I was in prison…

“Pope Francis offers an alternative vision. While the Holy Father is doubtless conscious of the miserable effects of crime for which its perpetrators must be punished also believes that everybody, even criminals, can convert to lives of integrity.” (CNS photo/Jorge Adorno, Reuters)

That separation is physical, enforced by high walls and steel bars, and also mental. Moreover, it is a two-way separation: while prisoners are removed from society by their incarceration, society washes its hands of those serving time.

Many prisoners are abandoned even by their families and friends while they are locked up.

And in countries that are beset by often random and senselessly brutal crime and the social cancer of gangsterism, it is tempting to take the lock them up and throw away the key approach.

South Africas jails, many of them run by gangs and giving little protection to inmates who wish to reform themselves, can be dehumanising. In such circumstances we must not be surprised that individuals, some already lacking in empathy, emerge from jail with a character devoid of compassion.

Pope Francis offers an alternative vision. While the Holy Father is doubtless conscious of the miserable effects of crime for which its perpetrators must be punished he also believes that everybody, even criminals, can convert to lives of integrity.

Last week we reported on one former inmate who has made such a conversion.

Jerome Opperman, whose story The Southern Cross followed even before his release from jail five years ago, has pledged himself to serving his community and God.

He knows that his crimes have harmed society, but now wants to make reparations and show his community that I have changed and that I love them just as I love myself.

This takes great courage. Mr Opperman credits the pastoral care which he received from Catholics for giving him the courage and strength to change.

The kind of conversion which Mr Opperman experienced rarely comes from nothing. The first condition is having hope that such change is even possible.

Pope Francis emphasised this when he addressed the juvenile inmates in Rome. Press on, he told them, dont let yourselves be robbed of hope. With hope you can always go on.

But the conversion to hope from despair or emptiness must be nourished. This is where the prison ministry plays such an important role. Sometimes even the small gestures can make a concrete difference.

For example, The Southern Cross, through its Associates Campaign, provides correctional facilities throughout South Africa with copies of the newspaper, to be distributed and circulated among inmates. Some years ago one inmate reported having converted to Catholicism as a direct result of having read The Southern Cross.

Christ demands that prisoners be part of our concern: I was in prison and you visited me (Mt 25:36). Those involved in prison ministries give witness to Christs love in a concrete way.

There are many Catholics who have taken up this uninviting mission in harsh environments; but many more are needed.

The prison ministry is, of course, a specialised ministry. Much as it needs volunteers, not every Catholic is cut out for prison visits.

Yet, Christs call to visit the prisoners can be met in ways other than physical trips to correctional facilities. The prison ministry can be aided, for example, by offering material support or by prayer.

Indeed, all Catholics must be urged to remember the prison ministry in their prayers, including in these also those who carry out this apostolate, one which Pope Benedict XVI called a vital mission.

And we must pray also for the people who have been affected by crime: the victims and their family and friends, as well as the families of those who have been incarcerated.

Meanwhile, the Church must continue to advocate for conditions that might more effectively encourage the rehabilitation of the inmates in our overcrowded and often anarchic prisons which, due to an overburdened judiciary system, are further congested with awaiting trialists.