Jesus Christ Behind Bars (Reflection of Donna Escolano)

(Madonna Escolano is a Cubao Pilgrim for both WYD2008 in Sydney, Australia and the JMJ2011 in Madrid, Spain. She is also an active servant at the Our Lady of Fatima Parish in Quezon City. This is her reflection after their group’s outreach at the New Bilibid Prison’s in Muntinlupa City last October 30, 2011)

“Why do you take everything away from me? Why have you taken away my freedom? Why have you allowed me to be separated from my loved ones? God, if you’re real, why am I inside this place? If You really love me, as You say you do, why do I suffer so much? God, why have you abandoned me?”

These words (originally said in Filipino,) were part of a play that the youth offenders of the Medium Security Compound in the New Bilibid Prison, performed for us volunteers from the Diocese of Cubao, Ministry for Youth Affairs. It echoed their cries, their questions, and their frustrations. It was entitled, “Bilangguang Walang Rehas” (Prison  cell without Bars).

The moment I stepped inside the walls of ‘Bilibid’, I asked myself what pushes a man to commit a crime that would confine him in a place where he is going to be deprived of his personal freedom, become separated from his loved ones, and in many ways, ‘lose’ his life. After very strict checks, and once inside the Maximum Security Compound of that penal institution, I took a quick survey of the place, as I only have a short time to be inside. I was only there as part of the prison outreach that my co-volunteers and friends from the Diocese of Cubao agreed to do before we all get busy with the coming holidays. My co-pilgrims from the past World Youth Days in Sydney and Madrid all contributed and helped make the activity possible. It was our own little way of sharing the Faith lessons we learned from the said international youth gathering, and reaching out to those who hunger most for the Word of God.

We started the day inside Bilibid with a Eucharistic celebration. Our Diocesan Youth priest minister, Fr. Jojo Monis, concelebrated in the Mass. Even before the opening hymn was sung, I looked at the faces of the inmates seated around me. They all looked innocent and harmless, especially because most of them seemed to be old enough to be my grandfather, father, uncle or brother. But I know that being inside that maximum security compound could only mean that they have committed something so heinous to have deserved incarceration. I am sure that their crimes would have to be murder, or rape, or drug trafficking, to get life-imprisonment for a sentence. But looking at their faces, I saw a glimmer of hope. Hope in the One who promises that they are never alone; that because they have believed and have repented, they too, like Saint Dismas the Good Thief, have that chance to be with Him in paradise.

“What do you miss most outside, excluding of course your “freedom” and your loved ones?” I asked Abram and Ken (not their real names), with bottled-up tears.

“The sound of jeepneys and honking horns… of chattering girls in the streets… the smell at food courts in malls”, Abram said.

“A decent meal and having a job”, said Ken.

These were just some of the things that Abram, Ken and I talked about, in our very brief “encounter” with each other. Both in their early twenties, they have been in the Medium Security Compound of the New Bilibid Prison, the main insular penitentiary in the Philippines, for at least four years. Abram said his sentence is reclusión perpetua, (30 to 40 years in prison without pardon or parole until after the first 30 years); while Ken said his sentence would be served by 2012.  I have decided not to ask them what crimes they committed, but they both openly, even trustingly, told me their stories.

Abram and Ken showed hunger not only for food (as they only have very meager portions daily, according to them); but also hunger for someone to talk to, someone willing to listen to them, someone who cared enough to be with them even for just a few precious moments. I learned that they both never had visitors ever since they were transferred to Bilibid. Their families live in provinces too far from the city. The cost of transportation would rather be used to buy food to feed their loved ones. I saw the deep loneliness in their eyes, despite the happy disposition that they showed me. I know that talking to me might be the only time they could ever talk to a person whose intention was to visit them. My heart ached most especially for Abram, because he would have to serve 30 years behind bars before he could ever get the chance of parole. And while he was excitedly talking and sharing with me the things that they do daily “inside” (Bilibid), I was thinking about the other opportunities he’d miss had he been “outside” that place. He won’t get the chance to experience his ‘own family’ life. He won’t get to build his dream house and get his dream job.   Or maybe he would, who knows. But he fears the social stigma. It would be something like having the scarlet letter on his chest. If he lives long enough to once again breathe the air outside the prison walls, he fears it may be too late to even bother to pursue his dreams. It broke my heart even more. Such wasted youth. And what a way to die! Not physically of course. But giving up one’s dreams feels like giving up on life too.

