of Easter?

I suppose you know the answer already, but, if you will pardon the comparison, you and I are much like sheep.

The shepherd calls sheep by name and the magnificent God of the universe calls each of us by name.

Through Jesus, God knows each and every one of us better than we know ourselves.

The name he confirms for each of us finds its way down to the deepest interior of our souls.

Through it he calls us to be most truly who we are, in our own self and in God.

We may misunderstand the voice of God, the shepherd, ignore it, resist it, button our ears to it, but in our moments of sane and solitary wholeness—or maybe in our times of trouble—our spirits pulse to the rhythm of that voice.

It resounds within us.

Like the shepherd with his sheep, this call is safe, in spite of wolves and wildness all around.

Christ's call lets our fear drop away, turns us right: side up, lets us follow our master and friend around rocks and even through dark valleys.

Sometimes the phrase, "people are sheep," is deemed an insult. This Sunday it is the greatest compliment we could get.

Second Sunday of Easter B

Image: Caravaggio at Hermanoleon

April 12, 2015

Click here for scripture readings.

Now Jesus did many other signs that are not written in this book ....

John knows how to tantalize an audience.

Just what were the other signs that Jesus performed in the disciples' presence that did not merit a few paragraphs in the gospel?

Showing up after he was supposed to be dead was miracle enough.

Getting past the locked doors and the barrier of fear was pretty impressive too.

The glorified wounds must have been a sight to see, and the reception of the Holy Spirit was certainly a fitting place to end a gospel.

But the story continues beyond that climax to the somewhat anticlimactic story of Thomas and his misgivings about the whole thing.

Thomas' story makes the cut because it is of course our story:

without seeing the events of those days, we are invited to faith.

But after Thomas makes his famous assent to faith, "My Lord and my God!", the evangelist tells us mysteriously that there were more signs, too, not written down.

Does he mention this simply to pique our curiosity?

It occurs to me that I have seen signs of the risen Lord, too, that have never seen print.

I have seen the courage of those who are dying.

I have embraced enemies who have been transformed into loyal friends.

I have experienced the melting of anger into healing forgiveness.

I have watched generous acts give birth to hope.

Friends caught in the grip of addictions have been liberated from their pain

Signs of the risen Lord are all around us, collected only in the Scripture of our hearts.

These too give us reason to exclaim, "My Lord and my God!"

The Resurrection of the Lord

April 5, 2015

Scripture readings

The teacher asked her second grade class what they want to be when they grew up.

"A football player," "a doctor," "a policeman," "a fireman," "an astronaut," "a teacher," came the answers from all over the classroom.

 Every second grader responded, except Timmy.

 Timmy just sat quietly at his place.

 So his teacher asked him, "Timmy, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

 "Possible," Timmy replied.

 "Possible?" asked the confused teacher.

 "Possible," Timmy said.

 "Timmy, what you mean, you want to be' ‘possible.’”

 "Well," Timmy explained, "my mom is always telling me that I'm impossible.

 So when I get big, I want to be possible.”

 Easter is the great feast of possibilities.

 In his rising from the dead, Christ enables us to make possible in our own lives all that he taught and lived throughout his brief life among us:

 that love, compassion, generosity,  humility and selflessness will ultimately triumph over hatred, bigotry, prejudice, despair, greed and death.

 the empty tomb is the sign of perfect hope  that in Christ all things are possible,

 that we can make of our lives what we want them to be,

 that we can become the people God created us to be become.

Holy Saturday At the Easter Vigil in the Holy Night of Easter

April 4, 2015

Scripture readings

What good would life have been to us, had Christ not come as our Redeemer?

This is the night when dreams come true.

As the words of the Exsultet remind us, the vigil of Easter is the night of nights for those who believe.

It is the celebration of every saving act rolled into one:

our Passover feast,

the great crossing of the Red Sea,

freedom from the tyranny of sin,

liberation from the chains of death itself.

This is the night when Christians dream the impossible dream, and our lost paradise is regained.

After the crucifixion of Jesus, on the darkest night of history, God lit a fire, and the whole church burst forth in its light.

Our paschal fire recalls for us that essential fire, and how desperately the darkness clings to our world still, waiting for us to bring our light.

What are the dreams this tired old world carries in its heart, awaiting the liberating light to ignite them into being?

We share a global longing for peace that is continually shattered by gunshot and economic disparity.

We hope for our children, for their health and education and moral integrity.

We seek respect across the dividing lines of differ­ence.

We look for meaning in our labor, and a chance to participate in community.

We pray for miracles in medicine.

We hunger for love and friendship.

