The Halls of Justice

So as part of my welcome into adult life after graduation, this past Tuesday I went down to Santa Ana’s Center Court at 7:45 a.m. for my first jury summons. Before 9 I was sent with about 100 of the 500 or so others to a court as potential jurors. I was still trying to figure out if I could/should beg out of it because that also happened to be our last day to move out of our house into an apartment. I was sitting, looking around at the other bored/tired jurors and at the back of the defendant, when the judge started explaining the case. Attempted murder, plus drugs charges. All of a sudden I couldn’t look at the defendant the same way. In another half-hour I was sitting with about 16 others in the jury box as a juror candidate. And the judge asks so many questions, if we can look at the defendant and believe he’s innocent, unless/until proven guilty. And later the lawyers ask a similar question, is it better for a hundred innocent to be imprisoned than one guilty person go free. And they ask if we are able to judge and make a verdict on what someone is guilty of, regardless of the punishment that goes along with it. And all I can think about if Dostoevsky and the Brothers Karamazov and Crime and Punishment, and about Jesus dying for all and what kind of justice that is, and what kind of broken justice we have down here.

During lunch break I walked around outside of the court, because there were monuments and gardens and benches. And then I noticed something else. Hidden behind every planter along one of the walkways were bags and grocery carts and blankets and people. I remembered last semester doing the homeless ministry, and learning that there were many homeless in Santa Ana. It was somewhat surreal to sit and watch people in suits and security uniforms walk by while the homeless people sat and chatted. In some ways, it’s definitely a bad thing. Hidden people, invisible people, they don’t want to hide or be invisible. We pass legislation that makes it necessary for them to hide. We choose to close our eyes. And so in the outer garden ‘courts’ of Santa Ana’s justice center, the homeless hide. But that’s a simplification. Because as I continued to sit there and look on, I noticed one of the security guards smiling and waving at one of the homeless men. And while it’s far from ideal, I realized there was something surprising about the fact that there wasn’t legislation passed that kept the homeless entirely off the grounds, which would probably be easy enough. They seemed oddly at home. They’re still probably invisible to too many passersby, but maybe I need to give a little more credit to others.

Well, I didn’t get chosen for jury duty on the case, but it taught me a similar lesson. I’m skeptical of the corrections system we have, that while it protects the rest of the population, it’s just throwing away lives instead of helping them find new life and change. But some of the other jurors had more direct experience with it, and they shared that their family members had turned around because of their experience. And I realized that honestly, Rodya in Crime and Punishment didn’t go to a prison with some amazing reform program. Those still sound good to me, but I think I forgot in my heart the good that punishment can do, even if I remembered in my head.

It was a good way to start out the summer and start out post-graduation life. A good reminder. I was a little disturbed by the lightness of the sharing, of the jokes exchanged between judge, lawyers and jury, when a man’s future was hanging in the balance. But that was another reminder. Until this semester, I had rather forgotten that it’s okay to have fun and play. For too long it seemed too selfish to me, to spend my time and money on having fun. And it can be selfish. But it can also be done in such a way that it rejuvenates you and even builds relationships and community. So make jokes, even when things are serious. Chesterton would say you can be serious without being solemn. Oh, Chesterton.

But so I guess that’s how I’m starting life not as a student – though still a learner. Serious, but silly too, not solemn. So I can play on my longboard with neighborhood kids and join in a soccer game at the park. I can teach worship songs to a new friend, and I can go to a concert. And I can work (a lot). And I can think (a lot more). And if I need some correction, discipline, punishment, hopeful I’ll remember to be grateful for it.

Yayyyyyy :)