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people with a conviction history to compete fairly for employment without compromising safety and security on the job,” Roger Dickinson of the California Assembly authored a bill to prevent government agencies from collecting criminal background information on initial employment applications. State laws may also prevent returning citizens from
working in certain professions. T at can include nearly 800 professions ranging from barber to social worker, according to the Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland. Such collateral consequences—civil penalties that follow arrest or conviction—are a signifi cant obstacle and nearly as debilitating as incarceration. Other signifi cant sanctions include eviction from
public housing; denial of voting rights (sometimes for life); and ineligibility for food stamps or small-business, housing and education loans. Some sanctions may apply even without a criminal conviction. In New York City, execution of a search warrant, even without arrest or conviction, can lead to eviction from public housing. While many argue that it’s in the public’s best interest
to prevent certain off enders from working in particular occupations, these sanctions oſt en do little to protect public safety, according to the American Bar Association. T is glut of sanctions that don’t bear a relationship to crimes led the ELCA to conclude in its social statement that “the majority of [collateral consequences] are unjust.” Researchers fi nd that, far from protecting the pub-
lic, by denying access to welfare programs and housing and permitting employment discrimination, state laws may place pressure on returning citizens to re-off end, especially in regard to drug and property crimes. T e very penalties said to deter crime may actually lead to increased crime and decreased safety in communities.
‘Don’t step on the dish ...’ Certainly justice demands that any punishment be proportionate to the harm caused by the crime. In the Christian tradition, proportionality, which ensures that consequences are neither too lax nor too harsh, is a cen- tral aspect of the whole picture of justice. Martin Luther recognized this in 1523 when he advised that an author- ity must “not step on the dish while picking up the spoon, and for the sake of one man’s head … fi ll the land with widows and orphans.” In recent years, critics have decried the disproportion-
ate eff ects of incarceration and collateral consequences on communities and families, especially on the 2.7 million children who have an incarcerated parent. U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder noted the concern: “We can’t permit
incarceration of a parent to punish an entire family.” More than half of convicted men were the primary
fi nancial support for their children before incarceration, reports the Pew Charitable Trust. During a father’s incar- ceration, family income drops 22 percent. A year aſt er his release, household income is still as much as 15 percent below what it was prior to incarceration. With limited job prospects and a lack of access to public assistance, parents oſt en can’t meet their family’s fi nancial needs. Given their reduced wages and the likelihood of
signifi cantly lower lifetime earnings, the communities to which former off enders return also suff er from lack of investment and the loss of capital. T is is particularly destructive in communities of color, given the dispropor- tionately high number of people of color charged with, convicted of and incarcerated for drug crimes. Churches can play a key role, not only through public
policy advocacy but also through their presence in com- munities. Since his release Wilkins has found hope at Bethel. T e congregation works with an area agency to provide formerly incarcerated people with opportunities for community service and engagement in the life and work of a faith community. “You have to have faith with the footwork behind it,”
Wilkins said. “[Members of Bethel] stood up for me and had my back and were there for me. [T ey’ve] been my rock .... [T ey] made me feel needed, not just wanted.” His fellow Bethel member, Valora Starr, bears witness
to the small and large ways Wilkins and other return- ing citizens need (and are needed by) the congregation. Wilkins teaches adult Sunday school. A hard worker, he has skills for drywall, carpentry, appliance repair and more. Last year members were surprised to fi nd he had quietly, expertly fi xed Bethel’s broken commercial freezer, used for its feeding program, Starr said. “God can use anybody and does on a regular basis,”
Starr said. “Society tends to think of people as being disposable. But in the church that doesn’t work. We’re asked to walk with our neighbor, not just when people are doing the right things but when they need us.” In a fallen world, crime will still occur. Off enders will
still face consequences. But congregations like Bethel are “rocks” for returning citizens—accompanying, welcoming and equipping people who face the chal- lenge of reintegrating into a society that stigmatizes and excludes human beings who have broken the law.
Author bio: Cumming is ELCA director for hunger education.
April 2014 29
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