On every continent, or in any city or town across our own country, people carry dreams like these in their hearts.

The darkness that continues to obscure them from view is the human choice for sin.

Tonight, we cherish the light that has already conquered every darkness and puts our dreams within reach.

In the wisdom of the church's liturgy, we each get to hold this light in our hands, to contemplate our responsibility to carry it into the world and make it more than a dream.

Where will you take your light tonight?

Where do you need to experience new life in your own circumstances?

Where will you make the liberation of Easter felt for some­one else?

The good news of this hour is, happily, relent­less.

Easter began that morning at the empty tomb, and remains the never-ending feast of the church.

Easter continues to shine forth its light in every decision we make life, every rejection of the darkness and death around us.

We wear Easter like a garment of joy,

from the moment our baptism till the day of glory.

Those among us who have died since last Easter

those people already live in its eternal light and share our alleluia with us.

What our beloved dead know, remains our hope.

Together with them and the whole communion of saints we rejoice:

Christ has con­quered!

Glory fills us!

Darkness vanishes forever!

Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion

"According to the Burial Custom,"
Jan Richardson, 2012.

April 3, 2015

Scripture readings

In his painting, "The Erection of the Cross," the Dutch master Rembrandt portrays the final moments of preparation before the condemned Jesus is hoisted upon the cross.

 In the painting, the man raising the cross is dressed in contemporary clothing of the artist's time.

 Though he never spoke about it or offered any explanation, those who knew Rembrandt recognized the man in the painting immediately:

 the man raising up the cross is Rembrandt himself.

 Rembrandt's making himself one of the actors in Jesus' passion is more than just a clever conceit or artist's eccentricity:

 it is an act of humble faith;

 -a recognition that each one of us plays a role in the crucifixion of Christ that is repeated all around us in acts of violence, injustice and hatred.

  As we relive the story of Jesus' final hours and death during this Holy Week, consider the role you have played in the agonies, betrayals, condemnations and crucifixions around you.

 May our prayer this week be that God will give us the grace to overcome the inclination to be judging Pilates

 and become, instead, Josephs of Arimathea, making Christ's body our own;

 that we not seek to melt into the crowd of onlookers but become Simons of Cyrene, helping Jesus take up his cross,

 or become one of the women of Jerusalem who offers Jesus a cloth to wipe his face, a sponge of wine, the support of loving tears;

 that we may possess more courage than the disciples and be one of the

compassionate women who come early in the morning to complete the burial of  Christ.

May we not be builders of crosses but angels who roll back the stone

and proclaim the good news of Christ's resurrection.

Thursday of the Lord's Supper B

"In the Cup of the New Covenant,"
Jan Richardson, 2012.

April 2, 2015

Scripture readings

It is incredible, this act of tenderness, washing their feet:

Touching, caressing what was most common about them,

What was reserved usually for the lowest of slaves (someone who didn't matter.)

There was nothing about them he did not love, could not forgive

I think that is what bothered Peter so much.

Peter knew—knew that, in this simple act, Jesus was reaching beyond camaraderie, beyond a simple wishing well or liking much.

Jesus loved them, him!

And that love was a black hole for Peter.

It terrified him, sucked him in and down:

You will not do this for me. 

I cannot take it.

I cannot take your love.

I will not allow you to love me without boundaries.

If you love me, stop!

Stop now because I don't know how I will ever be able to live with it.

I don't know how I can be "me" if you love me.

Do you understand, Jesus?

Look at me, Jesus.

Do you understand?

And then, it's Jesus' turn to speak.

Peter, if I do not love you,

Then there is no hope for you or for me.

Peter, do you not understand?

I have to love you, Peter,

This is the only way to make sense out of my life and my death.

I cannot die for an idea or a cause.

I cannot die because I am angry or frustrated.

I cannot die a martyr, someone who is larger in death than in life.

Peter, this is who I am,

And this is the only way I understand the word "God."

Peter, if you cannot take this, who can?

If you cannot take this, then we all must live without God

This is the terrifying truth of this night:

This is why I always tell people it's so important for all of us to be here on this night:

If you who have had your feet washed,

if all of us cannot take this love without boundaries—

This black hole that sucks us in and demands some response from what is deepest and truest in us—

That forgives us in advance—

Then we must all live without God

And that is equally terrifying to me.

I cannot live without God.

To understand that I cannot live without God is to under­stand two things:

I cannot live without God's love (however terrifying and life-altering that can be)

And I cannot live without you—each of you

Somehow, they are both the same

God's boundless love and you.

That is what Jesus knew.

That is what terrified Peter.

That is what you and I cannot forget.....

each time we break the bread and share in the one cup.