被囚的犯人 Der Gefesselte (cn | en)

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作者： 小羊冰冰

今天上午和球队一起去主场打联赛。这是一场很特别的比赛，虽然是主场作战，我们却必须到对方的场地比赛，因为对手是监狱的犯人，正在服刑期间，不准离开监狱半步。我们一行人早早地赶到监狱门口，监狱的四围是高大的混凝土墙，墙上安装了铁丝网。沿着围墙走了老远，来到了铁门铁窗的入口。和围墙相比，这入口显得那么狭小，很不相称的样子。入口的旁边是一面保险柜墙，我们的手机，钥匙和钱包等物品必须寄存在这里，不得带入监狱。

大家都又说有笑的，显得很轻松的样子。我们是五个人，其中四人参加比赛，一人是教练，指导我们打比赛。这位教练很年轻，只有26岁，名叫Sebastian，今年刚取得柏林乒乓球锦标赛的混双冠军。等了一会儿，铁门终于开了，我们依次进入铁门，立刻发觉电子监控系统正在监督我们的一举一动，气氛突然变得沉闷起来，毫无生气。穿过一道走廊，又要进一扇严严实实的铁门，这次每次只能进两个人。里面有两位身材高大的警察，一对一开始对我们进行安检。因为回国和出差的缘故，我曾经多次通过飞机安检，没想到这次的安检居然是最严格的一次，全身都给这位警察捏了一遍。所幸，我们的球拍可以带进监狱，否则我们就没办法打比赛了。

过了安检，我们又经过一个高墙围绕的小花园，来到了一片草坪的边上，这里是囚犯们锻炼身体的地方，草坪的周围是围墙，围墙的外面是一栋栋楼房。这些楼房与平常的楼房不同，窗户外面都围上了铁栅栏，原来这是犯人住的地方，严密的防护是为了阻止犯人伺机逃跑。德国的楼房一般都是开放式阳台，楼房的周围没有围墙，也是开放式的，我刚来这里的时候，觉得不可思议，担心会有很大的安全隐患，后来日子久了，居然也适应了这种开放式小区。然而，这些监狱的楼房让人不由地想起了家乡的楼房，那里的套房都围得严严实实的，每一寸空间都充分利用起来了，却少了许多随意和自由，就连阳光也被阻挡在户外了。

我们进入了楼房，比赛的球馆就在里面。我们在更衣室换好衣服，就提着背包踏入球馆。诺大的球馆冷清清地，只摆了两张比赛台。四个人正在一张台旁边练球，他们看到我们进来，向我们微笑致意，却没有说话。我们脱下外衣，活动一下身体，就围着另一张台练习起来。

阳光从高高的窗户外照射进来，在墙面上投下一道道耀眼的亮带。大厅里气氛活跃起来，我不时地张望一下那边的球台，他们脸上都微微地露出喜色。教练介绍说，他们四个都是囚犯，我们要跟他们打比赛。大家不由地又看了看他们，似乎要发现他们异于常人的地方。这时候走进来一位70岁左右的老人，精神矍铄，目光慈爱。让我吃惊的是，他曾经是德国国家队的乒乓球教练，20年来在这间监狱无偿地指导犯人们打乒乓球。这真是照进黑暗的光明啊！

比赛开始了。首先是双打比赛，我发现地板有些打滑，地上没有蘸水毛巾，就向他们示意。有人马上跑出去拎来一条毛巾，铺在地上。我和Daniel配双打，很快就发现对手比我们弱，我们轻松领先了。于是大家都放慢节奏，尽量打一些容易的球，以便可以多几个回合。接着是单打比赛，我的第一场很快就拿下了，想不到第二场竟然很难打，比分一直很胶着。对手是黄头发，身材魁梧的德国人，打球手感好，我们打到第五局才分出胜负。

比赛终于打完了。有人马上跑过来，想和我们继续打球。我欣然上阵，两人你来我往，兴致浓时开怀一笑。三个多小时过去了，我们拎包准备离开，对方球队和我们告别，眼里闪着欢乐的光彩。队员说，他们中间有个叫Benjamin的，三个月以后将刑满获释，他已经联系好了新的乒乓球俱乐部，准备去那里继续打联赛。

监狱像一个大大的笼子，限制了犯人的自由，夺走了他们的人生盼望。然而，生活在自由世界当中的人，却也可能被关在无形的牢房里，心里充满各样的嫉妒，仇恨，凶杀，苦毒，心灵不得释放，伤害不得痊愈，甚至会抑郁成疾，走上绝路。当人不能自救的时候，上帝派他的独生子耶稣来世间完成救赎大工。凡心里相信他，接受他做救主的，一定会从这无形的牢房中得释放，永远住在自由和光明之中。

（2020年12月6月  初稿）

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英文翻译版：

A Match Behind Bars
Author: Bing Bing Weidemann

This morning, our team headed out for a league match at what was technically our home court—but the game was to be played at the opponent’s venue. What made this match so unique was that our opponents were inmates currently serving time in prison, and by law, they were not allowed to step outside its walls.

