One Cross Too Many: The Execution of Troy Davis

“If he puts you in jail, you go in that jail and transform it from a dungeon of shame to a haven of freedom and human dignity. Even if he tries to kill you, you develop the inner conviction that some things are so precious, that there are some things so dear, some things so eternally worthful, that they are worth dying for. If an individual has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live." –Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

The execution of Troy Davis was both tragic and devastating but not surprising. Jesus of Nazareth suffered a similar fate. One afternoon when the sun was exalted the Son of Man hanged and although innocent he died a criminal’s death. Parabolically, Jesus’ cross juxtaposed to Davis’ chamber of execution depicts a wretched picture: two black men, poor, powerless and pitted at the hands of imperialism. They both were left to hang regardless of their professed innocence. Jesus and Davis, by crucifixion and execution died a deplorable death. Darkness therefore encompasses the State of Georgia as it did Golgotha. Their hanging is no different than the mutilated body of Emmitt Till; or Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit; or the burning of crosses to ignite White Supremacy and subjugation over blacks. It is no different than the bomb that killed four black girls of Sixteenth Street Baptist Church; and no different than the countless named and unnamed Blacks and Hispanics who are raised from the cradle – not to be properly educated– but to be criminalized, condemned and carried off to prison without any consideration for their humanity. Without mistake, as the arrow leaves the bow for the bulls-eye, the execution of Troy Davis points directly to the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth.

Thus, it is no surprise. A trail of blood pours not just from Jesus’ side on Golgotha, but it flows from Antiquity to Africa, from the Atlantic to the Antebellum and all across America ad nauseum. This hemorrhaging of justice is in need of a transfusion of values. For while a healthy body may endure a loss of 10-15 percent of its total blood volume, America cannot stand to lose the 99 percent of people who suffer daily and yet hope for the day to suffer no more at the hands of injustice. A transfusion of values is necessary to replace the blood that we have lost and that stains our flag and our hands every time there is a Troy Davis and every where there is a cross.

The proverbial African saying is correct: “I am because we are.” In this regard, we are because of Troy Davis. Likewise Troy Davis is because we must continue to fight in his name. We must fight to end retributive punishment. An eye-for-an-eye ethic that retributive punishment endorses is not only immoral but it is ungodly. The Christian mandate is to “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Thus, the Christian response to punishment is love. It is to seek the restoration of malefactors and not their condemnation. It is to do as Martin King implored, to go into the “jail and transform it from a dungeon of shame to a haven of freedom and human dignity.” Because as King rightfully asserted, we must “develop the inner conviction that some things are so precious, that there are some things so dear, some things so eternally true, that they are worth dying for.” Perhaps Troy Davis knew this better than anyone – for regardless of his professed innocence he possesed the inner conviction to give his life for penal reform and considered it worthy to die for justice. Our inner conviction, therefore, must compel us to do the same – to scrap our silence, counter our complacency and abandon our apathy. We must engage the struggle for justice by acting in solidarity with the marginalized and disenfranchised. We achieve this when we break our silence.

Rabbi Joachim Prinz, a refugee from Germany, said at the March on Washington "The most important thing I learned under those tragic circumstances (Holocaust) was that bigotry and hatred are not the most urgent problems. The most urgent and most disgraceful, the most shameful, the most tragic problem is silence." May we heed the lesson of Rabbi Prinz and break our silence so that the blood trail ends here and a transfusion of value begins. Let us speak truth to the powers of a 1994 crime bill (passed by Reagan and Clinton’s administrations) that spurred prison construction and supported punitively harsh sentencing policies in which we continue to suffer today. Let us speak truth to the powers of a school-to-prison pipeline where more than half of black dropouts end up in jail and where three out of four boys dropout of high school. Let us speak truth to the powers of our country, where the US has become the world leader in incarceration, imprisoning more people (in absolute and percentage of population) than any other country at any time in the U.S. history. May we speak truth to power not merely in words but in action. May we live the gospel and proactively put our hands to the moral arc of justice until it becomes a bright rainbow hooked in a smiling sky representing a covenant between God and humanity: that although there may be a cross, there shall never again be a Troy Davis, for his cross was one too many.