This morning I was on my usual drive to the prison. As I rounded a long curve in the Ozark mountains, I had an epiphany. Much reflection is needed, but I will post it soon.
Archive for the ‘Ministry’ Category
Much reflection is needed
April 23, 2009Beyond what one would expect
March 23, 2009Mozart’s Mass in C minor plays on a Sony Walkman CD unit hooked to a couple of miniature battery-powered speakers near my weight machine in a corner of our basement. My workout time goes quickly and much more peacefully than when the news is on.
Yesterday was the recognition Mass and brunch for volunteers in the Criminal Justice Ministry of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. Testimonies given by three offenders, now returned to society, were beyond what one would expect and should remove any doubt as to the importance of our work in this ministry. Each year this event is a highlight for me and my wife.
We’ll see how that goes
January 13, 2009As 2008 wrapped up, I thought some sort of sabbatical would be in order, maybe six months off from prison ministry. Burnout is always a risk in pastoral care. Vigilance is of the utmost importance.
Six months, though, seemed too long, and I feared that intimidation would slowly creep back in. After all, it took nearly two years before my stomach stopped tightening as I turned down the final road and approached the prison. It isn’t the population of felons that causes the intimidation. It is the place itself. Being confronted with nine locked and remotely controlled doors before I stand at the final door … a cell door … gets under one’s skin. Hand scans and showing an ID along with signing in from time to time serve as a further reminder of the ultra-secure monitoring of my every move throughout the complex.
So, perhaps every other month for the entire year. That notion lasted until an offender asked when he would see me again. February didn’t seem a very warm answer as the holidays drew near.
Therefore, no sabbatical this go around. Not even a lessening of the number of visits. I am, however, reducing the load per visit. We’ll see how that goes.
Little apparent gain or impact
July 15, 2008I have a book of reflections by Thomas Merton, A Book of Hours, with the following quote on page 100:
I think what I need to learn is an almost infinite tolerance and compassion because negative thought gets nowhere. I am beginning to think that in our time we will correct almost nothing, and get almost nowhere; but if we can just prepare a compassionate and receptive soil for the future, we will have done a great work. I feel at least that this is the turn my own life ought to take. (an excerpt from A Hidden Ground of Love)
This statement has a sense of futility wrapped within a determination to do what one can in spite of little apparent gain or impact. It is a very “now” way of viewing life, that what we should do for others is important in and of itself without needing an obvious and long-lasting impact.
As I drive home from the prison each week, there is a definite wondering, What good will that trip have done? But that isn’t for me to say, really. Since I’m not in one of those cells all alone, how can I even begin to assess what a knock on the door, and a conversation about good things, means to the person inside. I do know that a man last week did say, “I can’t believe this is happening. That you came here, and we are having this conversation.”
A pair of legs was all I could see
May 23, 2008What do I do? What should I say? These were but a couple of the many questions swirling about as I walked toward the first cell on the bottom walk of the housing unit. Inside the cell was someone I had never seen, someone I knew nothing about. That’s not completely true. His name and his death sentence were made know to me prior to my driving to the prison for my first visit.
That day, seven years ago, was a life-changing series of events for me and a series of “firsts.” I had never spoken to a man who was incarcerated. I had never seen a human being locked in a box. I had never seen a capital offender other than in the movies, on TV, or in a newspaper.
A solid steel door with a small narrow window revealed little in advance. Approaching, I wondered if I should peek in, knock and wait, say his name. I decided to do combination of knock, peek, and speak.
A pair of legs was all I could see. Whoever the fellow was, he was standing on the toilet bowl while talking into the vent. Every two cells are mirror images, both on the top walk and the bottom walk. This is in order to share common plumbing and ventilation. Four offenders, therefore, can speak with some privacy. Those further away can be reached by yelling.
Once I had his attention, and he had signed off on his conversation, I was given a most cheerful greeting. We spoke for about ½ hour. He was a prolific reader and found the prison library somewhat lacking in overall capacity as well as content. I also learned that he had about a year left to live; all of his appeals had been exhausted. His prediction regarding his longevity was correct.
During that year, I saw him several times. Conversations were always interesting. He never wavered in his politeness and well-spoken manner. Even as his date drew near, he displayed a dignity the likes of which I can only dream to maintain in my own life.
I’ve thought of him often. He was instrumental in my ministry’s getting off to a solid and productive start. I miss him.
In a dim light... 