“He deserves to die. . . . ‘Crucify him!’” (Matthew 26:66; 27:22). Every Palm Sunday and Good Friday, the only days of the year when part of the Gospel is proclaimed in chorus by everyone, we find ourselves echoing the words of a death sentence. We know that Barabbas, guilty of murder, escapes death, and Christ, innocence itself, is denied mercy and suffers the cross. But whatever became of Barabbas, the one who escaped the death sentence?

As a priest in the Archdiocese of St. Louis, I used to visit inmates on death row, all of whom bore a tragic resemblance to Barabbas. Because of the brutal nature of their crimes, many of those awaiting an execution date were, like Barabbas, also “notorious” (Matthew 27:16). And there are personal reasons why some would think I had good reason for not wanting that ministry.

My family was touched by a horrific crime in 1978. Two of my uncles tragically lost their lives during a robbery of their store by a 16-year-old. I struggled with the same question everyone does who is touched by a senseless act of violence: why? I tried to deal with the pain and raw emotions I felt and struggled between the desire for a justice that demanded an “eye for an eye” and one of mercy and forgiveness.

The youth who committed the crime lived in the same neighborhood as my uncles. He was arrested six months later for the execution-like murders he committed, and he killed himself in jail a short time later. As a new seminarian, I volunteered to work in the very area where this young man had grown so heartless. The experience opened my eyes to yet another part of this horrible tragedy and helped me to pray for all the victims—my uncles and the youth who took their lives as well as their families.

The attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II in 1981 by Ali Agca awakened in me the emotions I had felt three years earlier, but the pope’s call for mercy deeply impressed me. Shortly after the attempt on his life, John Paul called on everyone to “pray for my brother [Agca] . . . whom I have sincerely forgiven.” John Paul would later visit him in prison to personally express his forgiveness. The only question Agca asked the pope was, “Why aren’t you dead?”

In 1999 John Paul II visited St. Louis, a visit I helped coordinate. I remember the moment when the pope leaned over to Missouri Governor Mel Carnahan and said, “Show mercy for Mr. Mease.” The governor knew what was being asked of him: Darrell Mease had been scheduled for execution on the day of the pope’s arrival for a triple murder committed in 1988. But so that the papal visit and execution would not coincide, it was rescheduled to take place after the pope’s departure. At the pope’s request, however, Gov. Carnahan commuted the death sentence to life in prison without parole, later explaining, “How could I say no to the pope who had forgiven the man who attempted to kill him?”

The work of Sister Helen Prejean, who wrote the Pulitzer Prize–winning book Dead Man Walking (Vintage, 1994) about her experiences with those on death row, has done much to help efforts to abolish the death penalty. (Note: Sister Helen is scheduled to speak in Knoxville at noon on Friday, April 8, in the Shiloh Room of the University of Tennessee’s Carolyn P. Brown Memorial University Center.)

Joining 15 other states that have already done so, Illinois Governor Pat Quinn recently signed legislation to abolish the death penalty in his state. Governor Quinn continues to send mixed signals, however, as he remains pro-abortion. To preserve the guilty from a death sentence but not the most innocent in the womb seems sadly reminiscent of Pilate’s decision to grant mercy to Barabbas but not to Christ.

I toured the execution chamber in Potosi Correctional Center in Washington County, Mo., where the sentence of death by lethal injection is administered. Several things stood out. The first was the gurney with its multiple straps for securing the prisoner and the arm wings that pivot outward for administering the injections. It forms the image of a cross. Another thing I noticed was the window for those outside the chamber to witness the execution. Not far away from this chamber was a room divided by a chain-link fence where the prisoner is moved 48 hours before the execution. A guard on the other side of the fence keeps vigil with the prisoner, only to ensure that he doesn’t take his own life before the execution.

Traditionally the Church has not excluded recourse to the death penalty when it is the only effective way of protecting the public from an unjust aggressor. Even during war, however, it has long been recognized as unjust and criminal to kill an enemy combatant who has surrendered or been wounded and rendered helpless. If soldiers understand and honor this tradition on the battlefield, should we not also embrace it in our criminal-justice system?

There is, I believe, a close connection between the words of Christ at the Last Supper, “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19), and the words of the repentant thief upon the cross, “Remember me . . .” (Luke 23:42). For what we celebrate and receive at Mass—the gift of Christ himself—we are also called to share with others, especially those who are least likely to be remembered by society. Let us not forget the words of Christ, “I was in prison and you came to me” (Matthew 25:36).