In my attempt to give even just a drop of hope to both Abram and Ken, I asked them if there is anything good at all that happened in their lives since they’ve been inside Bilibid. And they both said it was encountering Jesus.

In their past life before Bilibid, they said they have heard the Name of Jesus, but did not care. They never went to Mass. Occasionally they have been inside churches, but for a different reason. They did not think it was all too important to talk to Someone who’s up there in heaven; Someone who did nothing to change the circumstances in their lives. Both Abram and Ken came from families whose gross income status is considered below the poverty line. They were able to eat at least once daily and somehow have kept roofs above their heads, but the money was never enough. Their stomachs still grumble. Going to school was not a priority. Getting sick, if only it could be ‘prohibited’, was something they cannot afford because medical services are expensive. And then, the unfortunate reality of being surrounded by people who led them to commit one petty crime, and then another, until they succumbed into sin. It was too late before they realized that they have committed something wrong. They were arrested and put behind bars.

Abram and Ken said that somehow they are thankful that they are inside Bilibid, because they have learned to read their Bibles daily. They have experienced the sacrament of Reconciliation while “inside”. They have learned to pray the Rosary. Activities that a middle or upper class youth their age living outside prison walls would consider a waste of time. They both said that inside Bilibid, they are given a second chance at getting an education. (Abram is in elementary school level, while Ken is in high school.) They get to attend livelihood programs given by prison volunteers. They learn to sing, and dance, and perform in plays. They get to play sports. Most important of all, they said, is that they are able to attend Mass every Sunday.

The things that most of us enjoying our freedom, take for granted!! Here are just two persons, in spite of their incarceration, have learned that there is more to life than finishing school, or having a career, or being able to spend the weekend with friends. They have learned that their souls should be on top of their priority list. They have learned that even behind bars, change is possible. Forgiveness and absolution of their sins can be granted to them. Salvation and eternal life with Jesus Christ is something that they can claim and look forward to. They have come to understand that everything here on earth is transitory. Their suffering and pain have an end. They have come to accept the Truth that there is hope and there is definitely life in Jesus. Above all, they NOW know that God alone loves them unconditionally and infinitely even when every one else has forgotten about them.

“A person is a prisoner inside a prison cell without bars if he is imprisoned by hatred… by his greed and self-gratification… by his selfishness and sole love of self. A person is a prisoner inside a prison cell without bars if he is steeped in sin…” These were the words that reverberated inside the room for the Special Classes for Youth Offenders; sung as part of the play that they performed for us.

After our visit, our group met to share about our personal insights and reflection after talking with and listening to the young inmates. We expressed our frustration over the unjust penal system (as some of the juvenile offenders are serving life sentences because of crimes they, in all honesty and truth, have not committed). We have all agreed that there are many things in the life and freedom we enjoy that we take for granted. We all realized the need to do another prison outreach hopefully sooner, with more volunteers next time. We saw the value of being able to share the Good News of our salvation with others, to the youth most especially, so as to show them the way to Life and not to Death.

Fr. Jojo, whose brother was murdered and whose assailant is still at large, said the perfect words that summarized our whole experience. He said he wants justice for his brother, not to get even, but hopes that the criminal would somehow get the chance of stumbling upon Jesus Christ behind bars and repent, if he has not yet encountered Him outside.  He hopes that the murderer, despite the crime he committed, might also experience the life changing power of the Love of God. Life here on earth, after all, is fleeting. And what matters most in the end is the good of our souls, and the hope that one day, we shall see God face to face, and worship Him alongside His angels and His saints.

Cubao WYD2008 & 2011 Pilgrims outside the Philippine Jesuit Prison Service Office. (October 30, 2011, NBP, Muntinlupa City)