This Sunday, I am preaching
from John 13.
A
few weeks ago, I was reading Tim Archer’s blog http://www.timothyarcher.com/kitchen/?p=5537
and I came across this story he was passing along from Richard Beck and his
blog, Experimental Theology. Beck shares about his
experiences teaching John 13 in his prison ministry. I could think of no better
illustration of John 13:
After reading the story I
returned to our prior conversation. I asked, “Can you serve people like Jesus
did here in the prison?”
As
before, there was general skepticism. The comment “kindness in prison is
mistaken for weakness” was repeated. But I pushed a little harder this time and
waited a little longer.
“How
can you find moments to serve in this place?”
There
was a long silence.
Then
one man, Norberto (not his real name), raised his hand.
I
was intrigued by what Norberto would say. He is a big, intimidating man. He
could snap me like a twig. You can tell he commands a lot of respect from the
other men.
I
called on him and, given his intimidating presence, figured he’d stay with the
“you can’t do that kind of stuff in here” consensus.
He
began, speaking softly.
“Well,”
he started with his heavy Hispanic accent, “I don’t know if this is what you
are looking for but I help my celly [i.e., cell mate].”
“How?”
I ask.
“Well,
my celly isn’t too bright. Something is wrong with his head. He was in an
accident so he’s not too smart.” Guys who know Norberto’s cellmate nod in
agreement and elaborate. Apparently he’s borderline mentally retarded and needs
a lot of help taking care of himself and navigating prison life.
Norberto
continues. “Well, when my celly first got put in with me I noticed that he
never took off his shoes. He always left them on. So one day I finally asked
him, ‘Why don’t you ever take off your shoes?’ He wouldn’t tell me. Finally I
got him to tell me. He was embarrassed. He didn’t know how to take care of his
feet. So his toenails were all overgrown, smelly and ugly looking. So I asked
him to take off his shoes and socks. And his nails were awful. But he didn’t
know how to cut them.
So
I sat him down and had him put his feet in water. Then I took his foot in my
lap and cut his toenails for him. I don’t know what people would have thought
if they walked by, his foot in my lap. And I would never have thought I’d be
doing something like that.”
There
was now a deep silence in the room. The image before us was so unexpected. Here
was this huge, intimidating man taking the time, almost like a mother, to
gently wash the feet and trim the nails of his mentally retarded cell mate.
Breaking
the silence Norberto looked up at me and asked, “Is that an example of what you
were talking about?”
“Yes,”
I said. “Yes, that is an example of what I was talking about.”