We arrived early at the prison gate. Towering concrete walls encircled the facility, topped with coils of barbed wire. We walked a long stretch along these grim walls before reaching the narrow entrance—iron doors and barred windows. Compared to the vastness of the prison wall, the gate seemed disproportionately small, almost out of place. Beside the entrance was a wall of safes, where we had to deposit our phones, keys, wallets, and other personal items before entering.

Despite the circumstances, everyone was chatting and laughing, appearing quite at ease. There were five of us—four players and our coach, a young man named Sebastian, only 26 years old. He had just won the Berlin Mixed Doubles Table Tennis Championship this year.

After a short wait, the heavy iron gate finally opened, and we filed in. At once, we could feel the surveillance cameras tracking our every move. The atmosphere shifted—no longer lighthearted, but suddenly cold and lifeless. We passed through a corridor and faced another heavy iron door. This one allowed only two people through at a time. Inside, two tall officers performed strict security checks. I’ve gone through airport security many times due to travel and work, but never had I experienced such a thorough inspection—the officer practically patted down every inch of me. Thankfully, we were allowed to bring in our paddles; otherwise, we wouldn’t have been able to play.

After security, we passed a small courtyard surrounded by high walls and arrived at a grassy area where inmates exercised. Around the lawn stood more walls, beyond which were several buildings. These buildings were unlike ordinary ones—the windows were all covered in iron bars. It dawned on me that these were the inmates’ quarters, fortified to prevent escape.

In Germany, apartment buildings typically have open balconies and no surrounding walls. When I first arrived here, I was astonished by this openness and concerned about safety. But over time, I grew accustomed to it. In contrast, these prison buildings reminded me of the ones back in my hometown, where every square inch is enclosed and fortified, sacrificing openness and sunlight for a sense of security.

We entered one of the buildings—the gym was inside. After changing in the locker room, we stepped into the hall. The vast gymnasium was eerily quiet, with only two tables set up. Four people were practicing at one of them. They smiled at us as we entered but said nothing. We removed our coats, warmed up, and began practicing at the second table.

Sunlight streamed in through the high windows, casting bright beams onto the walls. The atmosphere gradually became more lively. I occasionally glanced at the other table—their faces wore faint but genuine smiles. Our coach explained that the four men were inmates and would be our opponents today. We looked at them again, as if searching for something that set them apart. Just then, a man entered—about 70 years old, bright-eyed and full of energy, with a kind expression. To our amazement, we learned he was once the coach of the German national table tennis team. For the past 20 years, he had been volunteering at this prison, training inmates in table tennis. A true light shining in darkness!

The match began with doubles. I noticed the floor was slippery and gestured for a towel. Someone quickly ran off and returned with one, placing it beside the table. My partner Daniel and I soon realized our opponents were not as skilled as we were. We led easily, so we slowed the pace, returning gentler shots to prolong the rallies. Next came the singles matches. I won my first match quickly, but the second was unexpectedly tough. My opponent—a burly, blond-haired German—had excellent feel for the game. We went all the way to the fifth set before a winner emerged.

After the match officially ended, one of the inmates came over, eager to keep playing. I gladly accepted. Back and forth we went, exchanging smiles and laughter during exciting rallies. Over three hours passed before we finally packed our bags to leave. Our opponents saw us off with bright eyes and cheerful goodbyes. One of them, named Benjamin, is due to be released in three months. He has already contacted a new table tennis club and plans to keep playing in the league.

A prison is like a vast cage, stripping inmates of freedom and hope. Yet even in the free world, people can be trapped in invisible prisons—bound by jealousy, hatred, violence, bitterness. Souls remain in chains, wounds never heal, and some fall into despair, even to the brink of destruction. When a person can no longer save themselves, God sent His only Son, Jesus, into this world to complete the work of redemption. Whoever believes in Him and receives Him as Savior will be set free from these unseen prisons and live forever in the light and liberty that only He can give.

(First draft – December 6, 2020)