Posts Tagged ‘prison’

Much convincing and prodding

September 6, 2010

My quiet time each morning is from 6:45 a.m. to about 7:30 a.m. Lately I have been spending the time with the daily Lectionary readings and one of Thomas Merton’s books: Thoughts in Solitude. The book’s chapters are short, and one or two at a time usually does it.

Today is Labor Day.This morning as I sat down I was wondering why I was thinking about going down to the prison to visit the men in solitary. I wondered why I was going down there when I could/should be relaxing on the patio and enjoying the beautiful weather. Going down there at all usually requires much convincing and prodding on my part. After a few minutes, something inside me said, “Do your readings.”

In Merton was this quote on page 103: “Whatever may be our vocation we are called to be witnesses and ministers of the Divine Mercy.” There it was. A clear and unequivocal statement of why I felt the pull to drive 1 hour and 20 minutes south to stand in a noisy wing trying to listen to some offenders through solid steel doors.

I went. It was good.

I can’t help but wonder

May 12, 2010

My Room 101 in hell will resemble a before-dinner reception at an out-of-town business conference.  There are few things I dread more than walking into a room full of strangers for drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and small talk. Am I an introvert? You bet!

Naturally, I can’t help but wonder how or why I ever got started in prison ministry. Walking into a solitary confinement wing of 30-36 men, each one out of sight behind a solid steel door with a tiny window, has never been easy.

As I approach each door, I don’t know what to expect: what does he look like, where is he  from, how long has he been in prison, why is he  in solitary confinement. That I am extending myself beyond my comfort zone is an understatment.

It’s even worse when I haven’t gone to the prison for an extended period of time. When I went down yesterday, it had been 5 weeks. The longer I am away, the more detached I feel … almost to the point where I feel I don’t belong, that I don’t fit in. I experience a slight disorientation. Anxiety and discomfort begin to surface as I enter the prison.

On the other hand, setting foot in those housing units got me back into the game. Once I got going, was standing at the first cell door, became engaged in the first conversation, things smoothed out.

During an extended absence, I miss doing the work. I miss the ministry. I miss connecting with the men.

I’m glad to be back although the summer schedule does get a little fragmented and there will be more gaps in my visiting. When I’m not going to the prison on a regular basis, something is missing in my life.

I find little joy in just keeping busy; I need something to do, something that makes a difference in my life and the lives of others.

One offender said that he had never thanked me for the bookmark with the prayer of St. Ignatius of Loyola. I’m guessing I gave that to him a year ago. That’s why I go, to bring my presence or anything else to help add a little meaning to a pretty bleak existence.

It’s time to grow up

December 10, 2009

As I read the last paragraph of an article in this morning’s St. Louis Post-Dispatch on the single-drug method for execution in Ohio, I was reminded of a line in the Gethsemane song,  I only want to say, from the Rock Opera, Jesus Christ Superstar:

Show me there’s a reason
For your wanting me to die
You’re far too keen on where and how
But not so hot on why

The writer of the article says at the end, “A milestone has passed. Now maybe the long death penalty debate on ‘how’ can return to ‘whether.'”

Those are my sentiments as well. For the past few years, as suit after suit was heard in the courts, the focus has been on the three-drug protocol for execution used in most states. Is it unconstitutional? Does it amount to cruel and unusual punishment? I figured, Why not? Anything that holds any part of the process up to the light is bound to pay off in the long run. I also believe that anything not founded on truth will eventually collapse under its own weight.

But now, I’m afraid, the Ohio result will open the flood gates. Attorneys general in several states will feel a need (for some unknown reason) to clear death row backlogs. It’s as though their constituents have any idea who is on death row or what their crimes may have been. The AGs must picture an angry crowd, with flickering torches, milling about the jailhouse door.