I am pleased that Deacon Mark White of St. Francis of Assisi Parish in Fairfield Glade has initiated a prison-ministry training program for the diocese. He is joined by Father Michael Sweeney, the pastor of Blessed Sacrament Parish in Harriman; Deacon Norm Amero of Oak Ridge; Deacon Tom McConnell, director of prison ministry in the Chattanooga Deanery; Tim Dempsey, CEO of Chattanooga Endeavors Inc.; and Paul Simoneau of the Office of Justice and Peace. I fully bless this endeavor to help build up our diocesan prison-ministry program, and I hope it will be supported by every parish. I am ever grateful to our priests, deacons, religious, and laity who minister to those in prison.

What happened to Barabbas after Christ was led off to be crucified? Scripture is strangely silent. Perhaps that’s because the story of Barabbas is to be written by each of us in response to the gifts of Christ’s mercy and forgiveness.

My mother, Helen, loved to garden, and with her caring hands, every springtime she skillfully nurtured a new garden’s life to maturity and fruitfulness. Perhaps that is one of the reasons why Mother’s Day is celebrated when it is: the season speaks so much to the nurturing gift that is particularly a mother’s.

My mother’s love extended well beyond the life she brought into this world. She welcomed not only my brothers, Lawrence and Robert, and me but also my adoptive brother, Joseph. I am so grateful to her for the gift of Joseph in our family. And I am likewise grateful to Sandi Davidson and those who assist her at Catholic Charities of East Tennessee in laboring so hard to make adoptions possible as a part of Pregnancy Help Services.

I recently was reminded of the preciousness of life and the special blessing of a mother’s love during a visit with Deacon Joseph Hieu Vinh and his daughter, Trang, while they were recovering at Vanderbilt Medical Center following the tragic accident at Immaculate Conception Church on Holy Saturday. When I entered Trang’s room, I was greeted by her mother, Lehang, whom we know affectionately as Cathy. She had not left her daughter’s side since the terrible accident, and I could see the exhaustion in her face from the suffering in which she had shared. But I also saw a mother’s tremendous love, which could never be exhausted in nurturing her child back to health.

I couldn’t help but think of Our Blessed Mother at the foot of the cross of her son and how she suffered with him for love of us. I was also reminded of the figure of Veronica, about whom we know so little except for her act of kindness to Our Lord that we celebrate in the Stations of the Cross. Just as Veronica was left with the sacred image of Our Lord’s face on the veil she had offered him, Cathy had also captured the image of Christ in her acts of motherly kindness. In our daily witness to life, isn’t that what we are all called to do?

It seems to me that the sacredness and dignity of human life is most evident in the vulnerability of the weak and suffering, who are therefore especially deserving of our care and protection. This is certainly true of life in the womb as well as the life of the elderly. Because of their frailty, society increasingly views them as a fiscal burden and advocates programs of veiled euthanasia.

Defending human dignity even entails defending the life of those whom we are most tempted to dismiss. I’ll never forget a specific moment during Pope John Paul II’s 1999 visit to St. Louis, which I helped coordinate. In that moment the Holy Father leaned over to Missouri Governor Mel Carnahan and in his thick Polish accent said, “Show mercy for Mr. Mease.” The governor knew exactly what the pope was asking: on the day of the pope’s arrival, Darrell Mease had been scheduled for execution for a triple murder he had committed in 1988. But so that the execution would not coincide with the pope’s visit, it had been set to occur after his departure. At the pope’s request, however, Gov. Carnahan commuted the sentence to life in prison without parole. I remember clearly the governor’s saying, “How could I say no to the pope?”

I pray a similar miracle will occur here in Tennessee and that a son’s appeal to Governor Phil Bredesen for clemency on behalf of his mother will be granted. Gaile Owens, scheduled to be executed on Sept. 28, was convicted of the contract murder of her husband 25 years ago. After a long struggle to forgive his mother, her son is now leading the appeal for clemency. Following the example of John Paul II, I will make my own appeal to Gov. Bredesen and ask him to show mercy to Gaile Owens. I ask that you join me—for every life is precious, whether the life of a child in the womb or the life of a mother on death row.

On the last day of his visit to St. Louis, Pope John Paul II concluded his homily with these words, which I ask you to reflect on: “If you want peace, work for justice. If you want justice, defend life. If you want life, embrace the truth—the truth revealed by God.” This is how mercy and love triumph.

Let me close by wishing a happy Mother’s Day to all mothers. May God bless you!