Ongoing Journey of Faith and Accountability
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.— “Invictus,” by William Earnest Henley, 1920
Faith is an integral part of surviving incarceration. Whether that faith is in God, Allah, a Higher Power, a pantheon of gods, one’s self, or in nothing, having faith is necessary to make it through a long prison bid.
When people come to prison, they tend to do one of four things: find a faith, lose faith, change the expression of their faith, or develop a faith centered on their own power. Regardless of the particular path, each of us is seeking to attain our highest self, gain agency over our life, and thus become more accountable for who we are in the world.
Two years ago, I wrote here about my obligation to prevent, interrupt and heal harm in the world around me (“Life of Atonement,” Nov. 2023). I created this obligation by causing serious harm that brought me to prison. As an annual faith practice, I have observed Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement, found in Leviticus 23:26-32) for over a decade. I do so as a growing follower of Jesus of Nazareth, with the understanding that the original Disciples were Jews.
In years past, even though my longtime mentor and a couple other friends also observed this holy day in the same way, I always felt alone in it. The atonement was exclusively for my wrongs. I had no connection to, or responsibility for, the actions of my neighbor. I was to love my neighbor and care for them when I could, but when they messed up or hurt others, I was not required to take responsibility and walk with them in their struggle. The wrong or harm they did was theirs and theirs alone to atone for, to take accountability for.
As Yom Kippur approaches this year, I feel different. Under the wise tutelage of the only Black Jewish man I’ve known, Mr. Holland, my eyes are opening to a deeper understanding of individual and collective accountability. In Judaism, there is a foundational obligation called tikkun olam, which translates to “repairing the world.” It is a call of responsibility to make the world a better place. I know I can never repair the harm I caused those 17 years ago. With the heaviness of this reality, the most I can do now is make an intentional choice every day to repair other harm I see in the world.
Before stepping into this new leg of my faith journey, the only spaces I experienced discussions of collective accountability were secular ones. They usually focused on collective accountability as it related to social justice issues. Now, my heart is finding new strength and sustenance in the way interconnectedness is foundational in Jewish faith services. When I read the Hebrew prayers of atonement, I understand what it means to be part of a collective “we” who have caused all manner of harm. I feel this interconnectedness, knowing I am standing, bowing, and praying this Yom Kippur along with Jews all over the world, seeking to co-create a more-healed world. I am responsible to atone not just for the harms I have caused, but also those caused by my neighbor. As abolitionists, Indigenous peoples, and vulnerable populations in the U.S. have known for generations, collective accountability is how people can cultivate real safety in communities — without police or prisons.
My journey of faith and accountability is ongoing. The more I learn and grow, the more I realize how much I have yet to learn and grow. Regardless of your path in life, my hope for you is a deepening of clarity, strength, and connection in and through your faith walk. I also ask that you begin to wonder and take action: What is one tangible way you can prevent, reduce, interrupt, or help others heal from harm in the world around you? How can you help repair the world for the generations to come?
Leo Hylton is a PhD student at George Mason University’s Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter School for Peace and Conflict Resolution, currently incarcerated at Maine State Prison. His education and work are focused on Social Justice Advocacy and Activism, with a vision toward an abolitionist future. You can reach him at: Leo Hylton #70199, 807 Cushing Rd., Warren, ME 04864, or leoshininglightonhumanity@gmail.com.
