An Agnostic Discusses the Death Penalty

Agnostic n. 1: a person who holds the view that any ultimate reality (as God) is unknown and probably unknowable; broadly: one who is not committed to believing in either the existence or the nonexistence of God or a god (source: Merriam Webster definition)

I grew up in a Baptist church. I attended my maternal grandmother's church every Sunday, and I enjoyed going to her church. I wasn't interested in going to hear about religion though. I just wanted to see Grandma Young pin a needle and ribbon on me without ever poking me in the chest, play Tic Tac Toe or Hangman with my older brother, and eat peppermint while I leaned on my mother's warm shoulder. But after the very beginning of church, I'd sit there skeptically, listen to people yell out "Hallelujah" and "Yes lawd," listen to the Bible being read, and hope that church was over soon. I'd also attended three other churches to celebrate my father being ordained, to Girl Scout functions, and to my paternal grandmother's church a couple of times. Out of all four churches, Trinity United Church of Christ was the only one that kept my attention, not because of the talk about religion but because of the history, truth, and inspirational sermons from Reverend Wright. However, I was never intrigued enough to voluntarily join a church after learning about slavery. There will never be a crime that I find more heinous than slavery. Not Jeffrey Dahmer. Not the killing of Emmett Till and James Byrd or the torture of Megan Williams. Not the slaying of Dr. King nor John F. Kennedy. In my mind, if there really was a God, then he/she/it surely hated African people to let them live through that kind of suffering for centuries.

I've had these beliefs for years, and I often avoid the topic of religion. When someone asks me to pray on Thanksgiving or at a family function, I grudgingly hold hands and daydream about something else until the last "Amen" is spoken. When someone says I've been blessed, I wonder what did my ancestors do to not be blessed. When I saw people get the Holy Ghost in church, I often wondered were they acting or so brainwashed that they couldn't help themselves. But there has always been this small part of me that wonders "What if...?"

When picking up a copy of Jodi Picoult's latest book, Change of Heart, I reconsidered reading it once I found out that the topic matter would discuss religion. But while listening to this book (the second audio book I've ever listened to in my life), I was delighted to find out that it wasn't preachy. Jodi Picoult had characters who were Catholic, rabbis, atheists, and Agnostics. One character, particularly Maggie, had so many of my views on religion that I couldn't help my outbursts of "Exactly" and arm wagging as I took a walk to Subway. In addition, strange things started happening throughout my walking expeditions while reading this book. I was surprised to feel my lips moving at work when a character recited The Lord's Prayer. I didn't even know I still remembered it. I was strolling to the lakefront when listening to a debate from a rabbi about Gnostics, and a guy walked by me in a sweatshirt that said "Resurrection." I did a double take. When listening to Maggie, the female lawyer in the book, complain for the billionth time about weight loss and insecurity, I glanced at a magazine in Barnes & Noble with a photo of full-figured comedian Monique smiling and staring back at me. When walking under a viaduct on my way to the library and listening to an ex-convict freak out about his bird, Batman the Robin, being caught in his cell, out of nowhere this bird came flying towards my chest, and I scurried out of the way because the bird would not go any higher. Now I can always say this is coincidental, but again, there's always a little bit of hope in the back of my mind that there has to be something or someone greater than us on the planet.

In Picoult's book, Change of Heart, other interesting topics came up. Although I was bored quickly with Maggie complaining incessantly about her weight and low self-esteem, her need to help someone was admirable. Maggie was Shay Bourne's lawyer, and Shay Bourne was on trial for death row after being convicted of child molestation and murder of a police officer, who was the child's father. Father Michael was sent to the prison as a spiritual adviser, but the strange thing about him being there is Father Michael was also the last person on the jury who put Shay Bourne in prison in the first place. Factor in the sister (Clare) of the 7-year-old girl who was killed needing a new heart and June, the mother of both girls and the wife of the murdered police officer, who doesn't want anything to do with Shay, and you've got a good story. But what made the story more unique was that Shay decided instead of dying of lethal injection the way death row patients usually are, he wanted to donate his heart to Clare. In order for a death row inmate to donate a heart, he would have to be hung instead of lethal injection, and the court case began.

Before reading this book, I'd always been wishy washy when it came to the death penalty. There were certainly people who I wouldn't bat an eye at hearing they died, such as Jeffrey Dahmer and the killers of Emmett Till, but there are far too many people sentenced to death row who were innocent to begin with. The death penalty was reintroduced in 1976, but Governor Ryan of Illinois excused four men (in 2003) from lethal injection after finding out that confessions were beaten out of them by police, led by Chicago Police Commander, Jon Burge, who was later fired after evidence was found of physical abuse to suspects. Governor Ryan felt that the death penalty was given disproportionately to poor people, minorities, and cases in which informers' evidence was used. Stanley Howard, one of the death row inmates, still had to serve time for an alternate crime, but Madison Hobley, Leroy Orange, and Aaron Patterson were released. One hundred fifty-six people went from death row to life in prison.

In Picoult's book, Shay Bourne served eleven years and had several trials trying to clear him of the charges, and finally Bourne gave up and only wanted his heart to be given to Clare. When Maggie, the lawyer, came along trying to fight against the death penalty, Shay Bourne was finally at peace with dying and just wanted to get it over with, but he insisted on donating his heart. This made me ask myself a question: Why can't a death row inmate be able to save another person's life when giving up their own? Who made the rule that said that every part of them must die. Inmates should be able to donate body parts, give blood, and anything else that they can to help society. And if God is really real, who are we as human beings to make ourselves do the job of God and end a person's life? Even with twelve people listening to evidence, testimonies, and so forth, nobody on a jury can be a witness to a crime, so it's all a matter of guessing, and just like Father Michael, I'd be hard pressed to make a decision on someone dying.

Without giving away the ending, I surely had a smug smile on my face when I found out the details of the murders Shay Bourne allegedly committed, and I'd pretty much guessed what really happened from the opening chapter. However, I was impressed to find that Picoult actually took it that route. Jodi Picoult is notorious for writing about controversial issues: homosexuality, child molestation, rape, school shootings, interracial relationships, [insert topic for Shay's murders that I refuse to give away], suicide, racism in prison, HIV/AIDS, HPV, involuntary organ donation, and so forth. Although I thought she couldn't top Nineteen Minutes, a book I'd put on my top five books ever, Change of Heart has made it to my top five as well. Not only did Change of Heart by Jodi Picoult make me take a new look at the death penalty; it almost made me reconsider some of my ideas on religion. I'm still Agnostic, but I am looking at Jesus (who somehow I've always believed in) a lot more than I previously did.