Last night, in the Commonwealth of Virginia, John Allen Muhammad was executed by lethal injection. Muhammad, you might remember, is the infamous Beltway Sniper, who terrorized a large swath of Virginia, DC, and Maryland in 2002. I remember it very well, living in Richmond at the time, because he came as far south as Ashland, about fifteen minutes from where I was living, and school was closed for two days in absolute terror of kids being picked off at their bus stops. After our “sniper days” ended, I still walked nervously in the dark to await the bus, afraid the bullets could come at any moment. That’s a pretty weird goddamn feeling, and I will never, ever forget it. But at least I lived; others were not half as lucky.

And so he was caught, tried, sentenced, and executed. He died without remorse, maintaining his innocence, and went silently to his death. It was almost defiant. Remarked one witness, “They both [Muhammad and teenage accomplice Lee Boyd Malvo, who was a minor and thus will not be executed] committed the same crimes. No, I don’t feel any closure. I mean, it’s … it … nothing changes.”

Nothing changes.

If I may adhere to my blog’s tagline a moment, and find God in the geekiest place, this reminds me of an exchange from — you guessed it! — Deep Space Nine, the episode “Duet”. Major Kira has captured a Cardassian war criminal, the infamous Gul Darhe’el, who ran a brutal labor camp during Cardassia’s occupation of Bajor, renowned as it were for the murders committed under his watch and per his orders. Intent on seeing the man die for his crimes, he waits in his cell and mocks her. “Let them kill me. Don’t you see? It doesn’t change anything! Kill me. Torture me… it doesn’t matter. You’ve already lost, Major. You can never undo what I’ve accomplished. The dead will still be dead!” And it’s as true as anything he says. The dead will still be dead.

That’s the  sad reality. It would be damned nice if killing the guilty could undo what they’ve done. It’d be damn nice if we could bring back every murder victim, undo every rape, resuscitate the bodies found under Gacy’s floorboards using the drops of life wrung from them. But we can’t. The past is done, and cannot be undoable. It lives in our memories and stalks us in our sleep and makes us fear for the future. We can’t fix things like that. So we settle. We settle for revenge. They hurt us, and now we’re going to hurt them. It is, in its way, justice.

But Bishop Loverde of Arlington — no heady liberal — responded to the upcoming execution in a characteristically pastoral way.

Because each person is created in God’s image and likeness, each person retains an intrinsic human dignity — even someone convicted of a heinous crime. This dignity is what leads the Church — while acknowledging the legitimate defense of individuals and society — to teach that the death penalty cannot be justified when a government has other ways to protect its people adequately against an unjust aggressor:

If non-lethal means are sufficient to defend and protect people’s safety from the aggressor, authority will limit itself to such means, as these are more in keeping with the concrete conditions of the common good and more in conformity with the dignity of the human person. Today, in fact, as a consequence of the possibilities which the state has for effectively preventing crime, by rendering one who has committed an offense incapable of doing harm — without definitively taking away from him the possibility of redeeming himself – the cases in which the execution of the offender is an absolute necessity “are very rare, if not practically non-existent” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 2267; Evangelium Vitae, 56).

In solidarity with this teaching and with the consistent appeals made by Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI for an end to capital punishment in modern society, we are called to choose hope — hope in the redemption of an immortal soul – over the despair embedded in the death penalty. If the woman had been stoned, she would not have had the opportunity to “not sin anymore.” And so, despite the initial reactions we might have in seeking revenge, we must not opt for the death penalty.

And that’s true, too. I spent some of yesterday praying for Mr. Muhammad, that he’d admit and seek forgiveness for his crimes, that he’d be shown the mercy none of us deserve, but that all of us have been offered: freedom from death and entry into life.  Because nobody is irredeemable, and we are called to choose hope. And hope can have no place in a death penalty regime, where we make the decisions Christ alone can make. Life and death are not and should not be in our hands.