The facts of the matter are these: Walk up to anyone on any street in Missouri and ask, 1.) How many men are on death row?, 2.) Who is the next person likely to be executed?, 3.) Who was the last person executed (as recently as May 20)?, 4.) What did that person do? 5.) Where are death row prisoners housed?, 6.) Where do executions take place? After six shrugs, or six I dunnos, you’d certainly wonder what the point is.

But, our state (and our society in general) is big on revenge … even when people don’t know who is being executed or why. There is an irrational fear of, and a need to get rid of, people who pose no threat, are defenseless, couldn’t afford good legal representation. There is a persistent myth that an execution gives a victim’s family closure. All this in the face of the fact that the United States is the only developed western nation that executes its own citizens. Isn’t that nice?

Should capital offenders ever go free? No. I feel they have forfeited their right to live freely among us.

Is an alternative sentence of life without parole a piece of cake? No. Visit a maximum security prison sometime.

Is it more expensive to house a capital offender for the rest of his life than to execute him? No. It is a mere fraction of the execution costs to house an offender until he dies.

Is the death penalty a common sentence for murder? No. Less that 2% of murders result in a death sentence.

Getting back to the beginning, “whether” rather than “how,” I  hope that our country will mature out of our wild west temperament. It’s time to grow up and realize when we have adequately defended ourselves against dangerous criminals.

There is little justification for depriving another family of a loved one if losing a loved one is so hurtful. Vengeance doesn’t bring anyone back. The pangs of loneliness for and the sense of loss of a loved one who was a victim of murder won’t go away because another’s life was snuffed out.

Little apparent gain or impact

July 15, 2008

I 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.”

Can’t complain

February 27, 2008

Turned around halfway to the prison this morning. All clear here, but snow and slick roads 45 minutes south. My ABS system was squawking when I tried to stop for a driver turning into a filling station. That was enough for me with many miles of hilly, winding, two-lane road ahead. Driving conditions have caused me to come home on only two occasions in seven years. Can’t complain in the least.

But I do miss seeing the men, and there is no small amount of prep time to get mentally ready for my visits to the prison. I’m also aware, however, of the name frequently given to the highway I travel each Wednesday: Blood Alley. Next Wednesday will be better.

Words do matter

February 19, 2008

This is one of those days when everything feels right. When I awoke this morning, it was about 10° – cold for here – but along with that came beautiful clear skies to frame the muted winter light on the  woods behind the house.

On the immediate agenda is to get outside for a quick run. Indoor work includes developing a reflection booklet for our Lenten Day of Reflection this coming Saturday. I have received several suggested quotes, poems, and passages on our selected theme. Our practice has been, for the past five years, to base our theme on a passage from the readings of the following Sunday. It works. The theme this year is robust: 

“Whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst.”   [Jn 4:14]

And, coincidentally, we have recently been given a hand-carved woman-at-the-well. The carver is an impoverished resident of Cite Soleil in Haiti. Definitely a center piece for our gathering space. This photo will be on the cover of our booklet as well.

woman-at-the-well.jpg

On the home-front, we had a couple of kitchen cabinet hinges lose their plastic cam for spring closure. They simply fatigued and snapped off. In a matter of 20 minutes, or so, I found a source on the Internet (at 7 a.m., of all things)  and ordered 12 hinges. For one thing, we have assured no further breaks now that we have a ready reserve on the way. What did we do before the Internet?

Tomorrow is prison day. Recordkeeping is a must for me. On any given day, I’ll visit with 20-25 men, all of whom will be different from my last visit. During the year, however, the visits usually settle in around 80-100 offenders with several visits with each one. My folder includes seven years of visits on a spreadsheet. By the time I’ve updated the information the evening before I go down there, I’m ready to reconnect and listen.

One may wonder about the term “offender.” That is the term used by the Department of Corrections. I couldn’t agree more. The terms “prisoner” and “inmate” describe states of being. The term “convict” implies that something has been done to him or her. The term “offender” places the label, and the reason for it, where it belongs. Words do matter.